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  The warmth had been the same, but the scent of Holt’s jacket had been subtly different, sharper than the sandalwood musk of Blakely’s. But the scents had combined on her skin and complemented each other in some strange way. Like two separate notes that together made up a deliciously sensual, utterly masculine cologne. She had wanted to keep wearing Holt’s jacket long after she was obliged to give it back. Beside the intriguing scent, it had covered her torn dress.

  Sadie shrugged, it wasn’t like the dress was any great loss—actually, she never wanted to see the horrible thing again—but it was the only item of clothing she had brought with her in her mad escape aside from the high-heeled gold pumps that matched it. As a result, she was wearing one of Blakely’s shirts, which was so long on her that it could be used nicely, as a dress as long as what you wanted was a minidress. It was a deep green that suited her creamy complexion and, like his jacket, it exuded a faint whiff of sandalwood.

  The shirt tails hung down to midthigh, doing an adequate job of covering her, but Sadie would have given her right arm for a pair of panties. She would have to be careful how she sat, she supposed. Get over it, Sadie; it’s not like they haven’t seen the goods already. How do you think you got invited on this trip anyhow?

  She made a face at herself in the holo-viewer. One step at a time. Right now it was time to stop hogging the fresher and go back out to the main cabin of the needle. Sadie had been impressed by the small but luxurious ship at first, but Blakely had assured her it was on loan to their department from the narcotics division who had confiscated it on a bust.

  It was time to quit stalling. She shrugged, patted her hair one last time, took a deep breath, and left the tiny room to go find the two men with whom she was going to be spending most of her foreseeable future.

  5

  She lit up the whole cabin the moment she stepped through the door, Blakely thought. Her hair was a gorgeous golden brown color that reminded him of melted caramel, and it matched her eyes almost exactly. It fell in a wavy mass nearly to her waist and he wondered how she had managed to hide it all under the ridiculous scarlet wig. He couldn’t help admiring the way his shirt looked on her, with the green fabric hugging her luscious full breasts and draping gracefully over her silky thighs. She was still wearing the gold high heels, apparently the only surviving bit of her prostie-borg outfit, and her legs seemed to go on forever.

  Holt was apparently having similar thoughts about the new addition to their team because he turned to the dark-haired detective and said, “Well Blake, you never looked quite that good in that shirt. I vote you let her keep it.”

  “I second the motion,” Blakely agreed, without taking his eyes off the vision in front of him. Her honey-colored eyes tilted exotically and her full pink mouth looked extremely kissable. He knew Holt was nervous about taking a strange girl along with them on the mission; he could feel his partner’s apprehension through the ever present T-link they shared. He couldn’t help thinking that it was a stroke of good luck, however, both for them and for Sadie, that he had picked her out of the prostie line-up. Where would she be now if he hadn’t, with her Overlook-Me chip blown and the ore transport not due back for a whole week? Of course, she seemed like a girl who could take care of herself. But hell, he liked a girl with some spunk, and it didn’t hurt that she was gorgeous.

  “Hey, c’mon over and take a load off,” he invited her as she hesitated on the edge of the circular room.

  “Hi,” Sadie said shyly, crossing to sit beside Blakely on the c-gel couch and across from Holt who was sitting in the lounger opposite them, long legs spread out in front of him. The comfort gel obligingly began to conform to the shape of her body and Sadie jumped up and whipped around, glaring accusingly at Blakely.

  “Hey, buddy, I don’t appreciate…”

  “It’s just the comfort gel, Sadie. It manipulates itself to support you,” Holt told her, amusement evident in his deep voice. She flashed an annoyed glance in the blond man’s direction.

  “I’ve never seen anything like that before. Or felt anything like it either. I thought…” She turned back to Blakely.

  “You thought I was coppin’ a feel.” He grinned at her. He was relieved when she smiled tentatively back. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I thought the same thing the first time I sat down on this damn gel couch. Nearly punched poor Holt over there for gettin’ fresh. C’mon,” he gestured to her. “Sit back down; it won’t bite. Feels kinda nice once you get used to it.”

  “Well…” She sank reluctantly back onto the couch and sighed involuntarily as the gel molded around her shape. “It is kind of nice,” she admitted after a moment. “Firm, but giving.” If Blakely had been alone with his partner he could have thought of several choice things to say about that comment, but one glance from the blond detective was enough to make him bite his tongue. He couldn’t help smiling, though, and was glad to see an answering smile from Holt in return. It’s all gonna work out, buddy, you’ll see, he thought, wishing his partner would relax about having Sadie along for the ride.

  “Try taking off your shoes,” he suggested. Sadie looked at him uncertainly.

  “Why?”

  “The carpeting’s semi-sentient synthi-wilk,” Holt explained. “Kind of like a cross between wool and silk that wants to rub your feet.”

  “Try it—’S better than a foot massage,” Blakely promised her.

  Sadie looked uncertainly from one man to the other and finally slipped off the gold spiked heels and let her bare soles rest on the plush maroon carpeting. Blakely saw the ripple in the deep nap as the semi-sentient carpet went to work on her dainty feet. Her toenails were painted a pale, innocent pink, he noted.

  Sadie sat quietly for a moment, a strange expression growing on her face. She pulled up her feet and crossed them under her, madly giggling. “Sorry…” she gasped at last as the two men gave her puzzled looks. “St…stood it as long as I could but it just tickles too much!” She smoothed the tails of the shirt down modestly, being sure she was covered, still helplessly giggling. Blakely grinned as he studied her, cheeks flushed from laughing and eyes bright. She looked so innocent—like a little girl.

  It was an unguarded moment, definitely not in keeping with her projected image of a tough, self-sufficient reporter willing to do whatever it took to get the story. Despite her wanton display and unspoken but definite promise of sexual favors in the pleasure cubicle at the Prostie Palace, Blakely got the feeling that she was a lot more inexperienced than she wanted them to believe. Probably not a virgin, but innocent just the same, he thought, his detective’s instincts kicking into drive. He couldn’t wait to get Holt alone and compare notes. He just hoped his partner wouldn’t start telling him not to get his hopes up again. Blakely hated it when Holt got in one of his down moods, which had become a lot more frequent since Gillian had dumped him. Dumped him because of me—because of us. It was an unhappy thought, but not an unfamiliar one. Why was it so damn hard to find a woman who could understand and accept the reality of their lives? One who could handle all they had to offer together?

  “Hey partner, the lady asked you a question.” Holt’s voice cut into his reverie and Blakely looked up to see Sadie looking at him expectantly.

  “Sorry, kid. Guess I was daydreamin’,” he said.

  “I think I can guess about what.” Holt gave him a significant glance. Blakely looked back at him neutrally.

  “Later for that, blondie,” he said casually, knowing he was playing his part to a T. Sadie flushed as she looked back and forth between them and Blakely’s heart gave a little lurch. The poor kid was scared to death about what they were going to do to her. He didn’t mind teaching her a lesson, but still…

  “I just wanted to know where we’re going,” Sadie explained, looking up at him out of those big, honey-colored eyes. She still had her feet tucked under her and the posture made her look very young. “And what’s going to happen to the prostie-borgs that aren’t really prosties?”