Free Taste of Passion by Renae Jones Page B

down, she ducked into a dim, crowded restaurant. The place wasn’t fancy―her simple black tunic and trousers would be fine, though her hair would always draw looks. Most shop girls were service caste, but she preferred her hair long.
    She had heard that the food here was quite amazing, though, and she doubted Rasmus could even tell everyone else in the room was service caste. He seemed willfully ignorant about some things.
    She saw Rasmus as soon as she entered, seated at the far wall. He was taller than anyone else in the room, so she could stare. His hair was shorter, and his face more tan despite the advancing winter. He was chewing on his lip impatiently, though he was the early one.
    Relief, pride and yet more nervous anticipation flooded her system.
    She’d never expected to see him again, when she’d decided to stay in the mountains, but it was as if she’d seen him every day. Every day, she wanted to talk to him about her studies, her horrible paintings and the wonderful things she’d learned. Slowly, she had realized he meant far more to her than a man she’d had sex with twice had any right to. She thought of him as hers, even as she threw him away.
    She ought to be ashamed an off-worlder, a barbarian, was so important to her. Four years ago, after a long sleepless night, watching her government’s televised surrender, she thought she would hate the invaders with all her soul. But since then it had not escaped her notice that none of her countrymen knew what to do with her. She had been abandoned by her world long before she found the strength to question it.
    So she’d asked him on a date, an off-world-style dinner meeting. And he’d come.
    When she walked up to the table, Rasmus looked right past her. Only when she lay her hand on the opposite chair did he recognize her.
    The new her was less colorful, dressed in all black with makeup in shades of smoke and gray. She’d worried he wouldn’t be impressed, but when he got a good look at her, taking in the emblem of her employer pinning together her high collar, she tasted a faint delight like a bursting berry.
    She hadn’t seen him for nearly five months, and she could still taste his emotion from a foot away. They’d formed a deep bond, apparently. That would explain her inability to forget him, wouldn’t it?
    “Rasmus. It’s good to see you. I’m glad you came.”
    “I’m glad you’re talking to me. You’re beautiful tonight.”
    His smile was wide and genuine.
    “I mean, of course, you’re always beautiful,” he hastily corrected himself.
    She laughed. “Of course.”
    She sat and tried to find the right words. “I’m glad I’m talking to you, too. You were right. I knew it. There was plenty I would still argue, but you were right. I just needed some time.”
    He nodded, his expression now sober. She’d been terrified he’d belittle her or jump to point out more flaws in her thinking while she was still raw with thinking through the last set. He’d never judged her for her shallow blindness, though, even as she had realized he could. Instead, they just looked at each other for a charged moment.
    Then she laughed self-consciously. “So I wonder, why did you come?”
    “Why wouldn’t I come?”
    “Well, I wasn’t kind. Or, um, dignified. I do not know what you see in me.”
    With other men, it had always been obvious. She was beautiful, she was trained for amazing sex, she had added to their prestige. She couldn’t see Rasmus valuing any of that, though, not enough. He was a different creature than she was used to.
    “I don’t know how to answer that. Everything? You know you’re beautiful,” he chided dryly.
    “Of course I know that. I am not the only beautiful woman you know, though, am I?”
    He paused, and Fedni felt like a needy fool. It wasn’t that she needed an ego boost, but she needed to know why. Why her? Why was the way he wanted her so much more important than simple lust or the status-conscious maneuverings