Free The Stone Prince by Gena Showalter Page A

chef,” she told Jorlan, “so pay attention. Next time, you’re on your own. Are you watching?” Before he could answer, she began, working as she spoke. “Bread. Mayonnaise. Cheese. Turkey. Lettuce. Tomato. Bread. Got it?”
    He nodded, and she handed him the sandwich. Heate the blasted thing as if he had never tasted anything so delicious in all his life. Definitely not a nibbler. In fact, he somehow made the simple act of chewing a passionate feat. His strong jaw moved quickly. Potent and intense.
    Damn it! She needed to find something about him that turned her off. First Date Syndrome was preferable to Obsession Disease.
    Jorlan fixed himself three more sandwiches.
    “What are the houses in your world like?” she asked, sitting beside him.
    He spoke in between bites, his eyes warm with remembrances. “They are much bigger than those offered here. The stones are more colorful, the chambers open and easily accessible. At times, it seems the sky dusts the floor.” He drained half a carton of milk, then leaned back in his chair with a satisfied grunt.
    “Sounds beautiful.”
    “’Tis indeed.”
    “Come on. I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping. Alone.”
    “Your continued rejection humbles me.” The wry comment was delivered with an equally wry grin.
    “Something needs to,” she muttered.
    Walking through the hall, a sweet vanilla scent drifted to her nostrils. That was the only thing she liked about the place. The smell. Decorated with a contemporary slant, the interior was too bold, too modern, and lacked character. Instead of wood, the walls were trimmed with silver metal. Instead of carpet or paneling, the floors were covered with mosaic tile. Ceramic animal paws showcased all the light fixtures. She wouldhave preferred a chandelier lit by hundreds of crystal prisms.
    Katie knew she’d bought this home for all the wrong reasons. Her dad, who would have a fit if he knew a strange alien male was staying the night with her, believed only men could earn a living as home renovators—or anything else, for that matter. She’d wanted to prove to him that she, a woman, was a success at her business.
    To this day, he refused to believe she earned her money on her own and hadn’t borrowed from her brothers.
    Ryan James had been raised by the “old school” of thought. Men worked and earned money while women baked cookies, raised the kids and devoted their entire lives to pleasing their husbands. (Much like Jorlan’s perceptions.) Maybe that was why, sixteen years after becoming a widower, her dad still had yet to remarry. No sane woman would take him. He barked orders like a drill sergeant and expected total compliance from those around him.
    As a child, that type of ideology could have easily crushed her spirit. Yet her brothers had sought to protect her from their father’s low expectations. They’d made her one of the boys, helped her don jeans and tennis shoes instead of lace and bows. She’d trailed their every step. She’d helped them catch frogs, stood by their sides and fished in a nearby pond, and held her own as they wrestled in the mud.
    She and Jorlan reached the guest bedroom. “This is it,” she said, flipping the light switch. The room instantly brightened. “The bathroom, or chamber pot, orwhatever you call it, is through the side door. It’s nothing as grand as what you described, but it’s comfortable and private.”
    Entranced by the origin of light, Jorlan barely registered her words. With the tip of his finger, he lowered the silver switch. Darkness flooded the small area. When he raised the switch, light once again sprang from the overhead source.
    “Again I sense no magic, and yet…” Up, down, up, down he continued to move the switch. “I would not have guessed your world capable of such things. First a talking box and now instant lighting.”
    Katie chuckled, charmed by his bedazzlement with technology. “What does your world use for light?”
    “ Lamori