Eight
They got up early every day for a week, making love in the morning before Drew woke up, and sipping coffee together in the intimacy of her tiny kitchen. Erica didn’t know what the future would bring, but she did know that she would have to return to the Purple Moon at some point. Sean wasn’t going to like it, but she couldn’t let him pay her bills, and Drew’s inhalers were almost empty.
Drew liked Sean, and the two of them got along amazingly well. Both of them seemed to enjoy their jaunts to the park and the occasional quiet hour watching Nova or the History Channel on television. Erica’s heart contracted with cautious optimism. There hadn’t been much that had worked out for her in the past few years and she was afraid to count on this.
“You always look as though you’ve never tasted coffee before,” she said, casting off her doubts and worries as Sean savoured each sip. She finished spreading peanut butter on toast and set the plate on the table.
“I haven’t,” he said, slipping his arm around her waist and pulling her close. He breathed deeply, as though he could inhale her with one breath.
She laughed, enjoying the intimacy of the morning. Idiot that she was, she’d fallen in love, and it had happened overnight. Or rather, it had happened in the span of about five minutes. She’d looked out at him that first night from onstage, and wanted to dance only for him. And when he’d carried her away from the stage and out of the club, she’d been hooked.
“I know you’re from Atlanta, but they’ve got coffee there!”
“I’m not actually from Atlanta.”
“I didn’t think so.” She laughed, completely unconcerned that he hadn’t been honest. She knew there had to be a reason for his little deception, maybe something embarrassing.
She didn’t care. He was strong and utterly male, yet sweet and thoughtful. He’d savoured every kiss and every caress they’d shared, and yet everything,everythingseemed new and different to him.
He wasn’t very forthcoming with information when she asked him about himself, always turning the conversation to her or to Drew. Erica wondered if maybe he’d been in prison. Or raised in Tibet or something.
He raised his eyebrows and then shrugged, a gesture she’d come to love during the past week. “My home is so different from everything I’ve encountered here.”
Sensing that he was ready to open up about himself, she sat down next to him at the small dinette table in the kitchen. “Where are you really from?”
He reached under his sleeve and removed a black metal disc from a strip fastened around his upper arm. Placing it on the table, he turned it so that she could see small silver markings on its surface.
“What is it?”
“We call it a tempis-disc,” he replied.
“Tempis . . . temporal? It has to do with your profession?”
He nodded. “I am part of the team that works on wormholes, time shifts, spatial distortions.”
“Time travel? It must be top secret.” She picked up the disc and looked at it more closely. The metal was unlike any she’d ever seen before, but she was no geologist. It could be highly polished . . . anything.
“Careful,” he said, and she set it back on the table.
“What does it do?”
“It brought me here. To this time and place,” he said. “Which turned out to be an error.”
“What do you mean?”
“I came from another time.”
Erica gaped at him, incredulous. She was a scientist. She knew what was and was not possible. And time travel? Not possible.
“I know it must be difficult for you to believe.”
Erica frowned. Sean wasn’t a kook or a flake. She’d learned that very well during their week together. He was well grounded and possessed a tremendous sense of scientific curiosity. She knew that there were breakthroughs in science every year, but moving through time was more science fiction than science fact.
He broke into her thoughts. “Would you like a demonstration?”
She nodded and he stood. “Come here.”
He picked up the black disc and Erica stood beside him. “I’m going to move your chair five minutes into the future.”
