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Chapter 1
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Thirty minutes ago, life as Dr. Lyric Wright knew it had come to a screeching halt. Which was saying something, since her idea of life in the fast lane was pretty much limited to a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos, a cold Shiner Bock, and an extra-large telescope.
Despite the fact that she’d been required by the SETI Institute to not only read, but memorize, several sections of the US Disaster Preparedness Plan, she hadn’t been prepared. Not for this.
Not at SETI’s satellite-launch party, when she’d been doing her level best to keep seventy-year-old Dr. Danzinger’s age-spotted hands off her ass and his myopic-but-hungry eyes somewhere north of her cleavage.
Not when she’d gotten the phone call telling her that her father was dying.
And not now, as she stood in the security line at the Honolulu airport, waiting her turn at legalized groping while other passengers took surreptitious—and not so surreptitious—glances at that very same cleavage.
Not that she blamed them. Her slinky black dress and mile-high heels weren’t exactly typical travel apparel. Then again, an emergency trip to the mainland had been the last thing on her mind when she’d hatched the plan to channel her inner sex goddess at the fundraiser in the first place. It had all been part of the scheme her twin sister had come up with after one tequila shot too many, a scheme devised to make her ex-fiancé come crawling back after dumping Lyric for Mistress Kailana, the Hula-Dancing Astrologer.
Just the thought of the woman had Lyric rolling her eyes. She could understand the hula part—who couldn’t? But what kind of scientist actually fell for an astrologer? Especially when that scientist was one of the top astronomers in the world?
It was enough to make her scream—or it would be if she didn’t have much more dire problems at the moment. And if it wouldn’t have amused, or terrified, the gawking, chattering crowd of tourists and TSA workers currently congregated at Security Checkpoint Number Two. Not a single one looked as desperate and undignified as she felt. Then again, none of them were flying to the mainland in a glorified handkerchief.
As she tugged up the bodice of the skintight, strapless dress—something she’d been doing about every twenty seconds since she’d put the damn thing on—a Honolulu TSA officer wielded a security wand like a matronly fairy godmother trying to turn Lyric from a slutty version of Cinderella back into a baggy-T-shirt-wearing scientist.
If only she’d had some pixie dust, she could have skipped the whole airport experience altogether and flown home under her own power. Or better yet, a Star Trek teleporter—faster, cleaner, and no cavity searches.
As the wand swiped across her breasts, the thing suddenly went crazy—the red lights blinking like she’d won her way out of Contestants’ Row on The Price is Right.
“Any metal in that dress?” the round-faced Hawaiian woman asked as she tried really hard not to look down the front of Lyric’s dress. In all fairness, Lyric’s double Ds made that a real challenge. Or so Dr. Danzinger had told her.
“Yes, ma’am. I’m wearing a corset under this dress.” One made of so many metal stays and steel rods that she felt like her breasts were in maximum security lockdown. Not that she was going to tell that to the TSA agent. She feared the mere mention of rods of steel could land her behind bars of iron. The last thing she needed was to be accused of plotting to blow up the Honolulu airport with her lingerie.
Time ticked away as the woman slid her hands down Lyric’s sternum, following the lines of the corset. Lyric would have glanced at her watch, but it was waiting patiently in a bowl on the end of the baggage-scan belt, along with her teeny-tiny purse. Leaning closer—careful not to knock the shorter woman in the head with one of her boobs—she continued, “I know this is your job, but I’ve had a family emergency and I really need to get on the American flight to Dallas.”
The TSA agent eyed Lyric’s strapless cocktail dress. “Uh-huh.”
“No, really.” Lyric swallowed convulsively and forced out the words she had spent the last half hour trying desperately to forget. “My father just had a heart attack. I left a work benefit and came straight here. I need to get home. The flight leaves in just a few minutes.”
The woman didn’t respond, which only made Lyric feel more desperate and more vulnerable. She hated both feelings almost as much as she despised the way her voice had shaken when she’d spoken, so she shoved her fear for her father deep down inside herself. Held her head high. Threw her shoulders back. And did her best to ignore the fact that one of her boobs had just attempted a jailbreak.
