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Every time she had asked it to cook anything, the tiny thin rays seemed to clump up and join together, so that instead of thousands of teeny rays, no bigger than a hair, she wound up with thicker rays—some as big as a good-sized piece of rope.
The thicker rays didn’t just burn the food—they blasted a hole right through it. It was scary to watch and even scarier considering that her hand had almost gotten in the way the last time she’d tried it. Melanie was certain the wave’s thicker rays would be entirely capable of burning one of her fingers to ashes—a phenomenon she was not at all eager to experience.
She left the wave all ready to go and went to check her appearance in the 3-D viewer one more time. A woman with long, wavy, chocolate brown hair and clear amber eyes looked back at her.
She was wearing a nice pair of dark jeans that minimized her hips and thighs and a red top with a v-neck which showed just the tiniest hint of cleavage. Her makeup was perfect—she’d just touched it up—and she’d put just a tiny bit of scent behind each ear. She’d been careful not to use too much because Sonja had told her that the Kindred had an incredibly strong sense of smell and they didn’t like overpowering perfumes.
Now, Melanie wondered anxiously if the scent she’d used was too much. She couldn’t smell it herself, of course, but what if it put Clear off entirely? What if he—?
Don’t be stupid, whispered a voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like her ex-husband. Why are you even worrying about what you look like or what kind of perfume you’re wearing? He’s way too young for you and you’re way too old for him. Face it, Melanie—you’re over the hill. Your best years are behind you and the most you can hope for now is to find some old codger who doesn’t mind those wrinkles around your eyes and the fact that your tits aren’t as firm as they were, to live out the rest of your life with. Hell, you might not even find that. You’ll probably end up like your Aunt Marge in a big old house full of cats with nobody to love you until you die. You—
“Stop it!” Melanie said out loud, firmly.
After her divorce, she’d paid for several therapy sessions to try and put the broken pieces of her self-esteem back together. Finding out, from the Private Eye she’d hired, that Steve had been cheating on her for years, had wounded her deeply. And her ex-husband’s constant verbal abuse hadn’t helped either. Now she used some of the techniques her therapist had taught her to deal with the traumatic effects that lingered from her failed marriage.
The first thing to do, was to stop the negative self-talk and push the ugly things her ex, Steve, had said to her out of her mind.
Closing her eyes, Melanie imagined shoving the awful, depressing ideas out the front door of her “mind house” as her therapist had called it. Then she shut the door firmly and locked it. Bad thoughts outside—you can’t bother me anymore.
Opening her eyes, she looked at herself in the 3-D viewer again.
“I look good,” she said aloud, very decisively. “I might be closer to forty than twenty, but I’m in good health and happy with my new job. I’m satisfied with my life choices.”
Personal affirmation done, she was about to go back to the kitchen or “food-prep area” as the Kindred called it, when a soft chime sounded from her front door.
That must be Clear!
Quickly, she fluffed up her hair and smoothed down her shirt—wiping her suddenly damp palms on her jeans—and ran for the door.
At the touch of a button, the door to her suite whooshed open and there was Clear, towering over her like…well, like a tall, sexy, muscular tower, Melanie thought, her breath suddenly getting caught in her throat as she looked up into his smoky green eyes. He was dressed in casual human clothes—jeans and a green shirt that made his eyes even more intense.
“Hello, Melanie,” he rumbled in that soft, deep voice of his. “I hope I am not late?”
“Oh, no—no of course not. Come in!” She stepped aside quickly and made a motion with one hand, ushering him into the room.
“Is there someone else here?” Clear asked, frowning curiously as he stepped into her living area.
“Someone else here?” Melanie repeated. “Uh, no—why would you think that?”
“I thought I heard talking right before I rang,” he explained. “It sounded like a conversation.”
Melanie felt her cheeks get hot. Oh God, he must have heard her self-affirmation! How horribly embarrassing!
“That…that was just me talking to my Aunt Marge,” she said quickly, hoping he hadn’t been able to hear exactly what she’d been saying. “She was asking about when I’m coming for Christmas this year.”
