Read Online Time and Again by Nora Roberts - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Nora Roberts
Tags: Fiction, General, Romance, Man-Woman Relationships, Love Stories; American, American Fiction, Love Stories
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giving as much as he took, most of his lovers had remained his friends. But none of them had ever made his system churn as it had during one kiss with Libby.
All at once she'd taken him beyond what he knew and into some wild, gut-wrenching spin. Even now he could remember what it had felt like when her lips had gone hot and urgent against his. His balance had tilted. He'd almost believed he saw lights whirling behind his eyes. It had been like being pulled toward something of enormous, limitless force.
His legs turned to water under him. Slowly he lifted a hand to brace himself against the wall. The dizziness passed, leaving a hollow throbbing at the base of his skull. And suddenly he remembered. He remembered the lights. The flashing, blinking lights in the cockpit. Navigational system failed. Shields inoperative. Automatic distress signal engaged.
The void. He could see it, and even now the sweat pearled cold on his brow. A black hole, wide and dark and thirsty. It hadn't been on the charts. He would never have wandered so close if it had been on the charts. It had just been there, and his ship had been dragged toward it.
He hadn't gone in. The fact that he was alive and undoubtedly on Earth made him certain of that. It was possible that he had somehow skimmed the edge of it, then shot like a rubber band through space and time. The scientists of his era would question that idea. Time travel was only a theory, and one that was usually laughed at.
But he'd done it.
Shaken, he sat on the edge of the bed. He'd survived what no one in recorded history had survived.
Lifting his hands, he turned the palms upward and stared at them. He was whole, and relatively undamaged. And he was lost. He fought back a fresh wave of panic, balling his hands into fists. No, not lost-he wouldn't accept that. If he had been shot one way, it was only logical that he could be shot another. Back home.
He had his mind, and his skill. He glanced at his wrist unit. He could work some basic computations on it. It wouldn't be enough, it wouldn't be nearly enough, but when he got back to his ship- If there was anything left of his ship.
Refusing to consider the fact that it might be completely destroyed, he began to pace. It was possible that he could interface his mini with Libby's machine. He had to try.
He could hear her downstairs. It sounded as though she were in the kitchen again, but he doubted she would fix him another meal. The regret came, too quickly to block, and the image of her sitting across the table from him flashed through his mind. He couldn't afford regrets, Cal reminded himself. And, if there was any choice, he wouldn't hurt her.
He'd apologize again, he decided. In fact, if he was successful with her computer, he would get out of her life as smoothly and painlessly as possible.
He moved quickly, quietly, into her room. He could only hope she would stay occupied until he made a few preliminary calculations. He'd have to be satisfied with those until he could find his ship and employ his own computer. Though impatience pushed at him, he hesitated for another moment, listening at the doorway. She was definitely in the kitchen, and, judging by the banging going on, she was still in a temper.
The computer, with its awkward box screen and its quaint keyboard, sat on the desk, surrounded by books and papers. Cal sat in Libby's chair and grinned at it "Engage."
The screen remained blank.
"Computer, engage." Impatient with himself, Cal remembered the keyboard. He tapped in a command and waited. Nothing.
Sitting back, he drummed his fingers on the desk and considered. Libby, for reasons Cal couldn't fathom, had shut the machine down. That was easily remedied. He pushed through a few papers and picked up a letter opener. He turned the keyboard over, preparing to pry off the face. Then he saw the switch.
Idiot, he said to himself. They had switches for everything here. Calling on his remaining patience, he turned on the keyboard,
All at once she'd taken him beyond what he knew and into some wild, gut-wrenching spin. Even now he could remember what it had felt like when her lips had gone hot and urgent against his. His balance had tilted. He'd almost believed he saw lights whirling behind his eyes. It had been like being pulled toward something of enormous, limitless force.
His legs turned to water under him. Slowly he lifted a hand to brace himself against the wall. The dizziness passed, leaving a hollow throbbing at the base of his skull. And suddenly he remembered. He remembered the lights. The flashing, blinking lights in the cockpit. Navigational system failed. Shields inoperative. Automatic distress signal engaged.
The void. He could see it, and even now the sweat pearled cold on his brow. A black hole, wide and dark and thirsty. It hadn't been on the charts. He would never have wandered so close if it had been on the charts. It had just been there, and his ship had been dragged toward it.
He hadn't gone in. The fact that he was alive and undoubtedly on Earth made him certain of that. It was possible that he had somehow skimmed the edge of it, then shot like a rubber band through space and time. The scientists of his era would question that idea. Time travel was only a theory, and one that was usually laughed at.
But he'd done it.
Shaken, he sat on the edge of the bed. He'd survived what no one in recorded history had survived.
Lifting his hands, he turned the palms upward and stared at them. He was whole, and relatively undamaged. And he was lost. He fought back a fresh wave of panic, balling his hands into fists. No, not lost-he wouldn't accept that. If he had been shot one way, it was only logical that he could be shot another. Back home.
He had his mind, and his skill. He glanced at his wrist unit. He could work some basic computations on it. It wouldn't be enough, it wouldn't be nearly enough, but when he got back to his ship- If there was anything left of his ship.
Refusing to consider the fact that it might be completely destroyed, he began to pace. It was possible that he could interface his mini with Libby's machine. He had to try.
He could hear her downstairs. It sounded as though she were in the kitchen again, but he doubted she would fix him another meal. The regret came, too quickly to block, and the image of her sitting across the table from him flashed through his mind. He couldn't afford regrets, Cal reminded himself. And, if there was any choice, he wouldn't hurt her.
He'd apologize again, he decided. In fact, if he was successful with her computer, he would get out of her life as smoothly and painlessly as possible.
He moved quickly, quietly, into her room. He could only hope she would stay occupied until he made a few preliminary calculations. He'd have to be satisfied with those until he could find his ship and employ his own computer. Though impatience pushed at him, he hesitated for another moment, listening at the doorway. She was definitely in the kitchen, and, judging by the banging going on, she was still in a temper.
The computer, with its awkward box screen and its quaint keyboard, sat on the desk, surrounded by books and papers. Cal sat in Libby's chair and grinned at it "Engage."
The screen remained blank.
"Computer, engage." Impatient with himself, Cal remembered the keyboard. He tapped in a command and waited. Nothing.
Sitting back, he drummed his fingers on the desk and considered. Libby, for reasons Cal couldn't fathom, had shut the machine down. That was easily remedied. He pushed through a few papers and picked up a letter opener. He turned the keyboard over, preparing to pry off the face. Then he saw the switch.
Idiot, he said to himself. They had switches for everything here. Calling on his remaining patience, he turned on the keyboard,
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