If he took her in his arms now, what might she do? Grip his shoulders and pull him closer? Or break his wrists?

He had to admit, there was something viscerally thrilling about not knowing. He didn’t want to hurt her, nor be hurt, yet when it came to the quantifiable variables of his life and the order to which he liked to assign everything, the unknown element of Celene excited him.

Everything about her excited him.

He couldn’t let himself think of that, of what he wanted.

“That was a surprise.” In the confines of the small cockpit, his voice sounded too low, too gravelly. “The combat, I mean,” he added when she raised a brow.

“Surprise attacks tend to be unexpected,” she said drily.

Oh, hells, of course she would know that.

“We handled the situation well enough,” he said. “But I’m talking about being in an actual fight. The combat was definitely alarming but also…exhilarating. A lot more than SimCom or training.”

“Nothing like live plasma fire to get the heart rate up.” She grinned. “You weren’t scared?”

“Definitely,” he answered.

She chuckled at his ready response. “Didn’t show it.”

He shrugged. “Why should I? Panicking wouldn’t help either of us. Had to direct my concentration toward defeating the enemy and getting us out alive.”

“But you liked it.” A statement, not a question.

“You know, I did.” He was thoughtful. “Operating in pristine harmony with someone else. Fighting side by side. Anticipating each other’s needs and fending off attackers.” His muscles burned just thinking about it again. “Still, I don’t want to go into combat with anyone else but you.”

He fought the urge to close his eyes. Gods, he had not meant to say that. Not out loud, at least.

Her silver eyes widened. “Tell me about the Night of Masks,” she finally said.

“I’d rather not. We could talk about the other kiss.” Much easier for him to rationalize it as the heat of the moment.

But she looked distinctly uneasy at the mention of their most recent kiss. “I’d rather not,” she echoed.

What made her so uncomfortable? Was it the idea of kissing a NerdWorks engineer? Or something else? Something that made her…uncertain.

“Was it spontaneous,” she pressed, her voice gaining confidence, “or did you plan it?”

Prevarication seemed unlikely. Her tone refused argument, and her eyes told him that she’d see through any dissembling.

“Planned,” he answered. “I’d known of you for a long time. Actually, we met almost two solar years ago. I was making some mods to your Wraith after a sortie. We talked about piloting systems for a while, then you went to a squad debriefing.”

“I remember,” she said, then added, “vaguely.”

He battled an automatic wince. Why would a Black Wraith Squad hotshot truly notice NerdWorks?

“I remember you vividly,” he said. “You left an impression.”

Her expression grew distant. “Stainless Jur.”

“Best of the best. An untouchable combat record. And,” he continued, deciding that he might as well be completely candid, “you were—are—so beautiful, you stopped my heart.”

Her aloof expression slipped a little. She seemed genuinely surprised that anyone might notice her as a woman rather than a series of combat statistics.

“Should have said something,” she noted.

He gave a rueful chuckle. “Every scenario I ran for that conversation resulted in the same outcome. None of them involved you and I sitting down for a cup of kahve, let alone me getting you back to my quarters.”

Her cheeks turned pink, illuminated by the light of the control panel.

He shook his head. “I can hardly believe I’m saying these things now.”

“You just survived a firefight with PRAXIS.”

“So it should be easy to get through this…confession.” Would her dismissal hurt more than a plasma blast to the chest?

“Without actually testing your theory, that’s all it remains—theory. You’ll never know unless you try.”

“Let’s not mislead ourselves,” he said. “Honestly, if I’d suggested we watch a vid together and have dinner by simu-candlelight, you would’ve said yes?”

She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it. Her gaze became thoughtful.

“Your silence is my answer.” Nils returned his gaze to the tracking device.

“There are different kinds of engagements.” Her voice was weighted with experience. “Not just combat, but engagements between people. And I’ve learned from all of them. Including the fact that when a man looks at me with stars in his eyes, he’s going to be disenchanted when the daylight comes and the stars fade.”

“It would have been different with me.”

“Maybe, but I’d seen that look too many times to want to see it again.”

The weariness in her voice made him look up from the display. Her eyes gleamed with a rare vulnerability. How had no one seen her isolation? A reputation like hers had its benefits, yet it must also keep her in seclusion. How frequently she had been disappointed by her lovers? He didn’t particularly want to dwell on the image of Celene in bed with another man, but however often she encountered that disappointment, it had most assuredly left a lingering mark.

She wore her reputation like armor, shielding her.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

She shrugged, though the gesture was not as careless as she likely intended. “I fly forward. I’m very good at it.” Turning a curious gaze toward him, she said, “So you meet me once, lose your nerve to ask me out and then…kiss me on the Night of Masks years later. A long stretch of time for you to formulate a plan.”

“Not all of it was spent contemplating how to kiss you.” For much of the intervening months, Nils had tried to put her from his mind. Compartmentalization came easily to him, as well as the logical means by which he could resolve dilemmas. “I went about my duties in Engineering. Trained. Studied.” He couldn’t resist adding, “Went on a few dates.”

“Here I was, thinking you were some kind of Llinanian monk.”

He gave a self-deprecating snort. “I wasn’t a priest of the love goddess Oshun, either.” He hesitated. “But when you’d come back from missions, I’d run extra diagnostics on your Wraith. Even if I wasn’t assigned to do so. Making sure your ship wasn’t harmed.” It was the closest he would ever come to looking after her.

Beautiful, strong, capable. He would go over her Wraith carefully, and thoughts had filled his mind as his hands were busy running the tests. What would it be like to get close to her? To feel the lean length of her body against his? To taste her mouth? Or, gods, even simply talk with her?

He could say that the scientist in him wanted to know—the spirit of intellectual inquiry compelling him to pose a question and then answer it. That would be a lie. He was a man, and it was with a man’s desire that he dreamed of her, distant and brilliant as a star.

“Even if you weren’t thinking about kissing me all that time,” she pointed out now, “you certainly picked a prime opportunity to do so.”

“It’s foolish to waste a promising prospect.”

A corner of her mouth turned up. “That’s either very rational, or a supreme example of justification.” Her smile turned into a frown. “But everyone was wearing masks. How’d you know it was me? There are plenty of women in 8th Wing with hair the same color and length as mine, whose height and build matches mine.”

“Maybe I kissed them too,” he countered.

“No, you didn’t.”

“No.” He shook his head. “I didn’t.” He hoped she might let the question pass, but she continued to hold him with her incisive gaze. Her reputation for tenacity was also well earned. “I just…recognized you.”

“Recognized me,” she said, her voice heavy with irony. Clearly, she did not believe him.

He sighed roughly. “Something about you…I could always find you in a crowded room. Even if I wasn’t looking for you, even if I didn’t know you’d be somewhere in particular, my gaze…went straight to you. Instinctively.”

Frustrating to attempt to explain something for which he had no explanation. He, who dealt in specifics and known quantities, found himself utterly at a loss. Because the truth was that he truly didn’t understand how it was he could find or recognize Celene in a crowded room full of people wearing masks. He simply saw her and knew.

She looked at him now across the cockpit, her eyebrows raised in surprise. It seemed that had not been the answer she had expected.

“I never knew.”

“Why would you? A sun isn’t aware of orbiting planets, especially the ones furthest away.” He looked at the stars surrounding them now, distant and shimmering. “I hadn’t planned on finding and kissing you on the Night of Masks. Wasn’t even intending on going to the celebration.”

“Everyone loves the Night of Masks.”

He shook his head. “Too noisy, too chaotic. I only went that night because some of my Engineering colleagues dragged me from my quarters. They shoved a mask into my hands, insisting I come with them.”

“And you had a great time.”

“Had a terrible time.” He sighed, recalling that night. “The evening played out pretty much as I’d anticipated. Hovering at the periphery of the festivities, feeling tense and ill at ease. It’s just…not an environment I enjoy.”

“Why didn’t you leave?”

“I almost did. I was moments away from retreating back to the shelter of my quarters—when I saw you. Dancing.” With three men.

He’d been profoundly aroused, as well as raked with jealousy. Then he didn’t know himself or his actions. Only that he had been standing at the edge of the dancers one moment, and the next, he had moved through the crowd with the intent and precision of an ion knife.