She seemed to think about that for a moment—and then Downing realized why she was pausing: she’s attracted to him. No surprise: he’s handsome enough and fit. An excellent start. “Nice to meet you,” she was saying. “I’m Opal—Opal Patrone. Can’t say I remember you—or really anything about that night, really. They tell me that you lose memories if they jump-start you out of coldsleep.”
Caine looked sidelong at Downing. “Supposedly, if they put you under or wake you up too quickly, memories get lost. Something about trauma to the chemical encoding of memories, with the more recent ones being the most vulnerable. Although I seem to have been particularly susceptible.”
“What do you mean?” Which was theater, since she had been briefed about Riordan’s memory loss. So, she also lies passably well.
He broke eye contact, looked off at nothing in the stands: “I seem to have lost a bit more memory than usual.”
“I’m sorry.”
Caine looked at her with a sharp yet sympathetic intensity. “From what I hear, some people have it far worse than I do.”
Opal started. “You mean me? Oh, I don’t know: a fresh start on life sounds good. Particularly since I was pretty much dying when they put me in the freezer.”
Caine didn’t say anything; but his lips crinkled upward at the edges, as if the two of them had shared a rueful private joke. She smiled back—and Downing sensed that she was about to move closer to him. No, too soon. She’s so damned frank, she’ll chase him off. Downing preemptively edged closer to Caine, blocking her. “When did you get in?”
“About an hour ago. Nolan also wanted me to tell you that your collarcom is dead, and that you have a briefing at 1900 hours.” He turned to Opal. “Ms. Patrone, can I offer you a lift, or—?”
Downing strolled toward the track. “Actually, that’s Captain Patrone. I’d be grateful if you could give her a ride back: I was late coming to collect her, and I’d like to get in a quick jog. Be a good chap and take her on back to the villa—or better yet, why not take a quick sightseeing tour?”
“Sightseeing?” Opal repeated incredulously.
Damnit, woman: do you have any subtle courtship instincts whatsoever? Downing provided a more specific prompt: “You certainly have enough time to drive up to the Legonia overlook. The ocean views are breathtaking. Or so I’m told.”
That seemed to get Opal back on track. She smiled at Caine. “After being cooped up for almost six weeks, I could do with a change of scenery. It’s also just what the doctors ordered. Literally.”
Caine’s eyes had not left hers, although his eyebrows had risen a notch when Downing had indicated that she was an officer. “Well, Captain Patrone? Shall we see the sights?”
Opal smiled back. “Oh, just call me Opal—and yes, I’d love a look around. But, fair warning: you might want to rethink your offer. I’ve been working out for almost ninety minutes in this heat.” She used thumbs and forefingers to pull her sweat-soaked shirt away from her torso; when she let it go, it fell back and clung to her closely. Unplanned, but a nice effect, Downing had to admit.
Caine managed not to glance down at her shirt-sculpted breasts, but his smile may have broadened a bit: “No matter her condition, it’s always a privilege to help a lady in need—or to squire her about.”
She laughed out loud—quite genuinely, Downing thought. “My, how gallant!” she exclaimed. “Lead on.”
Chapter Sixteen
ODYSSEUS
Once in the car, Caine turned to Opal. “You sure you want to drive up a mountain?”
“Anything without security guards is fine by me.”
He smiled at her for a moment before telling the car, “Legonia overlook, please.”
“Yes, sir.” The engine whined into activity and they reversed toward the exit. Opal started to clutch the sides of her seat when the car started moving without human control, then she fumbled for the seatbelts.
Caine smiled again. “First time in one of these?”
Opal both smiled back and glared at him. “Look, in my day, the people drove the cars—not the other way around.”
He nodded, looked out the windshield as they glided smoothly into the sparse traffic passing the stadium. “And when exactly was your day?”
Opal’s chin came up, almost defiantly. “They made me an ice-pop in 2066. Couple of bad coincidences during a counterterrorist operation. But only the good die young, so I’m destined to be immortal, I guess.”
He looked over at her with a raised eyebrow. “I envy your confidence in your own immortality.”