Dream Hunter (Bailey Spade 2)

Hmm. Maybe.

The dryad leaves, and I try my own version of the mushroom.

The thing is so foodgasmic a moan escapes my lips.

When I blink open my eyes—I didn’t realize I’d closed them—Valerian is watching me with a hunger that has nothing to do with produce.

My face turns hot, my heartbeat ramping up. “You never answered my question,” I mumble around a mouthful. “How long is the investigation?”

He peers at the greenery all around us, as if seeing other patrons and servers through the foliage. Then he refocuses on me. “I’ve just given us privacy with my powers,” he explains. “If the waitress comes back, she’ll see us eating and exchanging trivialities about the weather. Meanwhile, we can do anything we want and no one will be the wiser.”

Nearly choking at the thought of doing “anything I want” with Valerian, I locate a juicy, broccoli-like stalk and stuff it in my mouth.

He watches me chew with evident fascination before finally answering my earlier question. “I have no clue how long the investigation will take.”

Ignoring my disappointed grimace, he locates his own version of the plant that I just ate and attacks it.

Watching his jaws move, I realize this process can be fascinating—I have an especially hard time keeping my eyes away from his mouth. With effort, I marshal my wayward thoughts. “How about you tell me what exactly we’ll be investigating?”

He swallows his food with obvious pleasure. “That’s classified. Without clearing it first with the Senate, there’s not much I can tell you.”

“Good thing we have privacy, though.” I spear a giant bean with my fork. “Wouldn’t want someone to overhear the nothing you just told me.” I put the sauce-drenched bean in my mouth. Just like everything else so far, it’s divine.

Peeling his eyes away from my mouth, Valerian says, “The mere fact that I’m investigating something is need-to-know information. I only told you because I trust you.”

I narrow my eyes. “I wish that were mutual.”

“You don’t trust me?” He makes boyish puppy eyes—and it’s unclear if he uses his powers to make me melt at the sight, or if his control over his face is that good.

A short fantasy plays in my head, one where he and I reproduce and have a boy child who makes those exact eyes at me to get a pony made out of chocolate frosting.

Wait, what? What am I thinking?

I grab the beaker and slurp the tea loudly to banish the insane thought. “What about the game development?” I ask. “How long do you think that would take?”

He smiles. “I’d need to talk to my team to find out for sure. I know this much: The Illusion Scope—the hardware for our games—is going live in a few days, along with a couple of games, so my team is stretched thin. The game in question is phase two, so lower priority.” He makes short work of his own giant bean—as in, the legume, not the part of his body my mind keeps drifting to.

Tamping down on my unruly libido, I ask, “Would it be possible to make it higher priority? Maybe have your team start working on the changes to the game in parallel with your investigation?”

He raises an eyebrow. “As in, you want to get your payment before the job is even done?”

“Why not? You just said you trust me. Either way, you don’t have to release the game until I finish the investigation. I just want to help Mom as soon as possible.”

He gives me a dazzling grin. “You’ve got chutzpah, I’ll give you that.” Forking something that looks like a bright orange asparagus into his mouth, he consumes it with that signature relish of his.

I cross my arms in front of my chest. “Is that a no?”

“If you take all the money I’ve ever paid you and put a few zeroes at the end, that’s about how much it would cost to do what you ask.” He devours another morsel.

I edge forward on my stump-chair. “What if I helped with the game development?”

Mouth busy with the largest veggie on his plate, he gives me an incredulous look.

“I took courses in video game design,” I say defensively. “On top of that, dreamwalking and game design are quite similar—and I have lots of experience with the former.”

He chews thoughtfully, clearly not convinced.

“A good friend of mine also took those same courses. What if I convince him to help as well?”

Valerian swallows his food, his expression unreadable.

Possessed by some inner demon, I blurt, “He and I are not romantically involved.”

Now he looks amused. “You should’ve led with that. He suddenly seems perfect for the job.”

I tap my fingers on the stump-tabletop. “Felix is a wizard with computers. Literally so—he has power over silicon on top of his deep knowledge of computer science.”

Valerian’s gaze sharpens. “Is he that technomancer everyone hires to do their cyber security?”