Page 130 of Hot & Heavy

"I have to tell you something, Maddie," he said, dreading it more than anything he could think of. He'd rather run the O-course a thousand times than tell Maddie they were not married.

"Me, too," she said. Turning in his arms, she looked up at him, and she was clearly scared. Maddie scared? It must be really bad.

"You go first," he said.

She sat up in the bed, cross-legged and naked, which made his eyes do cartwheels in his head. The woman just did not have the usual feminine anxiety about her body. You had to love her for that alone.

He sat up, too.

She inhaled and exhaled as if for courage. "I'm a time-traveler."

That was not what he'd expected. That she came from Russia and was a cossack, maybe. Or a freedom fighter in the North Pole, yeah. But a time-traveler? He started to laugh.

She stared at him, absolutely serious.

"Come on, Maddie. What's the joke?"

She shook her head. "I do not jest." She told him the year of her birth, about her family living in some royal estate in the Norselands, that all of her looneybird family had time-traveled, too, that everything she'd told him so far about Steinolf and the invasion and the harems was true, except those events took place long, long ago.

"That's over a thousand years ago. Give me a break!"

" 'Tis true. I swear it is. Leastways, I think it is."

He put a hand to his chin and rubbed. He needed a shave. He looked at her again as she gazed at him expectantly. What did she expect? That he would tell her, "It's all right if you're a thousand years old, I still love you." Shit! How do I tell her she needs to see a shrink if that's what she really thinks. But she can't think that. It's gotta be a joke.

"Do you think you could still love me if I am a time-traveler?"

"Sweetheart, I would love you if you were an alien from outer space." He leaned over and kissed her lightly on her kiss-bruised lips. First thing this morning, I'm calling Dr. Feingold at the base to get his advice. This is bizarre.

"You don't believe me, do you?"

"No, but it doesn't matter."

"What is your secret?" she asked then.

Oh, God! I forgot. There was nothing to do but brave it out. "We're not married."

She gasped and jerked backward as if he'd punched her.

He took both of her hands in his and tried to explain. "It's just a technicality. We can go get married somewhere private. Las Vegas, Reno, city hall, I don't care. It doesn't mean anything."

"We are not married?" She looked crushed.

"Turns out JAM's license to perform marriages had been taken away without his knowing it. But, please, don't look like that. I feel as if we're married. We will be married. Today, if you want."

"It does matter," she said in a dead voice. "How long have you known?"

He felt his face heat up. "A few days."

She shook her head at him. "The question is, will you be willing to wed a thousand-year-old woman?"

"That's silly."

"No, it's not. Tell me this, can a person get married in this country with no identity? Do they just marry anybody?"

"Well, no. You need a birth certificate at least, I would think. I don't know for sure. I was never married."

"And where are you going to find one for me?"