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trying to figure out how he planned to manage that when she was above him on the ladder.
    He managed it by climbing up until he was standing on the rung below her feet. Caging her in, he grasped the bucket and lifted it out of her way.
    He was certainly no threat—no immediate threat in any case since neither of them could survive without their suits, but Rhea was still unnerved. At any other time or place, she might have thought chivalry had prompted him to help her. Now, she knew better.
    Kyle Justice felt something when Rhea turned to look at him that he sure as hell had never expected.
    He felt like he’d just been kicked in the head and kicked in the gut at the same time—breathless, disoriented—stunned. A vague awareness of his surroundings remained, enough to make him realize that his reaction couldn’t go unnoticed, either by her or anyone else if he couldn’t kick start his brain, and it still took an effort.
    He didn’t know what he had expected when he’d decided to take the opportunity to try to make contact, but it wasn’t what had happened.
    He supposed he should have expected it, he thought wryly, given that he’d gone catatonic when he’d watched her shimmy out of her suit and into the PEC. As brief as his glimpse of her had been, it had imprinted itself indelibly on his brain. His cock had stood at attention, and his brain had gone dead from blood loss. If it hadn’t been for the poor son-of-a-bitch that had discovered his suit was compromised, there would’ve been two dead men in the hanger, because it had taken that to jolt him back to his surroundings.
    He couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen a real, living, breathing woman that flawlessly, beautifully formed—if ever. She was almost as perfectly rounded and curved in all the right places as a sex doll—except real, living flesh and blood woman.
    And he still hadn’t expected to discover that the face that went with that sinfully womanly figure would rock him back on his heels. He managed after a moment, though, to gather his wits enough to try to hide his reaction.
    He wasn’t altogether certain what to make of Raathe, but he knew he wasn’t a man to take lightly and it was clear Raathe didn’t want anyone getting any ideas about Rhea.
    Raathe, Rhea discovered when she looked up, had crossed the beam once more and was staring down at the two of them, his hands on his hips. She couldn’t see his face for the reflection off his face plate, but she didn’t need to. His stance was enough to assure her he wasn’t pleased.
    Seeing no hope for it, she continued her climb. Raathe stepped back when she reached the top, allowing her to climb onto the beam. She wrapped her arms around the column, hugging herself to it once she’d come completely upright. The man who’d climbed the ladder behind her set the bucket of rivets on the beam, studied her a moment and finally ascended to stand beside her.
    “What are you doing here, Justice?”
    Kyle flicked an assessing glance over Raathe, relaxing fractionally when he noted that, despite the hostility in his voice and his stance, Raathe was as firmly in control of himself as ever. “I was sent to pair off with you, Raathe.” He didn’t see any point in elaborating on the fact that he’d volunteered, particularly when it would only rouse Raathe’s suspicions more. No one volunteered to work with Raathe.
    He suspected that was because, according to rumors, at least four men who’d been assigned to work with Raathe since he’d been imprisoned in Phobos had turned up dead—three prisoners and one guard.
    Raathe studied him a moment longer and finally glanced at Rhea. “You’re gofer today.”
    Rhea sent him a look of confusion. “Gofer?”
    Tamping the urge to simply gape at her like an adolescent embroiled in his first crush, Kyle flicked a glance at her face. It was a pretty face, more striking than beautiful, but it was the fear and innocence in her wide eyes that made his gut