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“That I would love to see.” Heather looked up and smiled. “Are you enjoying your extended stay on Prodigy?”

“Very much,” Solan said. “I trust you’re fully recovered from the unpleasant incident with Boros?”

“Heather is fine. She’s too busy thinking about Loka,” Vegas said.

“Who is Loka?”

“He’s no one,” Heather said, her cheeks glowing.

“He’s a Picar,” Vegas said, a teasing lilt in her voice.

“The alien who aided you after my fight with Boros?”

“That’s the one. He’s sweet on Heather.”

“He is not.”

“He brought you a lump of coal.”

“It’s a sign of friendship on his planet,” Heather said.

“You know it’s more than that. If you’re into horns, why not go for it?”

“Picars roar when they are happy,” Solan said. “And they scratch on their mate’s belongings to mark her as his. Has he been doing that with you, Heather?”

“He does not roar! And his claws retract. He’s scratched nothing of mine.”

“Solan is right, roaring is a good thing,” Vegas said. “Has Loka roared at you?”

“Once or twice.” Heather ducked her head. “It’s more a bellow than a roar. He’s very sweet when you get past the scary horns that could impale you with one wrong move.”

Solan smiled, happy to see Heather had not been damaged by her encounter with Boros. “Better a Picar than a dishonest Galaxar.”

Heather nodded. “Boros is long gone. He won’t be welcome back here. And his troop has lost the right to our services. He’s not going to be popular. That will teach him to be a bully. No one tries to hurt Vegas and me and gets away with it.”

Vegas grinned at Heather. “Quite right. Besides, we’ve got enough to keep us busy with this pile of applications. In fact, we’ve got enough to keep us busy for the next decade. If we make enough good matches, we might even hit Diadora’s ridiculous new targets.”

“If we do, she’ll only increase them again.”

Vegas wrinkled her nose. “Maybe we shouldn’t work so hard.”

“If you’re taking a break, how about you two pose for my latest PR stunt?” Ivy strolled into the room, dressed in a tight black jumpsuit.

Solan felt Vegas tense against him. Was this woman considered a threat? His hand went to the blade on his belt.

“Don’t worry, big guy,” Vegas whispered. “Ivy likes to push my buttons. She doesn’t want to fight; it would spoil her manicure.”

Solan’s hand slid to Vegas’s hip. The confidence in her voice assured him she could handle herself.

“I’m too busy to pose for your photos, Ivy,” Vegas said. “Find someone else. We’ve got plenty of matches who’ll be happy to take part.”

Ivy’s painted red lips pursed. “You aren’t all that photogenic. I don’t want to scare off potential clients by using you, anyway.”

Solan growled. “Vegas is perfection.”

She patted his hand. “Don’t you forget that.”

Ivy’s eyebrows quirked up. “I guess it’s true what they say; love really is blind.”