Andie's heart hammered at warp speed. If this kept up, she'd have a coronary so intense it would jettison her body into outer space; space travel is cool, but only within the confines of a protective environment with stuff like oxygen and radiation shields and those little Star Trek food replicators where you can instantaneously get any food you want. Her stomach growled, "feed me," in a deep threatening tone, like the plant in Little Shop of Horrors.

Clearly, she was losing her mind.

Calm. Be calm. Breathe.

How could Oliver possibly think she loved Chris? The sheer insanity of the question made it impossible for Andie to process, let alone answer. Didn't he know she'd done everything in her power to protect him? That she would do anything to see him safe?

"How would he know when you NEVER. TELL. HIM. ANYTHING?" Andie could actually feel Bad Andie's furious eye roll.

"You're right."

"The whole 'I'm gonna save my man' scheme backfired," Bad Andie continued. "He was about to get a new brain!"

"I said you were right. This is not helping and not fair. I didn't know his father was a vicious mad scientist/sexist/racist piece of space garbage."

"You yourself admitted you overlooked some important evil facts about Emerson Lieder. Maybe I should've noticed too. But look. Oliver is here. He has his original brain. Hopefully, this means he has all his original 'parts.' Get it together, girl!"

Oliver held out his arms, palms pointed toward the heavens. "Andromeda, you are killing me here. If you love him, I wish you happiness. And I will not stand in your way." He scowled at the comatose movie star. "Who am I fooling?" Oliver said. "I will rip him limb from limb but feel slightly bad doing it if you love him. Still, it would be much more satisfying if you told me he was kissing you without consent, in which case I will not feel at all bad about separating his limbs from the rest of his body."

For Chris's well-being, Andie retrieved the white shirt and blanketed his carved, six-pack-laden torso.

Which she totally hadn't noticed.

"Oliver is so romantic," Bad Andie piped in.

"You think it's romantic that he wants to de-limb Chris?"

"Yes. In a warped, crude, caveman way. It's not every millennium you get to see a guy in a tight silver spacesuit acting like a lovesick troglodyte. And you have to admit, Chris was hitting on you."

"Just because Chris is inexplicably attracted to me is no reason to detach his limbs."

Oliver snapped his fingers in her face. Why were people always doing this to her? "Andromeda. Are you in there?"

"Uh ..." She tried to form words that would express to Oliver how she felt about him, but they dribbled out of her mouth like rejected baby formula.

Andie sputtered.

"Sorry, I did not understand that."

More sputtering.

Oliver dropped to his knees beside her. "What is your answer? In English, please. Or another actual language."

Peering up at her drenched, fuming alien through tear-stained lashes, Andie gently laid Chris's head on the floor. She stood, drawing Oliver up with her, and hugged him with such intensity he grunted. Still, she didn't loosen her hold for fear if she did, she'd lose him again. The thought of how close he had come to having his brain replaced, to never even remembering her, made her blood freeze.

Breathing his cinnamon scent, she nestled against him as close as physics allowed. And it still wasn't close enough. His heart was beating as fast as hers. She released her grip, mostly so he could resume breathing, and ran her hands up his muscular back. Andie fisted her hands in his wet hair, and finally kissed him, the vibration of his question hanging on his lips.

She kissed him her answer in the most coherent language she could:

Mouths slanted, crushed together—I'm not in love with him.

A clash of tongues—I want you.

Devouring lips—Never let me do anything as stupid as leaving you again, dammit.

Oliver seemed to understand and responded with a trail of kisses across her jaw and down her neck—I will never let you be that stupid again!

Eyes flashing with blue lightning—I want you too.

His groin pressing hard and urgently into her womanly region—"I mean it! I want you a lot and would be interested in making love to you right here. Right now. Okay?"

Actually, he said that last part out loud.

In response, her already glowy body lit up like a nuclear reactor. "I want you, Oliver. More than anything in the universe. I want ..." she couldn't talk at this point because of all the panting she was doing as Oliver's hands explored everywhere on her body at once. She surreptitiously checked to see if he had sprouted a few extra arms/tentacles, but he seemed to have the normal quantity. She chalked it up to the "Benefits of Having an Alien Boyfriend #485."

It wasn't clear whether it was the alien hormones darting through her bloodstream like crazed tadpoles, or Oliver's general attractiveness, his cinnamon scent, or that she hadn't even realized how much she longed for his touch until he surrounded her and enveloped her, but she urgently needed to have sex this instant. Despite the unconscious bodies all over the floor (including, ick, Oliver's father), a raging hurricane outside, an empty stomach, her bones aching with exhaustion, and slight embarrassment about recently regurgitating cinnamon-flavored acid. She wanted to lose herself in loving him. And never come back. "More. Please. Now."

He complied, dipping his head, lowering his lips to hers, then without breaking the kiss, pulled her up by her behind. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his waist, clinging to him, waves of delicious sensation at every point of contact. The mind-boggling kiss left her breathless. Goddamn, he was a good kisser. She moaned.

"I knew you still wanted me," he said, a smirk forming on his lips.

"Yes," Andie said, breathlessly. "But no need to be all cocky about it."

"He has every right to be as cocky as he wants," Bad Andie pointed out. Quite rationally. "The man has skills!" Even Bad Andie was panting.

Andie gripped the fabric at the top of Oliver's spacesuit, ready to rip it off of him, when her nose detected an amazing smell wafting into the room. Her stomach roared. Louder than the hurricane. Someone was baking.

Snickerdoodles.

"What the ...?"

The swinging door to the kitchen opened, and François entered, followed by Ernest, Rosalie, Cash, Frank, Bill, a Zut vision in neon. Rosalie carried a platter of cookies. "Miss Andie! Prince Oliver!" they said in unison, wending their way around the bodies. For a split second, Andie lamented that it hadn't been Sterling making the Snickerdoodles. But Sterling was happy in the Colony and only baked when she was upset, so her not being here was a good thing. Right?

"The kitchen is fantastic," Rosalie said. "Just like on the Cooking Channel."

"We cannot thank you enough," Ernest said.

Andie's mouth watered. Every molecule in her body urged her to tackle Rosalie and tear into the platter of cookies like a lioness taking out a cinnamon-scented zebra. But the Zuts' excitement was infectious.

"This is our dream," Cash said. "François told us we would get to work in a restaurant and live in a mansion! No more dungeons."

Andie glowed with happiness. Okay, she was already glowing, but that didn't mean that she wasn't overjoyed. "I'm so glad this is what you want."

"We tried to come sooner," François groused, glaring at the fallen Amu and throwing his hands in the air with a dramatic flourish. "But there was a Wormhole Blocker in use. And once we finally arrived, we had to hide in the kitchen after glimpsing the two of you going at each other like lovesick Zandorkobeasts."

Heat rose to Andie's cheeks. Oliver displayed a loopy grin.

Andie's eyes tracked the platter of cookies as Rosalie set them onto a table. "We were so worried, Miss Andie. We knew the king was back at the Star Enquirer because we saw him in our spy monitor. Our cameras are still in the penthouse. Quickly we realized he was also watching us and overheard François explaining how you bought this restaurant with the company's money and were waiting for us here."

That explained how Emerson found out Andie was at the café. She knew the Zuts wouldn't knowingly rat her out.

"We are sorry," Ernest said, nervously pulling at the billowy fabric of his clown pants.

"We did not mean to get you in trouble," Frank added.

Andie patted Ernest's back. "You did nothing wrong, I knew you ..."

"Shhh," Oliver grabbed Andie and put his hand over her mouth.

She pushed his hand away. "Don't tell me to shush! Never, ever, ever!"

"Andromeda," Oliver hissed, "someone is coming. Are you expecting anyone?"

François peered down his aquiline nose at her and shot a glance at her (slightly) distended belly.

Her first (guilty) thought was: Only a time-traveling baby. Obviously, this wasn't what he meant, though. She shook her head and held her breath, listening for a sound other than the howling wind punctuated by bursts of thunder. Finally, she could make out the crunching of tires outside in the gravel parking lot. Oh, no. She sucked in a breath.

Flashes of red and blue light stabbed through the high-up clerestory windows on the parking lot side of the building. Oliver grabbed her hand. "We need to get out of here. It is your law enforcement."

"Don't Wormhole," Andie pleaded. Outside, the sound of heavy doors slamming was followed by the bone-crushing grind of footsteps on the gravel.

"Why not?" Oliver said.

"Uh, there's something I need to tell you ..."

Someone pounded at the front door. Oliver engaged the lock, then picked up a solid oak table as if it were a cutting board, and pushed it against the door. "Tell me. I am all eyes."

"Ears, Oliver. You are all ears," Andie said.

"Miss Andie, can we help you?" Rosalie said. All the Zuts were rocking back and forth, wringing their hands.

Knock, knock, knock. "Open up. We know you're in there. We have a warrant for your arrest. Come out with your hands over your head," boomed a booming voice.

"Oh, my god!" Andie whispered frantically. "They've already found me."

"Ma! Let me sleep," Chris Pine whined, eyes still closed.

"Chris!" Andie said.

"Open up now!" The pounding intensified. In a moment, they would give up on the knocking and start aggressively breaking and entering.

"Can't a guy get any rest? Ma, I'll be down in a minute. Having the weirdest dream. This girl was zapping a dude with blue lightning out of her fingertips."

"He lives with his mother?" Andie said out of the side of her mouth.

Chris's eyes flew open. "I do not live with my mother!" He sat, rubbing his jaw. "What the hell hit me?"

"I can explain," Andie said. "But later. When I'm not about to be hauled off to jail."

"I hit you." Oliver pointed the blaster at Chris. "You were about to kiss my girlfriend," he said in his 'I'm a rational alien, not a crazed madman in a silver spacesuit pointing a blaster at you' voice.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, man. Is that thing for real?" Chris said, blocking his face with his arms. Like that would do him any good if it was real. Which it was.

Oliver demonstrated the weapon's authenticity by blasting the half-dead ficus languishing in the shadowed corner. The ficus disappeared along with a chunk of the wormwood paneling. Andie's heart twisted in sorrow. Not only for the cost of the repair but also for the plant. Foliage stood little a chance when she was around, and it was time she accepted this.

"Whoa," Chris said. "Are you an actual alien?"

"I am."

"And all of them," Chris waved his arm at the still unconscious Amu, Zuts, Andie, and the Joining Planner.

"We are all from a different galaxy, handsome earth man," François wiggled his chalky brows. "Except for that one. She is an earthling, but with a little something added."

Andie glared at him.

Chris beamed, his sapphire eyes shining like a fangirl's dream. "Wow, this is the best day ever! It's all real. I knew it!" Sadly, the door pounding turned into door battering, interrupting his exaltations. Wood splinters and dust scattered in the entry.

"I am getting you out of here," Oliver said. "If we cannot Wormhole, we will blast our way out."

"Oliver, can we possibly do this without killing anyone?"

The battering ceased, followed by a trill of evenly spaced, precise knocks. "Open up. We know you're in there, Oliver Lieder. This is the Internal Revenue Service." The voice sounded vaguely familiar. How could they even be here? In the middle of a hurricane. The post office had no bragging rights over the IRS. 'Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor implausible hurricanes will prevent these agents from the swift completion of their audits.' "You are wanted for tax fraud. We have a warrant for your arrest. Come out with your hands over your head."

Andie's mouth fell open. "They're after you?"

"Who else would they be after?"

"Oh, geez, Oliver. We really need to talk," Andie said.

"I agree. There were many notices from your IRS. Had you been there to correct the tax return ..."

"Wait, so this is my fault?"

"Well ... I did not say it. You did."

"That's not fair."

"Shall we leave this place now and determine fault later when we can do the argument justice?"

A new insistent door knocking interrupted the discussion.

"Andromeda Bank, this is the FBI," came the booming voice again. "We have a warrant for your arrest for felony embezzlement."

Oliver's sexy, full lips (which she was not at all thinking about kissing) gaped open. "You? Embezzlement?"

Outside the partially broken door, the IRS and FBI began arguing about jurisdiction and precedence. "About that," Andie said.

"Never mind. We have to get out. This would all be so much simpler if we could Wormhole," he griped.

Cash picked up one of the supermodel's fallen blasters. "We will hold off the humans while you escape. Do not worry. We will fry no one without good reason."

"Uh ..."

"I will make sure none of the humans is annihilated," François said, winking at Chris. "And see that your father and the guards receive their just desserts."

"Do you guys have spaceships and stuff? Can I go for a ride? Maybe try out a real captain's chair?" Chris said, not taking in the current urgency zipping through the air.

The other Zuts gathered weapons. "There is a door from the kitchen to the beach," Ernest said. "Go out that way. We love you, Miss Andie."

"I love you all, too. But they must have the place surrounded," Andie said. "We won't make it far."

Oliver held up his iPhone. "We do not have to go far. Our transport awaits." He grabbed Andie's hand and pulled her toward the kitchen.

"Hold on!" She scooped up the Nien Nunb figurine from the floor, assembled them with the rest from her audit bag and those scattered on the table. "These are for you, Cash."

Cash's eyes filled with great milky tears. She stood on tiptoes to give him a kiss on his pale, cool cheek, her own eyes filling with tears. Then she slipped her computer back into the audit bag.

"Do not forget your cookies, Miss Andie," Rosalie said.

Andie took them gratefully and slid the contents of the platter into her bag as well. "Goodbye, everyone. I hope we can contact you soon." She had to believe this wasn't the last time she'd see them.

And with that, Andie allowed Oliver to lead her through the swinging kitchen door. The kitchen was warm and smelled like cinnamon sugar, and all Andie wanted to do was curl up in the corner and sleep. After consuming mass quantities of Snickerdoodles.

The cacophony of what must've been the Feds breaking into the front entrance propelled Andie onward through the back door. Outside, the relentless wind and rain assaulted them. Skyscraper-high waves crashed against the sand, spraying them with salt water. Andie's soaking hair snapped back like a windsock.

Oliver held her close to his chest, trying to protect her with his arms as they scrambled down a series of old rickety wooden steps to the beach. The parking lot was full of police cars, their lights madly twirling through the rain.

A beanpole of a man appeared from the shadows. "Hands up!" he shouted from beneath a slick black rain poncho. Beside him were two police officers. Also poncho'd, but also armed.

"Mr. Montgomery?" Andie said, finally having placed where she'd heard the voice.

"Yes, Miss Bank," he yelled to be heard over the hurricane. "We meet again."

"I'm really sorry I haven't gotten you the revised tax return yet. In my defense, I've been traveling to other galaxies on business and trying to save the world from aliens. I'm pretty sure that should earn me an extension."

"Oh, Miss Bank. You are amusing."

"I'm not kidding. And now, if you don't want my angry alien boyfriend to fry you with his ray gun, I suggest you back away slowly. Call this whole thing off and seek shelter. It's insane for you to be out here."

"Arrest them both," Mr. Montgomery ordered the cops.

They stepped forward with handcuffs at the ready when Star Force One emerged—a glorious Aphrodite rising from the depths. She drifted toward them and lowered the gangplank. "Finally!" Oliver said.

"Oh, Oliver. An escape ship. That is so sweet."

"What were you expecting? A white house?"

"Horse. Not house. And absolutely not. I was expecting a silver bat ray-shaped spaceship."

The humans dropped to the sand, mouths agape, staring at the magnificent luxury spaceship. "Whah?" they said, along with some more unintelligible word sounds, as Andie and Oliver climbed the gangplank.

Andie turned back at the ship's entrance and yelled, "I may be an embezzler, like my father before me, but I would never lie to you, Mr. Montgomery."

They crossed the threshold, and the door closed, silencing the storm.

Oliver strode onto the bridge. His spacesuit was dry, but Andie was soaked. She followed him, dripping an ocean's worth of water, her shoes squeaking with each step. "Star, move over the sea out of range of the human weapons and perform pre-intergalactic flight check."

"Yes, sir," Star said.

"Star can speak?" Andie said.

"A gift to her after her sacrifice on The Colony."

"You are amazing," Andie said. "Hey, Star."

"Hi, Andromeda."

"Call me Andie. I love that you can talk."

"Oliver is the best owner a spaceship could ask for," Star gushed.

"He's the best boyfriend, too. Star, thank you for everything you did for us at The Colony. You are my hero."

The cabin heated slightly and flooded with a pale wash of pink light. Andie assumed this was how a spaceship blushed. "Thanks, Andie."

He led Andie to the copilot's chair and buckled her into the harness, kissed her in his ooh la la amazingness, and took his own seat. He did that dancing hands thing and the interior white of the ship disappeared, replaced by Google Galaxy. The kaleidoscope of color surged forth, followed by the three-dimensional mockup of the universe. Andie opened her audit bag and nibbled. Well, actually wolfed down half a dozen Snickerdoodles. Of course, they were amazing. The Zut restaurant was going to be an L.A. sensation.