...The console hissed and crackled, shooting sparks everywhere.

“Ouch!” Sam leapt back as the glittering spray stung bare flesh. Too much bare flesh. Breasts, stomach, thighs… Gulp. She looked down at herself and blanched. It seemed that when the aliens had beamed her up, they’d neglected to beam her clothes along, too.

“I’m naked!” she screeched.

“Mmm, yes, I noticed.”

The murmur came from behind her, a deep, husky purr of a voice that stroked over her like crushed velvet, making her skin flush. Choking on her own breath, she spun about to confront it—

And nearly swallowed her tongue.

What the… That couldn’t possibly be who it looked like.

The voice came out of Shakespeare’s Hamlet. Well, someone dressed like Hamlet, in an all-black medieval-style doublet, shirt and hose, and with sleek black hair capping his head. But he was built like a Greek god, tall, tan and muscular, handsome as the devil and looking infinitely more sinful. A man rippling with power, radiating raw sex.

Sam’s mouth went dry. Switch the doublet to a dinner jacket and this guy might have stepped straight out of her wildest fantasies—or her video collection, which amounted to the same thing. She adored old movies and the actors who’d starred in them, and here stood her all-time favorite. All he needed was a martini, a gun, and a mission to save the world.

“Now I know I’m nuts,” she rasped out.

The man grinned, sending a hot shiver down her spine.

“Oh, no, not nuts,” he corrected, and his gaze lowered to her nipples. “More like fruit, I’d say. Strawberries, in particular.”

“Blimey, it’s a good thing Notto didn’t hear that,” one of the aliens muttered.

Why? Who the hell knew?

The man ignored the interruption, all his attention on Sam’s chest. “They’re such a deep, dusky pink when ripe—one of your planet’s great delicacies, I think. So firm yet juicy, strawberries. So tender and sweet.” He licked his lips. “One wants to savor them slowly, to roll them around on the tongue and suck and suck and—”

“I get the message!” So did her strawberries, which were now tingling and puckered into hard peaks.

“I doubt it. But you will.” He punctuated the promise with another grin, and Sam went damp between the legs.

She knocked her knees together and clutched her arms over her breasts as his gaze raked down her body, then up to her face.

“You’ve turned out quite nicely,” he told her, something in his tone making her back hairs prickle. “A near perfect duplicate. Isn’t that right, lads?” He glanced around at the dwarves.

The blue one yawned. “Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, guv’na.”

“Ain’t my type, but what the crap do I know? You’re the prince’s man. I’m just contract labor,” Xotto the green grumbled.

Red Totto and turquoise Vrotto grunted noncommittally. The purple one scratched under his arm and the orange one let out a loud belch. The yellow one seemed to have fallen asleep. He was slouched over his console, snoring.

The hunk in black shook his head and sighed. “Pay them no heed, love. Absolutely clueless, the lot of them—wouldn’t know a quality clone if it bit them in the ass.”

Sam’s stomach knotted. Clone? She didn’t like the sound of that.

“Trust me, with the proper schooling, you’ll do splendidly,” the man added.

Schooling? She liked the sound of that even less. The knot in her stomach tightened, and she hugged herself harder.

“What are you talking about? What’s going on here?” The demand came out in a dry croak, pathetic. She swallowed and tried again. “Who the hell are you?” That sounded like a mouse with a sore throat. Not much of an improvement, but the best she could manage.

Dreamboy looked nothing but amused. “Ah, yes, how rude of me. My apologies. Allow me to introduce us…” With a fluid flourish, he swept out his arm, indicating the crew one by one. “These are the Harvesters: Jotto, Xotto, Vrotto, Totto, Flotto, Notto, and Bleggh.”

“Bleggh?” Sam blinked at the orange-haired dwarf. He gave her a big, toothy smile and rumbled out another resonant belch.

“Sorry,” the man said. “He does that a lot, I’m afraid.”

“It’s all them Betelgeuse beans he eats,” green Xotto explained (as though anyone cared).

“At least his burps is better’n his farts,” Flotto of the pulsating purple hair groused.

“Phewy.” Jotto of the blinding blue held his nose. “You can say that again.”

“At least his burps is—”

Jotto slapped Flotto in the head. “I didn’t mean literally, you bleedin’ idiot.”

Mystery man heaved a long-suffering sigh. “You see what I have to put up with?” he said to Sam. “But to finish the introductions…” He dipped a short bow from the waist. “I, my lovely one, am Deuce, your trainer.”

“T-trainer?” She liked the sound of that the least of all. Panic prickled over her, icy chills mixed with escalating heat. Her thighs quivered with the effort to keep her legs under her. Her voice quivered more. “Trainer for wh-what?”

“Sex,” he said. A sudden fire in his eyes almost melted her where she stood.

Oh, God… She did have to ask, didn’t she? Her breath whooshed out in a ragged gasp and her knees buckled.

“Careful.” Strong hands gripped her waist to hold her upright—hot hands, scorching her skin, while the gleam in his dark eyes sizzled straight into her core. “You’re not going to faint, are you?”

Um…she was seriously considering it. “Would it help me any if I did?”

“Probably not.” Deuce chuckled. “But I could have all kinds of fun reviving you.”