Miles in Love - Lois McMaster Bujold [232]
"Oh, the girls will make more than that, now they're fully fed," Enrique informed them cheerfully over his shoulder from the bench.
Kareen stared thoughtfully at the twenty tubs she'd put up this morning, atop the small mountain from the last week. Fortunately, there was a lot of storage space in Vorkosigan House. She scrounged up one of the disposable spoons kept ready for sampling, and offered it to Madame Vorsoisson. Madame Vorsoisson accepted it, blinked uncertainly, scooped a sample from the tub, and took a brave bite. Kareen and Mark anxiously watched her swallow.
"Interesting," she said politely after a moment.
Mark slumped.
Her brows knotted in sympathy; she glanced at the stack of tubs. After a moment she offered, "How does it respond to freezing? Have you tried running it through an ice cream freezer, with some sugar and flavoring?"
"Actually, not yet," said Mark. His head tilted in consideration. "Hm. D'you think that would work, Enrique?"
"Don't see why not," responded the scientist. "The colloidal viscosity doesn't break down when exposed to subzero temperatures. It's thermal acceleration which alters the protein microstructure and hence texture."
"Gets kind of rubbery when you cook it," Mark translated this. "We're working on it, though."
"Try freezing," Madame Vorsoisson suggested. "With, um, perhaps a more dessert-sounding name?"
"Ah, marketing," Mark sighed. "That's the next step now, isn't it?"
"Madame Vorsoisson said she would test out the bug shit on her plants for us," Kareen consoled him.
"Oh, great!" Mark smiled again at the gardener. "Hey, Kareen, you want to fly down to the District with me day after tomorrow, and help me scout sites for the future facility?"
Enrique paused in his unpacking to unfocus his gaze into the air, and sigh, "Borgos Research Park."
"Actually, I was thinking of calling it Mark Vorkosigan Enterprises," Mark said. "D'you suppose I ought to spell it out in full? MVK Enterprises might have some potential for confusion with Miles."
"Kareen's Butter Bug Ranch," Kareen put in sturdily.
"We'll obviously have to have a shareholder's vote." Mark smirked.
"But you'd win automatically," Enrique said blankly.
"Not necessarily," Kareen told him, and shot Mark a mock-glower. "Anyway, Mark, we were just talking about the District. Madame Vorsoisson has to go down there and collect rocks. And she told Enrique she could help him with figuring out Barrayaran native botany. What if we all go together? Madame Vorsoisson says she's never met Tsipis except over the comconsole. We could introduce her and make a sort of picnic out of it all."
And she wouldn't end up alone with Mark, and exposed to all sorts of . . . temptation, and confusion, and resolve-melting neck rubs, and back rubs, and ear-nibbling, and . . . she didn't want to think about it. They'd got on very professionally all week here at Vorkosigan House, very comfortably. Very busily. Busy was good. Company was good. Alone together was . . . um.
Mark muttered under his breath to her, "But then we'd have to take Enrique, and . . ." By the look on his face, alone together had been just what he'd had in mind.
"Oh, c'mon, it'll be fun." Kareen took the project firmly in hand. A very few minutes of persuasion and schedule-checking and she had the quartet committed, with an early start set and everything. She made a mental note to arrive at Vorkosigan House in plenty of time to make sure Enrique was bathed, dressed, and ready for public display.
Quick, light