Designer Genes - The Boyfriend Cut (20 page)

"You're an ass! And stop blaming Jesse for what happened. He didn't do anything." I poked my chest. "
I
asked him to stay." Another poke. "
I
begged him to kiss me, and by the way, he's one hell of a kisser—"

"Enough!" Jordan roared.

A screaming silence filled the room. His gaze held mine hostage, the anger replaced by something I'd hoped I'd never see in his beautiful eyes. Hurt. I dropped onto the coffee table, unable to trust my legs to hold me.

Jordan's voice lowered, the tone still holding a curt bite. "All my life, I've competed with Jesse. In high school, he made my girlfriends his quest. Then he dropped them and broke their hearts. If Jesse hurt you like that, I couldn't forgive him."

"That explains 'game on,'" I mumbled.

Jordan's eyes narrowed as he read the note. The timbre of his voice sharpened. "What the hell happened between you?"

My stomach dipped to my toes and I reached for the fateful paper sheet. "If you don't mind, I'd like to see what I'm defending myself against."

He flung the paper at me in a disgusted gesture, turning his gaze out the window. Gingerly, I picked the letter off the carpet as if a grenade, minus the pin. My heart slammed my spine as I read Jesse's words.

Congrats my beautiful angel! Wish I could be there to share your day, but I've been "banned from the kingdom." Enclosed are tickets for you and your girlfriends to attend my concert in Park City, Utah, on your birthday. Surprise!! Remember my sexy little vixen, 'daddy' said "yes," (before he caught us pawing each other, that is).

Can't wait to hold you and taste your sweet lips. Maybe all night again? My head's been full of naughty thoughts ever since. I didn't want to wash your lip prints off my chest. How's the "brand" on your neck? Bet you didn't know I was part vampire, but you didn't complain about my cold hands! Ha! See you soon, baby. —Jess

Panic squeezed my chest. Jordan read these same words! What I did last Friday night went beyond playful flirting and a wave of fear surged. I could lose Jordan.

He flipped my hair back and exposed the bruised remnant. "Nice."

"It's just a hickey, Jordan. It's not like I haven't had one before."

"Oh, I'm sure Sam got his kicks off your neck, too."

Ass times three!

"I meant
you
."

Jordan's expression hardened, his eyes so cold I shivered when he stared through me. He started for the front door.

"So you're walking out on me?" I waited, hoping he'd take me in his arms and ravage my mouth with kisses full of need; tell me he'd never do such a thing.

He didn’t.

"I think some time apart is needed for both of us." He opened the door. "Maybe you should check out the red envelope," he charged in an icy tone.

Holy hell! How dare he be so pompous!

"I might just do that."

Jordan's eyes flashed in surprise, but turned flat and unreadable a half-second later. "Enjoy Jesse's concert. His band is good—he's got that on me, and now, possibly you."

Standing in the doorway dumbfounded, I watched Jordan hop off the porch, his long legs carrying him down the walk. He dropped into the Porsche without so much as a glance my direction. With an ear-piercing screech, he disappeared, leaving fine wisps of blue smoke reeking of melted rubber floating on the air.

I collapsed onto the cement stairs, my gut folding tight. Unbidden tears rained onto my feet. I wished I could turn back the clock—had shoved Jesse out of my room that morning—no further…never opened the damn red envelope.

Brittany's solar car pulled to the curb. I figured she and Alex would show up sooner or later, wanting details about last night. I stood, my butt numb from sitting for so long, and waited by the front door.

They paused on the walk, taking in all the black stripes. Between the tire marks Sam left on the driveway and the ones Jordan's Porsche melted in the street, our place looked like "burn-out central."

Alex studied me, brows knitted. "What happened, Davis? You look like shit."

Spot on. I still wore my swim shorts and bikini top from the party last night, and my face had to be blotchy and swollen from crying.

"I feel like shit."

"Whoa, Davis said a bad word."

Brittany cautiously edged closer. "Alex, don't. Something's wrong. Marli?"

"Not out here."

They followed me inside, exchanging glances when they passed the plates of half-eaten omelets. The red package on the side of the table glowed. Jordan's terse words, "
Maybe you should check out the red envelope,"
remained suspended, not daring to fall.

Alex pulled in beside me, shaking the ominous package. "What's this?"

"Another stupid interview request. I'll return it tomorrow."

"Aren't you even a little bit curious?"

I swallowed down the pebble stuck in my throat. "No. I should never have opened the last one."

Brittany stared at me, confused. "But that was Jordan's."

A sob wrenched from my aching stomach. "I-I know."

She threw her arms around me. "Marli, what are you saying? That Jordan shouldn't have happened?"

"I-I screwed up. I-I told Jordan about Jesse...about everything. Because of my stupid choices, I left him none. He had to protect his own heart."

They both knew about my night with Jesse. Brittany warned me everything could blow up in my face, but I honestly thought I had everything under control. I hadn't planned on a graduation present sabotaging my future. I also didn't plan on falling in love.

I slumped to the floor, sagged against the cabinets. The pain in my chest crushed hard and I wiped my runny nose with the back of my hand. "It's over. Jordan left me."

12

DOOR NUMBER "3"

T
he shower allowed me to have another melt down without anyone watching and get clean at the same time. I cried watching the sand Jordan and I kissed on for hours, circle the drain, knowing the scent of his cologne had rinsed from my skin.

I walked into my bedroom where Brit and Alex waited and gasped. The red envelope lay opened on the bed next to Alex. I snatched the small black cylinder from her fingers. Wrapped inside was the pod and if opened, added another twist to my already messy life.

"Do you know what you've done?" I glared at Brittany sitting across the room, "Why didn't you stop her?"

Both stammered "sorry," as if one word could erase events already in motion.

"Don't you want to know who's on the pod?"Alex asked. "I mean, if Jordan is gone, what could it hurt to peek?"

Brittany shrugged her shoulders. "You know, Marli, you interviewing with someone else might be what Jordan needs. The guy has to realize what he's losing."

"What about what I want? I don't need another complication in my life."

Alex's eyes twinkled. "You may like who's waiting behind
Door Number 3
better."

Impossible, but an intriguing thought. The curious part of me wanted to know and the other part, bruised and broken, wanted to punish Jordan. The smile creeping on my mouth felt foreign, but good. Maybe Alex had something. What damage could come from sneaking a peek?

I pointed to Brittany. "If he's a total loser
you
get to do the interview.

The chip stuck to my clammy palms when I tried inserting it into the computer. We sat mesmerized as the white dot in the center of the screen exploded into a million sparkles. The glittery background parted, revealing the perfect blend of Greek God and Archangel. Eyes the color of the deepest part of the ocean, wrapped in long, dark lashes, stared back from beneath loose waves of coffee colored hair. A hint of olive tint in his complexion suggested Mediterranean ancestry. When he spoke in a voice of deep, soft velvet...we melted.

"Hel-
lo
, Door Number 3," Alex whispered reverently.

Trouble sizzled—the worst kind.
Door Number 3's
name was Douglas Peterson and he lived in Juneau, Alaska. While my eyes remained on the talking hunk of hotness, I mentally rifled though through my closet for a coat and boots. I booked a flight for Saturday morning.

I finished clearing the breakfast fiasco and put a pan of lasagna in the oven, avoiding eye contact after casually informing Rick about my weekend trip to Alaska.

"YOU'RE GOING WHERE? I thought you agreed to discuss matters relating to your candidacy and stop making impulsive decisions!" He slammed his bag on the kitchen table and slid a chair out, mumbling something about no longer able to handle a teenage daughter. "What happened from the time I left this morning to now?"

I leaned my hip against the counter. "I told Jordan about Jesse." A painful jolt tugged my heart at the mere mention of his name. "He exploded and left—probably for good.

"Did he say that?

Unwanted tears chased over my cheeks, but I kept my voice steady. "'Space,'" I air quoted, "is what Mr. Mason wants."

So 'space' he shall get.

"He also hated Jesse's present, which, by the way, thanks for letting me go. At least you trust me."

"Don't give me too much credit there," Rick snorted. His demeanor changed when I didn't answer. He reprogrammed the oven. "Let's talk."

"Don't you want to eat first?"

"I think what's happening with you is more important than dinner. You have your old dad worried." He towed me into the living room—the place where all life altering events were discussed.

Like earlier today.

I curled into the corner of the sofa and he eased into the overstuffed chair across the room.

"So Pumpkin, do I need all the details? The last thing I want in my head when I go to sleep, is any romantic stuff involving you. The list grows daily on boys I want to kill."

At the moment, I welcomed his sarcastic humor. "A condensed version will work." Purposely avoiding any mention of Jesse's intimate note, I glazed over the fight scene, managing to keep the tears at a minimum, while inside I threatened to drown.

"I'm struggling not to spit out 'I told you so,' but on the other hand, if Mr. Mason can't handle the truth, it's best you end things now. Honesty is crucial in a relationship."

"Thanks for the restraint on the 'I told you so.' Don't judge Jordan too harshly, though. Remember, I only gave you the highlights
.
"

Dad's chuckle echoed. "I'm certain there's a lot more to the story." He leaned forward. "So how did Alaska land on your weekend agenda?"

He didn't care too much for Alex, his opinion possibly tainted by Karen and earned by Alex's own actions, so I assumed the blame for the opened envelope. The rest he knew—I was obligated to interview.

He rose from the chair, stretching his back with a groan. Easing beside me on the sofa, he patted the knees tucked in my arms. "I hate to ask, but does Jordan know you're going to Alaska?"

"No."

He pulled my folded body into his arms, "Then I won't tell him, either."

No worries there. He won't call to ask.