Designer Genes - The Boyfriend Cut (4 page)

"Security floor—instantly senses a person's emotions. So, are you really afraid?'"

I stared, confused.

"Pink. Yellow is happy, red means angry, and pink equals fear. Your footsteps flashed bright.
Very
scared." His brow tweaked upward. "Then there's purple."

"Purple?" I asked, taking another backward step.

He followed my retreat. "Passion
.
"

"Passion? Really?" I questioned the fact a floor could judge hormonal overload.

"Supposedly. I think my parents had the thing created to tattle on us when we came home past curfew—kind of like an electronic 'chastity meter.'"

I laughed, immediately covering my mouth. "
Parents
. They can be a pain sometimes."

When he smiled, the dimple in his right cheek deepened. "More often than not. I don't understand how the floor works. Something about thermal readings…scientific 'voodoo.' As long as it doesn't flash green."

"Green?"

He shifted his gaze to the ceiling. "Chemical or alcohol consumption."

"I'm guessing that's happened to you?"

His shoulders shrugged, a sly grin twisting his mouth. "I'll never tell." He stepped into the space I vacated and pulled a strand of my hair through his fingers. "Damn, you're a knock-out. Jordan's one lucky bastard."

Mr. "Yellow Band" frightened me and yet, I couldn't move away. A surprise twinge of anxiety squeezed my chest. I didn't want to move away.

"Jesse! Step away from her." The woman's sharp voice slammed my heart to my toes, and I teetered again on my four-inch spikes. He caught my elbow and she glowered. "What do you think you're doing, young man?"

"Leaving, what else." He gave her a dismissive salute and disappeared, but the warmth on my arm from his touch lingered. Right then I decided Jesse was dangerous—and forbidden
.

"I'm sorry for that unfortunate display."

She stood in the doorway leading to a formal dining room, her slender frame silhouetted by the shaft of light behind her. Wisps of gray threaded through the dark blonde hair bordering her face. I dropped my eyes against her hard stare, realizing she also assessed me
.

She gestured to the leather couches, omitting any introduction. Not required. Candidates weren't allowed to meet, let alone conduct their own interviews. Too risky. Personal emotions couldn't play a part.

"Judgment can be clouded by emotional attachment," explained my counselor.
Shelve the heart and you won't get hurt
, according to me.

The cushion I settled on cradled like a soft cloud. I watched her readjust the same pictures Jesse had before gracefully perching on the opposite sofa. An awkward silence captured the moment. Trying to be subtle, I turned my head slightly. No sign of Jesse, but I felt certain he remained close.

"I apologize for my son's inappropriate behavior. I don't understand him, sometimes," she sighed. "Jesse is Jordan's twin, although they're not identical. I suppose it's all right to tell you that. I'm new at this. Jordan is our first to proceed this far." A slight smile flickered on her mouth. "Oops. I suppose I just let my identity slip. I'm their mother, Eva Mason."

She sucked a deep breath. "Jesse was also in The Program, but circumstances changed his course. He's now pursuing a career in music."

"So, Jesse's musical ambitions? Classical or modern?" A snicker echoed from somewhere down the hall
.

She considered my question, leaned forward and lowered her voice. "Unfortunately, modern
.
He's in some new age rock band."

"Is he any good?"

Her demeanor changed instantly. "I think we've discussed Jesse enough. After all, you're here to interview for Jordan." Her brusque reminder sent a wave of heat over my face once again.

She concentrated intently on the contents of the digital file framed in her hands, a finger tapping her bottom lip. "According to your records, your father is a veterinarian. I assume you were raised around animals?" Her nose wrinkled for a second as if she smelled something bad.

"Animals have always been a part of my life. I love them. During the summer, I work at Rick's,
er,
my father's clinic."

Her rose painted lips pursed. "Rick?"

"'Rick' is my dad's name. I called him that before 'daddy,' according to my mother. Sometimes, I slip."

"It's unusual." Her curt tone told me she didn't approve. "Speaking of your mother, your file indicates she currently serves with our military overseas. Is that correct?"

"Yes. I believe she's stationed somewhere in Greece."

"You
believe?
You're not certain of your own mother's whereabouts?"

We'd hit a touchy subject. My mother and I hadn't been on the best of terms since she and Grandma Davis hijacked my life. My candidacy opened the door to a military job my mom had wanted for years, only there happened to be a captain standing behind it my father didn't know about. I wasn't sure which I felt angriest at her for—deceiving me…or Dad.

"I haven't had much contact with my mother since she deployed," I quickly offered. "To be honest, I seldom hear from her."

Jordan's mother's eyes dropped, her tone sharp and the next comment, I suspected, not directed at me. "Yes, well government jobs can sometimes be very demanding." She quickly scrolled to another page. "Your brother, Daniel, also served in the armed forces?"

"Yes." My answer drifted out on a whisper and I braced myself for what always followed. Hearing the words, however, opened the painful wound.

"It states here he was killed in the line of duty." Her eyes found mine when I grew quiet and I looked away. "I'm sorry for your loss," the words bouncing back, borrowed from the air where I'd left them earlier. "His death must have been difficult for you."

The salty sting of tears burned behind my eyes. The pain still felt raw and the flashback served up the same haunting nightmare.

…Always the black military shuttle pulls in front of the house. Two officers appear at the door. They hand me a small metal box containing what is left of my brother's "personal effects." Only one thing prevents me from toppling off the porch. Muffy, my Great Dane, who for once in her life stands absolutely still and holds me against the brick wall with her weight, until the shuttle disappears from my sight…

I blinked away the mental keepsake and returned to the present, but my emotional reaction didn't pass unnoticed.

"Miss Davis? Are you all right?"

I straightened, fighting back sudden tears, but a couple dripped over my cheek. She reached into her pocket and handed me a lace edged handkerchief. A deep breath restored my voice. "It's only been a few months since the funeral. Daniel and I were close. I really miss him."

"You're still grieving, aren't you? If I'd known it was so recent, I certainly would have been more delicate." Her gaze drifted, her voice diminishing. "Losing someone close is heartbreaking."

She placed the digital file on the corner of the table. "Let's change the subject, shall we? First, may I call you Marli?" I nodded absently. "Good. Marli, tell me your reasons for accepting Jordan's request for an interview."

What sounded simple was, in fact, the opposite. The reasons I accepted this interview, and in particular Jordan, could either win me over in her eyes, or send me packing. No second chances with interviews.

"Jordan said he loves animals. I'm planning to become a veterinarian, so my future has to include someone who likes them as much as I do." Declaring my intentions for a future other than doting on her son was risky, but a stand I needed to make known. It was more than becoming a vet—it was about me controlling my own destiny.

Mrs. Mason grabbed my file again, her brows tangling as she scanned the pages. "Jordan likes animals? This is news to me. Maybe when he researched your data file he saw your interest in working with them and said so to impress you?"

I bristled at the accusation. "No, actually he couldn't have. There's nothing on my profile about my passion for animals. That's why he impressed me. It was the first thing Jordan mentioned when he talked about things he liked."

She placed the electronic pad on the sofa cushion to her side, then leaned forward, hands folded tightly. "Marli, you know Jordan is in medical school. He's also being groomed for the research team specializing in human cloning. You should rethink a technical career—something more suiting a prime candidate, not to mention socially acceptable as Jordan's life partner, should he choose you. Leave the animal doctoring to those outside The Program."

Anger sizzled. "Animal doctors," in my opinion, were every bit as respectable as brain surgeons and just as I was about to argue the point, Mrs. Mason brought me up short with an even more shocking statement.

"Of course, you could become pregnant right away, which would also serve the greater purpose, and in fact, be preferable to all parties concerned."

All thoughts of animals vanished. Panic shoved my anger aside immediately. "
Pregnant
? No way!" My heart clamored in my throat. No one prepared me for this particular line of questioning, and my unruly answer came as a gut reaction.

She steeled her anger only slightly. "I'm sorry. Do you have a problem with producing Jordan's child? I thought you understood, Miss Davis. That is the purpose of your candidacy and the fundamental reason you're here."

It is?
No, it can't be!

Suddenly, I wanted to bolt from the room, but I pretended to be unaffected by her announcement and picked my words carefully. "I know what's expected, but I'm not rushing into being a chosen breeder. I'm accomplishing something for me, first."

After my disrespectful outburst, Jordan's mother abruptly ended the interview. What miniscule of warmth shown me earlier, iced. I'd botched things, big time. Maybe she'd remember something redeeming before everything went sideways. Not likely. If I couldn't think of one, neither would she. As the moderator, I knew her opinion weighed heavily on whether to choose me. Ultimately, the decision would be Jordan's, which left me little hope.

I never met Jordan.

3

HIJACKED

D
iscouraged, I sank into a chair near the front doors of the lobby to wait for my car service. I retrieved my cell receptor from my purse to check messages, finding an instant readout from Sam.

Hey babe, coming back to me? Miss you.

I entered a quick
call you later
and shut my receptor off. My thoughts were a mess and I couldn't handle more guilt. Sam wasn't in The Program. We could date until my candidacy activated as long as we never crossed a certain line, physically. An entire page in my contract with The Program dictated I remained a virgin.
No contaminating the gene pool.
Losing my virtuous status would get me kicked out.

It would also set me free.

Even though it seemed almost everyone I knew outside The Program had experimented with sex by my age, I didn't feel ready. Maybe it had something to do with my parents' screwed-up relationship, or Alex always freaking out if her period didn't come on time, but I figured it had more to do with wanting to fall in love first—real love, not
lust
.

I pulled out my pocket data pad with the intention of working on the assignment due Monday in my Human Relations core class, a prerequisite for candidates, centering on the psyche of relationships. Instead, I opened the file labeled "Fantasy." The digital image of Jordan Mason I'd downloaded filled the screen. I drew an imaginary line down the bridge of his nose with my finger. The small bump in the center humanized him. A simple flaw on an otherwise perfect face someone else might find unattractive, to me erased any trace of vanity.

Does he have a sense of humor or take life seriously?
A definite brainiac if he graduated early and already involved in some accelerated medical program. My finger continued along the line of his jaw.
Maybe he plays a musical instrument like his brother.
The piano like me?
His hands looked strong.
What would my hands feel like tangled in his?
I touched his mouth. He had an amazing smile—the way it curved those full lips, marking the dimples on each side.
I wonder if his lips are soft or firm when he kisses.
Too bad I'd never find out, given how the interview ended.

I shut the display off. At least I didn't have to worry about his first impression of me anymore. Nope, I could cross Jordan Mason off my nightly "dream team" and return back to my boring life in Ohio. Romance was overrated. At least that's what I told myself. Still, I couldn't help the emptiness I felt. Spending a lifetime getting to know Jordan Mason seemed like the ideal happily-ever-after, even if within the confines of The Program.