by Aubrey Rose
"Here's a hint: they're all creeps, because they're all boys," Jenny said, emptying the dust pan into the trash.
"Then why date any of them? Why date at all?" Liz scrubbed the mouth of the flask hard. Some of the residue was beginning to scour off.
Jenny leaned forward, her palms resting on the end of the broomstick and began to speak in a snooty Oxford dialect.
"Well, you see, Elizabeth, as far as physical attraction goes, the effect of oestradiol as a hormone in the brain cannot be discounted, although certain peptides, specifically the OT and β-endorphin, may in fact have both excitatory and inhibitory effects—"
"Is that what you need? Some more inhibitions?" Liz teased, gripping the flask tightly as she pushed the scouring sponge into the bottom.
"Maybe. And maybe you need to let go!"
"Oh!" As if by command, Liz dropped the Erlenmeyer flask. She reached down quickly to catch it, but her hands were covered in hot water and soap, and it slipped from her grasp onto the floor, where it shattered into a thousand glass bits.
"Here, let me get that," Jenny said.
"No, let me, please. It's my fault," Liz said, irritated. "Argh! I'm so damn clumsy!" She bent down to sweep up the glass from the floor; it had scattered everywhere. Some of the shards had fallen under the lab table, and she was still on her hands and knees, coaxing out a few pieces of the flask, when she heard the lab door open.
"Dr. Chatham!" Jenny's voice rang out from the other side of the lab. "It's a pleasure to meet you! Liz?"
The director. Liz wiped her wet hands on her lab coat and stood up quickly from behind the lab table. A wave of dizziness overtook her, but it wasn't from the rush of blood to her head. Not that at all.
The man standing in the doorway, Dr. Chatham, was
the man from the library.
CHAPTER FIVE
"I hope you were expecting me," Robb said. His eyes were fixed on the girl standing over what looked to be broken glass. Her eyes shone brilliantly—with fear? No, it was just embarrassment. Her cheeks were growing red. Of course she would be embarrassed.
"Yes, yes, of course. Mr. Chatham, it's a pleasure to meet you," Jenny said, reaching out to shake Robb's hand. "I'm Jennifer Toole and this is Liz Barlin." She motioned to the girl.
Liz. The name struck him with as much force as he could bear. He plastered on his politest face.
"We've already met." Robb smiled at the girl, and she flushed even harder. Liz. Why that name? Why that reminder, why now?
"I—I'll just finish cleaning it up," Liz said.
"It's alright, love," Jenny said, walking over to her. "Don't worry, we all make mistakes. We're ordering a new batch tomorrow anyway."
"Nice to see that my money is going to good use." Robb stepped forward as the two girls swept the glass hastily into the trash. The girl with dark hair—Liz—seemed to be more flustered as he came close to her. He was oddly moved to comfort her, but he forced himself to stand back.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she mumbled. "Here, don't—"
As she moved to throw away one of the larger shards of glass, her hand bumped into the table. Robb could tell that she had cut herself instantly. The smell of her blood was overpowering. He swallowed hard and turned his face away from her hand, which was now dripping red.
"Oh my god!" Jenny said.
"It's okay," Liz said, her eyes darting to Robb only briefly. "It's just a small cut."
"I'm going to get the first aid kit," Jenny said. She walked away to the back of the lab, leaving Robb alone with the girl. It was hard to look at her. The blood rising to her cheeks, along with the blood on her hand, made him sick with hunger. He longed to take her by the wrist and lick her palm, lick up every beautiful red drop from her sweet skin and heal her, take her by the neck and bite down softly...
"Sorry again," she said, and he coughed, driving the wicked thoughts from his mind.
"Yes, well, I—ah, that is—"
Robb had never been at a loss for words before. His wit and charm were the stuff of legend in London society. And yet, standing over this girl with dark hair and green apologetic eyes, he couldn't for the life of him think of what to say. It must have been the smell of blood. He ached to take out his flask and drink, but that would be utterly inappropriate.
"So you're Dr. Chatham?"
"Dr. Asshole, please."
Her face contorted in embarrassment, and he felt bad for the careless joke.
"Really, though, you can both call me Robb. And you're Liz?" He said the name lightly, but his throat closed up behind it. He coughed again.
"Yep. I'd shake your hand, but..." she said, holding up her injured palm. The sight of the red smear on her skin made the points of his teeth begin to emerge. He shut his eyes promptly, quelling the hunger. What on earth was the matter with him? He'd never been so affected by anything like this. The name. The face. The blood.
"Sorry," she said, lowering her hand. "Scared of blood?"
"I don't like seeing pretty young ladies injured," Robb said coolly, trying to regain his composure. Liz's mouth dropped open slightly at his comment, and he fixed his gaze onto her lips. Her lower lip, in particular. So plump and full. Ready to be kissed. He was beginning to be aroused in an entirely different manner than before, but fortunately, the lab partner—he'd already forgotten her name—came back quickly with the first aid kit.
"Thanks, Jenny," Liz said, taking the bandage from her. "I'm alright."
"I'm here to talk to the head of the hematology lab," Robb said.
"That's me," Jenny says. "Well, both of us." Robb must have looked surprised, because she crossed her arms in front of her as though she'd gotten the reaction before.
"Forgive me. You seem quite young. Are you both still students?"
"Grad students, yes," Jenny said, a defensive note in her voice. "The professor in charge is on sabbatical this semester."
"Well, then. Tell me a little bit about the lab. My lab. That is." Robb looked directly at Liz and smiled. How nice that she was in his lab.
She rolled her eyes at him. How bad that she was so impertinent.
"I only started this semester," Liz said. "Jenny will probably know more than me."
Robb followed as Jenny showed him around the lab, pointing out equipment that seemed older than she was. He tried to pay attention as she talked, but his eyes kept wandering back to Liz as she cleaned up the remaining shards of glassware. Lab coats usually weren't the sexiest attire, but he was enthralled by the girl. Her hips showed a slight curve under the white fabric of the lab coat. Her hair was up in a loose ponytail about to fall apart, the dark strands falling over her face, her lips, those lips...
God, he needed a drink. He shook himself out of the trance and listened to what Jenny was saying.
"...and right now we're looking at a specific kind of chromosomal translocation in the myeloid cell lines," she said.
Easy enough to jump in here.
"How are you testing the translocations? Rats?"
"No, we use blood cultures," Jenny said. "We keep them here in the incubator—"
"That won't be enough."
"I'm sorry? Professor Tandy said that—"
"I'll order the rats for you. We need to do these tests on live creatures." This work was interesting, and he would be able to use the results to help him out, but only if he knew that it was safe to use on organisms. He'd been poisoned once, and he hadn't enjoyed the experience.
Jenny raised her eyebrows.
"We aren't ready for that yet. For live testing, we'll need different permissions. Right now this lab is only cleared for—"
"Never mind. I'll take care of it," Robb said. He tapped his finger on the lab table and thought of who he would need to bribe to get the permissions paperwork signed. The university science chair.
That would be easy enough. Always forward thinking, he had a picture of the department chair in a rather...interesting configuration of sorts with the biology department's receptionist. Som
e things never changed.
He blinked and focused his attention back to the young girl showing him around the lab. What was her name? Jessie? Jenny? Yes, that was it.
"Have you talked with the physics department yet about the experimental radiation? To see if it works to break apart the translocated chromosomes?"
"Again, that's much further down the line." Jenny was looking at him strangely.
"Is there something in the water here that makes everyone so slow?" He snapped his fingers.
"Is there something in your flask that makes you so impatient?"
Robb stared back at the blond girl.
"Observant, aren't you?" He took out his flask from his pocket, and, still keeping his eyes on her, took a sip. He held the flask out, and Jenny took it readily, drinking a deep swallow before returning it to him with a smile. He smiled back. She'd be a prime candidate if he needed blood...which he hadn't, not until that girl cut herself and made him ravenous.
Liz cut a glance their way as he looked over at her. A hint of jealousy, there, or perhaps he was imagining it. Hoping to see it.
"Thanks," Jenny said.
"I hope you're not planning to drive home." The effects of alcohol wore off extremely quickly with him, but with humans he knew that it took much, much longer.
"We live in student housing. Just down the street."
"How convenient."
"Would you like to see the progress we've made so far on the eight/twenty-one translocation?" Jenny said. Her speech was bright after the swig of whiskey she'd taken. "We just figured out how to break through the resistance to apoptosis—"
"Well, we haven't quite figured it out yet, have we?" Liz said, interrupting. "The only lines we've tried were with the standard glucocorticoids, and the effects were limited."
"Limited?" Robb asked, turning to Liz on the other side of the lab table. She blushed—so adorable—and then continued.
"The cells still differentiate into mature granulocytes. At least, with the concentrations we've used. It won't stop the cancer cells completely. And then they come back." There was a flash of sorrow in her eyes that Robb couldn't place. Or perhaps anger.
"We need to up the concentrations," Jenny said, but Liz was shaking her head.
"You don't agree?" Robb asked.
"I don't...I don't think more of what we're using is going to fix the problem," Liz said. It will just delay it. That's what we've seen so far." She sighed sadly, then covered her sorrow with a neutral mask. "But we do need to finish out the test runs first."
"That's right," Jenny said. She didn't seem upset that Liz disagreed with her; that was promising. He liked lab workers who were willing to go along with different ideas. "We really won't know if it will work until the next few runs are complete."
"What do you think will fix it?" he asked.
"I think the problem is the AML1-MTG8 fusion transcript," Liz said, speaking up again with more confidence.
"The protein?"
"We all know that it plays a part in cancer cell proliferation." Liz became more animated, her eyes sparking with intelligence. A strand of hair fell forward in front of her face and she pushed it back hurriedly. "If we can stop the fusion protein from being formed, we can induce apoptosis with anything—dexamethasone would work even—and get rid of the myeloid cells before they have a chance to spread."
Robb smiled. The girl was smart. He'd thought of this line of inquiry a while back, when they were just discovering the fusion transcript proteins, but it had just been an idea. None of the labs had started work on this particular avenue of study. His curiosity was piqued; he leaned forward, stared into her eyes.
"So what would you do to prevent the protein from being formed?"
Jenny jumped back into the conversation.
"You could irradiate it. Same as anything else."
"But the amount of radiation required would be huge," Liz said. "It would be impossible to target just the proteins without killing off every other cell in the body."
"That's part of why we need to get the physics lab involved," Robb said. "This project needs precision. More precision than you'll get with these machines." He waved his hand dismissively. They had only one radiation machine, and it was bulky and ineffectual. No wonder they weren't making progress.
"We're going to go over and talk with them next week," Jenny said.
"Good," Robb said. He pressed his hands on the lab table and pushed himself back from the conversation. He had to leave before he got too worked up. The smell of Liz's blood still wafted through the air, and it was beginning to make his head spin. "Let me know if there's any problem going forward."
"Thank you, Dr. Chatham," Jenny said. "And thanks for the drink."
"Anytime," Robb said, watching Liz cast her eyes down to the floor. There was something different about her. Casually, he pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket and wrote his number on the back of it. Maybe he was stupid to do this. Maybe he should just leave well enough alone. Liz looked up at him and her green eyes flashed with an intensity that took his breath away.
"Thank you for coming, Dr. Chatham," she said. Her lips curved into a shy smile that he ached to steal into a kiss. Or a bite.
Jenny went to put back the first aid kit and Liz walked with him to the lab door. He hadn't decided whether or not to give her his number, but as they walked past the table where she'd broken the glass, she slipped on a soapy patch still wet on the floor. Robb caught her by the elbow and for a moment felt her body press against his, the soft warmth making his body react instantly. Helping her regain her balance, he let the slip of paper fall into her lab coat pocket. It was a trick Eliza had taught him. In the instant he thought of her, a stab of guilt forced a small gasp from his chest. He pushed back. This girl wasn't Eliza.
"Sorry!" she said, her cheeks flushing again.
"The beautiful ones are always so clumsy," Robb said, absentmindedly. "Good luck with the test runs."
"Thank you, Dr. Chatham," Liz said, her eyes wide. God, she was beautiful. He turned to go, hoping that she would find the slip of paper sooner rather than later. And if she did, he hoped that she would be curious enough to call. She would be perfect as a lab assistant, and perhaps...more...
But he'd done as much as he would do. Fate would
decide the rest.
CHAPTER SIX
Jenny collapsed onto the couch in the living room upside down, her legs splayed over the back pillows, her blond hair hanging down to the floor. Liz had cleaned the living room two days ago, but already Jenny's stuff was covering half of the floor.
"That went well," Jenny said, kicking her shoes off one by one.
"Right. I broke a flask in front of the lab director who pays my stipend right after calling him an asshole."
"When did you call him an asshole?"
"Never mind. It's a long story."
Liz slumped onto the couch next to Jenny. A crinkling in her coat pocket caught her attention, and she pulled out a scrap of paper from the lab coat.
"Weird," she said, reading the note. She turned the paper in her hand and her mouth went dry.
"What's that?" Jenny asked.
"It wasn't in my pocket this morning," Liz said. "Check it out. There's an address on one side, and on the other side it says—"
"I want to see you tonight. Call me at 7:00. Oh. My. God! Liz!" Jenny squealed. "Robert Chatham wants to take you out on a date!"
"Do you think this was meant for you? Maybe it was a mistake. You're the more experienced lab assistant." Even as she spoke the words, Liz knew that it wasn't for Jenny; the note was for her. And it didn't sound like it was about chemistry. Dr. Chatham had looked at her so strangely...
"Are you kidding me? You have Robert Chatham asking you to call him and you think it's a mistake? Robert Chatham doesn't make mistakes."
"Didn't he drop out of college?"
"To found a multimillion dollar cancer research company, yeah."
Liz had opened her mouth t
o speak, but at these words she found that her mind wasn't working anymore.
"I...cancer research? You didn't tell me that."
"Thought I did. That was his first business, digital rendition modeling of cancerous cell proliferation. We still use his program in the lab."
Jenny kept talking about Robert Chatham and all of the different businesses he had gone on to develop, but Liz couldn't get past the words cancer research. Was that why he had looked at her so strangely? Had he looked up her student profile before coming to visit? She blinked and noticed that Jenny was looking at her expectantly.
"I'm not dating the director of our lab," Liz said.
"What? Why not?"
"Um, because it's unprofessional to work next to someone you're dating." Now, though, she was intrigued. Why had Robert Chatham started his career doing cancer research? And why had he stopped?
"Last year Prof Tandy said he only showed up twice the entire year last year. And the second time he came for a presentation, he stayed for the pancake breakfast and then left halfway through the talk. He doesn't work here. Like I said, he just writes the checks."
"Jenny, it really doesn't matter. I'm not going to call him." Liz reached out to take the scrap of paper back, but Jenny held it out of her reach.