"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
Discouraged, 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.
The doorman hailed me when a silver Mercedes stopped at the curb. He'd barely shut my door before the car rocketed into traffic.
"Miami International, please."
The driver gave an affirmative nod. A few minutes later, however, the airport exit sign passed. "Excuse me, but you missed the turn off." No response. All the air inside the car seemed to disappear and my palms turned sticky. I spoke louder. "You need to turn around. I can't miss my plane." A fearful shakiness appeared on the last word.
"Your flight is delayed, Miss Davis." The voice sounded familiar. I slid to the center of the backseat to see the driver's face in the rearview mirror. When he glanced up, I recognized the dark brown eyes and teasing smirk immediately, and the beginnings of an anxiety attack threatened.
"Jesse? What's going on? This isn't funny. If your mother finds out we're together, she'll call the authorities."
"By the time she figures it out, you'll be safely on your way home. Besides, we didn't have a chance to get acquainted. Nice interview by the way. I loved how you caught Mom off-guard with the 'animal' thing. Jordan will catch hell for that. She's a control freak and would detest some stranger telling her something about him she didn't know."
"I don't think the animal issue was the deal breaker."
"Huh? Did I miss something?"
"Only my total flip-out for the grand finale. Jesse, please go back."
"What happened?"
"If you don't mind, I don't want to talk about it."
He flashed another sexy smile. "Fine. Keep your little secret." The car continued down the interstate, Jesse's eyes on me and not the highway. "Want to take a side trip with me?"
Given our first encounter made my knees weak, the thought of going anywhere alone with Jesse worried me.
"I don't think so, and I'm serious—turn this car around."
"Don't tell me you're afraid of me?"
"Of course I'm not afraid of you." Petrified would be a better description. "I don't want either of us to get into trouble."
"Where's the fun in that? Mommy will be occupied for the next couple hours, anyway. She's doing another interview."
My fingernails dug into the edges of the butter-soft upholstery. Jordan requested someone else to interview? Selection A. Did that mean I was his first choice or The Program's? Silly of me to think I could be the only candidate Jordan Mason asked to interview. Blue banded and five diamonds ensured he'd have his pick of top candidates and after my award winning performance, the decision would be easy. I hated feeling a twinge of jealousy over some boy I'd never met.
Jesse interrupted my thoughts. "I'll let you in on a secret. You don't have to worry about other candidates. I'm sure you're already chosen."
"Then you know zilch. Trust me. I messed up, royally."
"I don't think that's possible."
"Totally possible, and if your mother has any say, I'll be the last candidate considered."
"I'm telling you, Mars, Jordan's already made up his mind."
"Mars? Don't. That's my dad's nickname for me. And how would you know anything about what your brother wants?"
"Because he's been instant messaging constantly and I told him either he chose you, or I'd sway you my way." Another playful grin curled on Jesse's mouth. "And like it or not, Mars sticks because someone as pretty as you can't be from this planet."
"Beyond pathetic."
Peering out the front windshield, I noticed boats, not planes come into view, and the shimmer of water appeared on the horizon. "Where are we going?"
Jesse flashed a dangerous smile, one holding a secret. "I want to show you something."
I leaned over the seat. "What about my flight? The pilot is expecting me." Breathe Marli. "Dammit Jesse! I can't be late!"
"Calm down. You're with your pilot."
"What? You're joking, right?" His shoulders lifted slightly. I slid back into the seat, officially trapped. I clenched the hem of my skirt and snarled my frustration. "Great! I'm a hostage."
Jesse laughed. "You're cute when you're mad. I like how your mouth does that little corkscrew thing."
I pinned an infuriated glower to the eyes watching me from the rearview mirror. He blew a loud sigh and let me fume. A few minutes later, he braved jumping back into conversation.
"So your flight here. Awful?"
"You flew me to Miami, too?"
"Sure did."
Concentrating on smoothing the creases in my skirt, I kept my eyes down and attempted playing nice. "How long have you been a pilot?"
"We actually got our licenses before our driving permits."
I'd forgotten Jordan listed "flying" among his many accomplishments.
Casually, I slung my arm over the back of Jesse's seat. "Do you fly helicopters too?"
An unreadable expression covered his face. "Not exactly."
"How do you not exactly fly a helicopter?"
He kept his eyes trained on the traffic. "I never took the flight test. Aced the written exam, but something came up before I got a chance to pass the practical part."
"Why don't you do it now?"
"It's complicated. And personal," he replied, all humor gone.
"Personal, I get." I let it go and perched my chin on my arm. My nose was inches from his neck, the alluring scent of his spicy cologne mixed with citrus-fragranced shampoo emanating off his skin. "So where are you taking me?" the question sounding too husky to be innocent. I eased away, catching the hint of a smile on his mouth in the rearview mirror.
Crap.
His answer came out equally rough. "The harbor. I told you I have something to show you, but I need a boat."
"Let me guess. Not a canoe?"
"Slightly bigger," he replied inside a chuckle.
A few minutes later, we arrived at the marina. The faint smell of fish and motor oil clung to the humid afternoon air. Water spouted in small bursts between the joints of the pier, spraying the toes of my new patent leather shoes. At the end of the wharf, a massive white yacht, aptl
y named HER MAJESTY, bobbed in the water.
Definitely not a canoe.
Jesse took my hand and led me up the boarding ramp. Once aboard, I followed him down the gangway, gliding my fingers over the smooth fiberglass sides of the ship. He climbed a gleaming chrome spiral staircase to another deck. I twisted back and forth below, not knowing what to do—run, scream, or jump overboard. Given how unlucky the day had proven so far, I'd probably miss the water and hit the cement pier.
Jesse leaned over the railing from above. "You coming? We'll only be gone a couple hours, tops, and I swear I won't dump your bony ass overboard."
I chomped the corner of my lip, debating. What harm can come from a boat ride? I climbed the stairs, standing toe-to-toe with him.
"Two hours. And my ass isn't bony."
The cruiser slipped silently through the marina, sending ripples outward that gently rocked the vessels moored to the docks. Jesse caught my puzzled look when he slid a bright green flag into the post beside a glass panel.
"This saves us from having to stop for the border patrols."
"How do they know you're not stealing the yacht?"
"Because this ship requires special clearance before it can leave the marina."
"So you already assumed I'd come?"
"Let's say I hoped and wanted to be prepared."
After we cleared the border sentries, Jesse veered the yacht into open waters. He lifted a small radio from the control panel.
"Mike? Jess. Thanks for the clearance, but I need one more favor. Call Dr. Richard Davis in Maple Heights, Ohio, and inform him his daughter's flight is delayed. Tell him we'll arrange her transportation home to make up for the inconvenience."
"Jess, if I'd known—don’t. Turn around," squawked a demand. "It's not worth the risk."
Jesse's gaze raked over me before he countered. "I beg to differ. Better scramble the frequency on the boat, too. I don't want to be tracked."
"You'll owe me for this one, Mason."
"Put it on my tab. And stop worrying." He disconnected and increased speed.
I fought to hide my sudden panic."Scramble what frequency?"
Designer Genes - The Boyfriend Cut Page 3