Designer Genes - The Boyfriend Cut

by Brooks, Harley

  In a surprise move, Doug tugged at the fabric against my chest, his touch waking sleeping hormones I didn't want disturbed. "Figures," he snorted, slowly drawing a line between my breasts. "Next you're going to tell me enrolling at Cornell has nothing to do with Jordan Mason. After all, he'll only be graduating from there next year." I clamped his hand before it settled elsewhere and the corner of his mouth curled.

  "How do you know that?" I wanted to keep the subject on Jordan and off whatever thoughts played in Doug's head.

  "I did my homework. I wasn't going to let him have the upper hand again."

  "I'm not a contest prize and I wish everyone would stop treating me like one."

  When Doug took our empty mugs to the sink, I swear I heard "that's what you think," muttered under his breath.

  "Jordan isn't an issue." The pit of my stomach lurched with the declaration. "He isn't speaking to me at the moment."

  Doug returned next to me. "Why not? Did something happen at the concert?" Doug's brow creased. "Did his brother do something?"

  "No, and the subject is closed." I leaned over and took the liberty of planting a kiss on lips parted in surprise at my news. "I agreed to this arrangement so I could get to know you better, but I want to take things slow, please?"

  "Sounds good to me," he whispered before kissing me back. His hand crawled up my thigh and I brushed it away.

  "Much slower." I pinched off a chunk of bread from the loaf and stood. "We better get back to our rooms. I'm sure Gramps is listening to make sure two doors shut."

  After five days of eating the most wonderful Italian food, I worried my dress wouldn't fit for tonight's party. Doug's grandparents' fiftieth wedding anniversary had been touted around town as the event to attend.

  I slipped a sundress over my swimsuit and bounced downstairs, humming a favorite tune. We'd walked all over the open market this morning, so when the invitation for a cool splash in the pool with a handsome young man presented, I didn't hesitate.

  Doogie came barreling into the kitchen from the yard, his wet feet smacking loudly against the bright blue tile floor. He ran into my legs, squealing for help when "Uncle Doug" chased in after him. I scooped the wet toddler up, twirling him back and forth. He wrapped his arms around my neck and kissed my cheek.

  "I wike you Marwi."

  Doug placed a modest kiss on my mouth in front of the kitchen full of witnesses. "I wike you too, Marwi."

  I flashed my eyes at Doogie. "Yum! Uncle Doug tastes like chocolate chip cookies. I wonder if Doogie tastes like cookies, too?" I nuzzled his chubby cheeks and his playful giggles turned to squeals, getting us ejected from the kitchen.

  The doorbell chimed and Doogie squirmed out of my arms, running for the door. Doug followed to greet the visitor whose shape appeared distorted through the faceted glass.

  "Jan!" Doug pulled his sister into a big hug. Doogie jumped up and down, clapping his hands until she gathered him in her arms.

  Jan rivaled any fashion model. Tall and willowy, with long wavy tresses the same rich dark brown color as Doug's. When she saw me, eyes the color of strong coffee leveled a cold stare. I smiled, waiting for one in return, but her expression remained reserved.

  "So, you must be Marli. I've heard all about you."

  Her icy tone unsettled me and my voice cracked with nervousness. "Doug? Why don't you introduce us?"

  "Oh! I forget you two haven't met. Sis, this is Marli Davis, and Marli, this is Jan—the sister I told you attends Princeton."

  I held my hand out. "It's nice to finally meet you." She kept her hands around Doogie's legs and nodded, giving me a stiff smile. She brushed past me, cooing to Doogie as she walked into the kitchen. The room erupted in jubilation at her arrival and I was left standing alone in the entry trying to figure out what just happened. For the first time since my arrival, I felt like an outsider.

  Andrea's husband, Brandt, a stout, bearded gent whose smile reminded me of the Cowardly Lion in the Wizard of Oz, wielded a humorless laugh from the landing above. "Let me guess. The Ice Queen cometh. I can see by the look on your face she treated you as warmly as she does me."

  "It's that obvious?" I could feel the chagrin inside, but thought I hid it on the outside.

  He lowered onto a stair. "Sit with me, Marli. We outcasts should stick together." I dropped next to him, listening to the boisterous voices drifting out the kitchen doors. His fingers twisted my pink band. "She's jealous of you."

  "Of me? Why?"

  Brandt's clipped response surprised me. "The Program rejected Jan's application for some minor genetic abnormality. Mr. P. considered the refusal a personal insult. Now she works part-time in a satellite office for The Program, but it's not as prestigious as being a candidate."

  He gave my band another spin. "Be careful, Marli. Much is expected of Doug and consequently, you, if your relationship becomes serious." He paused, as if he debating his next comment. "Tony Peterson is a powerful man. If he wants something, he'll stop at nothing to get it."

  A chill scraped over me, but before I could ask more, Doogie came searching for his dad and the two disappeared through the kitchen. I continued up the stairs, my head swirling with cautionary thoughts. Brandt's warning rang true with the uneasy feelings I experienced in Alaska. Something dark and forbidden exuded from beneath Tony Peterson's charming exterior.

  A peaceful solace filled me when I closed the bedroom door. I went straightaway to the dresser and pulled my secret cell from its hiding place. I wished, hoped for a missed call—anything giving me a hint Jordan still cared. Nothing!

  Frustration swirled with anger. I hated Jordan for hurting me—for coming into my life and turning it upside down, then taking his arrogant, gorgeous self away from me. I shut the phone off and shoved it back in its hiding place. Damn me for caring. Damn him for not.

  I decided to stop checking for calls and, in fact, to quit giving Jordan any thought whatsoever. Tonight was the party. I'd brought my strapless blue prom gown and resolved to be nothing short of damn sexy for Douglas Peterson. Business arrangement or not, I needed to feel like someone cared. If he wanted to take things to the next level, so be it. I wandered onto the private veranda, watching the Peterson clan. Why wouldn't I want to be a part of this? Surely over time, I'd come to love Doug. Forget Jordan.

  Familiar arms wrapped around me and the spicy cologne I'd become addicted to over the past week surrounded me.

  "Hey beautiful. I wondered where you'd disappeared. It's a good thing my sidekick saw you come upstairs."

  I turned in Doug's arms, kissing his lips with a sudden, fervent passion. "You were busy," I answered in a lustful rasp.

  His eyes turned to bottomless black pools, his voice deep and husky. "My schedule just cleared."

  Doug guided me back into the bedroom, closing the balcony doors. His dark, dreamy eyes studied me carefully. He kissed my waiting mouth tenderly, anticipating. Our kisses grew rough, carnal, and the same exciting warming sensation Jordan could trigger, started to build between my thighs.

  But I didn't want to think about Jordan or feel anything. Jordan only cared about being in control. At least Doug didn't lie about his intentions. I knew what he wanted, and at the moment, it was me.

  Doug plucked the buttons open on my sundress and it dropped around my ankles, leaving me in only my bikini. This should be the point where I pulled away, but instead, I fisted the sides of his T-shirt and pushed it up, tasting a hint of salt flavoring the warm skin I sampled. His shirt joined my dress on the floor.

  We tumbled onto the bed, lips locked and legs braided. My heart slammed my spine, my breaths short and fast. Doug's lips moved down my neck and across my collarbone. His fingers stroked my inner thighs and I curled my fingernails into his shoulder blades when his hand deliberately brushed between my legs the same time his tongue dipped inside the edge of my swimsuit top. He nipped his way back to my lips, waiting—wanting.

  "Marli?" he whispered, his lips so close I could feel his pulse in hi
s breath. "Are you sure?"

  I could barely breathe, let alone talk. All I could do was nod permission. He kissed me hard and pinned my legs with his as he sank against mine. His teeth tugged the straps of my swimsuit top off my shoulders and a hand moved around my back and loosened the ties.

  A loud pound on the door brought Doug off the bed and onto his feet in one move. I snatched my swim top from his fingers and turned away from his penetrating eyes.

  "What!" Doug yelled.

  "Dad's looking for you, that's what," commanded the voice of disapproval on the other side of the door. Jan.

  "Shit!" he hissed. "Tell him I'll be right there." His answer sounded as contemptuous as his sister's, but resigned. "I need cold water fast," he growled, disappearing into the bathroom.

  I shimmied into my sundress, still holding my swimsuit top. When Doug came out of the bathroom, face wet, I threw him his T-shirt. He stared at me, still puffing heavy. Embarrassed, I bunched the front of my unbuttoned dress closed, and retreated to the bathroom. Doug swore a loud oath and an argument ensued between him and Jan before he closed the bedroom door.

  I turned the shower on and stepped under the cold spray.

  Thankfully, the kitchen had emptied when I came downstairs, dressed in a modest white button-up blouse and khaki shorts, my wet hair wrapped in a towel. I retrieved a pitcher of cold lemonade from the refrigerator and poured a glass. The sound of elevated voices echoed from the long hallway off the dining room and when I realized one of those elevated voices was Doug's, I ventured closer to listen.

  "We did nothing, I swear! Jan's imagination has blown this out of proportion. Don't worry, Pops, I know what's expected. I'm just so sick of all the stupid rules. Who gives a shit about the color of the bands, or some asinine numbers game?"

  Tony Peterson's tone reeked with disgust and anger. "Don't ever talk to me that way! I have every right to expect more from you than your sisters. You're my namesake, Douglas—my only son. You'll be head of this family someday, and it's imperative you achieve such prominence with honor and dignity. Bedding Miss Davis early will not get that for you.

  "And for your information, the band color does matter, more than you know. It will determine things far beyond today's lust. Also, those asinine numbers you crudely refer to are what will create the world's greatest generation."

  I felt my face grow hot with anger and readied myself to burst into the room to defend Doug, when Mr. Peterson's voice lowered and I became the topic of conversation, freezing me in place.

  "Marli Davis is the girl who could secure you a prestigious station. Smarten up, Douglas. The boy who gets Miss Davis will someday hold the power."

  "It's you, Pappa, who needs me to be powerful. Your vendetta with Banks is your war, not mine."

  Who was Banks? A rush of air filled my lungs when recognition slapped. President Banks?

  Mr. Peterson continued his tirade. "Douglas, you're smack in the middle of that war, and you know it."

  "Trust me, every time I look in her eyes, his face is a constant reminder."

  "Maybe I could do something more to ensure—"

  "Don't!" Doug interrupted loudly. "You've caused enough damage. I'll get Marli on my terms, so back off. I've got this."

  Damage? What—oh no! The pictures! Did Mr. Peterson purposely cause my break-up with Jordan? …Tony Peterson is a powerful man. If he wants something, he'll stop at nothing to get it… Brandt's statement hit with sudden clarity. Mr. Peterson wanted me with Doug. I pressed my ear against the door again.

  "Time is running out, Douglas. Any contact?"

  "Nothing penetrates your 'force field,' not even family."

  "Enough! You tire me with your disrespect. Grow up and take matters under control, or I will—on my terms."

  Footsteps sounded toward the closed door and I quickly retreated to the kitchen. The heavy wooden door slammed and hurried steps marched down the hall. I barely made it to the corner of the bench before Doug appeared.

  "Marli?" he questioned, surprise covering his face when he rounded the corner. "I was just coming to find you." He kissed my cheek. "You smell wonderful, and taste, um..." licking his lips, "clean?" He lightly brushed my cheek, whispering, "Sorry about this afternoon. Maybe we can pick up from where we left off later?"

  "About earlier," I began, "we should probably talk."

  Doug moved to the bench across from me. "Marli, if Jan hadn't knocked on the door, do you think—"

  "I don't know. I don't know about anything anymore." Doug looked confused. I pushed away from the table and he grabbed my arm. "I need to get ready. Please let go."

  Let me go.

  Once behind the closed bedroom door, I slid to the floor and dropped my head onto my bent knees. This afternoon I came close to giving in to another reckless impulse—one with dangerous consequences. Maybe that's what I wanted. A consequence big enough to alter the course I presently walked. The problem being if my course changed, Jordan's did too, not to mention Doug Peterson now believed I wanted a more permanent relationship. With Jordan out of the picture, when the ninety-days expired I'd surely be slotted as Doug's life partner.

  Suddenly I felt trapped. Tears bubbled against the rims of my eyes. All I wanted was to go home; have dinner with my dad, and spend the summer hanging out with my friends. Life before Jordan Mason seemed so simple…uncomplicated. But now? Terrifying.

  But the ominous unknown The Program presented didn't frighten me. It was the thought of Jordan gone from my life. Regardless of everything that had happened, I still wanted him.

  22

  JORDAN

  Stale smoke swirled near the ceiling in a filmy haze. I sidled up to the counter catching Mick's attention. Miguel's, the tavern bearing his father's name, was a short walk off campus and sometimes I tagged with the guys from the lab for a beer. Didn't seem to matter that I wasn't legal age. Mick never asked and I never told.

  "Mason? To what do I owe the honor?" He finished polishing a glass and threw the bar cloth over his shoulder when I didn't answer. "Silent and brooding. I'm guessing girl trouble?'

  Girl trouble hardly defined my predicament. "You wouldn't happen to have an Adams Utopias in your private stock?

  "Dude, a bit 'high brow' for a college pub. Besides, it's banned in this state."

  I'd been informed Mick kept expensive spirits stashed for his more affluent customers. I pushed a hundred dollar bill across the counter. "I didn't ask if it was legal, just if you had some."

  Mick raised a brow, his gaze sliding over the room at the few patrons scattered in the smoky darkness. He unlocked a cabinet under the bar and pulled out the glossy gold decanter. He flipped a glass over, poured it half full and treated himself to a separate shot. When I gave him a questioning glance, he leaned close. "Jordan, it's 27 proof. You seldom drink. You'll be lucky to finish this and walk out of here knowing your name." He took my hundred dollars and didn't give me change.

  The nutty flavor, rich with notes of vanilla, lingered on my tongue long after I swallowed. I threw back the rest, a dribble worth twenty dollars slipping from the corner of my mouth. I pulled my handkerchief out and wiped my chin, rubbing my thumb over the blue silk threads monogramming my initial in the corner. Once I owned a set of six. Now I had five. Marli had one.

  I tapped the glass for more, this time a full glass. The second sample of ale swallowed smoother than the first. I reached for the decanter with my slowed reflexes, but Mick grabbed it first. "I don't think so friend. Why don't you tell me what's wrong instead?"

  My words slurred as they tumbled over my thick tongue. "Mick, have you ever said something so stupid you knew the minute the words left your mouth, the consequences would be huge? Life altering?"

  "Life altering, huh? That must have been one hell of statement. Were you drunk?"

  "Nope," I replied, punctuating the p. "Stone cold sober. Just ape-shit jealous. I'm an ass and a stupid control-freakin' idiot!" I pounded the bar, upsetting the peanut dish.

 
"Easy friend." Mick moved the dish out my reach. He replaced my beer with a tall glass of ice water. "If you screwed things up so badly sober, I'd hate to see what you'd do drunk."

  I opened my cell receptor. Like a fool, I dialed Marli's number. Nothing. Did she really not take her receptor? She wouldn't purposely ignore me…would she? No way did she really mean we were over. We couldn't be "over." She was my assignee. I had priority...unless she wanted Peterson. Damn! I squeezed my cell so hard it should have exploded.

  I stared at the number pad, trying to bring the numbers into focus. Why not? Miss Davis probably hooked up with Doug Peterson by now, so why should I suffer? Heather Sandberg—Number 7? My finger trembled over the call key, my gut twisting into an aching knot. I didn't want Heather. I wanted Marli. The hurt boiled inside, then something worse. Fear I'd really lost her.

  Gentle fingers curled over mine, closing the receptor. The voice sounded whisper soft with breath smelling of peppermint. "Why call someone who isn't here, when I am."

  My head tilted sideways, or maybe the room did. Her golden mane fell over her bare shoulders, the ends tickling my arm. She looked pretty—I think. Big blue eyes and full, cherry gloss lips. Sexy as hell. She leaned into me, her perfume permeating my fuzzy brain. Something floral, mixed with enough pheromones to make me feel surprisingly lonely...and needy.

  I liked the way her fingers played around the edges of my ears, softly rubbing my lobes. Damn. I swallowed a baseball-size lump. She shifted, allowing me a full view down her shirt. No bra. Everything turned warm and hazy. My pants tightened. She had a fantastic chest. So did Marli. Got close enough a to know her assets were real, not manufactured like the angel melting her lips to mine.

  Shit, she tasted good, but not like Marli. Marli was French silk pie where this girl resembled imitation chocolate ice cream at best. However, when you're craving chocolate, you'll take what you can find.

  I wasn't real clear how we got from the bar to the inside of my car; however at this moment I didn't care about details. Fingers made fast work of the buttons on my shirt and I hissed when her cold hands pressed my chest, but her hot lips warmed the spots to a blistering heat.