Page 1 of Pawsitive Data

PROLOGUE

Gerri sat to have some tea before leaving The Jade Room at Le Maison Vale. Audrey Greene and Iris Spectre sat with her, their expressions full of curiosity.

“Come on, Gerri. Please give us a little more detail,” Iris pleaded.

“Yes. How do I know if my Emma will truly find love?” Audrey asked.

Gerri laughed at their child-like curiosity. “Your daughter is a genius, Audrey. You have a family full of them. All over-achievers. Do you really think Emma can truly fall in love with an average man?”

Audrey sat up straighter, her brows furrowing.

“And,” Gerri glanced at Iris, “Lucas is the epitome of alpha. He doesn’t just want his mate, he wants to be a protector. Emma and Lucas are destined. Whether you help them find each other now or they do it on their own in time, it’s going to happen. I’m just trying to help you get to their happily ever after without waiting on them.”

The women smiled wide, both gripping their tea cups. “So does this truly mean that my baby girl will finally have real love in her life?”

“It’s not just real love. It’s the love she’s always wished for.”

Iris gasped. “Emma is a genius. Will Lucas be too animalistic for her? Will he be too old?”

Gerri giggled at the questions. “First of all, I’ve never had a client complain about a man being too animalistic. That’s usually a plus. As for him being too old, I think Lucas will understand Emma better than any other man. He’s got experience, knowledge, and so many years of having dealt with different personalities.” Gerri took a sip of her tea and then leaned in conspiratorially to whisper. “The love between these two will be so nice to see. Trust me.”

“I trust you,” Iris said.

“Me too!” Audrey exclaimed.

“Wonderful! Go have lunch together and plan this out. It’s going to be perfect.”

ONE

The universe, Emma Greene decided, had a special fondness for chaos. Here she was, staring at a genetic sequence that could revolutionize modern medicine while simultaneously watching coffee cascade over her keyboard in magnificent slow motion. Of course, this would happen at 3:00 AM, mere hours before her interview with the most prestigious genetic research facility in the country.

“Please don’t make me have to explain coffee damage to the grant committee again,” she muttered, frantically dabbing at her keyboard with the sleeve of her MIT sweatshirt. The screen flickered but held steady, still displaying the pattern she’d been hunting for months - a unique genetic stability marker that seemed to defy normal hereditary drift patterns.

Her wall of research notes told the story of six months of obsession: color-coded sticky notes connected by strings, complex diagrams, and countless genetic sequences. At the center was a chart tracking inherited traits down several family lines.

The data was fascinating – what caused some genes to pass to progeny while others didn’t? Was there a specific protein the passed-on DNA carried? Did one trait overtake weaker ones?

Emma grabbed her phone, her hands shaking with excitement and possibly excessive coffee consumption. The time (3:07 AM) registered about three seconds after she hit dial.

“Someone better be dead or discovering time travel,” Janie growled.

“I found it! The stability pattern—” Emma caught her reflection in the darkened window and winced. Yesterday’s mascara had migrated south, her red hair resembled a physics experiment gone wrong, and was that dried ramen on her sweatshirt? “Oh god. Janie, what day is it?”

“The day of your interview with Spectre Industries. The one I’d been texting you about all day yesterday. Please tell me you didn’t forget.”

Emma’s stomach performed an advanced gymnastics routine. “Define forget?”

“Emma Marie Greene, you did not just spend another all-nighter in your home lab when you’re supposed to meet Lucas Spectre in—” a pause. “Six hours.”

“In my defense, science doesn’t care about scheduling. Also, I might have made a small breakthrough. Like, potentially revolutionize our understanding of genetic inheritance.” Emma pulled up her data visualization. “Look at these stability markers. They shouldn’t be possible.”

“Honey, I love you, but I can’t actually see what you’re gesturing at over the phone. Also, you’re about to meet the man who makes biotech CEOs look like runway models. Maybe focus on that?”

“It’s a professional interview,” Emma protested, even as her traitorous mind pulled up the photo from Spectre Industries’ website. Lucas Spectre did have an unfairly perfect face for someone with multiple patents and a genome-altering research empire. Not that she’d spent time analyzing his bone structure. Much.

Her phone buzzed with another incoming call. “Oh no. Mom’s calling. At three in the morning. How does she always know?”

“Answer it. I’ll be there in four hours with emergency fashion supplies and enough caffeine to wake the dead.”

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