Page 8 of Pawsitive Data

“When he what? Don’t you dare leave out details.”

“When he looked at me like... like I was something he wanted to devour. In a good way. A very good way.”

Her phone buzzed again:

Mom: Darling, Le Bernardin has excellent mood lighting. Perfect for studying genetic compatibility indicators.

Emma: HOW DO YOU EVEN KNOW ABOUT DINNER?

Mom: A mother has her sources.

Janie rummaged through Emma’s closet. “Now, where’s that black dress you never wear?”

“The one you made me buy that I said was too sexy for a science conference?”

“Exactly. Though something tells me your Science Da– sorry, your new boss – will appreciate it more than the genetics panel did.”

Janie emerged with the dress. “Now strip including the crystal necklace. It doesn’t match. We have an hour to transform you from ‘sexy scientist’ to ‘goddess who makes CEOs forget the laws of physics.’“

“I’m pretty sure he already doesn’t follow the laws of physics,” Emma muttered, unwillingly removing the gem her grandmother gave her. “Nobody moves that fast or looks that perfect or makes my heart rate accelerate beyond normal human parameters just by existing in the same space.”

“Honey,” Janie paused in her makeup preparation, “are you actually saying he might not be entirely human?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, not letting on about her earlier conversation with the man who admitted he wasn’t human. “There’s a scientific explanation for everything. You just have to find it.”

FIVE

At precisely seven, Emma stood outside her building, wearing the black dress that made Janie whisper, “Science Daddy won’t know what hit him,” and promptly earned a shoe thrown to the head. A sleek black car pulled up, and the driver opened the door to reveal Lucas waiting inside.

Emma’s breath caught. He’d changed into a black suit that made his earlier office attire look casual. The effect was devastating.

“You look beautiful,” he said, his voice lower and rougher than it had been in the office. His eyes swept over her, shifting from green to gold in a way that made her wonder if she should be taking notes for scientific documentation.

“Thank you. You look...” Emma’s brain searched for an appropriate word—edible, no. “Statistically impossible.”Not much better.

His laugh rumbled through the car as she slid in beside him. The space felt intimate, charged with the same electricity from the elevator. His scent enveloped her – that woodsy, masculine smell that made her want to conduct very unprofessional experiments.

“Statistically improbable?” His smile held secrets and heat. “Do elaborate, Dr. Greene.”

“Well, remember you asked.” Emma turned slightly to face him, trying to ignore how the movement made their knees touch. “The symmetry of your features defies normal genetic distribution. Your reflexes exceed human capabilities. Your eyes change color. And your very presence seems to interfere with my ability to form coherent scientific hypotheses.”

“Only the scientific ones?” He leaned closer, and Emma’s heart performed a series of acrobatics.

“No,” she admitted. “All coherent thought becomes challenging when you look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re considering eating me alive.”

His eyes flashed pure gold. “Perhaps I am.”

Emma’s phone buzzed in her clutch, breaking the moment. She glanced down to see a series of texts:

Janie: GET IT GIRL

Mom: Remember to maintain eye contact. Studies show it increases bonding hormones...

Emma turned her phone off.

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