Page 7 of Pawsitive Data

Emma typed quick responses while waiting for the elevator.

To Janie: It’s for research purposes! Studying genetic anomalies. Over dinner. With wine.

To Mom: Please stop sending me genetics papers about reproduction.

The elevator doors opened and Emma stepped in, only to freeze when Lucas appeared beside her. Again. How did he move so silently?

“Going down?” His voice rumbled through her like bass notes of some primal song.

Emma’s brain helpfully short-circuited. “That depends. Are you going to keep doing that appearing-out-of-nowhere thing? I’m developing theories about your molecular density and potential teleportation abilities.”

His laugh filled the small space, wrapping around her like warm honey. “Teleportation? That would be impossible.”

“Says the man whose eyes change color and who moves like physics is optional.”

“Why, Dr. Greene.” He stepped closer, and Emma’s back hit the elevator wall. “Your observations are remarkably... accurate.”

The air thickened between them. Emma’s scientific mind noted his elevated body temperature, the way his pupils dilated, how he seemed to be breathing in her scent. The rest of her was too busy trying not to spontaneously combust.

“I should warn you,” she managed, “I tend to pursue mysteries until I solve them. Scientifically speaking.”

“Is that what I am?” His voice dropped lower. “A mystery to be solved?”

“You’re definitely something that defies explanation.” Emma surprised herself with her words. “My current hypothesis involves several impossible factors.”

“Such as?” He was definitely closer now, one hand braced against the wall beside her head.

“Such as why my heart rate accelerates around you in ways that violate basic cardiovascular principles. Or why—” She gasped as his other hand came up to brush a strand of hair from her face, the touch electric. “Why I can’t seem to think straight when you’re this close.”

“Interesting hypothesis.” His thumb traced her jawline, featherlight. “Any other observations?”

The elevator dinged, breaking the moment.

Lucas stepped back, but his eyes promised more. “Tonight. Seven o’clock. I’ll send a car.”

Emma barely madeit home before Hurricane Janie descended, armed with makeup, hair products, and an entirely too-knowing smile.

“Spill. Everything. And don’t you dare start with the genetics.” Janie dropped an enormous shopping bag on Emma’s couch. “I want to hear about the chemistry – the non-scientific kind.”

“There was a perfectly professional discussion about genetic anomalies,” Emma began, then caught Janie’s look. “Fine. He might have had me pressed against the elevator wall while discussing said anomalies.”

“Science Daddy strikes again!”

“Don’t call him that!” Emma buried her face in a throw pillow. “He’s my boss now. This is probably highly inappropriate. I should cancel. Yes. Canceling is the logical choice.”

“Honey,” Janie pried the pillow away, “the man practically pinned you to a wall to discuss DNA. I don’t think ‘logical’ is on tonight’s menu.”

Emma’s phone buzzed with a text from Lucas:

Looking forward to continuing our discussion of genetic anomalies. Wear something suitable for Le Bernardin.

“Le Bernardin?” Janie peered over her shoulder. “Oh, damn, he’s not playing. That’s not a ‘let’s discuss work’ restaurant. That’s a ‘let me wine and dine you while eye-fucking you over genetic theories’ restaurant.”

“Janie!” But Emma couldn’t help grinning. “It’s probably just... convenient for business discussions.”

“Right. Because all CEOs take their new employees to Michelin-starred restaurants on their first day.” Janie started unpacking her bag. “Now, let’s make you hot.”

“You should have seen him move – like gravity was optional and physics was just a suggestion. And his eyes...” Emma flopped onto her bed. “They literally changed color, Janie. Not like normal hazel eyes in different lights. They went from green to actual gold when he...” She trailed off, blushing.

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