Birth of Adam (Artificial Intelligence Book 2)

by Liza O'Connor

  “Why did this Mark guy think you were willing to sleep with him so soon? Had you been flirting with him at the bar?”

  “I’ll answer your question if you’ll answer mine.”

  “It was neither,” he replied.

  His short answer annoyed her, so she returned the favor. “Narcissism and no.”

  Chapter Four

  Amanda pondered over Luke’s cryptic answer as she practiced her choral piece. If Chad was neither happy nor angry, what was he? Sad, worried and remorseful all came to mind. Could he be sorry for the way things had ended? Could he possibly want her back?

  The latter thought both thrilled and frightened her. While she still loved Chad and knew she would never meet anyone else half so wonderful, the idea of getting back together with him scared the hell out of her. The speed with which he’d turned on her had proved his love wasn’t constant. Yet even if it were, the relationship would still be impossible. She needed to remain under the radar, and dating Chad would be anything but under the radar. Getting back together with him could get them both killed.

  A sharp slap to her head brought her attention back to her singing. Dr. Wilson had struck her with rolled-up sheet music as if she were a pup in need of discipline. He’d a reputation for doing that, but this was the first time she’d ever been the recipient of the rolled-paper slap.

  She stopped singing and stared at him in shock. What on earth had she done to deserve such an embarrassing reprimand?

  The other students were smirking, no doubt taking great pleasure in her call-out. She wasn’t certain whether it was professional jealousy or the age difference, but Claire remained her one and only friend in the music department. Everyone else kept their distance.

  Amanda hoped Dr. Wilson would tell her what she had done, but he ordered everyone to begin again and pay attention this time. Amanda focused on every detail, determined to avoid a second slap-down for whatever she had missed.

  When they reached the section where he’d thwacked her, Dr. Wilson dropped them down to a near-silent pianissimo. Amanda blushed at her error. She had sung it at full voice previously.

  When practice was over, she waited for the other students to leave so she could apologize. Unfortunately, several of the students wished to have long conversations about music grants for the European study. Amanda straightened up the chairs and retrieved the sheet music from the stands while she waited. Dr. Wilson answered their questions while he packed up his briefcase. The moment the briefcase closed, he interrupted them. “You may ask my secretary for time on my schedule to further discuss this.” He then looked at Amanda. “Carrington, thank you for straightening up. Walk with me, please.”

  As she passed one of the guys, she heard him mutter, “Kiss-ass.” She ignored the remark and followed Wilson.

  Once they were outside, Amanda apologized for screwing up in class.

  He glanced at her. “May I ask what had you otherwise occupied?”

  “Just some personal matters, but that’s no excuse and it won’t happen again.”

  Her answer seemed to annoy him, and he remained silent as she jogged beside him to keep up with his hurried pace. Suddenly, he stopped, and she almost ran past him.

  “I’m sorry, but your answer will not do. I have invested far too much time and effort in you, and if you’re easily distracted, then I wish to know it now!”

  “I’m not, sir, and I swear to you, it will not happen again.”

  “I wish to know the nature of your distraction.”

  She sighed. She wasn’t about to tell him she had been pondering over whether the football star Chad Tyler was happy or sad. That would probably get her kicked out of the program.

  “Someone was stalking me this last week.”

  Now her professor looked alarmed. “Did you notify security?”

  “Actually, I notified the FBI. I got the license plate of the stalker last night. This morning, right before class, I had a meeting with the agent handling the complaint, and he assured me they have resolved the matter. So everything should be fine now.”

  Dr. Wilson looked far from reassured, but at least he didn’t look angry anymore. He placed his hand on her arm, and they continued walking, at a slower pace this time.

  “What made you call the FBI instead of campus security?”

  “I have a friend in the FBI, so I called him,” Amanda replied, surprised he even had to ask the question. Campus security was a joke.

  “And he’s put a stop to this stalker?”

  She nodded.

  “I’m pleased you took this matter seriously. I’ve never mentioned it to you before, but I believe you had a stalker in New Zealand as well. He posed as a reporter, but he was only interested in you, not the choral group. I had security toss him off the site.”

  “Claire told me.”

  “Was this the same man?”

  “No. That man died while attempting to kill an FBI agent.”

  Dr. Wilson looked both shocked and concerned by her declaration.

  “That’s why I took this matter so seriously, but it turned out to be nothing more than an admirer of my voice. The agent warned him off, and everything will be fine now.”

  Dr. Wilson remained silent, and Amanda feared he was contemplating booting her for the safety of his other students. She cursed herself for telling him about Eder.

  “I intended to recommend you for the European studies grant,” he said. “But your friend wouldn’t be able to help you if someone followed you overseas.”

  His declaration stunned her. Freshmen never received a European grant. “I don’t think I’m eligible. Technically I’m a freshman.”

  “There’s no rule against selecting a freshman. There has simply never been one worth the investment. And you’re no spring chicken, so you can’t afford to drag your feet. My concern is not whether you’re eligible or worthy to go, but whether it would be safe for you to go.”

  “I could hire private security,” she said, thinking a fresh environment would do her good.

  “Can you afford to do that?” he asked in surprise.

  “Yes, and if this grant is only offered to students in financial need, then I’m definitely not eligible.”

  “Financial status isn’t involved in the process of selection, only talent and dedication to the arts, both of which you have shown to possess. That was why your lack of attention today greatly upset me. Now that I understand why you lost focus, I’m only impressed you could sing at all. If you can afford to ensure your protection, I will see you receive a grant.”

  She kissed his cheek.

  “Stop that!” he chided. “People will think I’m seducing my students!”

  “Your middle-aged students.”

  “All the more reason to behave! You are not well-liked by your classmates, and your inclusion on the grants list will anger many. I fully expect accusations of favoritism to be sent to the dean.”

  She was stunned by how easily she could damage his reputation. “Then don’t put me on the list. You’ve done so much for me. Don’t put your own career and reputation on the line.”

  He sighed. “You will never kiss me again.”

  “Never.”

  “We’ll wait and see whether anyone saw your foolish action. If they did, I will try and locate another professor willing to recommend you. Otherwise, you may lose your spot for this year. However, next year you will certainly be included. Your rash behavior might slow your progress, but you will recover.”

  She blinked as her eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry. I seem to be screwing everything up today.”

  “We all have difficult days. Why don’t you return to your dorm and get some sleep? You look as if you didn’t get much last night.”

  Amanda would have loved to follow Dr. Wilson’s advice. Unfortunately, she had too many classes to attend. Even now she was five minutes late to her American history class.

  She found it very frustrating that in order to learn music she had to retake all t
he other subjects as well. Even if she could have risked getting her credits transferred from her first time in college, too many years had passed by. The college would have assumed—and in her case correctly so—that she had forgotten everything she’d learned back then.

  When she arrived at her American history class, the professor glared at her. “You will be counted as absent, so you may leave if you like.” She remained, since the professor was marginally more interesting than the textbook.

  When the class was over, she ran out the door at lightning speed. She heard the professor call her back, but she pretended she didn’t. She knew she was in for a long-winded lecture on punctuality, and that would make her late for English. Dr. Johnson was one professor she did not want to piss off. Writing was subjective, and if she angered the teacher, Dr. Johnson could subjectively fail her.

  Amanda arrived early for English class and took a seat on the first row. A girl from her history class arrived at the door. “Dr. Harper wants to see you.”

  “Okay, thanks,” Amanda replied.

  “Now!” the girl added.

  “Can’t. Class is about to start.”

  “That’s your problem,” the girl declared.

  “Exactly. It’s my problem, not yours. So don’t tell me what to do.”

  With a huff, the girl stormed out of the room.

  Five minutes into class, the girl returned and handed Dr. Johnson a note. She read it, threw the paper in the garbage and told the girl to leave. The girl stood her ground until Dr. Johnson repeated her order.

  Amanda was certain the note concerned her, because Dr. Johnson glared at her as if she were to blame for the interruption, then constantly called on Amanda throughout the class. Fortunately, for once Amanda was prepared and answered most of the questions to the professor’s satisfaction.

  When the bell rang, she wasn’t able to escape fast enough.

  “Carrington,” Dr. Johnson said.

  Amanda approached her desk.

  “I hate having my class disrupted.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m very sorry Dr. Harper did that.”

  She saw a slight smile tug at Dr. Johnson’s lips. “Do you know why Dr. Harper felt compelled to interrupt my class and demand you attend him?”

  “I believe he wishes to give me a lecture on punctuality. I was five minutes late to his class.”

  “And why were you late?”

  “I was receiving a lecture from Dr. Wilson about staying focused on my music. And if I don’t leave now, Dr. Johnson, I will be late to my next class as well.”

  “Go,” she ordered. “But eventually you should check in with Harper. Give him a box of roasted almonds. It will defuse his temper.”

  “Thanks.” Amanda wondered why the hell she should have to give that asshole anything.

  She managed to get through her chemistry class without pissing anyone off. She hoped this meant her day was turning. Unfortunately, three steps outside her chemistry class she met Dr. Harper.

  “Miss Carrington.” His hand clamped down on her arm like a vice.

  “I was just headed off to find you. One of the students said you wanted to speak to me?”

  “For several hours now.”

  “Well, I couldn’t leave English class. Dr. Johnson wouldn’t have liked that.”

  “That was your problem.”

  “Yes, sir, it was. And I handled the situation the best way I could. Now that I finally have time to speak to you, I would like to apologize for being late. I will try very hard to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

  “Your grades are hardly spectacular, Carrington.”

  Amanda couldn’t argue that point.

  “You are borderline college material. You may not be aware, but this college has a review board that can remove students who aren’t meeting our standards. You don’t have to actually fail your classes to be asked to leave.”

  She really wished she had some roasted almonds to offer him. “Sir, I am trying my hardest, but with all my rehearsal time, I don’t have enough time to study for all my classes.”

  “Rehearsal for what?”

  “I’m a music major.” By the way he rolled his eyes, he didn’t think it a worthy or difficult major. She suddenly had great sympathy for all those athletes she used to scorn.

  “You need to realign your priorities and focus on what skills you require to get a job when you leave college. Music is fine for a hobby, but it will not pay your bills.”

  And American history would? Fortunately, she kept that thought to herself. “I will try harder both with my punctuality and my studies.”

  “See that you do!” he warned, and released her so she could escape to her room before any other disaster occurred.

  When she entered her room, Claire and Jeff were enjoying an intimate moment, so she eased out and found a quiet nook in the lobby to study. She had just finished her chemistry problems when a shadow fell over her. She looked up, fearful that Mr. Harper had tracked her down and wanted to know why she had chosen to do chemistry problems rather than read her history assignment.

  A man in a dark suit and sunglasses handed her a cell phone. “This is from a friend,” he said and walked off.

  When he left the lobby, she went to the door to see where he went. He walked to the side of the building and disappeared from sight. She wanted to follow him, but knew if she did, all her books would be missing. As it was, when she turned around, some guy was checking them out.

  “Those are mine,” Amanda warned him.

  He glared at her and walked off.

  Upon returning to her studies, she discovered the bastard had stolen her chemistry homework.

  Pissed as hell, she wrote out the problems again.

  She was relieved to find both Claire and Jeff gone when she finally went upstairs to her room. She grabbed her robe, towels, shampoo and soap, then headed to the shower stalls.

  Sadly, when she returned to her room, Claire and Jeff were back and Mark was with them.

  Mark whistled as she entered wearing a terrycloth robe.

  “Are you aware that I’m almost old enough to be your mother?” she asked as she put away her shower supplies. She then focused on Claire. “Would you mind taking your guys out for a walk?”

  Claire laughed, grabbed them by their collars and assisted them out.

  Jeff barked and licked Claire on the face.

  She squealed. “Stop it. That’s disgusting! Bad puppy!”

  Amanda sighed with relief once they were gone. After locking the door, she lay down in bed to read American history.

  She must have fallen asleep because the next thing she knew Mark’s hand was on her right breast. When she tried to push him away, he snared her wrists and pulled her arms over her head.

  “It’s okay,” Mark said in a soothing tone. “Jeff and Claire won’t be back for hours.”

  “We’re not doing this,” Amanda assured him.

  He studied her for a moment then smiled. “You think you’re too old for me. But you aren’t. Honestly, I’ve never wanted a woman more.”

  “What I want is for you to get off!” She twisted her body trying to break his grip on her wrists. All her struggling managed to do was loosen her robe and expose her naked body.

  He groaned and swallowed hard then he took his time suckling her breasts.

  The heat of his body against hers stopped her physical protests. Damn it! She did not want this! She considered screaming for help, but she didn’t dare. She had to keep a low profile, to stay out of trouble. If the police got involved, her former identity might be uncovered. Then the Temple would send another assassin after her.

  When her body tightened in need for what Mark offered, her anger returned. “Get off me,” she cried and tried her hardest to buck him off her body.

  Mark groan in pleasure or pain, she couldn’t tell.

  Then he pulled a condom from his pants lying on the floor, ripped the packaging with his teeth and rolled it on his cock in one stroke
. God, he was like a condom gunslinger.

  Now fitted for duty, he returned to tasting her body. “Just relax. We’ll both have fun, I promise.”

  The most infuriating part for Amanda was that her body kept responding to his touch. When she climaxed, Mark covered her face with kisses.

  Finally realizing he no longer had her hands pinned, she planted both hands on his chest and sent him flying to the floor. She scrambled from the bed, tightened her robe, then stormed to the door. “I did not consent to that. And you’re damn lucky I don’t have you charged with rape.”

  “Baby, you loved every minute of it. The way your body responded—you wanted me,” Mark assured her as he got off the floor and put on his pants.

  ***

  An hour later, Claire and Jeff returned to the room and invited Amanda to come with them to a frat party.

  Amanda refused the invitation. “I need my rest.” She should have tried to convince Claire not to go either, but she was angry at her for leaving her alone with Mark. She was so angry that tomorrow she planned to ask Ellen if she’d like a new roommate. Damn it. Claire was her only friend. Why had she done that? But then she recalled Claire’s young age, and how smitten she was with Jeff. She probably had no idea what Mark intended to do.

  ***

  Despite Amanda’s fatigue, she had trouble sleeping. She was worried about Claire. If Mark would force her in the dorm, then there was probably no limit what Mark and Jeff would do to Claire at a frat party. She pushed herself out of bed and dressed in jeans and a baggy sweater. She glanced in the mirror. Her wet hair had dried in a Medusa tangle and she looked a fright.

  Hopefully it would discourage the boys.

  It wasn’t difficult to find the frat house—the throbbing of the bass was audible ten blocks away. When she arrived, her annoyance turned to fear. Unconscious bodies littered the lawn, many of them female, most naked. She found Claire in the backyard on a picnic table. For a moment she feared the poor girl was dead. Unable to revive her, she pulled out her new phone and called campus security, saying they needed to call as many ambulances as they could find.

  Only after security came and evaluated the situation were ambulances called. She wanted to accompany Claire, but the idiot campus cops had decided she, as the only person who clearly didn’t drink the punch, was ergo responsible for doping everyone else. Brilliant! Charge the only person standing and sober for the crime. Campus Security was no longer just a joke. They were complete morons!