Designer Genes - The Boyfriend Cut

by Brooks, Harley

  Unable to fight the morning rays filtering through the blinds and warming my face, I stretched my arms over my head, letting one drop off the side of the bed

  "Ouch!"

  I rolled to the edge of the bed, finding Jordan on the floor rubbing his nose. "When did you sneak in here?"

  "After I tossed for hours with steamy thoughts of you spinning in my head. I couldn't sleep knowing you were on the other side of the wall in my bed. Besides, this floor is much more comfortable than the sofa in the office."

  Jordan caught my arm and pulled me on top of him. I squealed in surprise and his hand immediately covered my mouth. "SHHH!" he chuckled.

  I perched my chin on my arms folded across his chest, taking in his beautiful eyes—a glittery mossy green in the morning sunlight. "I missed you last night."

  "I hate when you're not in my arms." His hands eased over my hips and stroked my bare thighs. "Next semester we're going where the weather is warm so I don't have to ever see you in another pair of flannel pajamas."

  I reached behind and stopped his roaming hand. "Behave."

  "I'm tired of behaving," he grumbled. "I swear we're the only two people on the planet who sleep in the same bed without having sex."

  Jordan rolled me under him, burying his head in my hair, one hand moving slowly under my T-shirt. I smiled on his mouth when he shifted his body.

  "Everything okay?" I teased, feeling his body sell him out.

  "You know I'm not." His lips barely grazed mine before stopping, his shoulders going rigid beneath my fingertips. "I smell coffee. Someone's awake. I can't be found in here with you, at least not this morning. My grandparents are here and I don't want them to get the wrong impression before they get to know you."

  He scrambled to his feet and paused in the doorway, speaking in a hushed tone. "Warning. Mom is taking you shopping later, so be a good sport. I'll see you in the kitchen for breakfast." He blew me a kiss and quietly shut the door.

  After smoothing the crisp gold sheets and black down comforter over Jordan's bed, I stepped back and let my eyes loiter around his room—a private gallery of Jordan's life. Trophies and ribbons recognizing his feats as an athlete over the years lined shelves and bookcases. I couldn't help but admire how closely the décor matched his personality; rich tones and luxurious fabrics showed his classy, gentlemanly traits; its organized and neat appearance matched his driven, goal oriented thinking, while notes of rosewood and spice lingering in the fabric particularly told of his sexy prowess.

  The bright red stuffed dog with floppy ears hanging from a navy silk tie noose off his desk lamp and an old Mr. Potato Head with goofy oversized ears, however, definitely represented his playful side. Several body parts belonging to Mr. Head lay scattered in a small box. I added curly eyelashes and earrings, connecting him with his "feminine spud" side.

  When I closed the door, the part of me that should be locked away wondered what I'd find if I crossed the hall and opened Jesse's bedroom door. I imagined bright colors, chrome instead of wood; contemporary versus traditional, along with guitars on stands, citrus fragrance, and framed, overly-endowed beach beauties in bikinis dotting the walls. I decided that door must never be opened.

  I'd forgotten about the breathtaking view of the ocean beyond the glass wall comprising the southeast wall of the living room. I strolled leisurely past and into the formal dining room. China, crystal goblets, and stacks of silverware filled the center of a long table. At the far end of the room the delectable smell of coffee drifted from behind the door.

  The kitchen felt warm with the morning sun beaming through the large window. The facets of leaded glass surrounding the window sprayed the kitchen with tiny rainbows. Meg's silhouette against the morning light completed a picture perfect scene.

  "Awesome," I said, touching one of the multi colored splotches shimmering on the marble counter. I pulled a stool from under the center island and Meg handed me a cup of coffee fixed the way I liked it at the beach house.

  "I'm so glad you came, girl. I've missed you." She grinned mischievously, "We haven't had such drama between the boys since they were small." After pouring herself a cup of coffee, she leaned on her elbows. Her brows waggled. "The last gnarly fight I remember was when Jordan smacked Jesse with a wooden oar, knocking him out of the dinghy they floated in. They tussled on the beach until they both had bloody noses." She sipped her coffee. "They were eleven years old. Wow, I can't believe nine years have passed."

  She returned to preparing the batter for blueberry waffles—the traditional Thanksgiving Day breakfast, I'd been informed. Dinner would be later this evening, but the smell from the freshly baked pies cooling on the counter already had me drooling.

  I soon discovered this kitchen, like the one at the beach house, was the morning gathering place. A puff of air blew across my back when the door opened.

  "Pretty women in a kitchen is every guy's dream."

  Meg muttered something under her breath and snapped a dishtowel at our half-naked guest, who yelped when it hit his back. A kiss on the side of my head and a playful hug from a familiar arm gave me an instant rush. Jesse.

  "Mars, you're a sight for sore eyes. How's my brother treating you? If he's not spoiling you rotten, I want you to leave him and come back to me." Jesse straddled the stool at my side, sorting through the blueberries and picking the best ones to add to the batter.

  "I've tried, but she's stubborn about letting anyone fuss over her," Jordan answered from behind me. He at least wore a shirt, but unbuttoned and begging for my hands to slip inside. He kissed my cheek and took the other stool next to me, instantly raising the temperature in the kitchen.

  Another swoosh of the door brought Eva Mason. "Oh my, you two!" She patted Jordan's shoulder before taking the cup of coffee Meg handed her. "Marli, please tell them how impressed you are with their manly chests so they'll finish dressing. I'm sure this little peep show is for your benefit."

  I reached out and touched both Jordan's and Jesse's chests. They flinched when I pressed my hand to their warm skin and I laughed, hiding my nervousness. I did love both their chests, and had spent time resting against each of them at one time or another. Jordan's hand cupped mine and I felt his heart beating a tad fast. Jesse, however, slithered from my touch.

  He quickly recovered, placing a scoop of batter into the waffle iron and pinching Meg's shoulders. "Hey, where's my cup of coffee?"

  "Get dressed first. We don't serve naked men in this kitchen," Eva chided before Meg could answer.

  I immediately proceeded to button Jordan's shirt and he flashed me a playful smile. I knew that look and returned a warning glint when his fingertips dipped inside the waistband of my jeans.

  Jesse wrapped his hands around his mother's waist and nuzzled into her neck. "I bet you wouldn't turn Dad away if he was naked in your kitchen."

  "Did I hear my name taken in vain?" John Banks wiggled his way through the bodies, pulling Jordan's mother into his arms and giving her an enthusiastic kiss. "You wouldn't turn me away if I was naked, now would you dear?" Without warning, he yanked his T-shirt off, flexing his muscles. Eva covered her face with her hands, while the rest of us cheered him on.

  "John! Honestly! Now I know where the boys get it from." She glanced over his shoulder at me. "Consider yourself warned, Marli."

  Jordan's grandparents entered and their audible gasp made Eva quickly tug John's shirt over his head. She blushed again at some private look he gave her.

  Delectable hors d'oeuvres, side dishes, and an array of desserts covered the dining room buffet. Elegant place settings precisely arranged on the table displayed the colors of autumn beautifully. John and Eva were hosting Thanksgiving dinner for their family and a handful of close friends lucky enough to be included in their circle of trust.

  My introduction to those included in this intimate social circle would also be on the menu, serving as an opportunity to appraise my worthiness for Jordan. Both the Thanksgiving turkey and I would be on display bef
ore being dissected and devoured. The difference? The turkey was already out of its misery. I, on the other hand, would feel each prick of an eyeball directed my way, and the excruciating pain if I met with someone's disapproval.

  As forewarned, Jordan's mother took me shopping earlier in the day, surely to guarantee I wore something she deemed appropriate enough to meet her guests. She treated me to an elegant black chiffon dress with gold threads shimmering throughout the fabric. The skirt flowed in a handkerchief hem touching above my ankles, and the bodice crossed over my chest and tied behind my neck, leaving my shoulders and back exposed. Gold strappy sandals adorned my feet and a pair of flashy hammered gold discs dangled from my uncovered ears. Eva insisted on doing my hair, slicking it back into some intricate bun. My sophisticated ensemble was very different from the simple floral dress I'd brought. Rick would die if he saw me.

  Jordan waited for me beside the pool. He handed me a flute half-full of champagne, which I had no intention of drinking. His arm eased around my waist, tucking me close to his side, but turning me so my back faced away from the crowd. He placed a light kiss on my lips, his fingers seductively stroking the length of my bare back. I understood now his strategic positioning.

  "You're gorgeous tonight, babe. This dress makes you look older and insanely sexy. I don't think there's a single male here tonight who can keep their eyes off you. My jealousy issues are seriously being tested."

  The touch of Jordan's fingers on my naked skin gave me chills, stronger than the evening ocean breeze. I nestled under his arm to make him stop. "I think that may have been your mother's intention...to make me appear older so you wouldn't look like a cradle robber to her friends," I teased. "And my eyes are only on you."

  "I worried I had some stiff competition when you ogled Dad this morning."

  "I didn't ogle him," I objected, already feeling the blush on my cheeks.

  "Wrong sweetheart. You committed serious ogling."

  "Maybe I was checking out what you'll look like in the future?"

  "And?" he smiled.

  "Looks very good."

  We shared a long kiss, Jordan's mouth hot and tasting of champagne. I ran my fingers along his throat to the edge of the collar of his black silk shirt, neatly tucked against the lapel of his camel colored leather jacket. A hard swallow rolled beneath my fingertips. His arm snuggled me closer and he moaned softly in my ear.

  "We aren't going to make it to the main course, if you keep taunting me. Maybe I should whisk you away someplace private and subject you to my personal torture treatment."

  "Don't make promises you can't keep."

  "Oh, I plan on making good on my promise. Hot tub at midnight, babe. You, me, and your teensy black bikini." His fingers teased at the side of my dress and I jumped, sloshing champagne.

  "Jordan. Your grandparents are watching." I tipped my glass in the direction of his grandfather who stood in the doorway, indeed keeping a watchful eye on the two of us. He lifted his glass our direction in return. "See?"

  He groaned, releasing me to a respectable hand on my arm, guiding me into the dining room when his father tapped a glass to gather the guests. We found our seats according to elegantly hand-scripted name cards. I sat between Jordan and Jesse. How fitting.

  Jesse leaned over while Jordan assisted his grandmother to her seat. "You're beautiful tonight, Mars, which is killing me." He threw back the last of his glass of champagne.

  John Banks, which he preferred at home, stood at the head of the table, handsomely dressed in a light gray suit with a dark rust shirt and a comical holiday tie. He held a champagne flute in one hand and a butcher knife poised over the unsuspecting turkey, dressed and steaming before him.

  "I want to thank everyone for joining us this evening to celebrate this Thanksgiving holiday, and to meet a certain young lady who's become very special to this family, Jordan in particular. Marli, dear, would you please stand so I can formerly introduce you?"

  My knees quivered.

  "Showtime babe," Jordan whispered, pulling my chair away from the table.

  He stood behind me, his hands set at my waist to steady my trembling body while his dad continued. "Friends, this is Marli Davis, Jordan's candidate, and hopefully more soon." The familiar warm burn crept from my toes to my scalp under everyone's appraising stares. Jordan kissed the top of my head before letting me sit back on my chair.

  We held hands around the table and bowed our heads. Jordan's father offered a prayer for peace and a blessing over our military serving abroad. A pang of longing tugged. This was my first Thanksgiving away from home. Rick would spend the holiday with Karen and probably not miss me. I thought of my mother. The time had come to find her and at least talk, if nothing else. I didn't want any remnants from the past to retain a hold on me any longer.

  After dessert, guests lingered poolside or meandered into the living room. A few excused themselves and left early. The evening, so far, had been nothing shy of wonderful. I gathered scattered dessert plates on an empty tray with the intention of taking them into the kitchen, but stopped outside of the doorway to eavesdrop on an intense conversation between Jordan and Jesse.

  "Jesse, Dad's going to have a fit if he catches you drinking. We were told two glasses of champagne, and now you've uncorked another bottle?"

  "Don't worry, it's the cheap stuff."

  "That's beside the point. You've got to stay sober. I need your help tomorrow and I can't chance you flying a plane if you get wasted tonight."

  "Always the 'good son.' Don't you get tired of being perfect?"

  "I'm not perfect, Jess, but yes, I get tired of covering your ass."

  "Mind your own damn business, big brother."

  "It's my business when your life keeps spilling into mine."

  "You mean, Marli, don't you? You're still worried she'll choose me over you, especially now that she knows why the damn Program is really after her."

  "You're an ass. And drunk."

  "I'm far from blitzed. It's only my third and last glass. I just needed to dull my heartache. Marli looks gorgeous tonight, and sorry, but that hurts a bit. I love the constant reminder that Dad put her with you. Again, you win, 'golden boy.'"

  "Shit, Jess, Dad didn't do it to purposely hurt you. She was fourteen and we were sixteen. Hell, nobody could see the future. He just knew she was special and picked her for us."

  "Us. Funny how she ended up in the middle, huh? But, the 'win' I'm talking about is her choosing you. She loves you. Don't worry. I'll be at the airport tomorrow morning, ten o'clock sharp. Treat her right Jordan, because if things don't work out, I have every intention of winning her back."

  "In your dreams. There's no way in hell, little brother, I'll not lose her to you or anyone else. I intend on keeping Marli with me forever, if she'll have me.

  "Keeping Marli. Interesting choice of words, Jordan. Makes it sound like she has no say."

  Hands trembling and lips pursed to a painful pinch, I kicked the kitchen door open, stopping the verbal banter. "No one's 'keeping' me. I have as much say as I want and I told you, Jesse, I'm with Jordan because I choose to be. Get a grip."

  I placed the dishes on the counter and grabbed the bottle of champagne off the island, tipping it upside down in the sink. They both gasped, but neither dared say a word. I pulled Jordan out of the kitchen before matters escalated. The china looked too expensive to be thrown.

  A soft rap came at my door when the clock chimed the midnight hour. I opened it and drank in the sexy sight leaning against the frame. We slinked silently down the hallway and out onto the balcony. The wall of glass we stepped through reflected the candles strategically placed around the bubbling spa. Pale lavender light glowed beneath the churning water and below, the city of Miami spilled to the banks of the harbor in a glittery glow.

  I dropped my towel onto the teakwood bench and stepped into the warm water and Jordan's waiting arms. Standing barefoot against Jordan I felt small, my head fitting comfortably under his chin.


  "Hey handsome," I whispered, indulging in quick taste of his chest.

  "Hi, gorgeous."

  His hands caressed my bare skin, more exposed than covered in this swimsuit, pressing me intimately against him. I became acutely aware of how thin the layers of fabric separating our bodies were and the warm water swirling around us, tucked it close to our skin as if not there at all. I fidgeted on my feet, my body buzzed and squirming. Jordan's physical reaction to my nearness pressed my stomach and I locked my arms behind his neck and concentrated on his moony eyes to deflect my thoughts. It didn't work. He drew me closer, my body bending to his touch.

  Jordan's husky whisper at my ear sent a shiver scurrying down my spine. "I love you so much, Marli." He moved me through the water, lowering me to the tile bench. Only my shoulders and head appeared above the bubbles. He knelt in front of me, eyes level to mine. His lashes brushed his wet cheeks as our lips touched in a gentle, but extremely intimate kiss.

  "Can anyone see us?" I asked between breaths.

  "No. The bedrooms are on the other side of the house. We're alone."

  The kisses pressed harder and Jordan settled his body between my thighs, his hands exploring my stomach with tentative touches, slowly easing over the curve of my breasts. I swallowed hard, pulling back and studying his face. Jordan the "ice man" had changed drastically since our summer romance blossomed into something deeper and the need for each other intensified.

  Jordan waited for my reaction, his eyes sensually dark and alluring in the flickering candlelight. My breath on his mouth came out in short pants. When his fingers pulled the ribbons apart, I didn't stop him, letting my swimsuit top float away.

  "Happy Birthday," I whispered.

  The harbor below turned from shades of gray to soft apricot as dawn edged over the Miami skyline and onto the water. Boats sparkled as the first rays of the morning sun struck shiny chrome and brass rails. Waves curled against the breaker walls and rippled through the marina until they flattened to a satiny shimmer.