MC-125 Ch. 01-11

"You seem to prefer cudgels to scalpels, I see," John commented in his date's ear.

Samantha jerked a bit in surprise. "What do you mean by that?"

"You forget who you are with, Samantha," John whispered as he led her to a secluded corner. "I see you've done your research on me. And done it well. I never put GenenCorp on my list of referrals when I applied to Pharmtech or mentioned it at the work place. And I doubt GenenCorp would openly say that I worked for them, under a different name I might add, unless directly asked. So tell me, what did you find out about me?"

Her face was a stone mask as she measured his gaze but he noticed her jaw clench in frustration. "I figured you would tell me. Your past with GenenCorp is as shadowy as you are now. I thought you had a mishap while working with them, which is why you always cover up. I'd like to know the dirt on my employees. Especially," she paused then changed the subject. "I believe the dinner call has been given." Samantha stepped around him and headed for their designated seats.

She almost slipped there, John thought. There was a look in her eyes that said something. What, he couldn't tell. He followed quickly on her footsteps and made it just in time to pull the chair out for her. They were seated with a couple of other representatives from other corporations and health foundations. They barely held their end of the conversation with Samantha. John compared the political arena to a game of chess. Samantha, reflective of her personality, had moved the queen, herself, into the game early. It was a risky move but unnerved many if not all of her opponents. She managed to single handedly fend off most of the points of inquiry that cut a little too close to home on their more cutting edge research. The rest she handed to John. John knew more in the field than did Samantha and was able to divert most everything else. Sometimes she threw one to him just to see how he handled it. If anything the dinner was a competitive chess game between him and his date, not with the people on the table. John was far too experienced at reading people to fall to others.

A figure approached their table and John shifted his attention. "My rep, Hank Thompson, told me you were here but I had to see for myself," the man said and introduced himself to Samantha. John, of course, knew who he was.

"Mr. Evans," John smiled although it never reached his eyes. "How nice to see you after so long. This is Ms. Summers, the president of Pharmtech."

"Pleased to meet you," Evans greeted. "Tell me, how have you been doing, John? It's been ages since we last spoke."

"Didn't have much to say to you after you pulled me off my project and cut me off from royalties."

"Now, now," Evans defended, placating. "No need to launch barbs. We all know you didn't keep us updated on your project. Which was reason to dismiss you."

John was beginning to get irritated. "I gave you your reports. We were dealing with an entirely new field and I could only give you what I was sure of."

"Would that explain the holes in your files?" Evans turned to Samantha. "Be mindful of this one Ms. Summers. He tends to hold things back."

"I've noticed," she mused.

"Well, I must be going. You know how these charity balls are," the GenenCorp VP finally said and raised an open hand to John. John shook the proffered limb and watched Evans leave.

John returned to his dinner the other people at the table tittering nervously amongst themselves and tried to act as if nothing had happened. John took another sip of his wine, not tasting it. His face was a calm and cool exterior but within he seethed with anger. The bastard was trying to get John fired again. If it weren't for the subtle nuances in the way Samantha ate her own dinner, betraying her nervousness, he would have sworn that she was in on it as well. It was a while before John had himself in complete control.

"I had no idea that Evans was here," Samantha finally said. That was as close to an apology that John would ever expect to hear from her and he accepted it.

"Actually, I doubt he was really invited," John commented. "He's not what most would consider a corporate people person."

"Hmmph. If I'm a cudgel then Mr. Evans is a goddamned telephone pole."

John nearly choked on his bite of salmon steak. He took another sip of his wine and washed down the fish. "Indeed."

"No glove, John?"

"Excuse me?"

"You didn't wear a glove when you shook his hand."

Damn, she noticed. "Call it a bit of courtesy for an old friend," John answered.

Samantha scrutinized John's face as he replied but gave up, knowing that more wouldn't be forthcoming. John himself smiled inwardly at the command he gave to the GenenCorp VP. Things should look rather interesting later in the evening.

Conversation returned to its boring drone of self-posturing and inflated bravado. John had to stifle a yawn as guests flitted by and tried to knock Pharmtech down a peg. Even Samantha's little game of throwing challenging people his way was becoming tedious. Just as he was about to excuse himself to use the restroom, if anything than to escape the crowd, the string quartet, that was playing an arrangement of Schubert's 'Trout', began Strauss' 'Blue Danube'. John rose from his seat and held his hand out to Samantha. "May I have this dance?"

Samantha looked at him, intrigued. "Do you even know how?"

John couldn't help but smile. "Only one way to find out."

Fascinated, Samantha stood and took his proffered hand. The other guests quieted down, surprised by the act before them. Some of the women sitting at the table stared jealously as they stepped onto the dance floor, but John never even noticed. She was a little taller than what he was used to for a dancing partner, Samantha being nearly his height in her heels. However, the added height gave him the freedom to take longer strides and bolder steps as she followed his lead. He felt the warmth of her body next to his as she pressed her bare hands to his gloved ones. They swept the floor, apparently the only couple that knew how to waltz. When the final movement was over they ended with a courtly bow on his part and a demure curtsy on hers. They had drawn an audience who were now applauding their courtly show. John managed a sly grin at his partner and winked. Samantha actually seemed to blush, from the attention or from his smile John wasn't sure which. They walked off the hardwood floor and regained their seats.

The following hour was more hobnobbing with other corporations until Samantha stood up from her seat and gestured for him to follow. He did as commanded and trailed after her, leaving the crowd behind. They found themselves alone beneath a veranda overgrown with tendrils of bellflower. John paused at the door to watch Samantha's still silhouette beneath the canopy's shadow. She really was a sight to behold.

"I haven't danced like tonight in a very long time."

"Not since college?"

"How'd you guess?"

"There seem to be a lot of things you haven't done since college," John stated simply. Probably a painful reason behind that, too, he thought. She didn't need to hear his musings, though. Instead John strode up behind her but did not touch her despite how tempted he was to caress her smooth back. His hands hung uselessly beside him as he gave silent comfort to her thoughts.

"You're quite different from most of the men that I meet in my line of work," she said after a long stretch of quiet.

"How's that?"

"Self-assured but apparently not beyond your limits. You enjoy taking orders from me but seem to like being in the lead. You're a mix of things that don't belong together. You're self-possessed without being genuinely arrogant." John was about to say something about that but she continued. "Oh, you are arrogant. Don't get me wrong. But I don't buy it. It's fake. I have a hard time figuring you out. People like being around you. I've asked. Many enjoy your company but none really know you. You're an enigma wrapped in a question."

"I like being that way," John said quietly.

"Why is that?"

"It keeps people safe."

"Others or yourself?"

"Both."

"I don't understand. It's either one way or another."

"Not in my case."

They didn't say another word for a long while. When Samantha shivered from the cold evening air John lifted his arms to wrap around her shoulders but she shrugged him off. His hands hung motionless in the air before he dropped them to his side again. She was vulnerable right now, a moment where she could very easily slip into his arms but chose not to. She chose to be alone in her weakness.

The charity ball was winding down and people began filing out of the dining hall. "We should get going," she finally said. They turned around and headed out to pick up her car. Just then a stumbling blur tottered out of the double doors wreaking of alcohol. The man stumbled past them and dropped to his knees beneath the veranda and vomited a large stinking stream of wine. John plucked his handkerchief from his breast pocket and handed it to his date who held it to her nose to guard from the sour stench. Others peered in the drunk's direction. The GenenCorp rep, Hank Thompson, hastily stepped around them and was beside Evans as he puked his guts out. John and Samantha beat a hasty retreat from the assaulting odor and made their way to the reception hall. Other representatives from various companies were gossiping about how Mr. Evans made a bad showing of himself by drinking too heavily and then approaching some of the women with indecent proposals, not to mention disgorging his dinner in another woman's lap. Everyone present was atwitter with how bad a showing Mr. Evans made and how poorly it reflected on GenenCorp.

All John could do was smile, congratulating himself. It had been a subtle command when he shook the VP's hand, suggesting that he really enjoyed the evening's wine and how he couldn't have enough of it. Samantha smiled as well. Apparently she didn't like him either.

Chapter 7

John sat back in his high backed chair and rubbed the soreness out of his eyes. Staring at the computer screen ineffectually was starting to get to him. Floating on the screen was a complex macromolecule that he was able to purify from the blood sample. Isolating it had taken weeks of work. Despite the advances in biochemistry, the field was still wanting in speeding up and streamlining the testing process. John sighed and powered down the console. He stared up at the clock. It was late, well past dinner. He fingered the elevator panel and made his way to the parking garage. His bike rested on its kickstand in the cavernous parking structure. Apparently he wasn't alone. Samantha's sporty red Mercedes was parked not too far away.

John hadn't spoken to her since the charity ball nearly three weeks ago. They never made mention of another date, both indecisive if they should make anything of the apparent attraction between them. Instead, a sort of waiting game progressed. John thought of the old analogy about how porcupines mate, very carefully. Both were cautious. John was sure that Samantha had a few barbed quills just like he did. But when it came right down to it he knew they were just afraid. John couldn't trust himself. Not with his cursed ability. He looked down at his gloved hands. Every morning he had to armor himself in those leather sheaths.

John took a deep breath and slapped on his visored helmet. He turned the key in his bike's ignition and waited for it to warm up. He looked at Samantha's car in the dim garage lighting. She really was something. She always had a cool, calm exterior, always in control. Most people found her façade daunting. Many were given the impression that she was an Ice Queen. John had even heard other workers calling her a bitch on occasion for her ruthless business management. John's head wasn't completely glued to his work. He popped in on the other departments to see what they were up to. Whenever Samantha pulled the plug on someone's research it was usually for valid reasons. Her cold attitude only made it easier for other people to blame her.

The streetlamps' halogen glow streaked by him as he sped down crowded avenues and banked around empty corners. Most shops were closed at the late hour. John checked his watch and gunned his engine. He just might be able to make it in time.

Allesio's was still open as he swept the kickstand down and hopped off his bike. He ordered a few things to go and chatted with Erica as he waited for his food. Erica hugged him good-bye and said that she'd talk to him later; she had the closing shift tonight. John hopped back on his bike and turned around. He slowed down in front of the Pharmtech building and looked up. Her light was still on.

John parked his bike and flashed his ID at the security guard in the main foyer. Ron nodded and returned to his vigil by the bank of monitors. The elevator quickly brought him to the top floor and chimed open as he stepped off. John thought it would be nice to see the look of surprise on Samantha's face since her perfectly ordered world wouldn't account for his unexpected visit.

He quietly turned the handle on the door and opened it a crack. Indeed, Samantha was busy going over reports and seemed a little worse for wear. Her auburn hair was undone and cascaded over her shoulder, glowing warmly in the single lamplight. A pair of reading glasses were perched precariously on the tip of her nose as she stooped over the papers, the image of intent concentration as she rested her chin in her right palm.

"Hi," John said simply and smiled at her as he let himself into the room. She looked up at him tiredly and asked what he was doing here. John lifted the plastic bag high for the woman to see. "I saw that your car was still here when I left not too long ago. I figured that you haven't had anything to eat yet so I picked something up and came back. I hope you don't mind an interruption for dinner and conversation."

Samantha looked at him a moment longer then at the stack of papers at the desk and sat back and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "No, some distraction would be most welcome at the moment."

"I thought as much," John said and walked forward.

"What did you get?"

"A couple of things from Allesio's."

"You know, I read up about that restaurant," Samantha stated. "It's supposed to have a waiting list three months long. Yet you go there nearly every week."

"Being good friends with the owner and his daughter help."

Samantha hmmphed and then breathed in the steamy aroma of her dinner as she opened one of the foil cartons. "If I could eat this for the rest of my life I'll die fat and happy."

"Nothing wrong with that."

Samantha forked into her pasta and gestured towards a wine storage unit by the wall with her free hand. John obeyed and perused her selection and randomly picked a bottle of white. When he returned Samantha had finished her first attack on her dinner and was now digging into her drawer for the wine opener. She handed it to John and sat back. "How goes your research?"

"Not bad," John answered off-handedly. "We're looking into a gene that may be responsible for a tumor's endless replicating ability. The data looks promising."

"I'm talking about your other research."

John popped the cork and held stalk still. His other research? How did she...?

"Don't bother playing dumb with me," she said and tossed a file in front of him. John put aside the bottle and picked up the sheaf of papers. Listed was a schedule of all the people who ran blood tests. His name was on the list, highlighted in yellow. The following papers were copies of his results. "You don't do blood samples, John. Especially not of your own blood. So my guess is you're doing a little side project."

For a moment John was too stunned to give a proper response but quickly recovered from the initial shock. In the two second pause he allowed himself John's mind scrabbled frantically for a way out of this venue of conversation. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you." What was he thinking? John looked again into those emerald green eyes and knew he was damned to be this woman's prey. His resolve to hold back collapsed as Samantha waited intently for what he would say next. "Would you be willing to leave it be if I said that I'm trying to cure myself."

"I take it you are referring to why you keep yourself covered at all times?" John nodded. "What would it take for me to hear the whole story?"

John thought about it as he poured Samantha and himself some wine. "You're absolute trust."

She mulled over his words. "Don't you mean my secrecy?"

"No, I mean your trust. I need you to believe in me."

"I don't trust others."

"At least not since college, I take it?" John saw the reflection of painful memories flit across her face.

"Yes."

"Then I suggest you think things over. Very thoroughly I might add. I need your trust in me, as a person." They stared at one another across the table, the single desk lamp giving the only soft, glowing illumination to the room.

"What exactly are you proposing to me?"

"A secret," John sighed. "A secret I am willing to entrust to you. Don't answer yet. I'll give you until tomorrow to think this through. Until then how about we spend a nice quiet dinner together?"

* * *

Dinner that evening was a pleasant success. Samantha knew better than to press the issue about John's secret, all would be revealed tomorrow. They chatted pleasantly and John even managed to get his boss to laugh when he talked about one of his amazing exploits at a nearby pond when he was seven. He honestly didn't think his mom would have been that upset about him collecting frogs at the nearby pond. And the bathtub was a good place to put them. Unfortunately he forget to tell her about them when she decided to shower.

"So how long do you plan on locking yourself up here?" John asked.

They looked at the brass clock hanging on the wall. "It is late, isn't it?"

"Well, I know this makes me sound a bit old," John commented as he swallowed the last drop of wine. "But one in the morning is well past my bedtime."

"These reports aren't all that pressing and I really am tired. I suppose I'll call it a night as well."

"I'll walk you to your car."

"My, how gallant," she teased.

"Hardly, my bike's parked next to your car." They made their way down and said good night to Ron in the lobby.

Samantha looked again at John's black steed propped up beside her Mercedes. "You know, you still owe me another ride. You did promise."

"Hmm, I suppose so," John pondered. "But I said we'd take a ride on our second date."

"And what would you consider tonight?"

"A dinner between two friends."

"Just friends," Samantha echoed questioningly.

"Just friends," John confirmed. "Look, until you hear everything about me I will not try to extend it beyond that."

"Oh? And what about our first date?" she challenged.

"That..." John was about to say it was an accident but he decided he wanted to live long enough to see his next birthday. "Was a spur of the moment thing; an impulsive decision. I just didn't realize how dangerous you are to me until the end." When she had kissed him. The memory of her lips on his still sent his blood rushing.

"'Are'," she commented on his use of present tense. "Not 'were'? Do I still frighten you, John?" She took a bold step forward, closing the gap between them. She stared at him, challenging. She was dangerously close now; her warm breath reached out and caressed his lips. John couldn't gather his wits about him to form a coherent response. He had a hard enough time from just licking his lips. She lingered before him, her warm body tantalizingly close as John remained silent. He knew his words would betray whatever he thought, his voice even more so. Finally, she stepped back and John felt a torrid mixture of relief and regret as she backed away. "Until tomorrow then. Good night, Mr. Arrons." John watched as her car pulled out of the reserved spot and disappeared behind a corner.