Tainted Hearts Read Online Free Page B

would be precluded from the SP-64 Program is if you had
direct involvement in the Methuselah Project.”
    He flipped the omelet and lightly tapped the
spatula against the edge of the frying pan. “That doesn’t change
anything. You’re still going to make this happen.”
    “There you go again.” She hopped down from
the stool and joined him in the kitchen. “You challenge my stubborn
streak when you tell me what I will and will not do.”
    Sliding the massive omelet onto a plate, he
divided it and handed her half on a second plate. “Fair enough. You
tell me what I’m going to do. What can I get for you, do for you,
what do you want from me?”
    “Another cup of coffee,” she said with the
hint of a smile.
    “Have a seat.” He motioned toward the table
now bathed in sunlight. “I’ll bring the pot.”
    They ate in silence. Marc watched her pick
at her omelet. Tension gradually left her expression, fear mellowed
to unease. His shoulders relaxed and he exhaled slowly. Exploiting
her fear might give him an edge, make her easier to control. He
wasn’t disregarding the possibility, but he’d much rather
negotiate.
    Besides, if she felt desperate, she might do
something reckless. And his conscience couldn’t bear
another…mishap.
    “Who did your face?” Her eyes narrowed
thoughtfully. She pushed her nearly empty plate aside. “It’s
fabulous. Distinctive yet subtle.”
    “Not subtle enough, if you immediately
presume it’s enhanced.”
    “Is it?”
    “Yes, but what made you think so?”
    She tucked a strand of her wild
strawberry-blonde hair behind her ear and tilted her face, studying
him. “It’s too perfect. They should have left some minor flaw.”
    “The voice of experience? Are you enhanced?”
Her musical laughter matched her elfin face. Marc couldn’t hold
back a smile.
    “My chin is pointed, my eyes slant, and my
bottom lip is significantly fuller than the top. I’d have demanded
my money back. Even a second-rate hack could do better than
this.”
    He enjoyed each charming characteristic of
her distinctive features. “I’m not sure nature would appreciate
being ranked lower than a second-rate hack. I think your face is
fascinating.”
    “Fascinating? Are faces supposed to be
fascinating?”
    When the masses had suddenly stopped aging,
plastic surgeons had turned to vanity enhancements to augment their
declining trade. “In a world of cookie-cutter features and
standardized—”
    “If that’s how you feel about cosmetic
enhancement, why did you have it done?”
    She was stubborn and curious, a lethal
combination. How much could he tell her without her guessing the
truth? She’d already jumped to all the right conclusions. It was
only a matter of time before she figured out he wasn’t just
involved with the Methuselah Project, he was responsible for it.
Better distract her with a little misdirection.
    “How old are you, Ms. Fitzpatrick?”
    “Why?”
    “Thirty? Thirty-five? Early cases of the
syndrome had been diagnosed by the time you were old enough to take
Methuselah. That didn’t stop millions of devoted fans, but I’m
betting you never touched it, not even once. You’re pure as the
driven snow, aren’t you?” He laughed, leaning back in his chair.
“No wonder Job is after you. What an alliance you two would make.
The self-proclaimed savior of the world has found his Virgin
Mary.”
    “That’s not funny.” Her eyes flashed with
emerald fire. “What do you know about Job? What makes you think
he’s after me?”
    He smiled, standing to gather their dishes.
“You accused me of being him when you first woke up.”
    “I guess I did, didn’t I? But you’re not
from PURE. You’re from the opposite end of the spectrum. You’re
connected with Methuselah. So, what was your role in the
project?”
    “Why is it important that you know?” He
carried their plates into the kitchen.
    “It’s not. I just wondered if your facial
enhancement had less to do with vanity and more