Unforgettable by Karin Kallmaker Page B

code. I know there’s no chance of that — it’s going to take more years than I’ve got left. But think of it — unlocking the secret of what makes us human instead of chimpanzees. How we think, what part of us laughs.”
    “What about why we think and laugh? Is all our behavior part of our code? Or is there room for improvisation?”
     Angel took the question more seriously than Rett intended. “The mystery of what we can do is there, written on our genes.”
    It sounded too much like predestination to Rett. “But can’t a building be more than its blueprint? Isn’t that what art is all about?”
    “What may seem like improvisation may really be growth. Finding the potential of your personal code. Doing things you didn’t think you could do.” Angel took a quick breath and her deep brown eyes never left Rett’s. “Getting in touch with the parts of your code you ignore, or thought weren’t even there.”
    Rett swallowed hard. Why did it seem like Angel was talking about something else entirely? Or was she just hearing something that wasn’t there? “So spontaneity is just doing something you could have done all along?”
    Angel reached for Rett’s half-finished beer and at Rett’s nod, took a quick swig. “Doing things that aren’t typically you. Like this.”
    The kiss was quick but supercharged. Rett felt the zing through her spine and thighs.
    Angel had her hand over her mouth. “I don’t know what made me do that. I mean, I do know. But I’m sorry.”
    Rett wanted to say, “Don’t be,” but she was too startled by her physical response to have much ability for speech left. She found herself staring at Angel’s lips while all the things she should have said, like “I’m not ready for this” and “Shouldn’t we get to know each other better?” failed to come out of her mouth. She had never done what Trish referred to as “kiss and boff.” Trish had been the quickest to get her into bed — and it had taken three dates. Trish had blamed Rett’s prudish sex mores on a Minnesotan upbringing, but then Trish didn’t know her mother’s proclivities, and Rett had never enlightened her. Yet no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop looking at Angel’s lips. She was short of breath and a prickle of sweat dampened the back of her neck.
    “I think it’s time for me to head home. It’s a bit of a drive,” Angel said. “Maybe … maybe I could give you my number.”
    Rett’s mouth outstripped the rest of her body’s opinions. “No, I mean yes. I mean it would be okay, you don’t have to go —”
    “I think I should. This is crazy.” Angel laughed nervously. The hand that was writing her number on the bar napkin was shaking. “If you ever want to get together, give me a call.”
    “Okay,” Rett said. She was already kicking herself for having blown the moment.
    Angel slid the napkin toward her and Rett pocketed it without taking her gaze from Angel’s. Lovely brown eyes, clear and topazy.
    “I’ll call.” Rett meant it. She turned to her empty beer as Angel walked toward the door, but looked up when she realized Angel was coming back.
    “An incentive,” Angel said huskily, and she pulled Rett’s mouth down to hers again.
    Rett gasped and returned the kiss with more fervor than she had been willing to admit she could feel. Had she cared about Trish so little in the end that it had taken only a week to get over wanting her? You’d left her a while ago, Rett reminded herself, just as she’d left you. That you were living under the same roof is beside the point.
    Angel’s hands cupped her face as their kiss continued. Any rational woman would stop it here, Rett thought. I must be crazy. It felt too good to stop. She closed her eyes. In a minute, she promised.
    A minute turned to two and her hands were on Angel’s waist. She opened her mouth to Angel’s eager exploration and then bit the fingers that Angel slipped between their lips.
    Angel was the one with the sense