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to make you a very happy woman.”
    The tall, blond Christian had already made her a happy woman, and she was anxious to take him home. “How long will preparation take?”
    “About as long as the exit interview. Shall we?” Melissa flung both doors open, and side-by-side they stepped into the hallway.
    Nothing had changed, but everything looked different…brighter, more beautiful. On their return to the main lobby, she felt as if she were floating, her feet merely skimming the floor. Life was bizarre. She had searched for Christian her entire life, only to find her soul mate was an android. Must stop thinking of him as a robot. We could even be married! No birth certificate. No Social Security card. No problem. Marriage was only a word.
    She gripped Melissa’s arm, halting her. “What about the legal documentation, like birth certificates, et cetera?”
    “He has them. How is strictly confidential.” Melissa’s smile was as composed and professional as she. “Christian’s circumstances are somewhat different, and I can tell you that we falsified his birth records using a long dead ancestor of the CEO of Mayfair himself. The Christian line was named for William Christian Aguillard. He has a passport and birth certificate in that name.”
    “You can’t supply an identity for all of them like that. Do you have someone planted in the records department, or is their system hacked and births recorded?”
    Melissa started visibly, glancing away. “You are very perceptive.”
    Was being perceptive good or bad? March had heard that when someone wouldn’t meet your eyes, they were lying.
    “Which is it?” She needed to be sure Christian had the proper documentation. Getting nabbed at Customs would be a real bitch.
    The other woman stiffened. “I’m not allowed to say, but rest assured he has the proper papers to accompany you to America. Once there, our New York office will apply for a work permit. You will need to take care of his Social Security card. Of course, you will receive a certificate for his real birth and ownership from Mayfair.”
    “Ownership,” she muttered. “That seems cold.”
    “File the certificate away and forget it. Be happy. This way.” Melissa waved her hand at an exquisite paneled door. “We’ll conduct the final interview here.”
    “If all his documents are in the name of Christian, then why did he tell me a name would be my gift to him? Not that it matters. I love the name Christian.”
    “He simply meant that you can give him a name.” Melissa sat behind a large, inlaid desk and opened a blue file. “However, it won’t be his official name. Is there anything other than what was in your profile you’d like included in his programming?”
    March snapped her fingers. “An English accent. His voice is like a melody.”
    “Done.” Melissa whipped her cell from the pocket of her uniform. “Stefan, Christian is to be given an English accent.”
    The interview room looked like a British Gentlemen’s Club and smelled of wood paneling and the deep red leather chairs. Faint music played as a relaxing backdrop. A misty rain cloaked the mullioned windows. Dread and excitement shivered over March. Images of Christian flashed through her mind as she took the seat Melissa indicated with a graceful wave of her hand. Across the polished expanse of the desk, the android smiled at March.
    “Having you answer these questions is unnecessary. It was obviously love at first sight between you two.” Melissa smoothed stapled pages from the file, taking a pen from the brass stand. “This final discussion is standard procedure. Are you prepared to accept Christian as human?”
    March toyed with the handle of her bag. “Yes.”
    “Do you want to be intimate with him or will you use him for other things—like yard work, for example? When we obtain the work permit, he can obtain employment and possibly support you.”
    March nodded. “I want to be intimate with him. I want to…I do love