Sorcerer: A Loveswept Contemporary Classic Romance (8 page)

“One or two,” Jillian acknowledged with a slight smile. She set the tea tray down on the coffee table and glanced around the room, noting the wildlife photographs and the framed certificates of achievement she’d earned from the Sierra Club. The room was stuffed with memorabilia of battles she’d fought for those who could not fight for themselves. She was proud of every inch of it, but she could see where it might be overwhelming to someone who wasn’t expecting it. She picked up the manatee-shaped mug from the tray and handed it to the doctor. “Some of my friends think I go a little overboard with my conservation efforts.”

“If more people went overboard, our planet would be a better place in which to live.” He lifted his mug to take a sip, but paused as he noticed its unusual shape. Sinclair glanced back at her, arching his dark brow in wry amusement. “Then again, your friends may have a point.”

Jill laughed, a warm, bright sound that held almost as much surprise as humor. She’d invited Sinclair in on an impulse, reacting instinctively to the edge of desolation she’d heard in his voice when he’d mentioned his divorce. But now that he was here, she found herself enjoying his company. She hadn’t expected him to be so interested in her conservation efforts. She appreciated his intelligent questions and his insightful remarks. But she was honest enough with herself to admit those weren’t the only things she enjoyed.

By anyone’s standards, Dr. Sinclair was an incredibly handsome man. Whatever she felt about him personally, he was one great-looking hunk of humanity, and she saw nothing wrong with a little surreptitious perusal. She settled on the couch and picked up her panda-shaped mug, taking a long, un-hurried sip as she watched him move around the eclectic jumble of her living room. Lord, the guy even
strolled
sexily.…

“Bloody hell!”

Jill straightened up so quickly she almost spilled her tea. For an embarrassing moment she thought he’d caught her ogling him. Then she realized that his ire was focused not on her, but at the fat and
fluffy black Persian cat at his feet. Jillie couldn’t suppress a delighted chuckle. “Ah. I see you’ve met Merlin, my refugee from the humane society.”

Ian glared at the creature. “He doesn’t look like a refugee. In fact, he looks bloody pleased with himself. I could have broken my neck.”

Merlin glared right back at the doctor, his leisurely waving tail indicating that he couldn’t have cared less.

Jill watched the stalemate with profound enjoyment. She’d never seen Dr. Sinclair so perplexed before—even the bloodthirsty orc hadn’t ruffled his trademark reserve the way her stubborn little cat had.
Dr. Doom meets his match
, she thought, smiling broadly. She was tempted to leave them there all night, but, as her grandparents would say, that wouldn’t be the Christian thing to do. Besides, she owed the doctor a rescue.

She got up, walked over to the stubborn pair, and scooped up the fluffy assailant. “Merlin, you’re a devil,” she scolded as she scratched the cat’s chin. “I’m sorry, Doctor. I should have warned you that Merlin rules the roost around here.”

“I don’t think he likes me,” Ian remarked sullenly.

“That’s just because he doesn’t know you,” Jill replied, strangely reluctant to let the doctor believe he’d been snubbed. “Just scratch him under the chin like this, and he’ll be your friend forever.”

Ian frowned suspiciously. Nevertheless, he reached out and gave the cat’s chin a tentative
scratch. It was an amateur effort, but Merlin didn’t seem to mind. His great golden eyes drifted shut, and he began to purr with a vengeance.

“You see, he
does
like you,” Jill said as she glanced up at the doctor. “He just needed to know that—”

Her words died on her tongue. Ian was grinning at the cat—a wide, lopsided grin that shone with boyish pleasure. It was the first honest smile she’d ever seen on his face, and it hit her with the force of a sucker punch.
Careful, Jill, you’ve been fooled by him before. Remember, you’re his experiment. He thinks of you as a guinea pig, or a lab rat. Don’t get fooled again.

Bending down, she deposited the mollified Merlin on the carpet and walked stiffly back to the couch. “You wanted to discuss the simulator,” she reminded him as she sat down. “Ask away.”

Ian gave the cat a final pat, then walked over to sit on the opposite end of the couch. His frown returned. “You do seem tired, Ms. Polanski. If you’d rather, we can discuss this tomorrow.”

“We’ll discuss it now,” she said, crossing her arms in front of her. “I want to get this over with.”

A wry smile pulled at the corners of Sinclair’s mouth. “You know, I get the distinct impression you’d rather face an orc than talk about what happened in the simulator today.” He rested his elbow on the back of the couch and propped his chin on his fist, studying her with undivided interest. “Why is that?”

Damn him! His intense, absorbing gaze cut through to her heart, searching out her intimate
secrets without exhibiting a trace of emotion himself. A surgeon wielding a scalpel couldn’t have been more masterful—or more cruel. She felt alone and vulnerable, and unexpectedly, horribly aroused. “I didn’t ask to be part of your experiment,” she said quietly. “I volunteered because I wanted to help Einstein—period. I’m not doing this for the sake of science, or to help mankind.”

For a moment he said nothing, but his jaw pulled into a tight line, and his eyes hardened to a hard, metallic sheen. When he did finally speak, it was with chilling, brittle politeness. “Forgive me, Ms. Polanski. I hadn’t realized how much I was presuming on your charitable nature. I’ll—how did you put it?—get this over with as soon as possible.”

He pulled a small pad from his pocket and made a few quick notations. “Normally I’d ask you to chronologically relate your experiences in the simulator, but that would take hours. Suppose we just attempt to recreate the events of the virtual world in the real one? Dr. Miller and I regularly perform this exercise. Once I ran ten miles to replicate the feeling of climbing a virtual mountain. Another time I bungee-jumped off a bridge to—”

“
You
bungee-jumped?” Jill asked, astonished.

“For the sake of science, yes,” he informed her stuffily. “I’m asking you to do the same. Are you up to it?”

“To go bungee-jumping?”

“No, no. To recreating one of the events you experienced in the simulator.”

Jill shrugged. “I guess so, but I don’t see how. I don’t exactly have a suit of armor stored away in my closet.”

“I was thinking of something a little more prosaic.” He put down his notepad and leaned closer, absorbing her once again with his silver gaze. The corners of his stern mouth twitched up, but there was nothing humorous in his smile. “I’m referring to the kiss, Ms. Polanski. I think we should recreate the kiss.”

Jill shot up from the couch and stared at Ian in open-mouthed amazement. “You’ve got to be kidding!”

“Not at all,” Ian assured her, wondering how she’d managed to divine humor from his perfectly logical request. Perhaps he hadn’t made himself clear. “Of all the events we experienced in the virtual world, the kiss would be the easiest to replicate. You see—”

“Oh, I see, all right,” she said, propping her hands on her hips. “I invite you in for tea—just tea—and you try to grab some extra dessert.”

“What dessert?” Ian asked, now thoroughly confused. “You never offered me dessert.”

“Damn straight I didn’t,” Jill agreed, her brown eyes wide with fury. “I was wondering why you were so interested in my environmental work. Now I see why. You thought that by buttering me up, and then giving me some song and dance about your simulator,
you could cop a quick one. Well, I’m not that kind of woman, Dr. Sinclair.” She bent to the table and snatched up the manatee and panda mugs, gathering them in her arms as if to protect them from his touch. “If you’re so keen on
replicating our experience
, you can just go and kiss Dr. Miller!”

Her terse remarks about Dr. Miller finally clued Ian in as to what she was thinking—though how she could have reached
that
conclusion from his sensible suggestion was beyond him. “Ms. Polanski, you can’t actually imagine that I
want
to kiss you?”

Instead of comforting her, his remark seemed to upset her even more. Without a word she spun around and headed for the kitchen.

Bloody hell, what have I said now?
Ian wondered as he rose from the couch and followed her. He stood in the doorway, watching her carefully set the animal mugs in the sink and turn on the water. Unaccountably, he found his gaze straying to her hands, studying their unconsciously graceful movements, and the delicate care she bestowed even on those silly little mugs. It was so like her to treat the small and unimportant things of the world with profound respect. Mugs, manatees, stray cats—they all received her caring attention. But not well-intentioned yet ill-spoken scientists.

He cleared his throat, suddenly feeling as awkward as a teenager. “Ms. Polanski, I’m not good at expressing myself. I never have been. But if I offended you in any way, I’m truly sor—”

“It’s not true.”

For a moment he thought she meant his apology. “Excuse me?”

“It’s not true,” she repeated softly as she continued to wash the mugs. “I don’t know how much you’ve heard about my background, but what you’re thinking about me isn’t true.”

Bent over the sink, he couldn’t see her expression. But the defeated slant of her shoulders told him more than her words ever could. Ian didn’t consider himself a sympathetic man, but the weariness, the isolation in her posture, touched him deeply. He’d spent a good portion of his life alone, and knew how wearing it could be on the spirit. But until that moment he’d never thought of popular, outspoken Jillian as ever feeling lonely or unsure of herself.

“Ms. Polanski,” he answered in a tone as hushed as hers, “the only thing I’m thinking is that I haven’t the faintest idea of what you’re talking about. Which appears,” he added with the ghost of a grin, “to be the rule rather than the exception for this evening.”

She glanced back at him, her brown eyes as wary as a skittish doe’s. He recalled the last minutes they’d spent in cyberspace, when she had come to his side in that tattered dress with her hair full of brambles, smelling of loam and moss. He’d thought of her as a wood nymph, a fairy creature of spirit and fire, a dream never to be recaptured. Yet now, right in the mundane world of soap suds and coffee mugs, he again found himself staring into the eyes of that wood nymph—or eyes that would have belonged to a
wood nymph if they hadn’t been clouded by suspicion and distrust.

Something twisted near his heart. For all her causes and courageous stances, Jillian Polanski was as delicate as lace inside. Sinclair had seen how cruel the world could be to fragile and unique spirits, but he’d never seen a pair of eyes more tragic or a spirit more afraid to let its true nature be discovered. He wondered who had taught her to be so wary, and experienced a surge of anger so strong, it nearly made him wince.

“I’m sorry,” he said hoarsely, wondering whose damage he was apologizing for. “I never intended to hurt you.”

She studied him for a few moments longer. Then her mouth sneaked up in a tentative half-grin that made his heart twist all over again. “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have jumped to the conclusion that you were after something.” She turned back to the sink and finished rinsing the mugs. “I mean, everyone knows you never think about anything but science.”

Not always, Ms. Polanski.
As Dr. Doom he’d fostered a reputation for stoic indifference. But underneath his passionless exterior beat the heart of a normal, red-blooded man with all the normal, red-blooded desires as the rest of his race. Nowadays he tried to ignore that part of himself—letting his heart rule his head had almost ruined his life. Still, his physical self kept asserting itself, usually at inconvenient moments. Like during the slow dance at Griffith’s party. Like now. Try as he might, he couldn’t
stop staring at Ms. Polanski’s petal-shaped mouth, and thinking some distinctly unscientific thoughts.

When they’d come out of the simulator, the shock of reentering the real world had wiped the details of their kiss from his mind. He recalled the event visually, like a silent movie, but the additional sensations of sound, touch, and taste were missing from his personal memory banks. He’d lost partial sensation memory of other cyberspace events before, but he’d never regretted the loss so keenly.

Until that moment he’d never questioned his motives for asking Jillian to help him recreate their kiss. But gazing at her soft, inviting lips, he had the uncomfortable suspicion that there might be more to his suggestion than he’d realized. After what he’d glimpsed in her eyes a moment earlier, he didn’t want to give her yet another reason for not trusting someone. Perhaps it was a lucky thing she’d turned him down after all.

“Okay,” she said suddenly.

“Okay what?”

“Okay, I’ll kiss you.”

Ian stared at her dumbfounded. For a second he thought he was back in the simulator, and Parker had switched realities on him while he wasn’t looking. “But you just said—”

“I
know
what I said,” she replied as she picked up a dish towel and wiped her hands, “but I figure you’re right about it being for the good of science. Besides, if I don’t, I’ll always wonder if what I felt in the simulator was … well, I’ll just always wonder.
Anyway,” she added with a shrug, “it’s only a lousy kiss.”

Lousy?
Lousy!
Ian’s recollection of their kiss may have been hazy, but he was quite sure it deserved a better modifier than that one. He remembered enjoying it. He remembered
her
enjoying it. His disastrous marriage to Samantha had destroyed much of his belief in himself, both as a scientist and as a man. But nothing in this world or the virtual one would ever convince him that the kiss he’d given Jillian Polanski in cyberspace had been anything less than first class.

A determination he hadn’t felt in years welled up inside him. Quick as thought, he reached out and captured Jillian’s wrist, pulling her against him. He took a thorough, satisfied look at her wide eyes and wonderfully shocked expression, then turned to the kitchen door, pulling her after him.