personal parts ache with almost unbearable longing. Custer had more chance of surviving Little Big Horn than she did of surviving that look. She tried to back away, physically retreating from the onslaught of his piercing gaze. His hands held her fast.
“Please,” she begged. “Let me go.”
At that moment Felix rushed toward them, a ream of computer paper trailing behind him. “Dr. Sinclair,” he cried enthusiastically, “I think I’ve figured out how to get rid of the orc!”
Distracted, the doctor glanced toward Parker. His grip slacked almost imperceptibly, but it was enough for Jill to slip out of his grasp and sprint out of the room. She was halfway down the hall before she turned around to see if he’d followed her, and experienced a crazy jumble of relief and disappointment when she discovered he hadn’t.
Well, what did you expect? A mad dash after you and a confession of undying devotion? You’re a guinea pig to him, Polanski. Handle it.
And as she continued down the corridor, that’s exactly what she did. She dealt with her difficult emotions as she’d handled them since she was a child, stuffing them deep into the empty corners of her soul, finding more than enough room. It was just her tough luck that she had to displace a few rainbows to do it.
“He kissed you?” Marsha asked in open-mouthed surprise. “The hunk kissed you?”
“Dr. Sinclair kissed me,” Jill replied sternly. She raised her elbow and shoved an unruly stand of hair off her forehead, then continued to chop the salad tomatoes into needlessly small pieces. “But it wasn’t a real kiss. It happened while we were in the simulator.”
Marsha gave a snort of disbelief. “Honey, let me set you straight,” she said as she dumped another handful of mushrooms into the salad. “Lip lock is lip lock, whether it happens here, there, or on the moon. It’s the action that matters, not the location. So,” she asked slyly, “how was it?”
Jill was spared from answering by the unexpected arrival of Kevin, who blew through the kitchen door like a brawny, red-haired hurricane. “Hey, you guys have been in here forever. Want some help?”
Jill had seen Kevin helping in the kitchen, and it wasn’t a pretty sight. He was one of Sheffield Industries’ most experienced computer hardware engineers, but he didn’t know a Cuisinart from a spatula. Anyway, she suspected his unexpected appearance had more to do with Marsha’s presence than with his desire to help. Ten minutes appeared to be the limit on how long he could stand to have his lady love out of his sight.
“We’ll be out in a minute, snoochems,” Marshaassured him. Apparently satisfied, Kevin lumbered out of the room.
“Snoochems?” Jill said, staring at her friend in amused disbelief.
“Hey, guys love it,” Marsha answered in self-defense. “And know what? Kevin told me there’s about four guys in the other room who would love it if you called one of them snoochems.”
“Get real,” Jill replied, all too conscious of her less-than-devastating looks. With her short brown hair and brown eyes, she thought she was about as scintillating as the wheat fields surrounding the Nebraska town where she’d been raised. She looked at Marsha’s exotic Latin looks with a twinge of envy. “They should stamp MIDWESTERN FARM GIRL on my forehead and turn me out in mass production.”
“You always underestimate yourself,” Marsha complained. “I’ll bet Dr. Doom would love it if you called him snoochems.”
“You’d lose big-time,” Jill promised as much to herself as her friend. “Besides, Sinclair is the kind of guy who likes women’s minds. Preferably when they’re in small glass jars soaking in formaldehyde.”
“Now you’re underestimating your doctor,” Marsha said as she hoisted the sizable salad bowl.
“He’s not
my
doctor,” Jill argued, scooping up the tomatoes and dumping them into Marsha’s bowl. “Anyway, you’d better get that out
“Please,” she begged. “Let me go.”
At that moment Felix rushed toward them, a ream of computer paper trailing behind him. “Dr. Sinclair,” he cried enthusiastically, “I think I’ve figured out how to get rid of the orc!”
Distracted, the doctor glanced toward Parker. His grip slacked almost imperceptibly, but it was enough for Jill to slip out of his grasp and sprint out of the room. She was halfway down the hall before she turned around to see if he’d followed her, and experienced a crazy jumble of relief and disappointment when she discovered he hadn’t.
Well, what did you expect? A mad dash after you and a confession of undying devotion? You’re a guinea pig to him, Polanski. Handle it.
And as she continued down the corridor, that’s exactly what she did. She dealt with her difficult emotions as she’d handled them since she was a child, stuffing them deep into the empty corners of her soul, finding more than enough room. It was just her tough luck that she had to displace a few rainbows to do it.
“He kissed you?” Marsha asked in open-mouthed surprise. “The hunk kissed you?”
“Dr. Sinclair kissed me,” Jill replied sternly. She raised her elbow and shoved an unruly stand of hair off her forehead, then continued to chop the salad tomatoes into needlessly small pieces. “But it wasn’t a real kiss. It happened while we were in the simulator.”
Marsha gave a snort of disbelief. “Honey, let me set you straight,” she said as she dumped another handful of mushrooms into the salad. “Lip lock is lip lock, whether it happens here, there, or on the moon. It’s the action that matters, not the location. So,” she asked slyly, “how was it?”
Jill was spared from answering by the unexpected arrival of Kevin, who blew through the kitchen door like a brawny, red-haired hurricane. “Hey, you guys have been in here forever. Want some help?”
Jill had seen Kevin helping in the kitchen, and it wasn’t a pretty sight. He was one of Sheffield Industries’ most experienced computer hardware engineers, but he didn’t know a Cuisinart from a spatula. Anyway, she suspected his unexpected appearance had more to do with Marsha’s presence than with his desire to help. Ten minutes appeared to be the limit on how long he could stand to have his lady love out of his sight.
“We’ll be out in a minute, snoochems,” Marshaassured him. Apparently satisfied, Kevin lumbered out of the room.
“Snoochems?” Jill said, staring at her friend in amused disbelief.
“Hey, guys love it,” Marsha answered in self-defense. “And know what? Kevin told me there’s about four guys in the other room who would love it if you called one of them snoochems.”
“Get real,” Jill replied, all too conscious of her less-than-devastating looks. With her short brown hair and brown eyes, she thought she was about as scintillating as the wheat fields surrounding the Nebraska town where she’d been raised. She looked at Marsha’s exotic Latin looks with a twinge of envy. “They should stamp MIDWESTERN FARM GIRL on my forehead and turn me out in mass production.”
“You always underestimate yourself,” Marsha complained. “I’ll bet Dr. Doom would love it if you called him snoochems.”
“You’d lose big-time,” Jill promised as much to herself as her friend. “Besides, Sinclair is the kind of guy who likes women’s minds. Preferably when they’re in small glass jars soaking in formaldehyde.”
“Now you’re underestimating your doctor,” Marsha said as she hoisted the sizable salad bowl.
“He’s not
my
doctor,” Jill argued, scooping up the tomatoes and dumping them into Marsha’s bowl. “Anyway, you’d better get that out
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