to
snoochems
before he and his buddies start to eat the furniture. I’ll wait for the pizza.”
“Thanks,” Marsha replied as she opened her eyeswide in humorous fear for her furniture. She headed for the door, but turned back just as she reached it. “You know, Jillie, you really do underestimate yourself. Someday that’s going to get you in trouble.”
You’re wrong
, Jill answered silently as her friend left the kitchen. The trouble she’d gotten into had come from
overestimating
herself, from forgetting who she was. Or
what
she was. She still remembered the snickers, the hissing whispers from the other students as the secret of her parentage rippled through the senior prom crowd. One remark—one spiteful remark—and a night that should have been a shining dream shattered into a nightmare ruin. She’d been on the stage when it happened, being crowned prom queen of Middleton County High School. She could still recall the dwindling voices, the halfhearted applause, the way even her best friends couldn’t manage to meet her eyes. She stood in the bright spotlight in a stainless white dress, and she’d never felt dirtier in her life.
She’d prayed God would strike her dead on the spot so she wouldn’t have to face the condemnation, disappointment, and especially the pity of the friends she’d given her heart to. But God hadn’t heard her … any more than he’d heard her that afternoon as she walked away from the simulator.
She leaned against the refrigerator and pressed her hands to the aching tightness between her breasts, wondering if it was possible to die from embarrassment. A scholarship to MIT had allowed her to escape the first time. A job at Sheffield Industrieshad allowed her to escape the second time, when she’d developed that ridiculously one-sided crush on the handsome doctor. But she doubted she’d get that lucky a third time. Tomorrow she’d have to face Sinclair and discuss their kiss—a kiss she’d enjoyed a whole lot more than she cared to admit. He’d log her private, precious emotions in his test data, using her like a human guinea pig. Maybe she should have left him to that orc after all.
A knock sounded on the back door.
Great, at least I can drown my sorrows in pepperoni.
She grabbed her purse and started to dig through it for her wallet, which was down at the bottom as usual. Grumbling fiercely, she opened the back door, her head still bent as she pursued her contrary billfold. “I’ll have your money in a minute. Just put it on the table.”
“I’d be happy to, Ms. Polanski, if you’d tell me what
it
you’re referring to.”
Jill’s purse thumped to the floor. Her eyes shot up, meeting the glittering gaze of Dr. Ian Sinclair—scientist, orc slayer, and the man who’d done more damage to her self-respect than anyone since high school.
And the bastard was smiling.
FOUR
“Wh-what are you doing here?” Jill stammered.
“I was invited,” Sinclair replied simply, his infuriating smile deepening. In one smooth movement he reached down and retrieved her purse, handing it to her as gallantly as if he were delivering a nosegay. “Don’t you remember, Ms. Polanski?”
Jill clutched her bulky purse to her chest like a shield. She remembered all right—that, and a great deal more. Though he was dressed casually, in black jeans and a loose midnight-blue shirt that emphasized his dark, brooding face, she couldn’t help remembering the way he’d looked in a suit of shining armor. Memories came flooding back with devastating force. She recalled the strength of his arms, the gentle seduction of his hands, the impossible rightness of the way their bodies moved together, his heat, his taste …
“I remember,” she said, her words soundingmore like a croak than the forceful statement she’d hoped for. “But you hardly ever come to parties.”
He fixed her with his silver gaze. “I came to this one,” he said softly, “because I wanted to see
snoochems
before he and his buddies start to eat the furniture. I’ll wait for the pizza.”
“Thanks,” Marsha replied as she opened her eyeswide in humorous fear for her furniture. She headed for the door, but turned back just as she reached it. “You know, Jillie, you really do underestimate yourself. Someday that’s going to get you in trouble.”
You’re wrong
, Jill answered silently as her friend left the kitchen. The trouble she’d gotten into had come from
overestimating
herself, from forgetting who she was. Or
what
she was. She still remembered the snickers, the hissing whispers from the other students as the secret of her parentage rippled through the senior prom crowd. One remark—one spiteful remark—and a night that should have been a shining dream shattered into a nightmare ruin. She’d been on the stage when it happened, being crowned prom queen of Middleton County High School. She could still recall the dwindling voices, the halfhearted applause, the way even her best friends couldn’t manage to meet her eyes. She stood in the bright spotlight in a stainless white dress, and she’d never felt dirtier in her life.
She’d prayed God would strike her dead on the spot so she wouldn’t have to face the condemnation, disappointment, and especially the pity of the friends she’d given her heart to. But God hadn’t heard her … any more than he’d heard her that afternoon as she walked away from the simulator.
She leaned against the refrigerator and pressed her hands to the aching tightness between her breasts, wondering if it was possible to die from embarrassment. A scholarship to MIT had allowed her to escape the first time. A job at Sheffield Industrieshad allowed her to escape the second time, when she’d developed that ridiculously one-sided crush on the handsome doctor. But she doubted she’d get that lucky a third time. Tomorrow she’d have to face Sinclair and discuss their kiss—a kiss she’d enjoyed a whole lot more than she cared to admit. He’d log her private, precious emotions in his test data, using her like a human guinea pig. Maybe she should have left him to that orc after all.
A knock sounded on the back door.
Great, at least I can drown my sorrows in pepperoni.
She grabbed her purse and started to dig through it for her wallet, which was down at the bottom as usual. Grumbling fiercely, she opened the back door, her head still bent as she pursued her contrary billfold. “I’ll have your money in a minute. Just put it on the table.”
“I’d be happy to, Ms. Polanski, if you’d tell me what
it
you’re referring to.”
Jill’s purse thumped to the floor. Her eyes shot up, meeting the glittering gaze of Dr. Ian Sinclair—scientist, orc slayer, and the man who’d done more damage to her self-respect than anyone since high school.
And the bastard was smiling.
FOUR
“Wh-what are you doing here?” Jill stammered.
“I was invited,” Sinclair replied simply, his infuriating smile deepening. In one smooth movement he reached down and retrieved her purse, handing it to her as gallantly as if he were delivering a nosegay. “Don’t you remember, Ms. Polanski?”
Jill clutched her bulky purse to her chest like a shield. She remembered all right—that, and a great deal more. Though he was dressed casually, in black jeans and a loose midnight-blue shirt that emphasized his dark, brooding face, she couldn’t help remembering the way he’d looked in a suit of shining armor. Memories came flooding back with devastating force. She recalled the strength of his arms, the gentle seduction of his hands, the impossible rightness of the way their bodies moved together, his heat, his taste …
“I remember,” she said, her words soundingmore like a croak than the forceful statement she’d hoped for. “But you hardly ever come to parties.”
He fixed her with his silver gaze. “I came to this one,” he said softly, “because I wanted to see
Similar Books
