back so quickly, he almost lost his balance on the loose sand. “What?”
“For coffee, I mean.” She shifted from foot to foot, nearly losing balance herself. “It was kind of you to walk me home. I just wanted to … oh, hell, it was a stupid idea. Forget it.”
Without waiting for his answer, she started up the slope of the beach to her condominium. Shoulders back, chin tilted toward the stars, she reminded him of another woman, a fairy princess with a slipping gold circlet, pelting a ferocious beast with ineffectual stones. Warning voices cautioned him not to accept her offer, that her cheery little house might hold greater dangers than any ferocious orc. Yet before he knew it, he was beside her, shortening his stride to match hers. “Coffee is fine, but I would prefer a cup of tea. Earl Grey, if you have it.”
“I think I can find a bag.” She smiled again, the tentative grin that had such an arresting effect on his heart. Once more the warning voices sounded, telling him that he was veering from his meticulously charted course and heading straight for unmapped waters. He shrugged off his misgivings, reminding himself that he was a respected scientist who lived a strict, disciplined, and completely satisfactory life. He was no callow youth to be ruled by the hormonal urges of his body.
And Ms. Polanski, the voices added, was no box turtle.
“Tell me, Ms. Polanski,” Sinclair said as he studied the Save the Whales poster hanging over her living room couch, “are there any causes you don’t support?”
“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 andfluffy 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
“For coffee, I mean.” She shifted from foot to foot, nearly losing balance herself. “It was kind of you to walk me home. I just wanted to … oh, hell, it was a stupid idea. Forget it.”
Without waiting for his answer, she started up the slope of the beach to her condominium. Shoulders back, chin tilted toward the stars, she reminded him of another woman, a fairy princess with a slipping gold circlet, pelting a ferocious beast with ineffectual stones. Warning voices cautioned him not to accept her offer, that her cheery little house might hold greater dangers than any ferocious orc. Yet before he knew it, he was beside her, shortening his stride to match hers. “Coffee is fine, but I would prefer a cup of tea. Earl Grey, if you have it.”
“I think I can find a bag.” She smiled again, the tentative grin that had such an arresting effect on his heart. Once more the warning voices sounded, telling him that he was veering from his meticulously charted course and heading straight for unmapped waters. He shrugged off his misgivings, reminding himself that he was a respected scientist who lived a strict, disciplined, and completely satisfactory life. He was no callow youth to be ruled by the hormonal urges of his body.
And Ms. Polanski, the voices added, was no box turtle.
“Tell me, Ms. Polanski,” Sinclair said as he studied the Save the Whales poster hanging over her living room couch, “are there any causes you don’t support?”
“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 andfluffy 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
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