Free Sorcerer: A Loveswept Contemporary Classic Romance by Ruth Owen

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 tentativescratch. 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 intimatesecrets 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,