Molly held up one hand. “Hold on here. Harry, are we talking about your infamous Trevelyan Second Sight?”
“Don’t get silly on me now, Molly. You’re too smart for that kind of nonsense. Let’s just say that things clicked in my head a couple of minutes ago when I took a second look at this gear.”
“Aha. One of your insights, then?”
“Something like that,” he allowed coolly. “I would have figured it out last night, but my thinking got a little fuzzy due to very understandable reasons.”
“What reasons?” she demanded.
He looked briefly amused. “You seduced me.”
“Oh, that.” She blushed. “I thought you meant something else. All right. So it clicked. What was it?”
“I realized something I should have understood immediately. I know the man who made this gear assembly.” Harry frowned. “Or, at least I know his work. It’s almost the same thing.”
“You’re losing me, Harry.”
“Remember how your sister took one look at the fake pistol device and announced that at least two of her friends were innocent?”
“She said it wasn’t their style.”
“Exactly.” Harry sat down on a counter stool. “There’s a certain style to this kind of thing. The fake pistol and that damned hobgoblin that was put under your bed were not off-the-shelf items. The devices were individually built and tailored to their particular tasks.”
Molly eyed the gear. “I think I’m beginning to see where this is going.
“It defies the laws of probability to believe that two different people would have designed precisely the same gear assemblies, using the same jury-rigged motor and battery design and the same sloppy elevation mechanisms.”
“All right, so it was probably the same person who built both the gun and the goblin,” Molly said. “We already assumed as much. What makes you think you know him?”
“I’ve seen these sloppy designs somewhere else.”
Molly stared at him. “You’re sure?”
Harry smiled slightly. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I know this person’s work. Now all I have to do is figure out where I’ve seen this particular style of crude engineering design.”
“How do you intend to research the problem?”
“That’s easy,” Harry said. “I’ll start by going back through all one hundred of those grant proposals I told you to reject.”
The implications of what he was saying hit Molly so hard that she had to grasp the edge of the counter for support. “Oh, my God. You don’t think it’s one of those inventors, after all, do you?”
“Yes,” Harry said. “That’s exactly what I think. It looks like one of the people whose grant proposals we turned down has decided to take some revenge.”
Molly sighed heavily. “My father’s foundation has caused me nothing but trouble. I wish he had thought of something else to do with his money.”
“Well,” Harry said slowly, “there are two schools of thought on that subject.”
“There are?”
“One, as you just suggested, is that the Abberwick Foundation is a headache.”
“Uh-huh.” Molly raised her brows. “What’s the other point of view?”
“The other side of the issue is that I would never have met you if your father hadn’t appointed you sole trustee of the foundation.”
“Hmm.” Molly cheered at that observation. “There is that.”
“Yes.” Harry’s eyes gleamed with sensual memories. “There is that.” He glanced at the cluttered counter. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m going to make us some breakfast. French toast, to be exact.” Molly selected a large knife from a drawer and prepared to attack the loaf of sourdough.
“When was the last time you cooked without the aid of the Abberwick Food Storage and Preparation Machine?”
Molly frowned in thought as she began to saw through the end of the loaf. “I think I was eighteen or nineteen. Why?”
“Maybe you’d better let me give you a hand.”
“Nonsense. Any fool can make French toast.” At that moment the wide-toothed bread knife hit a rough spot in the sourdough. Molly bore down with grim determination.
Too much determination. And at a bad angle. The acrylic bread board suddenly skidded across the granite countertop. Molly yelped in surprise. Instinctively she yanked the knife out of the loaf. It came free with unexpected speed and flew out of her hand. She stared in dismay as it soared and wheeled in the air and then plunged down toward the granite, point first. She wondered how much a fine-quality bread knife cost.
With a deceptively easy motion that was almost too fast for the eye to follow, Harry reached across the counter and caught the knife by the hilt just before it struck the unforgiving granite. He smiled. “I’ll slice the bread for you.”
“Thanks. I’d appreciate that.”
“And there you have it,” Molly said as she concluded her tale two hours later. “The adventures of Molly Abberwick and the mysterious hobgoblin.”
“You spent the night with T-Rex?” Tessa paused in the act of replacing a glass canister full of smoky Lapsang Souchong tea on the shelf. “I don’t believe it.”
Molly gave her a repressive glare. “He was kind enough to let me stay at his place after I was nearly scared out of my wits by that stupid goblin prank.”
“Kind? He doesn’t look like the kindly type to me.” Tessa narrowed her eyes. “And why do I have this feeling that you did not sleep on the couch?”
“Now, Tessa, you know I don’t believe in discussing my personal life.”
“That’s because you haven’t had a personal life to discuss for ages,” Tessa retorted. “What’s going on here? Are you and Trevelyan having an affair?”
“I’d hardly call it that.”
“Damn. You are having an affair. “Tessa looked at her with worried eyes. “Do you think that’s smart? You said yourself that the two of you have absolutely nothing in common. You said he’s stubborn and difficult and arrogant. You said—”
“I’ll be in my office if anyone needs me.” Molly strode through the opening and slammed the door behind her.
She dropped into her desk chair. The door promptly opened again, and Tessa stuck her head around the corner. “All right, forget the juicy personal stuff. I’ll worm the truth out of you later. What’s Trevelyan going to do about that goblin thing that someone put under your bed?”
“I’m not sure. He seems to think he recognizes the guy’s work. He says it’s sloppy. He’s sure that he can identify the same style of design in one of the grant proposals.”
Tessa’s eyes widened. “He thinks that whoever is behind this is one of the inventors you rejected?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Shouldn’t you be talking to the police?”
“We will, as soon as Harry gets a lead on a likely suspect. At this point all we’ve got are a couple of nasty pranks and an unlimited pool of possible perpetrators.”
“I see what you mean. No one’s been hurt. There’s no evidence of forced entry. So far they’re just pranks.”
“Right. I’m afraid that if we go to the cops now they’ll think one of Kelsey’s friends is responsible, just as I did. Lord only knows where that assumption would take the police. Assuming they have time to investigate such a minor event in the first place.”
Tessa looked troubled. “What are you going to do?”
“There’s nothing I can do at the moment. We’ll have to wait and see if Harry can come up with anything useful. In the meantime, I’ve got a business to run. Let’s get to work.”
Gordon Brooke strode into Abberwick Tea & Spice at five minutes before noon. Molly was in the process of measuring out a half pound of Keemun tea for a customer. She stifled a groan of dismay.
Gordon h
ad a file folder tucked under one arm. Stylish as always, he was clad in a pair of loose-fitting, multipleated stone-colored trousers and an open-throated coffee-colored shirt with wide, billowing sleeves. A rakish embroidered vest completed the ensemble. He would have looked at home sitting in a sidewalk café in Paris or Rome.
Molly made a show of being very busy with a flurry of new customers who wandered into the shop at that moment. Tessa did the same. Gordon lounged against a display of gift-boxed spice sets and waited. Molly hoped that he would become bored and leave before the rush of customers did, but her luck was out. Gordon did not budge.
Tessa exchanged a commiserating glance with Molly as the crowd gradually dwindled.
When the customer base was down to two, both of whom were still browsing the shelves, Molly reluctantly turned to Gordon. He gave her his most endearing grin, the one that put a dimple in his cheeks.
“Got something to show you, Molly.” He held up the folder he had brought with him.
Molly eyed the folder with deep suspicion. “What?”
Gordon straightened and started forward. “Let’s go into your office.”
He disappeared inside before Molly could think of a polite excuse. She trailed slowly after him. Tessa rolled her eyes.
When Molly reached the door of her office, she saw that Gordon had already made himself at home. He was sitting in the chair behind her desk. He had the folder open in front of him.
“I want you to see my projections for the next three years, Molly.”
“Gordon, if this is about a loan, you’re wasting your time. We went through this three months ago.”
“Just take a look at these numbers. That’s all I’m asking. They’re solid as a rock. The only thing I need to make it come together is a little infusion of cash.”
“I told you, I’m not going to finance your expansion plans, Gordon.”
He looked up from the papers he had spread out on her desk. “Think of it as an investment, because that’s exactly what it is. A hell of a better investment than some zany invention cooked up by a crackpot inventor, for God’s sake.”
Molly planted her hands on the desk. “I will say this one more time, and that’s it. I am not interested in making you a loan.”
Without any warning, the warm, persuasive charm on Gordon’s face disappeared. “Goddamn it, Molly, you’ve got to listen to me.”
Startled by the outburst, Molly took a quick step back. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Frustration and rage flashed in his eyes. “I’ve got too much riding on this. Do you think I’m going to let all of my plans go down the tubes just because you’re harboring a grudge?”
“I’m not harboring any grudges.”
“The hell you aren’t.” Gordon surged to his feet. “You’re still pissed because of what happened between us.”
“Are you nuts? That was eighteen months ago. Believe it or not, I’ve had better things to do in the meantime than nurse a broken heart or carry a grudge.”
“Then stop letting your emotions get in the way of good business,” Gordon shot back. “Don’t you understand what’s at stake here?”
“Sure. Your re-expansion plans. Do you think I care about financing a half-dozen Gordon Brooke Espresso Bars? I’ve got my own business to worry about.”
“This isn’t about expansion for the sake of expansion. This is life and death.”
Molly’s mouth fell open. “Life and death?”
“No joke, Molly. I’m sitting on the brink of bankruptcy.” Gordon’s hands clenched into fists. “I have to have fresh money, or Gordon Brooke Espresso is going to go under. All of it. Everything I’ve worked for will come crashing down around my ears.”
Molly closed her eyes briefly. “I’m so sorry, Gordon. I didn’t realize things were that precarious.”
“You can save me.” He started around the desk with renewed determination. “I need you, honey. For old times’ sake, say you’ll help me.”
She bit her lip. “Please, don’t make this a personal thing. You said it was business. And as a businesswoman, I don’t want any part of it. I’m into tea and spices, not coffee.”
He took a step toward her. “Molly, what happened between us is old news. You and I can start over. We’ll be partners this time. We’ve got so much in common.”
Molly felt the hair stir softly on the nape of her neck. She knew without turning around that the door to her office had just opened. She also knew who had entered.
“Am I interrupting anything important here?” Harry asked with a dangerous chill in his voice.
Molly whirled around, relieved to see him. She gave him an overly bright smile. “Not at all.”
Gordon’s expression turned thunderous. “I’m trying to have a business conversation with Molly.”
“Too bad. I’ve got an appointment with her, myself.” Harry glanced at his watch. “For lunch. You’ll have to excuse us.”
Gordon’s jaw resembled a concrete reinforcing bar. “I don’t think I’ve met you.”
Molly leaped into the awkward silence that fell between the men. “That’s right, you two don’t know each other. Gordon, this is Dr. Harry Trevelyan. He’s a noted authority on the history of science. He’s consulting for the Abberwick Foundation. Harry, this is Gordon Brooke of Gordon Brooke Espresso. You’ve probably had some of his coffee.”
Harry said nothing.
Gordon scowled. “You’re the guy who’s helping Molly select funding projects for the foundation?”
“Yes.” Harry looked at Molly. “Ready?”
“Let me get my purse.” Molly hurried around the corner of her desk.
Gordon put out a hand to catch hold of her arm. “Damn it, Molly, this is important. Let me finish what I’ve started here.”
“Some other time.” Molly ducked his outstretched fingers. She pulled her purse out of a drawer. “Harry’s right. He and I have an appointment to discuss some foundation business.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet you do.” Gordon gave Harry a fulminating look. “I know all about you so-called foundation consultants.”
Harry cocked a brow. “You do?”
“Sure. You latch onto people like Molly who handle the funds for a foundation or a charity. You convince them that they need you in order to get the job done, and then you milk the operation for all the fees and associated costs you can get. It’s nothing more than a legal scam.”
Molly was shocked. “Gordon, stop it. I don’t want to hear another word.”
“It’s the truth. Guys like Trevelyan here are the reason so many charities wind up with such high administrative and management costs and so little cash for their projects.”
Molly gripped the strap of her purse. “Please leave, Gordon. Now.”
“Hell.” Gordon’s eyes slitted in sudden comprehension. “He’s screwing you, isn’t he? I should have guessed.” He gathered up his papers and crammed them into the folder. “He’ll bleed your precious foundation dry, Molly. And then he’ll dump you. Don’t say you weren’t warned.”
Gordon stormed toward the door. Harry stepped politely out of his path.
10
It had been a very near thing, Harry thought later as he waited in line at the sidewalk window of a waterfront café. A chill went through him whenever he thought about the events of the night. He felt as if he’d been standing in the path of an onrushing train and had somehow, inexplicably, managed to escape certain disaster.
He still did not comprehend his good fortune, but he was profoundly relieved to know that he had not scared the living daylights out of Molly. In fact, she seemed virtually unruffled by his behavior during the night.
Perhaps a little too unruffled. Harry frowned. She acted as if she hadn’t noticed anything strange or even slightly out of the ordinary during last night’s lovemaking.
Memories of her passionate, exquisitely feminine response to him returned in a heated rush. She had come to him, made love to him, taken him deep inside her warm, tight, fiercely welcoming body. He had actually felt the joyous delight in her, frothy as fine champagne. It was as though she had been waiting for him all of her life.
And for the first time in his life, he had known true sexual satisfaction. Last night the relentless hunger, the craving for an incomprehensible consummation that had been growing so strong during the past few years had been assuaged, temporarily, at least. He would never forget the experience. It was far more profound than any physical release he had ever known.
But as glorious as it had been, there was no getting around the fact that Molly’s reaction still baffled him. He was sure that she had been exposed to a full onslaught of that part of him he had fought to conceal even from himself. Yet she hadn’t seemed fazed by it. Olivia had caught only the merest glimpse and had been convinced that he was more than a little crazy.
He had been lucky, Harry told himself. Very, very lucky. Molly had attributed his behavior to a fever. Or perhaps she had simply been too shaken by the malicious prank that had been played on her earlier in the evening to be aware of the weirdness in him. Whatever the reason, he had not terrified her the way he had Olivia. But he had certainly scared the hell out of himself.
The whole thing had been too damn close. He would make certain that he did not take such risks a second time. From now on he would be careful.
From now on he would be in control whenever he made love to Molly.
Harry paid for two cups of chowder. He picked up the cardboard tray and walked across the pier to where Molly was sitting at an umbrella-shaded table.
He was braced for the sight of her, but the euphoric thrill that he had experienced this morning, when he had discovered that she had not left him, struck again. He realized with some chagrin that he was getting hard just looking at her. He could only hope that his pants concealed his uncontrollable physical reaction. He wondered if he would be forced to take deep breaths every time he saw her, or if he would gradually grow accustomed to the sudden clench of excitement in his gut.