“Hm. Kinky might not be so bad. I wouldn’t know, I’ve never tried it.” Molly strove to sound blasé.
Harry looked up, and he wasn’t blushing anymore. “Is that a fact?”
Their eyes met and held.
The last wedge of pizza trembled in Molly’s hand as a rush of shimmering excitement flashed through her. An awareness that was so intense it bordered on pain jolted her nerve endings. She tried to dampen the unfamiliar surge of sexual energy with sheer willpower. When that failed, she decided she had better keep talking. She cleared her throat carefully.
“So,” she said.
“So what?”
Molly rallied her brain and thought quickly. “So, would this kinky stuff have anything to do with the Trevelyan Second Sight that Josh mentioned the other night?”
The amusement evaporated instantly from Harry’s eyes. It was replaced by a cold, shuttered expression. “I told you, that garbage about the Trevelyan Second Sight is nothing more than an old family show gimmick.”
Molly considered that. “Women have believed in female intuition for eons. Most of us simply accept it as a reality. It seems perfectly natural that some men may possess it, too. Maybe there are particularly strong veins of it in some families. Some kind of genetic thing, perhaps.”
“More like some kind of bullshit.”
Molly blinked. “Well, I guess that tells us where you stand on the subject.”
“Sorry.” Harry’s fierce, ascetic features were a grim mask. “But I’ve been living with that crap about the Trevelyan Second Sight all of my life, and I can tell you there’s not so much as a grain of truth to it.”
Molly glanced at the bits and pieces of the black box that lay scattered on the table. “Are you sure? Maybe it’s some sort of intuition that’s making you so concerned about this silly pistol prank.”
Harry glanced at the array of parts spread out on the table. “It doesn’t take any special sixth sense to figure out that whoever rigged this has a lot of pent-up hostility.”
“You don’t know my sister’s friends. They’re not hostile. But like I said, some of the boys are still immature.”
“Someone put a lot of time and energy into setting up the box and gun. And it was aimed at you,” Harry said bluntly.
“I told you, it was probably meant to startle my sister.”
“I’m not so sure of that.” Harry picked up a wire spring and turned it slowly between his lean, powerful fingers. “I think whoever left the box on your step probably knew that you were the person most likely to open the door.”
“That’s crazy,” Molly assured him. “I don’t have any enemies. I told you, this is the work of one of my sister’s nerdy friends. It was meant as a joke, nothing more.”
Harry put down the spring. “You may have more enemies than you think.”
“Give me a break. What kind of enemies would I have?”
“You’ve written over a hundred letters of rejection during the past month. All of them to disgruntled, disappointed inventors.”
Molly was startled. “Surely you don’t believe that one of them would have retaliated like this?”
“It’s a possibility.” Harry examined another piece of the black box mechanism. “I think the police should be notified.”
“Good lord. Now you’re going over the top.” Molly was horrified at the prospect of involving the police. Kelsey would be mortified if her friends were questioned. “Nothing happened. It was just a tasteless prank.”
“All the same, it might be a good idea to file a report.” Harry broke off at the sound of the front door opening.
“That must be Kelsey.” Molly sprang to her feet, relieved at the interruption. She went to stand in the arched opening that connected the kitchen to the long front hall.
“Hi, Kelsey. How was the film?”
“Molly.” Kelsey’s blue eyes widened in astonishment. “What are you doing home this early? What happened to the hot date with T-Rex? Don’t tell me he stood you up after we went to all that trouble to find the right dress.”
“T-Rex?” Harry murmured behind Molly.
Heat rose in Molly’s cheeks. She gave her sister a warning scowl. “Harry is here. We decided to eat in tonight.”
“Oops.” Kelsey grimaced as she walked down the hall toward her sister. “Sorry about that.”
“Come and meet him,” Molly said.
Kelsey peered around Molly. She regarded Harry with grave curiosity. “Hi.”
“Hello.” Harry got to his feet. “I know I’m going to regret asking, but would you mind telling me where I picked up the nickname?”
“T-Rex?” Kelsey gave him an unabashed grin. “Molly started calling you that because of the way you tore apart all those grant proposals. And because your last name starts with the letter T. Trevelyan Rex. Get it?”
“Got it.” Harry slanted Molly a speculative glance.
Molly closed her eyes and hoped that she had not actually turned the color of a ripe tomato.
“Hey, didn’t mean to interrupt,” Kelsey continued blithely. “I came home right after the film instead of going to Robin’s house so that I could finish packing. I’m leaving for California on Sunday morning.”
“So I hear,” Harry said. “A summer workshop in the sciences?”
“Right.” Kelsey’s gaze fell on the mechanical parts scattered across the table. “What’s that?”
“It’s the remains of a very unpleasant little prank that one of your friends played on me tonight,” Molly said briskly. “I suspect either Danny or Calvin. A fake gun was set to fire when I opened the door. Instead of a bullet, a flag appeared.”
“Weird.” Kelsey walked toward the table. She frowned at the array of parts. “But I don’t think Danny or Calvin is responsible.”
Harry’s gaze sharpened. “What makes you so certain?”
“Well, for one thing, Danny and Calvin both outgrew this kind of stunt when they were juniors in high school.” Kelsey examined the spring mechanism more closely. “And . . .”
“And?” Harry prompted.
Kelsey raised one shoulder in casual dismissal. “This isn’t their style. Danny is into computers. Anything he rigged would have been based on some sort of electronic device. Calvin is into chemistry. His stunts always involved chemicals.”
Harry smiled slightly. “Excellent reasoning.”
Kelsey beamed. “Thanks.”
“The workmanship on this thing was sloppy,” Harry said. “Are any of your friends inclined to take the quick-and-dirty approach to their projects?”
“Well, Robin is a little casual when it comes to building her prototypes.” Kelsey chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip. “But I can’t see her setting up something like this. Lucas might have done it. He’s kind of young for his age, if you know what I mean. I’ll call him in the morning and see if he knows anything about this.”
“I’d appreciate that,” Harry said.
“Look,” Molly said firmly, “I’m sure this is the end of the matter. I suggest we all forget about it.”
Kelsey and Harry looked at her.
“Anyone for ice cream?” Molly asked with determined enthusiasm.
Harry glanced at his watch. “I should be going.”
“Hey, don’t leave on account of me.” Kelsey held up both hands and started to back out of the kitchen. “I can vanish upstairs. You’ll never even know I’m there.”
“That’s not necessary.” Harry glanced at Molly. “What with one thing or another, I seem to have ruined this evening.”
“Not true,” Molly assured him. She thought of all she had learned about Harry tonight and hugged the intimate information to herself. “I had a very interesting time.”
Harry looked skeptical. “In that case, can I talk you into rescheduling?”
Molly didn’t hesitate. “Ab
solutely.”
“Saturday night?”
Molly started to accept and then recalled that she had other plans. “I’m having dinner with my aunt and her fiancé.”
Harry accepted that. “I’ll be out of town all day Sunday. I’m driving to Hidden Springs to see Josh’s grandfather.” He hesitated. “I don’t suppose you’d like to come with me?”
Molly shook her head. “Thanks, I’d love to, but Kelsey leaves for California Sunday morning. I’m going to take her to the airport.”
An unreadable expression came and went in Harry’s eyes. “Hidden Springs is only an hour’s drive. I can wait until you’ve seen Kelsey off.”
“Take him up on it,” Kelsey advised. “You could use a day off.”
“All right.” Molly smiled. “Can we go to the fair while we’re in Hidden Springs? I haven’t been to one in years.”
“Why not?” Harry said.
“Sounds like fun,” Kelsey said. “When was the last time you rode a Ferris wheel or ate cotton candy, Molly?”
“It’s been years,” Molly admitted.
Harry looked pained. “Please, anything but cotton candy.”
Molly laughed. “Okay, okay, I’ll stick to popcorn. But only if you’ll promise to win me one of those big stuffed animals.”
“No problem,” Harry said. “As long as we play a game that’s operated by one of my relatives. Without an inside connection, the probability of winning a large stuffed animal approaches infinity.”
“Are those carnival games all rigged?” Kelsey asked.
“Let’s just say they’re not set up to favor the players,” Harry said dryly.
Molly batted her lashes. “I bet you could win, regardless, Harry.”
The momentary humor disappeared from his harsh face. His gaze grew disturbingly intent. “Remember the hours of boredom before you get too excited about the other stuff.”
“I don’t bore easily.” Molly felt her pulse beat strongly in her veins. She looked into Harry’s eyes and was suddenly light-headed. She said the first words that came to her. “If worse comes to worse, I can always amuse myself.”
Harry’s smile was slow and infinitely seductive. “I trust it won’t come to that.”
Saturday morning Harry stood alone in the cool, hushed darkness of the Seattle Aquarium. He frequently came here when he wanted to think.
He watched an electric eel as it dozed on the bottom of its tank. The creature fascinated Harry. He found it almost as strange and improbable as the fact that he had asked Molly to go with him to Hidden Springs.
Half an hour ago, driven by a deep restlessness that had made it difficult to concentrate on his work, he had walked down to the waterfront. He needed to think about what he had done the previous evening.
He had intended to keep his relationship with Molly separate from the complications of his family life.
The feud between the Strattons and the Trevelyans rarely broke out into open conflict for the simple reason that Harry made certain that the two clans never came into contact with each other. Harry was the only connection between the two families. Both sides had made it excruciatingly clear that they wanted the situation kept that way.
The Strattons considered Trevelyans, with the exception of Harry, a lower form of life. They had never forgiven Sean Trevelyan for daring to marry Brittany Stratton, the family princess. The fact that Brittany had run off with Sean of her own free will did not seem to make any difference to the Strattons.
The Trevelyans took an equally dim view of the Strattons, whom they considered patronizing, effete snobs. In their considered opinion, it was the Stratton influence that had caused Harry’s father to turn his back on his family.
When Harry had initially planned the affair with Molly, he had never intended to expose her to his difficult relatives. He did not understand the impulse that had made him invite her to Hidden Springs, and that worried him. He had spent a good portion of the night thinking about it.
His brain usually worked in clear, crisp, orderly patterns. The sole exceptions were his occasional insights. The realization that his feelings for Molly might be as inexplicable as those rare, traumatic flashes of knowing disturbed Harry.
A menacing shiver went through the eel. The creature’s cold, emotionless gaze met Harry’s through the glass barrier of the tank. Harry contemplated the primitive evolution of the eel’s brain with something that could have been envy.
Nothing was complicated for the eel. There were no messy family problems, no sense of being caught between two warring worlds. No melancholy moods. And no fear of a deep, clawing hunger for a soul-searing bond that could not even be explained, let alone consummated.
Someone came up to stand in front of the tank. Harry turned his head and gave the newcomer one brief glance before he returned to his contemplation of the eel. He was mildly surprised to see his cousin, Brandon Stratton Hughes.
“I assume this is not a coincidence,” Harry said.
“I stopped by your condo.” Brandon pitched his voice very low. He looked quickly around the sparsely populated display room, obviously checking to make certain that no one could overhear him. “Your housekeeper said you had walked down here. Kind of an expensive way to kill a little time, isn’t it? That ticket at the front door wasn’t cheap.”
“I’ve got an annual pass. I like to come here when I want to think.”
“You would.”
Harry’s relationship with Brandon had never been close, but then, with the exception of Josh none of his relationships with the various members of his family could be described as close.
He and Brandon had almost nothing in common except a shared gene pool from the Stratton side of the family.
Brandon was four years younger than Harry. He had the athletic build, blue eyes, fair hair, and aristocratic good looks that had characterized the Stratton males for several generations. Brandon also had a secure position as a vice president in Stratton Properties, the family-held commercial real estate development firm.
“Well?” Harry said. “You must have wanted to talk to me very badly to make it worth paying the entrance fee to the aquarium just to find me.”
“I’ll get straight to the point. Has Olivia called you today?”
“No.”
“What about my mother?”
“I haven’t heard from Aunt Danielle today, either.” Harry glanced at Brandon. “Why?”
Brandon’s face tightened. “They’re both a little upset.”
“About what?”
Brandon drew a deep breath. “You may as well be among the first to know. I’ve decided to leave Stratton Properties. I’m going out on my own. I’m setting up a commercial property management firm.”
Harry whistled soundlessly. “I’ll bet that’s been a popular decision.”
“You know damn well it’s going over like a lead balloon. I made the announcement last night. The whole family is in an uproar. My mother is frantic. Granddad is pissed. Uncle Gilford has already chewed me up one side and down the other.”
“I’m not surprised.” Harry paused. “And Olivia?”
“Olivia thinks I’m making a big mistake.” Brandon gazed glumly at the eel. “She says my decision is not based on a logical assessment of the situation. She says it’s a function of my wish to rebel against a controlling grandfather and an overprotective mother.”
“You’ve got one of each,” Harry pointed out. “And the rest of the family isn’t exactly laid-back, either.”
“Damn it, Harry, I’m going to do this.” Brandon made a fist with one hand. “I want out of the family business.”
“It won’t be easy.”
“You managed it. You told Granddad to go to hell when he tried to force you to join Stratton Properties. You walked away from your inheritance that day. Granddad cut you out of his will, and y
ou just turned your back on the Stratton money as if it meant nothing.”
“The price he wanted me to pay was too high,” Harry said softly. “Parker wanted me to pretend that I wasn’t a Trevelyan.”
Brandon swung around to face him. “I’m going to get out from under the family thumb, too.”
“Okay.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Brandon demanded.
“What do you want me to say?”
“I don’t want you to say anything,” Brandon muttered. “But I want your word that you won’t get involved if my mother or Olivia asks you to convince me not to leave the company.”
“I won’t try to stop you from leaving Stratton Properties,” Harry promised. “Why should I? If you want to walk away from a cushy job at the company, that’s your business. Just remember that nothing comes for free when you’re dealing with Strattons. You’ll pay a price.”
“You mean Granddad will cut me out of the will, just as he did you.”
“Probably.”
Brandon squared his shoulders. “I can live with that.”
Harry heard the bold words. He also heard the underlying insecurity. “What does Olivia think of that possibility?”
“Olivia is my wife,” Brandon said tightly. “She loves me. When the chips are down, she’ll back me.”
Harry said nothing. He was no judge of Olivia’s affections. He had certainly misread her a year and a half ago, when he had convinced himself that Olivia had loved him.
5
“Well, Molly, did you carry out your threat to fire your so-called consultant?” Cutter Latteridge sliced into the thick, rare steak that took up half of his plate. Blood red juices ran onto the nearby baked potato.
“I’ve decided to give Trevelyan another chance.” Molly averted her gaze from the sight of the bleeding steak. She looked at her aunt, who was sitting next to Cutter on the other side of the table. “It’s not like there’s a lot of choice. People with his sort of expertise are few and far between.”
“Yes, I know, dear, but you did say he was being awfully difficult,” Venicia reminded her. “You told me he hadn’t approved a single grant proposal.”