Absolutely, Positively

by Jayne Ann Krentz

Molly’s home was on Capitol Hill, some twelve blocks from Harry’s downtown condo, but the short drive through the city streets was one of the longest trips she had ever made. She could not decide if Harry was angry or merely brooding.

  Whatever his mood, Harry drove the sleek, hunter green sports car with graceful precision. Molly was unfamiliar with the make and model. She had, however, been raised in a family of mechanical geniuses, and she knew expensive engineering design when she saw it. She made a note to ask Harry about his car. But not tonight.

  At the moment, she was enthralled not with the car, but with the way Harry handled the gear shift and clutch. She realized that he derived a subtle, sensual pleasure from the smooth, perfectly timed manipulation of the vehicle’s controls. He drove the car the way he would have ridden a horse.

  “Did you actually travel with a carnival?” Molly finally asked when the silence lengthened.

  “No. My father did. As Josh told you, he owned an amusement show. But he sold it shortly after he ran off with my mother. He took the money and opened a dive shop in Hawaii. That’s where I grew up.

  “I guess I sort of assumed that you came from a long line of academics.”

  The streetlights revealed Harry’s bleak smile. “I’m the first member of the Trevelyan clan since the first Harry Trevelyan to make a living doing something other than telling fortunes, racing cars, or throwing knives.”

  “When did the first Harry Trevelyan start the tradition?”

  “Early eighteen hundreds.”

  “And your mother?” Molly asked.

  “She was a Stratton.”

  The significance of his middle name finally clicked. “One of the Seattle Strattons? The commercial real estate development family?”

  “Three generations of money, business influence, and political clout,” Harry agreed in a voice that lacked all expression.

  Molly thought about that. “An unusual combination,” she said delicately. “Your father and your mother, I mean.”

  “A carny and a socialite? Unusual is one word for it. The Trevelyans and the Strattons have used a whole thesaurus full of other words. Most of them unprintable.”

  “I take it neither family approved of the match?”

  “That’s putting it mildly. The Trevelyans were furious because after the marriage my father sold the show. As far as they were concerned, he’d turned his back on his family, most of whom were working in said show at the time. The new owner had his own crew.

  “Instant unemployment for the Trevelyans, hmm?”

  “Right.”

  “And the Strattons?”

  “Let’s just say that my mother was supposed to marry a wealthy, well-connected Stanford grad. Instead she ran off with a carny.” Harry slanted Molly a derisive glance. “How do you think most families would have reacted under those circumstances?”

  “Not very enthusiastically, I suppose.”

  “You’ve got that right.”

  “So? What happened?”

  Harry’s brows rose slightly. “You’re very curious.”

  “Sorry.” Molly was embarrassed. “It’s a family failing. I come from a long line of inventors, remember.”

  “I know.”

  “Look, you certainly don’t have to answer if you’d rather not. I didn’t mean to pry.”

  “The Strattons did everything they could to dissolve the marriage. Parker Stratton, my grandfather, tried to force an annulment. When that failed, he pushed for a divorce. One of the reasons my parents moved to the islands was so that they could put a large chunk of ocean between themselves and their families. It was the only way they could get some peace.”

  “Did things cool down after you arrived?”

  “No. The feud continues to this day.”

  “And you’re caught in the middle?”

  Harry’s shoulder lifted slightly. “That’s the way it goes sometimes.”

  On the surface, he sounded incredibly casual, even dismissive of the family situation. But Molly flinched against the pain implied by his words. It hit her in a wave that made her catch her breath. Whatever Harry felt toward the Strattons and the Trevelyans, it was anything but indifference. But she also understood that he kept his emotions relating to that subject under lock and key.

  “Do your parents still live in the islands?” Molly asked.

  “My parents are dead. They were murdered by a couple of armored car thieves nine years ago.”

  Harry’s voice was infinitely soft and infinitely cold. But Molly stilled beneath the deluge of powerful emotions that emanated from him. She could not even begin to identify the complex and dangerous brew. Rage? Despair? Remorse? All those and more, yes. This was the stuff of nightmares.

  “My God.” Molly could not think of anything else to say. “My God.”

  Harry was silent.

  “I’m so sorry,” Molly offered, feeling helpless.

  “Your folks are both dead, also,” he pointed out, as if they had that much in common.

  “Yes.” It was Molly’s turn to fall silent for a while.

  Her feelings were not nearly as complicated as Harry’s. Whenever she thought about her parents these days, she experienced a straightforward sense of wistful loss. The initial grief had faded over time. So had the anger and fear that she’d once had difficulty admitting to herself. She no longer lay awake at night wondering how she would make the mortgage payment and see her sister safely raised. She had managed to shoulder the responsibilities that had once seemed so overwhelming.

  Molly peered through the windshield as the lights of what her sister mockingly called “the Abberwick family mansion” appeared. “Well, here we are. Thanks so much for seeing me home.”

  “I’ll take you to your door.” Harry brought the car to a halt in front of the massive wrought-iron gates.

  Molly hastily rummaged around in her purse for the card key. When she found it, she handed it to him. Harry lowered his window and inserted the card into the lock. The heavy gates swung inward.

  “Good security,” Harry remarked.

  “My father designed it.” Molly tilted her chin to indicate the night-shrouded gardens. “He designed the sprinkler system, too. He was always tinkering with things around the house. My sister, Kelsey, is following in his footsteps. She got the Abberwick genius for scientific and technical stuff.”

  “What about you?”

  Molly chuckled. “I got the bills.”

  Harry drove slowly along the curving driveway and stopped in front of the steps. He switched off the engine, removed the keys from the ignition, and opened his door. A brief smile came and went on his hard face as he surveyed the old, ramshackle mansion.

  Molly had no trouble guessing his thoughts. Her home looked like the work of a seriously deranged architect. It was a bizarre collection of Gothic arches and Victorian flourishes. The perfect setting for a mad scientist.

  “Interesting,” was all Harry said as he opened Molly’s car door.

  She smiled as she got out. “Be honest, it bears a striking resemblance to Dr. Frankenstein’s castle. What can I say? It’s home.”

  “Were you raised in this house?”

  “Yes, indeed. You’re looking at the ancestral manor. My parents bought it during a brief spell of Abberwick prosperity thirty years ago. Dad had just patented some new machine tool. He fell in love with this place. Said he needed the space for his workshops. The money didn’t last long, of course. It never did with Dad. But somehow we managed to hang on to the house.”

  “I see.”

  Molly gave Harry a second card key. He took it from her as they went up the steps to the front door.

  Molly tried to think of a polite way to end the evening.

  “We didn’t finish our earlier conversation,” Harry said as he opened the door.

  “No, we
didn’t, did we? But we can conclude it some other time. I’m sure you’re anxious to get home so that you can chat with your cousin.”

  “He’ll keep.” Harry surveyed the vast hall. “I believe you misunderstood something I said earlier about our relationship.”

  Molly stepped over the threshold and turned to face him with her brightest smile. “Don’t worry. I’ve decided not to fire you.”

  Harry propped one shoulder against the doorjamb and folded his arms. “Is that a fact?”

  “Yes, it is,” Molly said briskly. “You’re right when you say that there’s not a lot of choice when it comes to the sort of consulting expertise that I require.”

  “I’m glad to know that you’re aware of that.”

  “So it appears I’m stuck with you.”

  “Nothing like feeling needed.”

  “However, I want to make it clear that things cannot continue to go on as they have for the past month. We must make some real progress.”

  “I agree.” Harry moved.

  Molly was in his arms before she even realized his intention. He covered her startled mouth with his own and crushed her close to his lean, hard body.

  For an instant she was too surprised to react. She inhaled the warm, male scent of him. It acted like a powerful drug on her senses. She could feel the strength in his arms and the sleek power in his body. She could also feel the hard bulge in his close-fitting trousers.

  Harry wanted her.

  The knowledge inspired the choir of female hormones that had been humming inside Molly all evening. They burst into full-throated song once more.

  Molly wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into the kiss with a soft sigh of delight. Harry groaned softly and tightened his hold on her. Excitement welled up within Molly. A delicious warmth stole into the lower portions of her body.

  “Inside,” Harry muttered into her mouth. He urged her back through the doorway.

  Molly grabbed his shoulders to steady herself.

  “Let me get the door closed,” Harry said hoarsely.

  Molly ignored him. He was nibbling on her ear, and it felt wonderful. Nothing had ever felt so terrific. She heard the door finally crash shut.

  Harry swung her around and crowded her up against the nearest wall. He leaned over her and planted his strong, elegant hands on either side of her head, caging her. He kissed her throat and the hollow of her shoulder.

  “Molly. I knew it would be good, but I didn’t realize…God, I want you.” Harry deepened the kiss.

  Molly thought she would collapse. Harry thrust his foot deliberately between her ankles, easing her legs apart. Molly felt herself grow damp even though he still had his hands flattened against the wall. She shivered.

  She was quivering. Trembling. The sensation awed her. She had never actually trembled with desire. She had assumed the phrase was nothing more than poetic imagery. Harry seemed to be shaking a little, himself, which was even more interesting.

  He trailed kisses along the line of her jaw all the way to her ear. “Take off your jacket.” His voice was that of the devil at midnight, dark, seductive, infinitely compelling. “Please.”

  Molly nearly went under for the third time. Somewhere in the distance the rational part of her brain was struggling to be heard. She thought it was yelling something along the lines of get a grip, but it was difficult to be certain. An utterly alien sensation of pure, wild recklessness held her.

  Years of being careful, responsible, and generally too exhausted to take a chance washed away in an instant.

  She lifted her hands to ease her jacket off her shoulders. All she could think about was getting closer to Harry.

  A soft whirring noise sounded in the hall.

  “What the hell?” Harry broke off the kiss. He swung around with feline speed.

  The small dusting robot rolled to a halt less than twelve inches away from Harry’s foot and beeped in an aggrieved tone. Its sensors seemed to glower at the object in its path. It waved its dusting sponge as though seeking a target.

  Harry fitted his hands to his hips and studied the plastic and metal household robot for a long moment. Then he switched his attention to Molly. “Your chaperon?”

  Molly giggled. She never giggled, she thought, appalled. She was actually feeling giddy from the effects of Harry’s kisses. She swallowed and took a deep breath in an effort to regain some semblance of self-control.

  “It’s a patented Abberwick Duster,” she explained. “There’s one on each floor. My father designed them. I set it to dust while I was out this evening. It’s just finishing the baseboards. You’re in its way.”

  “Too bad. There’s only room for one of us in this hall, and I’m not ready to leave.”

  “I’ll take care of it.” Molly hastily bent down and punched a button to send the duster back to its closet.

  The little machine obediently swiveled around and hummed off down the hall.

  Harry watched it disappear. “Sort of takes the magic out of the scene, doesn’t it?”

  “To tell you the truth, I’m so accustomed to the cleaning robots that I hardly notice them. I grew up with machines like that around. Every year while my father was alive there were newer and fancier models. My sister continues to experiment with them. Frankly, I wouldn’t know how to keep house without them.”

  Harry exhaled slowly. The ancient fires in his eyes still burned, but he had turned the heat down to a bearable level. “Maybe the interruption was for the best. I’ve been trying to have a discussion about our relationship all evening. I’ll be damned if I’m going to go home without finishing it.”

  Molly’s mouth fell open. “You were talking about this kind of relationship? You? Me? Us?”

  “Yes.” Harry eyed her with moody consideration. “Us. A relationship.”

  “Good grief.” Molly put a hand on the wall to steady herself. She started making her way very cautiously toward the kitchen. “I had no idea. I thought you were referring to our, uh…well, you know.”

  “You thought I was talking about our business relationship. I’m not. I’m talking about this kind of relationship. Does that really strike you as such a bizarre concept?”

  “Uh, well…”

  “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I got the impression from that kiss that you might have done some preliminary thinking about the possibilities.”

  Molly’s flush deepened. Fantasy was one thing. Reality was quite another. “Well…”

  Harry ran a beautifully sculpted hand impatiently through his dark hair. “Look, I know we’re not exactly a perfect match.”

  Molly finally located her tongue. “You can say that again. I’m from the business world. You’re the scholarly, academic type.”

  He nodded, obviously in total agreement. “I’m analytical and logical by nature. You’re inclined to shoot from the hip.”

  “You’re stubborn.”

  “You’re impulsive.”

  “You’re slower than a turtle when it comes to making decisions,” Molly said, getting into the spirit of the discussion. “You wouldn’t last five minutes in the business world. The competition would devour you.”

  “Is that so?” Harry eyed her thoughtfully. “For your information, you wouldn’t have made it in the academic world. Don’t get me wrong, you’ve got the basic intelligence, but your thinking processes are undisciplined.”

  “I say tomayto and you say tomahto,” she chanted in a singsong voice.

  “What?”

  “Never mind.” Molly contemplated the tantalizing prospect of having the floor-cleaning robot assault him with a mop. “We seem to have established that we were not meant for each other. That didn’t take long. Now, then, what was your point, Dr. Trevelyan?”

  He frowned. “My point was that I would like to suggest that you and I have an affair.”

&n
bsp; “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  She stared at him in disbelief. “I don’t believe this. What about that little duet concerning tomatoes that we just sang together? We’re opposites.”

  He shrugged. “Opposites attract.”

  “Come off it, Dr. Trevelyan. Don’t give me that nonsense. I expect better logic from someone with a Ph.D.”

  “It’s not nonsense. It’s a basic principle in the science of magnetism.”

  Molly lifted her eyes toward the high ceiling. “We are not a couple of magnets.”

  “Look, I’m not suggesting that we get married,” Harry said quietly. “I’m suggesting an affair. What’s so damned difficult about that idea?”

  “You don’t think it sounds just a tad cold-blooded?”

  Harry hesitated, as though he sensed that he was on dangerous ground. “I think it sounds like a rational way to establish a relationship. We’re obviously attracted to each other physically.”

  “Yeah, but we don’t communicate too well, do we?” Molly retorted with grim relish. “If nothing else, I think we established that fact this evening.”

  “What of it? According to the shrinks, men and women rarely do communicate well.”

  Molly was intrigued. “You read those pop-psych books?”

  “I was engaged to a psychologist for a while a year and a half ago. You hang out with shrinks, you pick up a few things.”

  “Nothing contagious, I trust. Look, Harry, I don’t think your idea is a particularly brilliant one.”

  “Why not?”

  She sighed. “Because I’d probably drive you crazy.”

  An odd, unreadable expression flashed in Harry’s eyes. It was gone in the next instant. “I’ve thought about that possibility,” he said dryly. “But I think that I can handle the situation.”

  “Gosh whiz, I can’t tell you how relieved I am to hear that.” She glowered at him. “What about me? You’re just as likely to make me crazy, too.”

  “Are you telling me that you don’t think you can cope with my pompous, arrogant, stubborn ways?”

  For some reason, that annoyed her. “If I can cope with business competition, rude customers, and the mountain of tax forms I’m required to file just to keep my shop running, I can probably cope with you.”