Absolutely, Positively

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. Shenever 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 saytomayto and you saytomahto ,” 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.”

    You're serious, aren't you?”

    “Yes.”

    She stared at him in disbelief. “I don't believe