Absolutely, Positively

thought maybe…Well, it didn't work out. You?”

    “I was engaged about a year and a half ago, too.”

    Molly stilled. “What happened?”

    “She changed her mind. Married one of my cousins on the Stratton side of the family. Brandon Stratton Hughes.”

    “I see.” Molly wasn't sure what to say to that. “I'm sorry.”

    “It was for the best. With the advantage of twenty-twenty hindsight, I think I can safely say that the marriage wouldn't have worked.”

    “Why not?”

    “Olivia and I weren't well matched. She's a clinical psychologist. She was always trying to analyze me.” Harry hesitated. “I don't think she liked what she found.”

    “I see.” Molly felt the surge of unspoken communication like an undertow to his seemingly casual explanation. There was much more to the story, she thought. “I wonder what Olivia's view of your relationship was.”

    “I think Olivia's feelings toward me can best be summed up by the expression, ‘hours of boredom broken by moments of stark terror.’”

    Molly stared at him, dumbfounded. It took her a few seconds to find her voice. “Terror, huh?”

    “Nothing rough. Maybe nothing very interesting. Olivia would probably call it kinky.” Molly wasn't sure, but it looked like Harry was blushing.

    “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