Absolutely, Positively

everything a great deal of thought. So you finally concluded that Duncan Brockway's grant proposal is worth funding. About time.”

    Harry blanked for a split second. “Brockway's proposal?”

    Molly's eyes sparkled with satisfaction. “I knew you'd approve that one. I justknew it. It's so original. So intriguing. And the potential is absolutely unlimited.”

    Harry narrowed his eyes. “This has nothing to do with Brockway's grant proposal. I wanted to talk about another matter.”

    The excitement in her eyes dimmed slightly. “You did look it over, didn't you?”

    “Brockway's proposal? Yes, I did. It's no good. We can go into the details later, if you like. But right now I want to discuss something more important.”

    Molly looked honestly baffled. “What's more important than Duncan Brockway's grant proposal?”

    Harry set his teacup down with great precision. “Our relationship.”

    “Ourwhat ?”

    “I think you heard me.”

    Molly's cup crashed back into its saucer. “That does it, I've had it.”

    Harry stilled. “What's wrong?”

    “You have the nerve to ask me what's wrong? After telling me that you're not going to approve Duncan's proposal?”

    “Molly, I'm trying to conduct an intelligent conversation here. However, it seems to be falling apart. Now, about our relationship—”

    “Our relationship?” Molly erupted from the sofa with the force of a small volcano. “I'll tell you about our relationship. It's a complete, unmitigated disaster.”

    “I wasn't aware that we even had one yet.”

    “We most certainly do. But it's ending here. Now. Tonight. I refuse to continue to pay for your services as a consultant, Harry Trevelyan. Thus far, I have not received one damn thing for my money.”

    “There seems to be a misunderstanding here.”

    “I'll say there is.” There was green sheet lightning in Molly's eyes. “I thought you invited me to dinner tonight to tell me that you'd approved Duncan Brockway's grant proposal.”

    “Why in hell would I invite you to dinner just to tell you that Brockway's proposal is a scam?”

    “It's not a scam.”

    “Yes, it is.” Harry was not accustomed to having his verdicts questioned. He was, after all, a leading authority in his field.

    “According to you, every single one of the one hundred grant proposals that have been submitted to the Abberwick Foundation have been scams.”

    “Not all of them.” Harry preferred accuracy to gross generalizations. “Some were just plain bad science. Look, Molly, I'm trying to discuss something else entirely here.”

    “Our relationship, I believe you said. Well, it's over, Dr. Trevelyan. This was your last chance. You're fired.”

    Harry wondered if he had accidentally stepped into a parallel universe. This was not going according to plan.

    He had made his decision regarding Molly with great care and consideration. True, he had wanted her from the start, but he had not allowed himself to be swept away by physical desire. He had worked from a very basic premise. Following the demise of his engagement over a year ago, he had given his future sex life a great deal of serious contemplation. He had concluded that he knew exactly what he needed in a woman. He wanted a relationship with someone who had a lot of interests of her own, someone who would not require constant attention from him.

    He required a woman who would not take mortal offense when he was consumed with his research. A woman who would not care if he locked himself in his office to work on a book or an investigation. A woman who could tolerate the demands of his personal life.

    Most of all he wanted an affair with a woman who would not question his moods or suggest that he get therapy for them.

    Molly Abberwick had appeared to fit the bill. She was twenty-nine years old, a competent, successful entrepreneur. From what Harry could determine, she had virtually raised her younger sister single-handedly after her mother's death several years earlier. Her father had been a genius, but as was usually the case with the obsessively creative type, he had devoted his time to his inventions, not his children.

    From what Harry could discern, Molly was no fragile flower, but a strong, sturdy plant that could weather the worst storms, perhaps even those that occasionally howled across his own melancholy soul.

    As the proprietor of the Abberwick Tea & Spice Company, Molly had proven her ability to survive and flourish in the tough,