Harry climbed the steps slowly, his attention focused on the box.
No joke.
A tingle of awareness went through him. Something was very wrong.
There was a faint, scratching sound from the other side of the heavy door. Molly knew he was here. She was about to open the door.
Harry dropped the roses and leaped toward the box.
“Don’t open the door,” he shouted.
“Harry?” Molly appeared in the widening crack of the doorway. “Is that you? What’s wrong?”
The wire that linked the box to the door went taut. The lid was jerked off the black box. There was a whirring sound. Harry saw a pistol mounted on a metal pedestal rise into the air.
The barrel of the gun was aimed at Molly.
4
Harry heard a soft, deadly snick even as he launched himself at the pistol assembly. His left hand struck the box, toppling the entire contraption just as the pistol fired.
The sensation of wrongness hit him in a shimmering wave at the instant his fingers made contact with the deadly looking mechanism. Harry had no time to react to the feeling. It vanished in a heartbeat.
A split second later, propelled by the momentum of his charging dive, Harry came up hard against the wall of the house. He recovered his balance automatically and watched as the pistol box clattered and banged its way down the front steps onto the drive.
Something soft unfurled from the barrel of the pistol. It fluttered limply as it hit the ground.
“What in the world is going on out here?” Molly looked down at the black box and its contents. She raised startled eyes to meet Harry’s. “You do move quickly, don’t you?”
“When I feel like it.”
Harry straightened his jacket with a shrug and went slowly down the steps to stand over the fallen pistol assembly. A white flag had emerged from the barrel. There were letters printed on it in red. He used the toe of his shoe to spread out the strip of cloth so that he could read the words.
BANG. YOU’RE DEAD
.
“Somebody’s idea of a bad joke.” Harry took a slow, deep breath. He looked at Molly. “Are you all right?”
“Of course. What about you?”
“I’m fine.”
“I can see that.” She grinned. “You have an original method for overcoming the social awkwardness of a first date.”
“As Josh recently pointed out to me, it’s been so long since I’ve had a date, I’ve forgotten the usual routine.” Harry glanced down at the flag pistol. “But this wasn’t from me. I brought flowers.”
“You did?” Molly spotted the fallen roses. She smiled in delight. “So you did. They’re beautiful. How did you know yellow roses are my favorite?”
Harry followed her glance to where the bruised roses lay scattered on the drive. “Lucky guess.”
He watched her hurry down the steps to collect the flowers. The roses had been a last-minute suggestion from Josh, but Harry saw no reason to mention that. He told himself he would have thought of them on his own if Josh hadn’t brought up the subject. He was out of practice, but he wasn’t stupid.
It struck Harry that Molly looked wonderful tonight. She had on a dashing little scarlet dress trimmed with gold buttons. The matching cropped jacket had a snappy, mock-military style. Her rambunctious hair was inadequately confined behind each ear with small gold clips. A pair of strappy black dress sandals emphasized the graceful arch of her feet. Harry realized that he had never before seen Molly in anything except business attire. It was a pleasant change of pace.
“I think most of them survived.” Molly stooped to retrieve the roses.
“Forget the flowers. They’re ruined.”
“No, they’re not. One or two are a little crushed, but that’s all.”
Harry decided not to argue the point. The drooping blooms spoke for themselves. He turned his attention back to the black box and its wicked-looking gun.
“Any idea who left you this?” he asked.
“No.” Molly gave the gun assembly a dismissive glance as she walked back up the steps. “It looks like the handiwork of one of my sister’s friends. She runs with an inventive crowd. Some of the boys are still a little immature, even though they’re all starting college in the fall.”
Harry recalled the fleeting but unmistakable sense of wrongness that had assailed him when he had reached out to knock the box onto its side. He swiftly suppressed the flash of recognition. There was nothing unusual in such a reaction, he told himself. The sight of a gun aimed at Molly was reason enough to explain the nasty feeling that had hit him at that moment.
“Your sister has friends who play jokes like this?” he asked.
“Kelsey got the family talent for invention.” Molly smiled wryly. “She hangs out with a brainy bunch who have similar interests. They’re all really very nice for the most part, but some of them have very strange notions of what constitutes humor. They’ve been known to spend weeks planning very elaborate, very clever pranks to play on each other.”
Harry flexed his fingers. Some of the tension eased out of his muscles. “Sounds as if you’ve been through this sort of thing on previous occasions.”
Molly wrinkled her nose. “If you grow up in a household like mine, you learn to take surprises in stride. Come on inside while I put these roses in water.”
Harry hesitated, and then he went down on one knee to gather up the bits and pieces of the broken pistol assembly. He braced himself as he touched the fake pistol. A sense of relief went through him when he realized he felt nothing other than plastic and metal beneath his fingertips. It was okay. Just his imagination.
He frowned at the flag that hung from the barrel of the pistol. “Are you sure this was the work of one of your sister’s friends?” he asked as he got to his feet.
“What else could it be?” Molly smiled at her armful of yellow roses. “Probably a farewell gag. Kelsey is leaving town on Sunday. She’s going to her new college in California to attend a special month-long summer workshop for students in the sciences.”
“I see.”
With the broken pistol assembly cradled in his arms, Harry followed Molly into the cavernous hall. She led the way into a bizarre kitchen.
Harry gazed around with interest. Everything was familiar but ever so slightly skewed in appearance, as if the contents of the kitchen had all been taken from the galley of the Starship Enterprise. The countertops and appliances were fashioned of stainless steel and plastic shaped into innovative forms. A control panel was embedded in the wall.
Molly opened a cupboard door and removed a vase. Harry carried the broken pistol assembly to a polished steel table near the window and set it down.
“Where is your sister tonight?” he asked as he poked among the remains of the black box.
“Out with friends.”
“Which of her friends didn’t know that she was going out this evening?”
“I have no idea.” Molly turned off the water and adjusted the roses in the vase. “Could have been any number of people. Why do you ask?”
Harry picked up the pistol and turned it in his hand. “Whoever set up this contraption must have thought that she would be home this evening.”
Molly frowned over a broken rose. “I suppose so.” She reluctantly removed the bloom and dropped it into a strange-looking steel container. There was a soft whoosh. The damaged flower vanished from sight.
Harry took off his jacket and hung it on the back of a chair. He sat down at the table and pulled the box toward him. He glanced up and frowned at the odd apparatus that hung from the ceiling. “How do I turn on the light?”
“Red button in the center of the table.”
Harry studied the small panel of buttons embedded in the steel table. He touched the red one experimentally. An even, non-glaring light struck the surface of the table. ??
?Nice.”
“Thanks.” Molly stepped back to survey her flower arrangement. “Well, that takes care of the roses. They really are wonderful, Harry. I can’t recall the last time anyone brought me flowers. Thank you.”
Harry made a mental note to thank Josh for reminding him of the old-fashioned gesture. “You’re welcome.”
“If you’ll excuse me, I’ll get my purse. Be back in a minute.”
“Take your time.” Harry leaned forward to examine the spring mechanism that had been used to elevate the pistol platform.
He heard Molly leave the kitchen. Her high-heeled sandals sounded in the hall. She would be a few minutes, he decided. He unfastened his cuffs, rolled up his sleeves, and began to dismantle the platform assembly.
Molly returned a short time later. “Harry? I’m ready.”
Harry did not look up from his work. He had the spring out of the box. The components of the platform assembly were spread out on the table in front of him. “I’ll just be a couple of minutes here.”
“Hmm,” Molly said.
The artichoke and sun-dried tomato pizza Molly selected from the patented Abberwick Food Storage and Preparation Machine emerged forty minutes later. She chose a sturdy Washington State cabernet from the Abberwick Automated Wine Cellar to go with it. After some additional consideration, she ordered romaine lettuce and blue-cheese salads from the produce section of the Food Storage and Preparation Machine. The device sang softly to itself as it rinsed the fresh romaine and spun it dry.
On a whim, Molly decided to arrange the chunks of blue cheese on the lettuce leaves by hand. The decision to add the final touch with her very own fingers probably had something to do with having a man in the house, she thought. Some primal female urge, no doubt. It would almost certainly disappear by morning, she assured herself. Such impulses never lasted long.
By the time she was ready to serve, Harry had all the various parts of the black box contraption spread out across the kitchen table. There was no room for the plates and glasses.
Molly covertly studied Harry’s forbidding features as he bent over the table. He was fully engaged in the process of dissecting the pistol assembly. The image of an alchemist at work in his laboratory popped into her mind once more. She could literally feel the intensity of his concentration.
She wondered if Harry made love with the same degree of complete, all-consuming attention. The thought made her blush furiously.
Fortunately, Harry did not notice the pink in her cheeks. He was occupied with a small, battery-powered motor he had removed from the box.
Molly pressed a button. A second stainless-steel surface unsealed itself from the wall and unfolded next to the one Harry was using as a workbench. It locked itself into position.
“Well? What do you think?” Molly set the pizza and salads down on the new table.
Harry looked up at last. He blinked as though to clear his brain. Then he glanced at the pizza and salads.
“What’s that?”
“Dinner,” Molly announced cheerfully. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”
Acute alarm flickered in Harry’s amber eyes. “Hell.” He scowled at his watch. “I’ve got reservations for seven-thirty.”
“You had reservations for seven-thirty.” Molly handed him a napkin. “I’m sure they gave our table to someone else sometime after eight o’clock.”
Harry groaned. “I don’t believe this. Sorry.” He started to rise from the chair. “I’ll give the restaurant a call and see if they can fit us in at eight-thirty.”
“Forget it. The pizza’s ready now and I’m hungry. Hope you like artichoke and sun-dried tomatoes. I felt like experimenting tonight.”
Harry gazed at the pizza with masculine appreciation. “You made this?”
“Sort of. I chose the ingredients.” Molly punched a button to produce the flatware from a drawer concealed beneath the table. “The Abberwick Food Storage and Preparation Machine did all the work. Except for sprinkling the blue cheese on the salads,” she added modestly. “I did that all by myself.”
Harry studied the massive stainless-steel device that occupied one kitchen wall. “Amazing. One of your father’s patents?”
“Yes. He tried to sell it to every single one of the major appliance manufacturers. They all told him he was crazy. They explained to him that the whole idea was to sell the consumer lots and lots of different machines to do various kitchen tasks, not one single, efficient device that would do everything and last for years.”
Harry sank back down into the chair. His mouth quirked ruefully. “That’s the story of a lot of interesting inventions.” He picked up a wedge of pizza and took a large bite. He chewed in silence and then swallowed. “I tend to get preoccupied when I’m working on an interesting project,” he said apologetically.
Molly grinned around her pizza. “I’m familiar with the syndrome.”
“Because you come from a family of inventors?”
Molly shrugged. “That and because I, myself, have been known to get a tad overinvolved with a project.”
“That’s true, isn’t it?” The hard lines of Harry’s face relaxed slightly. “I’ve seen you get consumed by some of those grant proposals.”
“I get that way about my business, too, at times.”
“That makes me feel a little better about tonight,” Harry said. “But I don’t look forward to explaining to Josh what happened.”
“Why? What’s Josh got to do with our date?”
“He gave me a pithy little talk on modern dating practices. He seemed to think I had been out of the loop so long, I wouldn’t know how to handle myself. Judging by this little fiasco, he may have had a point.”
Molly nearly choked on a bite of pizza. She managed to swallow as the laughter bubbled up inside her. “You, too?”
One black brow rose in inquiry. “What’s that mean?”
“I got the same lecture from my sister and Tessa, my assistant.”
“Irritating, isn’t it?” Harry took another bite of pizza. “Personally, I think Josh enjoyed holding forth. I suspect it was repayment for all the cautionary little chats I had with him while he was in high school.”
“He spent a lot of time with you when he was younger?”
“He came to live with me after his father died. Josh was twelve. His mother had been killed in an accident during the setup of a carnival ride when he was a baby.”
Molly put her pizza down slowly. “You raised Josh from the age of twelve?”
“I’m not sure raised is the correct word.” Harry shrugged. “I didn’t have any idea of what I was doing, but luckily for me, Josh was a great kid. He turned out all right in spite of my lack of experience.”
“Mom died when my sister, Kelsey, was just a kid. Dad loved us both.” Molly smiled wistfully. “He made us some incredible toys when we were younger. But he was the classic absentminded inventor.”
Harry nodded in understanding. “The urge to invent can be an obsession.”
“Tell me about it. Sometimes it seemed as if Dad forgot he even had a family. It got worse after Mom died. I think he used his work as an antidote for his grief.”
Harry studied her with a perceptive look. “So you tried to fill in for your parents as far as Kelsey was concerned?”
Molly smiled. “I can still see her rolling her eyes whenever I gave her the cautionary lectures.”
“Josh did the same thing, but he survived in spite of my interference. He’ll be starting his junior year in college this fall. He plans to go on to grad school.”
“Following in your footsteps?”
“What can I say? The kid’s got a brain on his shoulders.”
“So does Kelsey.” Molly was unable to conceal her pride. “The workshop she was invited to attend this summer is open to only the most promising high school graduate
s. I know she’ll take to college like a duck to water.”
“Josh sure did. Three-point-nine grade average last year.”
Molly couldn’t help it. She started to laugh.
“What’s so funny?” Harry asked.
“Listen to us. We sound like a couple of middle-aged parents discussing the brilliant accomplishments of their offspring.”
“I’ve got an excuse for sounding middle-aged,” Harry said dryly. “I’m thirty-six. You’re still in your twenties.”
Molly made a face. “I turn thirty at the end of the month.” She shook her head. “My God, where does the time go?”
Harry munched pizza in silence for a while. “Ever been married?” he finally asked.
“No. Eighteen months ago I 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.