evenly.
Molly met his implacable eyes and thought better of debating the subject. “If you insist.”
“I insist.”
Maybe he had decided to let her fire him after all, Molly thought. She wracked her brain for a way to forestall that possibility.
He was irritating, arrogant, and downright stubborn, but for some reason the last thing she wanted to do was fire Harry.
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
Molly met his implacable eyes and thought better of debating the subject. “If you insist.”
“I insist.”
Maybe he had decided to let her fire him after all, Molly thought. She wracked her brain for a way to forestall that possibility.
He was irritating, arrogant, and downright stubborn, but for some reason the last thing she wanted to do was fire Harry.
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