"I'll return your robe later."

"Don't bother."

Chase watched as Abby gathered her clothes, shoved her feet in her muddy loafers and headed to the door, looking like a confused, blue terry cloth-covered duck.

He went to the window and watched her cross the street.

Why did the duck cross the road?

"To get the hell away from me," he muttered. He watched her long enough to see that Ellie was home.

Letting the curtain fall back into place, he headed to the kitchen.

What the hell had come over him? Why had he acted like such a jackass?

That was simple. He'd acted like a jerk to protect his wounded pride. He'd been so hot and bothered by their kisses, and after both of them, she had seemed unaffected.

No, that wasn't strictly true. She definitely had been affected by his tool belt.

Now, he certainly didn't think the belt was the turn-on for her, and without it, she found him unappealing. No, quite the opposite. If Chase had to guess, she saw that work belt and remembered exactly what he was. A blue-collar stiff.

She was a brilliant scientist, and he pounded things with tools that had been around since the time of cavemen. Hmm, it was hardly a mystery why she'd gone from fiery to frosty in mere seconds.

Chase went to the coffeepot and started to fill a mug with the aromatic dark liquid. Changing his mind, he put the carafe back and went to the fridge to get a beer. He took a deep swallow and then looked at the bottle.

Abby was probably the fine wine type. Maybe even something as posh as martinis, or what were they called? Cosmopolitans. Hell, he didn't even know what that was exactly. Frankly, Chase liked his liquor cold and wet and in something a bit sturdier than a martini glass.

She was right; they were too different. Chase was just a regular Joe. He made good money, but he had to bust his back to earn it His work didn't require brains, just brawn.

He'd never be a three-piece suit type. He'd never attend cocktail parties and chat about the arts or classical music or the latest novel he'd just read. The last play he'd seen had been Willy's second-grade Christmas pageant. His favorite musicians were the Beatles and the Eagles. And the last novel...

He let out a cynical snort. WasHop on Pop considered classic literature?

He started to leave the kitchen, paused, went back to the refrigerator and grabbed another beer. Then he headed to the living room. Sinking into an overstuffed chair, he set the unopened beer on the coffee table and put his feet up beside it.

Truthfully, he didn't understand what he found so attractive about Abby anyway. She certainly wasn't his usual type. He normally went for blondes with naughty smiles and even naughtier bodies.

Naughty was not a word that applied to Abby. She was about as straight-laced as they came.

He took a sip of his beer and rested his head on the back of the chair. She might be straight-laced, but he'd definitely felt passion in their kiss. She had responded, and for at least a moment, she'd enjoyed it. He'd tasted pleasure on her lips and need in the way she'd run her hands over his chest.

Chase released an irritated groan as the memory caused his penis to press rather insistently against the zipper of his jeans.

He finished off the remainder of his beer and reached for the other one.

He needed to get laid. That was the only reasonable explanation for his reaction to Abby. This weekend he'd go find some willing woman, who was more his type, and get his sex drive back under control.

Summer-Ann's earlier offer came back to him. She would be more than willing to help him with his sexual urges. She was definitely a sexy woman. But he promptly dismissed the idea. They had too much past, and frankly her beauty was a bit over the top for him now. Her blond hair seemed too harsh and her mouth was too pouty. Even her figure was too curvy.

He really wanted someone less flashy and more classic. Someone with graceful beauty.

He closed his eyes and tried to conjure an image of his perfect woman. Her body... her body still had to have curves, but not quite as generous as he'd looked for in his youth. She needed to be more statuesque. More poised.

He always thought he was partial to blondes, but for some reason dark hair seemed more refined to him now. And dark eyes too. It was a rich, warm combination. And a wide mouth that looked inviting rather than pouty.

He let out another annoyed groan. His image of the ideal woman was the lady who just left here.

Considering that he wasn't her type and he was just a complete ass to her, Chase sort of doubted that she'd want to be the one to hop in the sack with him this weekend.

Chapter 9.

If Ellie found it odd that Abby came home wearing only a man's bathrobe and muddy shoes, she didn't remark. But in truth, she did find it quite strange and a bit unnerving. Unnerving enough that she didn't gather her wits quickly enough to question her sister.

Abby had wandered into the house and straight up to her bedroom with little more than a mumbled, "Hello." After a few moments, Ellie set down the wooden spoon she was holding and followed, trying to be stealthy on the creaky staircase. Abby's bedroom door was shut, and Ellie raised a hand to knock.

But what if she wanted to be left alone? Abby obviously did want to be by herself, or she would have stopped to give Ellie an explanation. Ellie moved her hand from the door and instead nibbled on her fingernail, contemplating what she should do next.

Before she could make up her mind, Abby opened the door. Her expression was as tranquil as the powder blue flowers on the flannel pajamas she now wore. Ellie dropped her hand and offered her a discomfited smile. "Is everything okay?" "Fine," she said, her voice exceedingly chipper. "Just a muddy run-in with Chester-and Willy." Ellie nodded, trying not to frown. "Were you hurt?" "Oh no, no, no." Abby waved the question away. "Just a few dirty clothes. That's all."

This time Ellie did frown. "Was Chase there?"

Abby shifted slightly, but her too-cheery smile didn't change. "Yes, he graciously offered me the use of his shower." She started toward the stairs.

"Are youreally okay?"

Abby stopped at the question and turned to look at Ellie. This time her smile wasn't quite as fixed, and Ellie thought she saw distress in her eyes, but then she blinked and the emotion was gone. "I'm fine. I really am." Ellie studied her. "I really, really am." "You'd tell me, right?"

Abby nodded. Then she sniffed the air. "What's burning?"

Ellie squeaked and rushed to the stairs. "Darn it! That's my chowder! And I used real cream too."

Abby watched her sister race down the narrow staircase, greatly relieved that she left. Abby was finding it harder and harder to respond to Ellie's questions without showing her true feelings. But those feelings were there in abundance.

She was upset that Chase was angry with her. Confused about why. She was still aroused by his wonderful kisses, and terribly guilt-ridden that she wanted more. And above all, she was frustrated with herself for feeling any of these emotions.

She should be able to look at this whole situation sensibly. She and Chase were not suited. The kiss had been wrong, but she didn't have to tell Nelson. It was just a minor indiscretion. Nothing to get overwrought about. She should put the whole incident behind her, and be thankful that Chase was incensed, because it would make it much, much easier to avoid him. And if she avoided him, she'd forget the delicious way he tasted and the incredible way he felt against her.

Abby let out an aggravated moan. The goal-the prudent objective-was to stop thinking such things about Chase Jordan.

She started to march down the stairs but stopped again. She clutched the banister and struggled not to sigh forlornly.

Reasonably, how was she going to forget something as amazing as being kissed by Chase? It was unlike anything she'd ever experienced with Nelson. And she highly doubted she ever could share passion like that.

with Nelson.

No! That was not true. She cared for Nelson. They shared the same interests, the same background. She could talk to Nelson. Surely, two people with such common connections could generate real passion.

So they hadn't produced a lot of sparks in the past. They had always had a lot on their minds, but she intended to rectify that. She would call Nelson and convince him to come up for the weekend. A little time relaxing, enjoying the fresh air, walking along the coast-that was exactly what they needed to get some zest in their relationship.

She went downstairs, sat on the couch and dialed the rotary phone. The ring sounded twice, and Nelson answered with his usual harried manner. "Hello?"

"Hi Nelson. It's Abby."

"Abby? Yes, yes Abby. How are you?"

"I'm fine."

"How is research in the rustic North?"

"The lab is wonderful, fully equipped."

"I find that hard to believe." Nelson snorted, and Abby remembered one of the reasons-perhaps the

most important reason-why she'd accepted this position.

"It's one of the nicest labs I've worked in, and my fellow scientists are some of the best."

Again, Nelson snorted. "Well, I'm happy you're satisfied. But I think we both have to agree that the

DNA research I'm working on has far more potential. I can't believe you left my team to work on a far

less significant study." Abby gritted her teeth. They'd had this conversation a dozen times before she left, and she was annoyed to see he was still pressing the issue.

"But this study is aimed toward what I worked on at BU."

"Mmmm," Nelson murmured. "Did you call for any particular reason?"

Abby tried to refocus on her plan and let his galling superiority roll off her back. "I actually called to see

if you could come up this weekend. You know, maybe we could go to one of the islands, sightsee, spend

some time alone."

There was a pause, and then Nelson laughed, the sound dissonant over the telephone line. Abby held the receiver away from her ear.

"You've got to be kidding. You know I'm incredibly busy with my work. I can't take that kind of time

away from the lab."

"Nelson, it's only a weekend. It would do you good." She hesitated and then added softly, "It would do us good."

"I think that clean Maine air is getting to you. It's making you giddy. There is just no way. In fact, your

timing couldn't be worse. I just lost a research assistant, and that's really slowing the project down."

The line was silent for a moment and then he said with some enthusiasm, "Why don't you come back here?"

Abby wasn't prepared to do that. She knew they would need to get away from everything to kindle

something between them. But it did make her feel better to know he wanted to see her, too.

"You can help out until I find another assistant," he said with great practicality. "After all, you do know the research and that would get us back on track much quicker."

Abby fought the urge to slam down the phone. "I'm staying here, Nelson."

"Well, that's your choice. Listen, I really have to go. I need to get some yeasts out of the incubator. Talk with you later."

Before she could say good-bye, the line went dead.

Abby sat there for a moment, waiting for hurt, disappointment, even anger to wash over her. But none of them did.