shake of his head. He had to be losing his mind to even think about getting in volved with Abby Lee when the Montgomery clan had obviously claimed her as one of their own. Rather than diminishing the appeal, however, the knowledge that she'd managed to woo and win most of his estranged family held an odd fascination. Charming, gracious, complicated, Abby somehow managed to be both sophisticated and unaffected. If any other woman had neglected to call him after the conversation they'd had on Tuesday, he could have comfortably assumed she was biding her time. With Abby, he was prone to suspect she had probably just forgotten.
The realization made him feel irritable and agitated—two words he hated. In Ethan's life, moods were inconvenient realities of the human condition. And if he had a brain in his head, logic told him, he'd recognize that Abby Lee had an ability to bring out every mood he possessed— including a few he'd never acknowledged.
The only way, he thought, staring at the San Francisco skyline, to regain control was to settle the question of Abigail Lee and just what the hell he was going to do with her. And that question had to be settled in Chicago.
Before he could think better of it, he punched the intercom button on his phone. "Edna?"
"Yes, Ethan?" Edna asked.
"Get Bill for me, will you? I need him on the runway, fueled and ready to leave in half an hour."
"What should he put on his flight plan?"
"Chicago," Ethan said.
"Really?" She sounded disgustingly cheerful.
Ethan didn't try to suppress a wry smile. "Really. And don't sound so damned righteous about it."
"Temper, temper, Ethan. Ladies don't like that."
"Then this one should have called." He replaced the receiver and reached for his briefcase. Sitting inside was a preliminary memo Jack had given him an hour ago about his analysis of the MDS report. It would give Ethan something to read on the plane—something to take his mind off the way Abby had looked in a sweatshirt and jeans, with her color a little high and her lips slightly parted.
A sudden hunger pain reminded him of two things. First, it had been a hell of a long time since he'd actually craved a woman. Though he and Pamela had shared a satisfactory sex life, he'd never felt this yearning desire for her. Even toward the end, when he'd tried to let himself go, it hadn't been like a fire eating at his guts. That probably should have alarmed him, but once he'd made the decision to ignore all the warning signs, he hadn't looked back.
And second, with any luck, he could wrangle another meal or two out of Rachel—whom he suspected could easily become his strongest ally in this pursuit. He tossed a few more items into his briefcase, then snapped the locks shut and headed for the door.
As he entered the outer office, Edna gave him a dry look. "Am I allowed to ask when I can expect you back in the office?"
"Wednesday."
Her eyebrows disappeared into her hairline. "I wonder what in the world could hold your attention in Chicago until Wednesday."
"Dinner."
six
A bby opened the door of her town house three hours later and regarded Ethan with a sharp look that was seriously diminished by the smudge of flour on her nose. "What are you doing here?"
Not exactly the welcome he'd been hoping for. He braced one shoulder against the doorframe and wiped the smudge from her nose with his thumb. "Hi."
"Hi? It's ten o'clock at night and that's all you have to say for yourself?" She blew a curl off her forehead.
He caught a whiff of the incredible scent coming from the kitchen, as well as peals of laughter. "Actually," he said, "I have a few more things to say, but they can wait." He looked beyond her shoulder. "What's going on?"
She wiped her h ands on the front of her flour- streaked apron. "We're baking. Did you want something?"
"I want to come in." He shifted away from the doorframe and took a step toward her, so she was forced to tip her head back to maintain eye
The realization made him feel irritable and agitated—two words he hated. In Ethan's life, moods were inconvenient realities of the human condition. And if he had a brain in his head, logic told him, he'd recognize that Abby Lee had an ability to bring out every mood he possessed— including a few he'd never acknowledged.
The only way, he thought, staring at the San Francisco skyline, to regain control was to settle the question of Abigail Lee and just what the hell he was going to do with her. And that question had to be settled in Chicago.
Before he could think better of it, he punched the intercom button on his phone. "Edna?"
"Yes, Ethan?" Edna asked.
"Get Bill for me, will you? I need him on the runway, fueled and ready to leave in half an hour."
"What should he put on his flight plan?"
"Chicago," Ethan said.
"Really?" She sounded disgustingly cheerful.
Ethan didn't try to suppress a wry smile. "Really. And don't sound so damned righteous about it."
"Temper, temper, Ethan. Ladies don't like that."
"Then this one should have called." He replaced the receiver and reached for his briefcase. Sitting inside was a preliminary memo Jack had given him an hour ago about his analysis of the MDS report. It would give Ethan something to read on the plane—something to take his mind off the way Abby had looked in a sweatshirt and jeans, with her color a little high and her lips slightly parted.
A sudden hunger pain reminded him of two things. First, it had been a hell of a long time since he'd actually craved a woman. Though he and Pamela had shared a satisfactory sex life, he'd never felt this yearning desire for her. Even toward the end, when he'd tried to let himself go, it hadn't been like a fire eating at his guts. That probably should have alarmed him, but once he'd made the decision to ignore all the warning signs, he hadn't looked back.
And second, with any luck, he could wrangle another meal or two out of Rachel—whom he suspected could easily become his strongest ally in this pursuit. He tossed a few more items into his briefcase, then snapped the locks shut and headed for the door.
As he entered the outer office, Edna gave him a dry look. "Am I allowed to ask when I can expect you back in the office?"
"Wednesday."
Her eyebrows disappeared into her hairline. "I wonder what in the world could hold your attention in Chicago until Wednesday."
"Dinner."
six
A bby opened the door of her town house three hours later and regarded Ethan with a sharp look that was seriously diminished by the smudge of flour on her nose. "What are you doing here?"
Not exactly the welcome he'd been hoping for. He braced one shoulder against the doorframe and wiped the smudge from her nose with his thumb. "Hi."
"Hi? It's ten o'clock at night and that's all you have to say for yourself?" She blew a curl off her forehead.
He caught a whiff of the incredible scent coming from the kitchen, as well as peals of laughter. "Actually," he said, "I have a few more things to say, but they can wait." He looked beyond her shoulder. "What's going on?"
She wiped her h ands on the front of her flour- streaked apron. "We're baking. Did you want something?"
"I want to come in." He shifted away from the doorframe and took a step toward her, so she was forced to tip her head back to maintain eye
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