“I thought you’d be in bed,” he said, and she wondered if she imagined the slight huskiness she heard in his voice.

“Just thinking.”

“Dreaming about all those potatoes you planted?”

She smiled. “As a matter of fact, I was thinking about Newton. Isaac,” she added.

“I’ve heard the name,” he said dryly. The hem of his parka flopped over his wrists as he pushed his hands into his jeans pockets. “I thought you modern-day physicists had forgotten all about old Isaac in your passion for the Big Guy.”

Hearing Einstein referred to in that way amused her. “Believe me, the Big Guy had a lot of respect for his predecessor. He just didn’t let Newton’s laws limit his thinking.”

“I still think that’s disrespectful. Isaac did all that work, then old Albert had to come along and upset it.”

She smiled again. “The best scientists have always been rebels. Thank God they still don’t execute us for our theories.”

He tossed his parka over one of the counter stools. “How’s the search for the top quark coming?”

“We found it in 1995. And how do you know what kind of work I’m doing?”

He shrugged. “I make it my business to know things.”

“I’m investigating the characteristics of the top quark, not looking for it.”

“So how many top quarks fit on the head of a pin?”

“More than you can imagine.” She was still surprised that he knew anything about her research.

“I’m asking you about your work, Professor. I promise you that I can at least grasp the concept, if not the particulars.”

Once again she’d let herself forget how bright he was. Easy to do with that muscular jock’s body standing in front of her. She pulled her thoughts up short before they could move any farther in that direction. “What do you know about quarks?”

“Not much. They’re a basic subatomic particle, and all matter is made up of them. There are-what?-six kinds of quarks?”

It was more than most people knew, and she nodded. “Top and bottom quarks, up and down, strange and charm. They got their names from a song that’s in James Joyce’s Finnegans Wake.”

“See, that’s part of the problem with you scientific types. If you’d take your names from Tom Clancy books-things people actually read-then the general public would understand what you do better.”

She laughed. “I promise if I discover something important, I’ll name it Red October.”

“You do that.” He looped his leg over a stool, then regarded her expectantly. She realized he was waiting for her to tell him more about her work.

She walked to the corner of the counter and rested one hand on the granite top.“What we know about the top quark is quite surprising. For example, it’s forty times heavier than the bottom quark, but we don’t know why. The more we understand about the top quark’s characteristics, the closer we come to exposing the cracks in the standard model of particle physics. Ultimately, of course, we’re looking for the final theory that will lead us to a new physics.”

“The Theory of Everything?”

“The name is facetious. It’s more accurately called the Grand Unification Theory, but, yes, the Theory of Everything. Some of us think the top quark will unlock a small part of it.”

“And you want to be the Einstein of this new physics.”

She busied herself wiping a speck from the granite with the tip of her finger.“There are brilliant physicists all over the world doing the same work.”

“And you’re not intimidated by any one of them, are you?”

She grinned. “Not a bit.”

He laughed. “Good luck, Professor. I wish you well.”

“Thank you.” She waited for him to change the subject-most people’s eyes began to glaze over when she talked about her work-but instead, he got up, grabbed a bag of taco chips from the pantry, and slouched down into the red velvet banquette in the alcove, where he began questioning her about the way the supercolliders worked.

Before long, she found herself sitting across from him munching on taco chips as she described the Tevatron collider at Fermilab as well as the new collider being built by CERN in Geneva, Switzerland. Her explanations merely induced more of his questions.

At first she answered eagerly, thrilled to find a layman who was genuinely interested in particle physics. It was cozy sitting in this warm kitchen late at night, munching on junk food and discussing her work. It almost felt as if they had a real relationship. But the fantasy evaporated when she realized she was explaining the components of the lepton family to him, and, much worse, that he was taking it in.

Her stomach twisted as she absorbed how easily he grasped these difficult concepts. What if her baby turned out to be even more brilliant than she feared? The idea made her dizzy, so she jumped into a complicated explanation of the Higgs boson that soon left him behind.

“Afraid you lost me, Professor.”

If only she could scream at him that she’d lost him because he was too dumb to understand, but all she could say was, “It gets pretty hairy.” She rose from the table. “I’m tired. I think I’ll turn in for the night.”

“All right.”

She decided this would be as good a time as any to put an end to her imprisonment. He was in a fairly good mood, so maybe he’d handle the news better. “By the way, Cal, I need to do something about getting a car. Nothing fancy, just basic transportation. Who should I see?”

“No one. If you have to go some place, I’ll take you.”

As quickly at that, his affability vanished. He rose from the table and walked out of the kitchen, putting an end to the discussion.

But she wasn’t nearly done, and she followed him across the cavernous family room toward the study. “I’m used to my independence. I need my own car.” And then, waspishly, “I promise I won’t wave at your friends when I drive through town.”

“No car, Professor. That’s the way it’s going to be.” Once again, he walked away from her, this time disappearing into the study. She compressed her lips and marched forward. This was ridiculous. Cal seemed to have forgotten they lived in the twentieth century. And that she had her own money.

She stopped in the doorway. “Unlike your girlfriends, I’m old enough to have my driver’s license.”

“The joke’s wearing thin.”

“Except it’s not exactly a joke, is it?” She regarded him thoughtfully. “Are you sure all this has to do with protecting your parents? Are you sure it isn’t more about keeping me locked up so my advanced age and general lack of bimbo qualities don’t embarrass you in front of your friends?”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” He sprawled down behind the massive wooden desk.

She regarded him dispassionately. “I’m not even close to being the kind of woman all your buddies expected you to marry, am I? I’m not pretty enough to be your wife, my breasts aren’t big enough, and I’m too old. Big time embarrassment for the Bomber.”

He crossed his ankles and propped his boots on the desk. “If you say so.”

“I don’t need your permission to buy a car, Cal. I intend to do it whether you like it or not.”

He hit her dead on with those scorched-earth eyes. “Like hell.”

Completely exasperated and in no mood to enter into a full-fledged battle, she turned toward the door. Tomorrow she’d do as she liked, and he could just live with it. “I’ve had all of you I can take for right now. Good night.”

“Don’t you walk away from me!” He moved so quickly that she didn’t see him coming, and before she could get through the doorway, he’d blocked it. “Did you hear me?”

She splayed her hands on her hips and glared up at him. “Back off, buster!”

Seconds ticked away, each one crackling with tension. His forehead wrinkled and his lips tightened, but at the same time, she detected something that seemed almost like anticipation in his eyes, as if he wanted to fight with her. It was the most astonishing thing. She was used to people who avoided conflict, but Cal seemed to enjoy it, and, to her surprise, she was more than willing to join in.

Before she got a chance, however, he dropped his gaze and the corner of his mouth curled. “Goofy.”

She’d been called many things, but never that, and her temper flared. “What did you say?”

“Your nightshirt.” He reached down and, with the tip of his finger, traced the cartoon appliqué that lay on the upper slope of her breast. “Goofy.”

“Oh.”Her anger deflated.

He smiled and began using his fingernail, running it back and forth over the outline of the figure. The skin of her breast tightened, and her nipple hardened in response. She hated reacting to something that was obviously a calculated move on his part. No wonder he had a big ego; he could probably turn women on in his sleep.

“I hope you’re arousing yourself because you’re not doing a thing to me.”

“Is that so?” He glanced down at the front of her nightshirt where the evidence clearly pointed to the contrary.

He was so arrogant; so sure of himself. She needed some small measure of revenge, so she shook her head and regarded him sadly. “You haven’t figured it out yet, have you, Cal?”

“Figured what out?”

“Never mind.” She sighed. “I guess you’re probably a fairly nice guy underneath all that bluster, and I don’t want to hurt your feelings.”

An edge of belligerence crept into his voice. “Don’t you worry about my feelings. What haven’t I figured out yet?”

She made a helpless, fluttery gesture that was surprisingly effective considering the fact that she’d never done anything like that before. “This is silly. I really don’t want to talk about it.”

“Talk!”

“All right, then. To be blunt, the thing you don’t seem to be able to grasp is the fact that you’re not my type. You just don’t turn me on.” Liar, Liar, pants on fire.

He dropped his hand. “I don’t turn you on?”

“Now I’ve made you angry, haven’t I?”

“Angry? Why the hell should I be angry?”

“You look angry.”

“Well, that just goes to show that you’re not as perceptive as you think.”

“Good. Besides, I’m sure my lack of response to you is simply a problem with my perception. It probably doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

“Damn right.”

A little shrug. “I’ve just always preferred a different type of man.”

“What type is that?”

“Oh, men who aren’t quite as large. Not quite as loud. Gentle men. Scholarly men.”

“Like Dr. Craig Elkhart?” He spit out the name.

“What do you know about Craig?”

“I know he dumped you for a twenty-year-old secretary.”

“She wasn’t a secretary. She was a data-entry clerk. And he didn’t dump me.”

“That’s not the way I heard it. The guy dumped you like a load of wet cement.”

“He most certainly did not. We parted by mutual agreement.”

“Mutual, my ass.”

“You’re just throwing up a smoke screen because I wounded your pride when I said I wasn’t attracted to you.”

“I’ve met a lot of women who were liars, but you take the cake. Admit it, Professor. I turn you on so much you can hardly stand it. If I put my mind to it, I could have you naked and begging in thirty seconds flat.”

“There’s nothing more pathetic than an aging man boasting of his flagging sexual prowess.”

“Flagging!”

She watched a slow flush spread across his cheekbones and knew she’d really done it. She’d pushed him past his limit, and now she absolutely had to shut up.“Don’t worry, Cal. Somewhere there’s a woman who’ll care enough to take her time with you.”

The flush spread to his ears.

She patted his chest. “And if that doesn’t work, I’ve heard they’re doing wonders with implants.”

Those pale eyes widened, almost as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“I think there are also some nonsurgical devices based on air pressure and vacuum. I could probably even design something for you, if it came to that.”

“That’s it!” The flush receded, and before she knew what was happening, he’d dropped his shoulder, pushed it not ungently against her stomach, and upended her.

“Upsey-daisy, sweetheart.”

She found herself staring at the seat of his jeans. Faded denim stretched tight over slim, hard-muscled hips. She began to feel dizzy and wasn’t certain she could entirely blame it on the blood rushing to her head. “Cal?”

“Uh-huh?”

“Please put me down.”

“In a minute.” He headed out into the foyer, moving carefully in deference to her pregnancy. He’d hooked one of his arms behind her knees to hold her in place, and he patted the back of one bare thigh as he mounted the stairs. “Just stay real still, now, and everything’ll be fine.”

“Where are we going?”

“We’re paying the Evil Queen a visit.”