“Thank you, Clay, that’s very thoughtful. I’ll put them in water.” She walked back into the kitchen, and Clay followed. He looked handsome tonight, in a navy blue sport coat and a pair of gray slacks, his shiny blond hair freshly trimmed.

Abby walked behind the kitchen counter. It was a simple galley-style design, with a sink on one side, a breakfast bar on the other. The dining table in the living room had been set with blue place mats and her everyday white dishes.

Abby found a vase beneath the sink and bent down to pick it up. When she rose, she felt Clay right behind her. She turned and managed to smile. “I need a little room if I’m going to arrange these flowers.”

Clay took the bouquet from her hand and set it in the sink. “You can do that later.” He lowered his head and began kissing the side of her neck. Abby squeezed out from beneath his arm and walked a few feet away.

“Clay, I invited you here to talk about doing something with the museum, finding some kind of work that might interest me.” He caught up with her, turned her back into his arms.

“We’ll get around to that. First things first.” Clay caught her jaw and tried to kiss her, but Abby pulled away. She set her palms on his chest to keep him at arm’s length.

“I really appreciate your friendship, Clay, but that’s all I feel for you. Friendship. I’m not interested in anything more than that.”

Clay’s warm smile faded. “You want that job, don’t you? There’s always a price to pay for favors, Abby.”

Surprise jolted through her. She started shaking her head. “I don’t want the job that badly.”

His expression changed from pleasant to grim. “I can’t believe after all this time you’ve just been leading me on.”

“I wasn’t leading you on. I didn’t realize you believed there was something going on between us. Friendship’s all I’ve ever felt for you, Clay. That’s all I want.”

Clay moved closer. “I don’t care what you want anymore. It’s time to face reality.” He smiled thinly. “I had high hopes for us, Abby. After you came back from Mexico, I thought we could finally make things work.”

Abby kept moving backward. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We’ve hardly even dated.”

Clay stalked after her. “Your grandfather hoped for more. We talked about you whenever he was in the city.” Clay’s smile returned, but it looked forced. “He hoped we’d get together.”

“I don’t . . . don’t have those kinds of feelings for you, Clay. I think I’ve made that clear.”

Her back came up against the wall and Clay pressed himself against her. She could feel his arousal, and her stomach churned.