Saving the Scientist (The Restitution League #2)(13)
She very much doubted she’d escape without a few deep scratches.
Chapter 5
In the daylight, her laboratory was nothing short of spectacular.
It was everything his own workshop was not. Beakers, test tubes, and glass decanters, each in their proper place on mahogany workbenches, gleamed in the bright autumn light. All neat and tidy and pleasingly arranged, not unlike the scientist who worked there.
If he hadn't been so close to strangling her, Edison would've enjoyed watching her work.
She'd exchanged her pretty gown for a dark skirt and a crisp white blouse, all covered by a heavy laboratory apron that draped from the top of her chest down past her knees. Eminently practical and amazingly arousing, the very plainness of her dress allowed her sensual curves to command the attention. The dark, lustrous hair she had pinned tightly at the back of her head in a sensible bun, the lush breasts, the narrow waist, all hidden beneath a thick rubberized apron could not have been better designed to stir him. All the more so as he suspected the effect was completely accidental.
And then there was her scent. That light swirl of violets. Even in the midst of the acrid, metallic odors emanating from every beaker and box in the crowded room, he sensed it.
Delightful perfume aside, the woman's obstinance was beginning to grate. Badly.
Edison rubbed a hand over his eyes. "I can't keep it safe if you don't tell me where it is."
She raised a beaker to eye level, frowning as she measured dry plaster of Paris to her liking. "The battery is perfectly safe. Have no worry about that."
"Have no worry? Are you mental?" Edison threw his hands up. “What do you think those men were looking for last night? What about the men before that? They weren’t after your excessive hoard of plaster.”
She continued with her measuring. "You'll have to trust me, Mr. Sweet… Edison. The device is secure. What I do need your assistance with—and I am fully willing to admit it—is protection for my family."
"Yes, yes. Of course we’ll keep you all safe. That’s the easy part." Edison jammed his hands onto his hips. "But I can't protect your device, unless—"
“That is my responsibility."
“You don't trust me."
“Had I distrusted you, you wouldn’t have remained in my home.” She set down the beaker, and turned around, meeting his eye with a strong, steady gaze of her own. “I trusted you in my house last night. I trusted you not to slay my entire household over burnt ham and toast this morning. Trust is not the issue.”
“What is the issue?”
She slammed the jar of powder down onto the counter. “You’re already taking a risk to protect us. I won’t add to that. The device is safe. Even if it were not, I won’t have you endanger yourself to save it.”
Edison snorted. “Men like I ran off last night are no danger.”
Graceful eyebrows arched high. “What makes you think the next lot will be equally inferior?”
“I’m not fool enough to rely on that.” Edison flattened his palms on the workbench. “My family will arrive any moment. With all of us here, the next lot won’t stand a chance.”
She shook her head, clearly impatient. “No one can anticipate all contingencies. I won’t have you injured defending an inanimate object.”
Unlike most women, she didn’t resort to coquetry. She met him head to head. Any other time, he would have found that profoundly appealing. Under the current conditions, however, it was unduly aggravating.
He closed his eyes, wishing he were contending with the sort of woman who liked to be cosseted and protected. He understood those women. Understood how they thought, what they desired.
Understood how to get what he wanted in return.
“All right. The device will be your responsibility.” For now. Edison prided himself on knowing when to make a strategic retreat—and find a new angle of attack.
He picked up one of the jars. “For the battery?”
She snatched it back and lined it up with the other two, each with a different level of the white powder. "It's the stabilizer. I'm not sure I have the ratios right."
Edison studied the beakers. "Ingenious. That's damned ingenious. Your mix of chemicals is inherently unstable. That’s what generates the electrical charge,” he reasoned out loud. “What's needed is a substance to slow the reaction, spread it out over a longer time."
The faint smile she offered felt like a delightful little gift. “You've a fair knowledge of electrochemical chemistry."
“I dabble.” He examined a pair of tongs, pretending not to study her. "So your prototype, it's not yet functional?"
Ada looked at him with surprise. “It works quite well. The sustained output is far better than I anticipated.”
Edison pointed to the jars. "Then what's all this about?"
Ada crouched down until the jars were at eye level. “If I adjust the level of the stabilizer, I can squeeze out a few more volts. Hand me that chloride, would you? It's next to the iron chloride. The red one."
Edison plucked the vial of clear liquid off the shelf, and handed it to her. The jolt of electrical energy that hit him square in the chest, had nothing to do with actual electricity.