Authors: Melissa Schroeder
Unlike many other handsome men, he didn’t make her nervous.
Oh, at first her tongue had been double-tied in knots. With the ease of a
longtime friend, he’d joked with her on their trip to the Lennon house, and
before she knew it, she found herself relaxing. It was a pleasant surprise when
he made the pretext of flirting with her. For him, it was second nature, she
understood. But there was no way she would ever be seriously interested in a
man who was more beautiful than she. Besides that, she could never take a man
who wore cowboy boots in Edinburgh seriously.
She turned her attention to Angus, whose jade green eyes
sparkled behind his glasses. Where Fletcher was all practiced seduction, Angus
held an air of forgetful genius. She’d talked with him on the phone, never
realizing he would be so scrumptious.
His face was lean, as was his body, but not skinny. Sandy
blond hair, a bit overgrown, kept falling into his face, which he
absentmindedly brushed out of his eyes every few minutes. As he studied her,
she sensed deliberate calculation. It didn’t bother her, as she tended to study
people and situations in the same manner. And though his voice was gentle,
there was an underlying strength beneath that calm. His solicitous behavior
reminded her of many research assistants she’d encountered over the years.
Callum Lennon was another story altogether.
Before coming to Scotland, she had researched the Lennon
family, especially their leader. It was her way. Any smart woman would do the
same before embarking alone on a mysterious trip like this. Other than the fact
that he headed up one of the most successful corporations in the UK—if not the
whole bloody world—Phoebe found precious little else. No pictures, no personal
information. A man with this sort of money usually took pains to be seen out, a
beauty on his arm, attending benefits, galas and whatnot. Truthfully, though,
she doubted any photo could have lived up to the flesh-and-blood man standing
before her. And what beautiful flesh it was.
From his expression to his dress, black suited him. Ebony
hair, peppered with bits of gray, was cut ruthlessly short. Like his office, he
was dour, and more than likely as predictable as a schedule. Where his cousins
seemed approachable, Callum’s demeanor was a red light.
The only thing appealing about him, other than the fact that
he possessed one of the best bodies she’d ever seen, was his eyes. The shape of
them would be considered bedroom sleepy, seemingly half-closed. The lazy sensuality
was belied by the vigilant alertness she sensed in his study. This man missed
nothing, but that wasn’t their most amazing quality.
The color held her almost mesmerized. Blue, a completely
boring description, would not do justice to their beauty. Flecks of gold
lightened the dark, sapphire hue. And when light struck them in just the right
manner, there was a hint of green. She’d sigh over them, if it wasn’t a
completely adolescent thing to do. She’d just have to wait until she was in her
room alone. With the lights turned out.
“First, we need to
talk contracts.” The burr in his voice had thickened since she’d first heard
him speak, making her belly flutter. When his words registered, she sighed in
regret. Such a beautiful man, completely out of her league, but she’d hoped
they’d work on friendly terms.
“No. First, we need to talk about what you want me to do.”
He didn’t respond for a moment, clearly taken aback by the
fact someone disagreed so openly with him. There was a flash of irritation and
something akin to admiration—which was an odd combination, to be sure—in his
gaze.
“There is no discussion of anything until you sign a
contract. We, meaning Lennon Enterprises, must protect our name.”
He crossed his arms over his broad chest and gave her what she
was sure was his most intimidating stare. Silly man, didn’t he know anything
about her? She was handling professors who were just as intimidating when she
was barely thirteen. And nothing would stand between her and the grant she
needed to complete her most important work ever.
“No. As I discussed at length with Angus before I traveled
here, I made it very clear that once I arrived, I wanted information up front.
I will sign a confidentiality agreement, but I will not sign a binding
contract. I understand the need for secrecy, but I assure you there is no
problem. I have a reputation that far exceeds even your valued standing in the
business community.” One ebony brow rose in aggravation—or respect?—for her
snooping. “All I know is that it’s a serious matter dealing with an artifact
you found and need help translating. We will work much better together if I
understand what I am dealing with.” She offered him her best business smile,
the one she used on interviewers and donors.
“I’ll no’ risk my family name, our honor, to be sold to the
highest bidder. The information you could gather would be more valuable on the
open market.”
She could tell he was angry. His brogue had thickened to the
point that she could barely understand him. But she was irritated too.
Her temper wasn’t quick to ignite, but was a
dangerous thing once it did. And Callum Lennon was perilously close to burning.
She took a deep breath. Then another. “Are you questioning
my integrity? That something in your twisted logic thinks I would take what
information you give me and sell it, my reputation be damned, is an insult to
me!”
By the time she finished, her voice had risen almost to a
shout, but the moment she stopped talking, deadly silence filled the room.
Callum’s eyes flashed and narrowed. “I doona know or care
about your reputation. I have a policy for dealing with
this
situation. I willna have my family used.”
She counted backwards from ten, then did it twice more.
Questioning her honor, was he? Granted, she wasn’t being completely honest with
him, but she knew if she rolled over on this one, he would either be suspicious
of her motives or think he would win every argument.
Phoebe pushed herself to her feet even as she told herself
smacking a six-and-a-half-foot broody, totally delectable Scotsman wasn’t a
good idea.
“Phoebe.” She didn’t even flinch when Angus tried to
interrupt. “Dr. Chilton.”
She ignored the worry in the younger cousin’s tone. Locked
into a stare down with Callum, Angus’s voice didn’t completely register. The
room, and everything in it, faded away until only she and Callum remained. Fire
leapt in his eyes, showing his barely-controlled temper. His rigid stance
bespoke his command over his emotions. He probably hadn’t said even a tenth of
what he was thinking, and she was already offended.
She was no coward, but she tended to work with people,
negotiate. Her parents had taught her from an early age to be diplomatic. So,
it was a complete surprise that the urge to push him further, question
his
integrity and make him slip over the
edge of control, almost overwhelmed her.
Before she could stop herself, she stepped closer to the
desk. His expression shifted, turning from anger to something that
resembled…lust? Her heart tripped over itself, and her nipples tightened against
her cotton bra. His nostrils flared. A charge filled the air, drifting over
her, heating her. Bloody hell, every drop of moisture in her mouth evaporated.
Something primal that she’d never experienced before leapt
in her blood. Her breath tangled in her throat. All she could think of was
touching him, moving her hand over his flesh. Bare flesh. Thankfully, before
she could embarrass herself, Angus interrupted her thoughts.
“
Callum
.”
The rebuke in his cousin’s voice reached the dark leader. He
shook his head as if to clear it, and that was enough to bring Phoebe to her
senses. She needed to keep her head straight or she would surely give herself
away.
Drawing in a deep breath, she dropped back into the chair,
her body still humming from the confrontation. Callum abruptly turned to face
the window.
“Since Phoebe is here for at least a week, why don’t we get
her settled in her room? She can freshen up and then we can discuss the
particulars of our working relationship,” Angus offered.
Her unprofessional behavior shamed her. She could blame it
on Callum Lennon, but she knew better. Shaken to her core, Phoebe nodded.
Unwilling to make eye contact with Angus, her gaze drifted to Callum. He
nodded, once.
Fletcher stepped in, trying to ease over the tense moment. His
voice was gentle when he spoke. “I’d be more than happy to show you to your
room, Dr. Chilton.”
Fletcher offered her his arm.
Releasing a breath she didn’t know she’d been
holding, she accepted and rose from the chair. Unable to meet the gaze of
either of his cousins, she said nothing more before leaving the room.
Once Fletcher closed the door, he motioned with his hand
down the hall. Without a word, she stepped forward, losing herself in her
thoughts. She needed to recoup, pull herself together for her next
confrontation. And there
would
be
one. Callum Lennon struck her as a man who wouldn’t give an inch unless forced
to. She admired that, even though it irritated her.
It wasn’t a situation from which she would
shy away.
As they walked, their footsteps against the polished wooden
floor were the only sounds echoing down the hallway. No servants or workers
peeked out of doorways. It reminded her of a museum. The atmosphere would have
been oppressive to some, but she took comfort in it.
As she mentally put aside her confrontation with Callum
Lennon, she noticed artifacts hanging on the walls she had missed on her way
in. There was a magnificent collection of weaponry that looked to be from the
eighteenth century, not to mention a multitude of oil paintings depicting what
she assumed where Lennon family ancestors. She’d love to get her hands on
several of the pieces, including the jeweled dirk she spied. It was a testament
to just how harried her trip to Edinburgh had been that she hadn’t noticed
them.
“I hope you won’t worry about my cousin.” Fletcher’s relaxed
tone soothed her.
She glanced at him. “I’ll let you in on a little secret.
I’ve been handling domineering men most my life. Your cousin doesn’t worry me.”
“So you like
domineering men?” he teased, gesturing to a staircase that led up.
She started to climb the stairs. “No. In fact, I have a
feeling I was seen as a bit of a ‘fish wife’ when I was married.”
Simon had loved using that term for her, and it still
bothered her. He’d employed it whenever he sought to make her feel guilty,
which was often. Of course, at the time, it had worked. Now…it no longer had
the power to hurt her.
After stepping up on the last step, she moved aside to wait
for Fletcher. “But in my academic career and line of work, I’ve become familiar
with men like your cousin.”
Fletcher stepped up then edged closer, smiling down at her.
There was a hint of approval in his gaze, along with a dash of sexual interest.
Oh, bother
. She was sure he didn’t
fancy himself in love with her. And he probably wasn’t even interested in her.
Men like him flirted as easily as they breathed. They weren’t interested in
her—not without another reason.
“I don’t think Callum has had someone stand up to him like
that in...well, ever. Not since he took over the family business.” He gestured
with his hand to the right. “Your room is this way.”
“I can’t believe that you and your other cousins don’t give
him a hard time about other matters. From what I understand, all of you have
some say in the company.”
He tossed her a smile that would likely melt most women.
“There is that, but family is different.” He shrugged. “We all know that when
it comes down to it, Callum will do what is best for the company.”
“How long has he been running Lennon Enterprises?”
His shoulders tensed ever so slightly, the only indication
she had tread on hallowed ground. Curious. It fit right into the strange
absence of information on the Internet about the family. In all the research
she’d done on the Lennons, Phoebe had not been able to find out how the company
had been started. Stranger still, there hadn’t been one news story outlining
when Callum Lennon took up the reins.
She knew from Fletcher’s reaction that she wouldn’t get much
information from him. It was only a moment or two before the lazy sensuality
returned to his face again, like a smoke screen.
“For too long, if you ask me,” Fletcher finally answered.
“But it’s what drives him, what he craves.”
“I take it he had a lot to live up to?”
He looked at her blankly.
“With it being a family company, I assumed that he’d been
trained by his father or maybe an uncle?”
“From birth, Callum always seemed to be ready to take
control.”
Which wasn’t an answer. “I just thought it odd that you
didn’t have any pictures of board members or of Callum out and about at charity
events.”
Fletcher shrugged. “Callum isn’t that photogenic.”
He slowed down and opened the door to a room, his gaze
roaming down her body, then back up. Instead of arousal, a dash of irritation,
along with a helping of amusement, stole through her. That he thought he could
flirt with her and make her stop sniffing around their company was both
insulting and funny.
“Is this my room?”
He blinked, his smile dimming just a bit. Poor Fletcher
wasn’t accustomed to a woman ignoring his ploys. If she wasn’t sure he’d take
it the wrong way, she’d kiss him.
“Uh, yes, this is your room. Your bags have already been
brought up.”
She brushed past him and stepped over the threshold. Before
he could follow her in, she placed a hand on his chest and smiled. “Thank you
so much for escorting me.”