A Trap So Tender. Jennifer Lewis

      James moved over to where she stood blinking at all the wide bases with their narrow stems. He let out a loud laugh. “Those are candlesticks.”

      “Oh. Of course they are.” She cursed her stupidity. “I suppose that’s a perfect example of seeing things the way you want them to be.”

      He picked one up and twisted it in the light. Like the others, it was a dark metal, tarnished to a dull, sheen-less finish. “I guess these all went out of style overnight when they wired the place for electricity. Not that this wing ever got wired. I suppose they just shoved them all here out of the way.”

      “Funny to think how important these once were.”

      “They still are. We lose power quite often here.” He smiled at her, which made her stomach do an alarming shimmy. “Wait until we get a storm, you’ll see.”

      She fought the urge to shiver. “I’d worry about all the ghosts coming out to party.”

      “I don’t worry about them.” He shoved his hand into the tangle of candlesticks.

      “So there are ghosts?”

      “I’d imagine so.” He plucked one out and turned it in the light. “But as long as they leave me alone I won’t bother them, either.”

      She stared. James Drummond was turning out to be quite different than she’d imagined. “I guess we should go through these and see if any of them could be a cup base. They are more or less the same shape. How big is the cup?”

      He frowned. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen pictures of it. I suppose I should call Cousin Katherine and get all the details now that we’re officially on the prowl for it.”

      “I bet she’ll be thrilled.”

      “She will. Let’s ask her to send some photos of the other pieces.”

      Katherine was out. James left a message explaining their situation and asking her to call.

      Exhausted from their long trip, they ate an early dinner of beautifully prepared mini hens with some sort of fruity sauce and went to their separate rooms. She locked the door from the inside with the great iron key in the lock.

      Not that James was likely to come looking for her after midnight, of course, but after what happened that afternoon …

      She woke up in the dead of night with no idea what time it was. She’d fallen asleep like someone plunging into a coma and hadn’t taken the time to keep her phone handy. The sky must have been overcast, as there was no hint of a moon. The room was a black hole.

      With ghosts probably hanging around in the corners, watching her.

      She pulled the covers up over her shoulders. That kiss had been crazy. It came out of nowhere and blew her off her feet like a Santa Ana wind. She had no idea he was that attracted to her. She’d been ogling him, sure, but she was pretty confident she had her lust under control. She wasn’t usually given to bouts of groping and fondling strange men she’d just met.

      He must have been feeling the same way. She shifted into the mattress with a swell of satisfaction. So, James Drummond thought she was hot.

      Then she bit her lip. She was here to help her father. James Drummond’s baser instincts were interesting to her only in so far as they’d help her get that factory back.

      She sat up. There had been times when she’d almost forgotten about her father and that accursed factory, but now that she was away from Drummond’s seductive gaze she should focus on what was really important.

      Determined to find her phone, she slid her feet gingerly over the edge of the bed, hoping no spectral hands would grab at her ankles.

      Stop being a wuss. The Persian rug felt threadbare under her toes, and a floorboard creaked alarmingly when she leaned her weight on one foot. Heart pounding, she crept across the room to the chair where she’d left her purse. Groping in the dark, she found her phone and let out a sigh of relief. She scurried back to the bed and climbed under the covers, then pulled up her father’s number.

      It rang the inevitable four times before he answered with a gruff, “Hello.”

      “Hi, Dad.” She smiled at the sound of the words. She’d longed all her life to have a relationship with her father. She’d gone almost twelve years without even seeing him, and she was still angry with her mother for insisting that it was best to leave him alone.

      “Who is it?” He did have an abrasive tone. She could see he wasn’t a good match for her bubbly, artistic mother.

      “It’s Fiona.” Who else could he think it was? He didn’t have any other children. He was funny. “You won’t believe where I’m calling from.”

      Suddenly she wondered if she should tell him. Would he believe she’d come all the way to Scotland just to help him out, or would he suspect she had entirely different motives in climbing into James Drummond’s bed? Or one of them, at least.

      “Where are you, Fifi?”

      The term of endearment made her smile. If anyone else called her that she’d knock the person flat, but every conversation with her dad was a dream come true. “I’m in Scotland. At James Drummond’s estate.” She held her breath, waiting to see if he’d explode in a volley of abuse at the man he hated so much.

      But dead silence hung in the air. She heard noise, like something happening at the other end of the line.

      “I’m here to get your factory back, Dad.”

      “What? You can’t do that. It’s gone. That bastard stole it.” His words burst into her ear, so loud she almost dropped the phone.

      “He owns it, yes, but he hasn’t done anything with it. As long as it’s still standing, I can buy it back.”

      “He won’t sell it.”

      This was true. She’d had a local real estate agent approach him and met with a firm refusal. But hopefully getting to know him would change things. “Every item has a price at which it becomes disposable.” Even she had her price when they finally offered her so much money for Smileworks that she couldn’t say no. “I’ll convince him.”

      “He’s an evil man.”

      “Not evil.” She frowned. “Just misguided.” Not unlike her father. Her mom had told her unflattering stories about him when she was growing up. Not all at once, but a little at a time. How he never uttered anything but criticism, worked twenty-three hours of the day and put every penny he earned back into the business so she had to make meals with rice and broth. Not the existence a young bride dreams of. Now that Fiona was an adult, she understood that everything worth achieving required a sacrifice. Her father and mother were just cut from different cloth: her mom’s soft and flowery and her dad’s crisp and tailored. She knew she was more like him. “He’s not so bad, really.”

      “Why did he invite you? Is he trying to take advantage of you?”

      Yes. At first she wasn’t sure why he had invited her. Now she had a better idea. Strangely, it didn’t scare her as much as it should. “Nothing like that. I’m supposedly here to help him look for a lost family artifact. We’re searching through rooms of old junk.”

      “You be careful around that snake.”

      “Don’t worry, I will.” She’d have to put a double lock on her chastity belt. His hard, serious gaze had a disconcerting effect on her libido. “I’m trying to get to know him better so I can come up with a good plan. I’m currently leaning toward telling him I need to buy a building in Singapore as part of my next business. If he’s as ruthless as they say, he won’t mind selling as long as he’s screwing me over.”

      “Don’t give your money to that demon. He stole it from me.”

      “I know. Did you call the lawyer I told you about?” Surely if it was illegally obtained,