A Trap So Tender. Jennifer Lewis

I’m wrong?” She leaned back in her chair, eyes appraising him coolly. “Is there anything you want that you don’t already have?”

      He laughed. “Always. That’s what gets me out of bed in the morning.”

      “The thrill of the chase?”

      “Makes my venture capitalist heart pump hard.”

      “Maybe you’re not so different from your Scottish ancestors. You’re just excited by different quarry.”

      “You could be onto something. They wanted a stag, or the neighbor’s estate, I want a nice international conglomerate with growth potential.”

      She smiled. “You’re funny.”

      “I’m not so sure about that, but I am pretty predictable.”

      She tilted her head, sending a fall of shiny black hair to one shoulder. “Why haven’t you ever married?”

      He stilled. “How do you know I haven’t?” Did she know more about him than she was letting on?

      “No ring. And no tan line where the old ring used to be.”

      He relaxed slightly. Being somewhat notorious, he tended to be on guard when meeting new people. Besides, anyone reading a business magazine could know the basic facts of his life. It was hardly top-secret information. “Never met the right woman.”

      “Too picky?”

      “Something like that. A marriage isn’t like an investment, where it’s worth taking a chance on because you can always get out.”

      “You can always get out, for the right price.” A smile tilted her soft mouth.

      He grimaced. “Usually the highest price the market will bear. Not attractive to a careful investor.”

      “You’re too cautious to get married, aren’t you?”

      He nodded. “Or maybe it’s just the family curse.”

      She laughed aloud, a pretty ringing sound, like the bells they used to play in the church back on the estate when he was a kid.

      Where did that thought come from?

      “I think you need to find the last part of that chalice and put it back together. Think of it as a hunt.” She leaned forward, rested her elbows on the table and her neat chin on her interlocked fingers. “It’ll be a great story to tell.”

      A crazy idea flashed into his brain. “Come look for it.”

      “What?” Her eyes widened.

      “Come to Scotland. I have to take a trip back myself right now to deal with some estate matters. You said you’d like to visit. Take a break from the rat race and breathe some highland air.”

      She was silent, and he could almost hear the cogs turning in her brain. Her eyes sparkled and he could see the idea intrigued her. “But I don’t even know you.”

      “I’m pretty well-known around town. Ask people about me.”

      “What will they tell me?” She looked deadly serious.

      “That I play by my own rules, but always stand by my word.” He hesitated, knowing what else she would hear. “That I’m happiest when sinking my teeth into a new business.” He deliberately avoided the part about his alleged Casanova ways.

      Her eyes had narrowed slightly, and she appeared to be considering his proposal. His pulse ratcheted and he realized how much he wanted her to accept. Even the usually unwelcome prospect of returning to the grim and vast baronial castle and the manager’s endless to-do list seemed less daunting with the prospect of the lovely Fiona in residence.

      “Okay.” She spoke quietly, but without hesitation.

      “You’ll come?” He couldn’t believe it.

      “I will.” She sat back in her chair, expression still serious. “I’ve always wanted to go to Scotland, I love the idea of looking for an ancient relic, and I have nothing better to do right now. Why not?”

      “Why not, indeed?” They discussed dates for a minute or two and he sent a text to his pilot while the waiter served their food. For the first time in as long as he could remember, his nerves crackled with excitement over something other than an intriguing business deal. “Done. We leave tomorrow.”

      “Great.” Fiona’s voice faltered slightly. This was moving so much faster than she expected. “Who knew I’d be eating sea urchin and going to Scotland all in the space of one week?”

      What would her dad think about her leaving so soon after she’d arrived? The main purpose of her stay here was to build their relationship. After ten days they’d barely managed to relax enough to hold a conversation, and now she was taking off around the world with his sworn enemy?

      She’d have to explain her plan. He’d understand and know she was only doing it for him. He’d be so happy when she figured out how to wrest his factory back from James Drummond’s octopuslike embrace. This man needed to be stopped, and she wasn’t afraid to do it.

      “Will you stay there with me?” This thought occurred to her for the first time almost as she said it. He’d asked her to come to his house and look for the cup. While snooping around his ancestral home might be fun, she couldn’t achieve her main goal unless he was there.

      “Of course. I wouldn’t invite a guest and then take off.” He frowned. “Then again, I probably have done that, but I promise I won’t this time. I need to put in some face time there. The natives get restless if the lord of the manor goes AWOL for too long.”

      “Is it really like that?”

      He nodded. “I don’t understand why they care what I do, but they seem to feel I should be there judging flower displays at the village fete and hosting banquets on obscure saints’ days.”

      “Very medieval.” There was something sexy about that. Which just proved how loopy she could be. He obviously hated it and ran off to Singapore all the time to avoid his feudal responsibilities. “Do you get to have people executed if they cross you?”

      “I’ve never tried.” A tiny smile tugged at his broad, seductive mouth. “I don’t think anyone’s ever ticked me off that badly.”

      I might. She let her own secret smile slip across her lips. “Are they putting pressure on you to find a lady of the manor?”

      He laughed. “They wouldn’t dare.” Then his eyes darkened. “Though I’m sure they would if they didn’t think it would make me run for the hills.”

      They certainly wouldn’t be too enthused about her, a snarky American with her roots in Singapore. No doubt they’d prefer a delicate Scottish rose with red-gold hair and pink cheeks, who thought arranging flowers on the church altar was the ideal way to spend a weekend.

      Not that James was bringing her there to romance her. In fact, she had no idea why he did want her to come. She frowned and looked at him. His eyes smiled slightly when she met them, sending a frisson of … what? Excitement, terror and hot lust coursing right through her.

      Did he really want her to find the cup? Surely someone closer to home would be a better choice. Did he want to bed her?

      Yes. The subtle gleam in his eye made no secret of that. Maybe he was a lothario. And maybe he’d be disappointed in his efforts to add her to his list of conquests.

      She took a bite of her sea urchin, sitting almost forgotten on her plate, and was surprised to find it tender and delicious. James was very distracting. She’d better make sure she kept her mind on her task—getting her father’s factory back. “This is good.”

      “I told you it would be. Now you know you can trust me.”

      She laughed, partly because he said it so innocently, as if he really believed it. If she didn’t know of his reputation as a heartless