by Multiple
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.”
He looked down at her hand and frowned. “I can show you around your room.”
She laughed. “I can handle it myself. I’m used to travel. Thank you once again.”
Before he could argue with her, she closed the door directly in his face. She needed a break from the testosterone of all the Lennon men for a few minutes. If she didn’t get it, there was a good chance she would faint from the overload—if not the embarrassment of her behavior.
She took a good look at the room. She stood in a small sitting room that opened up into the larger room. As she stepped into the bedroom itself, she sighed. A massive bed, with a mattress so thick there was a step stool beside it for her use, dominated the room. When she stepped further into the room, she noticed the high vaulted ceiling. With it painted in celestial blue, along with the lighter, almost airy quality of the furnishings and bed linens, it felt as if she were walking through the heavens. Still agitated with Callum, not to mention with herself, the atmosphere was a calming influence, bringing her back to her goal at hand.
Phoebe approached the bureau and noticed that her bags were indeed sitting by the foot of the bed. When she looked up, she saw herself in the mirror and groaned. No wonder Callum Lennon had thought she was an idiot. Her suit was a mess, wrinkled and still damp from the rain. Half of her hair was still piled on top of her head, while the other half hung down in a mess of tangled curls. What makeup she had worn was now either smudged on her face or was gone. Good God, she looked like she’d rolled through a ditch before coming to meet them.
Knowing there was nothing she could do about it now, she grabbed her toiletry bag and headed to the bathroom to clean herself up. At least when she met the remaining two cousins, she would look professional, and with her armor back in place, she could better deal with Callum Lennon.
Before she could start cleaning up, her mobile buzzed. The familiar number made her groan. She’d forgotten to contact Kenneth McWalton, the head of the grant board, after she arrived. She wasn’t in the mood to deal with him. However, his say would carry a lot of weight when the grant she needed was given out, so she’d best put up with his blustery impatience and answer. Besides, he would continue to ring her until she did. This was inconvenient enough, but she definitely didn’t want him to ring her when she was with the Lennons.
“Hello.”
“Dr. Chilton. I thought you said you would ring me up when you landed,” McWalton chastised.
Phoebe took a deep breath before answering. She hadn’t had to answer to anyone for over eighteen months, and she refused to do it now.
She kept her voice calm and businesslike. “We were fogged in and took off later than usual.”
There was a pause, as if he were weighing her every word, trying to decide if she were telling the truth.
“Hmm. Well, I was worried.” His tone had turned solicitous enough to agitate her. “I thought you might have had second thoughts.”
“I haven’t even had time to freshen up, let alone look over whatever artifact they have for me.”
Another pause. “You are going to try for the grant, aren’t you?”
“As I told you before, I’ll make that decision when I have a chance to evaluate what this is.”
“I was just wondering because Sir Wendell Farthington has contacted me about the grant. Seems he has something he thinks might win over the committee.”
A wave of apprehension washed over her at the mention of her arch rival from college. Whiney Wendell was still annoyed she’d beat him out for valedictorian—especially since he had ten years on her. If he’d contacted McWalton, there was a good chance he knew she was interested.
“I’ll let you know as soon as I can be certain if I’m onto something that will fit what the grant committee is looking for.”
As soon as she reassured McWalton twice more, she rung off and sighed. She’d felt more than a little twinge of guilt for being a bit deceptive. Okay, she felt a lot. She’d built a reputation on being fair and honest. This could tarnish that image. Greatly. But, this was the most important leap of faith in her career, one that could leave her reputation in tatters or give her the recognition, independent of her parents, she had always craved.
Before she could get back into the bathroom, her mobile rang again. When she noticed Isabel Totaro’s number, she immediately answered.
“Where the hell are you?” her former assistant asked.
“Hello, Isabel. How are you?” She laughed.
“I’m fine. I’m always fine. You, on the other hand, were supposed to have lunch with me tomorrow and your new assistant—who has the manners of a goat—called me to cancel.” All of this was delivered in a mixture of heavily accented English and Spanish. When irritated, Isabel had a habit of slipping in and out of different languages.
“She doesn’t have the manners of a goat. She’s efficient. Besides, you quit.”
“She was rude and wouldn’t tell me where you were. I was worried you went back to Egypt with Barbie and Ken.”
Phoebe sighed. She wasn’t used to this, although she should be after three years. Isabel had bounced into her life during the horrific last months of Simon’s illness. Five-foot two of dynamite that one was. She’d refused to allow Phoebe to wallow in self-pity. Her resignation last month had been bittersweet, but she’d fallen in love with an Italian businessman and they were moving back to the continent. It was hard to lose your only friend.
Phoebe smiled, but she still felt she should admonish her friend. “I wish you wouldn’t call my parents names.”
“You know you like it. So, tell me where you are.”
“Scotland.”
“What the bloody hell are you doing there?”
“I’ve thrown caution to the wind, and I’m having a mad affair with four Scotsmen.”
“About damned time.”
Phoebe laughed. “No, I have a chance to look at an artifact from the Lennon family.”
“Lennon Enterprises? Hold on.” Phoebe heard a deep murmur in the background before Izzy c
ame back. “Roberto wants to know if you met Callum Lennon.”
Just hearing his name sent a shiver of awareness across her nerve endings.
“Yes, in fact, I’ve met two of the others also.”
More murmuring, then Izzy giggled. “Roberto said he’s a real bastard.”
“He’s met Callum Lennon?”
“Roberto negotiated a deal with them a few years ago. They want you to look at an artifact? What is it?”
“I haven’t heard, but apparently it might work for that grant I wanted to go after.”
Izzy said nothing for a moment. “Don’t do this.”
“What?”
“Poppet, I love you. You know I do. So I’m saying this for your own good. Your parents aren’t worth it.”
“Izzy—”
“They will never accept you.”
A sharp shard of pain stabbed her heart. Izzy was right. They both knew it.
“I don’t give a damn about them accepting me.” She drew in an unsteady breath. It was the truth, even if it took her almost thirty years to accept that. “What I want is to study Celtic myths full time.”
“Then do it. You have enough money.”
“I can’t…well, I can. It’s just…” How did she say she wanted to stick their noses in her success without sounding like a horrible daughter? She would never be free of their shadows if she couldn’t make it on her own without their help. They would always try to influence her career unless she made a clean break.
“You want to say shove it to Barbie and Ken.” Amusement infused Izzy’s voice. “I wholly approve.”
Phoebe chuckled. “I thought you might. They won’t say a word if I get a reputable historical society to back me. But none of that is going to happen until I get a look at what the Lennons have. I can’t do that until I negotiate the terms with Callum Lennon.”
“What was that?”
“I said, I can’t—”
“No. There was something in your voice. You…oh, my. You’re attracted to him.”
Phoebe swallowed. “Him?”
“Callum Lennon.”
Bugger. Izzy always could tell what Phoebe was feeling even before Phoebe knew. “You can tell that all from the tone in my voice?”
“Yes. There was a little heat in your voice when you talked about him.”
“It’s because he’s a pompous ass.”
Izzy laughed. “You are attracted.” Phoebe opened her mouth to lie, but her friend was too fast for her. “Don’t even fib to me. I’ll let you go, but I want regular updates.”
Phoebe sighed. As if she could talk Izzy out of it… “You got it.”
After ringing off, Phoebe looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was still a mess, her makeup still streaked her skin. This was not the most auspicious of beginnings.
* * * *
As soon as Fletcher escorted Dr. Chilton from the room, Callum shifted weight from one foot to the other, trying to calm his body’s reaction to her. Bloody hell, he’d practically jumped over the desk and kissed her, not caring who was there to witness.
Be truthful, Callum. You wanted to do a whole lot more than kiss the lass.
Aye, he did. She made his blood pump, and he wanted to know if she’d look as heated when she moaned his name.
“Just what the fucking hell was that?”
Angus’s cursing wasn’t normal. Callum knew he deserved the rebuke, but it didn’t mean he cared for his younger cousin’s tone.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“You willna question me on this, Angus. Nothing happened and nothing will.”
Callum turned and watched the younger man approach him. As leader, Callum allowed discussion, but with his body still aroused, any debate was like pouring salt into the wound. Not only was he angry with himself for the desire still curling in his belly, but he’d shown disrespect to a woman by showing such blatant lust, not to mention giving her a way to use him. If she had any idea how much he wanted her, she could get just about anything she wanted. He never bedded women who worked for him. Ever.
Dr. Chilton had been attractive in a rumpled sort of way. He had a feeling that under the ill-fitting jacket, she had curves he couldn’t find on women today—ones he thirsted to explore. He still didn’t trust her. Not many people would turn down money just because of a simple contract. Callum couldn’t put his finger on it, but something about the woman bothered him. Other than the fact he wanted her beneath him, digging her nails into his back.
Sweet Jesus, when she’d stood up to him, mild interest had shot to heated desire in the blink of an eye. The force of it had left him shaken to his soul.
“We can’t have you tupping the help, Callum.”
He smiled, knowing it was all teeth and no humor. “Have you ever known me to?”
“No.” Angus looked out the window, and Callum could almost hear his mind turning over the problem. When he met his cousin’s gaze, Callum realized he wasn’t angry but worried. “But I’ve also never seen you act like that.”
“I’m hardly a virgin.”
Angus smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes, a hint of sadness darkening his gaze. “I know that. Seriously, if it were anyone else, I would say take her to bed for a week—even if I think you two are completely wrong for each other. You have a business mind, she has a scientific mind and you would never—”
“Sweet Jesus, Angus, just get on with it.”
He sighed. “This is too important.”
Guilt, familiar and uncomfortable, had the muscles in his gut clenching. He knew he’d failed before when it had counted the most. But he refused to let his emotions get the better of him again. Even for a woman with the fire Phoebe Chilton showed—especially when she held their future in her hands.
“Doona fash yourself.”
Before Angus could reply, Fletcher returned, Anice following close behind him. A frown puckered her brow as she kept darting nasty looks at Fletcher.
Without preamble, Fletcher said, “I think we need to be careful of Dr. Chilton.”
“You have no basis for that.” Anice had crossed her arms which was a sure sign she was ready to fight.
“For the love of Christ, you haven’t even met the woman. I have, and she was asking too many questions about us and the company.”
“The company?” Callum asked, his suspicion rising.
“She wanted to know when you took over Lennon Enterprises and who was in charge before you. I tried to dissuade her, but she kept on it until we reached the room.”
“I’m sure she forced you to answer her.” Disgust ripened Anice’s voice. “You’re over six feet tall, and she is barely five and a half feet.”
“I’m not saying she forced me but that she was persistent.”
“I think—”
“Enough!” Callum shouted. When brother and sister got going, they could make him barmy.
He thought of her refusal to sign the contract, possibly turning down a healthy amount of euros. People just didn’t do that without cause. Now she was asking about them. She was insistent enough to make Fletcher question her motives, and he rarely thought straight when a woman was involved.
“I want you to check out her background.”
Angus studied him with a frown. “I did. I double-checked it, in fact. There is nothing to indicate she would sell out.”
Callum gritted his teeth and then blew out an aggravated breath. “Triple check. I want to know everything there is to know about Phoebe Chilton, especially if this turns out to be the cure we’ve been searching for.”
Angus nodded.
“Since I missed my meeting, I need to ring up the supplier and set a new one. I’ll be having dinner by myself with her tonight,” Callum said.
All three cousins looked at each other. Angus, the one who had always been their spokesperson said, “I don’t think that is a good idea.”
“I didn’t as
k.”
Callum sensed that Angus wanted to say more, but nodded instead.
“I need some privacy to get this done so I can meet Dr. Chilton for dinner. The sooner she gets it translated and decoded, the sooner she is gone.”
Anice, the peacemaker, stepped in. “And the sooner we will be able to start working on a resolution to our problem. Come on, boys.”
Fletcher curled his lip. “I take offense to being called ‘boys,’ especially at my advanced age.”
But he followed his sister just the same. Angus looked to argue again, but Anice said, “Come on, cuz. We have a meeting with department heads, and we’re already late.”
When the door shut and Callum was blessedly alone, some of his tension eased. He stared out at the garden again, watching the wind blow the naked limbs this way and that. He knew the feeling, the loss of control to outside forces—the impotence over the failure to shape your own destiny. He’d sworn never to feel that way again.
If it meant he had to resist a golden-haired angel with the temper of the devil, so be it. He would ignore the momentary loss of control and find another woman to satisfy his needs. Angus was right. Tupping the help would not only be bad for business, it could dash any hopes the other four had. That and he still didn’t trust her. This diary could hold the secrets that could save them—or doom them to the hell they now suffered. He couldn’t chance it. Regret shifted through him when he realized he would enjoy sparring with the woman and slowly conquering her. But even as a surge of fire lit through his blood, Callum ordered his body and soul to ignore it.
The clan was all that mattered.
Chapter Two
Callum made his way down the hall to Dr. Chilton’s room, his aggravation increasing with each measured step. He didn’t want to do this, didn’t want to even talk to the woman, but he’d realized that he couldn’t allow any of the others to spend too much time with her—especially Angus. His younger cousin was a good man, and truthfully he’d never step over the line and seduce Dr. Chilton, but he might accidentally reveal something to her. Callum had spent too many years protecting their secrets to have it become worldwide fodder for the damned rags.