Sinfully Supernatural

by Multiple

  She dialed McWalton’s phone, crossing her fingers that his voicemail would pick up. The grant board had eight members, but McWalton was the head, and he wanted to sponsor the winning entry. She hated dealing with him. Every move was calculated. She had the feeling he would sell his mother to the highest bidder if it would get him what he wanted. Whatever the hell that was.

  “Dr. Chilton, I hope that you have something good to report.”

  His chilly tone didn’t set well with her. She had only been there a day, and she wouldn’t have him pressuring her.

  “Not much at the moment.”

  He paused. “But you do have something in mind?”

  “Yes. The family has allowed me to look over an artifact, but I need to be sure it is genuine before I decide if it works for the grant.”

  “What is it?” he asked, his voice sharp enough to cut.

  “I’d rather not say until I know for sure. All I can say is there’s a code to decipher.”

  There was a beat of silence, and she got the feeling he was calculating, trying to figure out a way to get her to say more.

  “Fine. I did talk to Sir Farthington. He’s onto something extremely big, or so he says.”

  She mulled that over. Whiney Wendell was a big talker, but he usually didn’t live up to even the lowliest of expectations. If he truly had something, it probably wouldn’t hold up to her work.

  “Is there anyone else vying for the grant?”

  In McWalton’s hesitation, she sensed irritation or maybe even anger. He’d expected her to say something about Farthington or perhaps reveal more information about her prospect.

  “Not that I’m aware of, but there are other board members, and all of us want to bring in the winning proposal. So, I am assuming they have their own protégés.”

  Protégé, indeed. As if he was teaching her something. She rolled her eyes.

  “I’ll be able to report more when I’ve had more time with the piece.”

  “Can you bring it to me?”

  She paused. The request sounded nonchalant, but she wasn’t buying it. There was an edge to his voice, something that unsettled her. “No. It is kept under lock and key. I am only allowed to view it with someone watching me.”

  “Well, then, I’ll let you get back to work.”

  Let her, indeed. “I will report to you as soon as I can.”

  She rang off, her chest constricting and her head throbbing. She didn’t like the duplicity, and she definitely didn’t like McWalton’s eagerness.

  When she found the time, she would research the grant committee. Maybe she could sneak off to an Internet café later that week. She needed to know who else was on it just in case she needed another sponsor. Clearing her mind of McWalton, she decided to look through some of her research on her laptop. She had enough information in her own documents that she could at least do a little digging on the languages. With a sigh, she plopped down on her lush bed to get down to work.

  The sooner she figured out that diary, the sooner she could win that grant and be free of her parents.

  * * * *

  Kenneth McWalton eased back in his chair and scowled. Phoebe Chilton wasn’t being completely truthful with him. Nothing that he couldn’t fix, but he’d been so sure she would be easy. After all the research he’d done on her, he’d been positive she’d do exactly as he had planned.

  Aggravation had him pushing up and out of the chair to walk to the window of his hotel room. As he studied the sidewalk below, he thought back to his conversation with the good doctor. He knew where she was, even if she hadn’t told him. He wouldn’t even bother with her if she hadn’t been hired by the Lennons.

  The name of his enemy curdled the gourmet meal he’d just eaten. In his mind, he pictured Callum Lennon, so revered, so tortured. He knew what a vile coward Callum was, how the Lennon’s had ruined his family. Not to mention what Callum had done to Fiona.

  Pain—fast and violent—pulsed in the right side of his head. Kenneth closed his eyes, trying to will the headache away. They were getting to be more common, more intense. Drawing in a deep breath, he opened his eyes and then went to his bag for the medication. After pouring out a double dose of pills, he dry-swallowed them, thinking only of freeing himself of the pain.

  He needed to stay sharp if he was going to ruin the Lennons and force them to flee. He could not accept them on the same continent. The secret he knew would ruin Callum and the others, if anyone would believe it. Alas, no one would—unless Dr. Chilton could help him on that score. Everyone in Edinburgh knew of Fiona and Callum and knew McWalton had a bone to pick. If a respected archeologist revealed the mystery, well, that would hold more weight. What a field day for the rags that would be.

  Another shaft of pain vibrated through his brain. He sunk down on the chaise and waited for his drugs to work. Even more, he waited for—anticipated—the day he could obliterate every hope the Lennon clan had left.

  Chapter Three

  Phoebe shifted her weight in her seat, trying to get comfortable. The chair wasn’t the culprit since it was made from the softest of leather, designed for long hours of sitting. Even her professional clothes weren’t bothering her. The source of her distraction was the brooding presence who sat squarely behind the desk.

  Three days. Three days he’d sat there working, barely glancing her way. She’d had a bloody hard time ignoring him, though. He did nothing to lure her away from her work. He just sat there quietly, running Lennon Enterprises. She should be able to ignore him. But more often than she liked to admit, the timber of his voice pulled her out of her studies. The calm, resonate tone, and the way his broad Scottish accent slid over the words…it was compelling.

  His laugh broke her concentration. “Alastair, I gave you my offer for the land. I’m not going to haggle with you on it.”

  The amusement in his voice wasn’t a common occurrence. He was straight and to the point, especially with her. Hearing the lighter tone, she just couldn’t help but glance over at him. She found him staring at her. Her breath tangled in her throat. Intense, direct, his gaze trapped her. She couldn’t look away. Heat simmered and then flared in the depths of his eyes. Need crawled through her veins, warming her blood, making her head spin. Her stomach muscles clenched as liquid heat slipped between her legs. She didn’t know if she was afraid or excited. Either way, every muscle in her body tensed. After a long moment, he broke contact, swiftly turning his chair to face the window.

  Staring blindly at the text in front of her, she tried to unscramble her head. Bligh me. Just what the hell was that about? If she didn’t know better, she would think she’d seen lust in his eyes. But that couldn’t be. Men like him just didn’t take a sexual interest in plain archeologists.

  She shifted again, embarrassed when she felt the dampness in her knickers. She crossed her legs, hoping to ease the tension. Unfortunately, it had the opposite effect. Moving about was just aggravating the situation. How the bloody hell could she keep herself from vaulting over the desk and jumping him? The man could get her hot with just a look. What would it be like if he actually touched her?

  Mentally cursing, she shoved the thought away. He finished his call, but she didn’t look up, couldn’t. She didn’t want him to see her blushing, guess the thoughts running like an adult film through her head.

  Silence descended on the room then. Unbearable, aggravating. Even as she looked over the notes she’d taken that day, her mind wandered. An itch formed between her shoulder blades, and as she always did in uncomfortable situations, she moved to fill the silence.

  She risked a glance at him, almost grateful that he was reading something on his desk.

  “You’re after some land?”

  He didn’t look up. “Aye.”

  “Here in Edinburgh?”

  “No.”

  She sighed. “Please, Mr. Lennon, don’t overwhelm me with conversation.”

  His lips twitched. “I’m a man of
few words.”

  She laughed, and he looked up at her, his eyes warming and his lips curving as they shared a moment of amusement. Phoebe ignored the flip in her tummy.

  With a sigh, he leaned back. “I’m looking to buy some land in the Highlands.”

  “Hmm, I love that part of Scotland. I’ve only been up there once, but I’m hoping to make a trip up there.”

  “Have you visited the Highlands before?”

  She nodded. “Yes. Simon and I went there for our honeymoon. We stayed up at Balmoral.”

  His smile faded, and he picked up his pen again to get back to work. “Yes, well—”

  “Where in the Highlands?” It was rude, but she couldn’t help it. She told herself she wanted to know more about him to help with her research, but she knew better. Callum Lennon intrigued her, tempted her. Even the sound of his voice was a temptation, and when he turned that intense, intelligent gaze on her… She repressed a shiver.

  “North of Inverness.”

  “That narrows it down.”

  His expression softened. “It’s old family land I’m trying to gain back.”

  Again, he looked to get back to work, so she searched for something that would gain his interest. “How do you feel about the clan system having a laird still in charge of some of these estates?”

  His narrowed gaze told her that she’d hit on a delicate subject. “’Tis our heritage.”

  “I was at a debate a couple of years ago, listening to the pros and cons of it. It seems an archaic way of living.”

  “The English can say nothing about our system being archaic. You’ve got a monarch who does nothing more than drain money.”

  “The majority of tourists who come to London do so because of the monarch. So in a way, it funds our economy. I understand a lot of these estates are going bankrupt.”

  “’Tis the fault of the laird in charge. If some of them would diversify, they wouldn’t have a problem. An estate costs a lot to run. Most of the castles are in disrepair and need an infusion of cash to return them to their grandeur. That’s just a small part. Another is the lack of interest among the younger generation. They’d rather live in Inverness or Glasgow, or even here in Edinburgh. Without youth, the estates are slowly dying. You also have an older generation that refuses to get their hands dirty with common work.”

  The passion in his voice stunned her for a moment. It was the first time he’d voluntarily shown any emotion.

  “You love the Highlands, the way of life.” She didn’t ask. She knew the answer. He nodded just the same. “Then why do you live here in Edinburgh?”

  The animated look on his face faded. The unreadable mask returned. “For business.”

  Before she could point out that he could do that anywhere, there was a quick knock at the door. Angus ambled in, tossed a smile in her direction, and then looked at his cousin.

  “We’ve got a problem with the new computer system in the Glasgow plant.”

  Callum glanced at her, apparently uneasy with her presence. She didn’t know if the cousins needed privacy or he was irritated with her. Either way, she wasn’t in the mood for an argument.

  She glanced at her watch. “I’ve got to call my mother. Since she’s in Tokyo giving a few lectures, and it’s almost seven in the evening there, I should call now.”

  “There’s no need—”

  Phoebe interrupted Angus’s denial. “No, really. I need to grab a bite to eat and ask my mother a question about Old English.”

  “Exactly what are you going to ask her?” Callum’s voice was sharp with suspicion.

  She ground her teeth together and told herself not to get irritated. Or rather, not to let him see it. With great effort, Phoebe curled her lips into a smile. “There were two words I was unsure of. I also needed the name of a book she’d recommended. If you’d like to see the words…” She picked up her notebook and held it out to Callum.

  “I don’t think there’s any need for this,” Angus said, embarrassment ripe in his tone as he tossed his cousin a scowl.

  Callum hadn’t moved. He still sat behind his desk. Clearly he was a man weighing his words. She wondered why he demanded such secrecy. She understood protecting one’s family. She’d done it herself with Simon, mostly because she’d had something to hide. Which begged the question, what did Callum Lennon not want the world to know?

  “I understand,” she said finally. “I’m just as suspicious when I am working a site. We have to be careful that nothing goes missing or we would be liable to the government of whatever country we are in. This is, after all, what I agreed to.”

  And maybe if she appeared reasonable, he would loosen up and she’d discover what he’d worked so bloody hard to conceal. The man was a mystery in so many ways, and like good any archeological puzzle, she was motivated to solve him.

  Callum finally took the book and flipped through the pages.

  Angus tried to fill the awkward silence. “I’d like to get together and go over what you’ve found so far.”

  She turned her attention to Angus and tried to ignore the brooding man molesting her notebook. “I would like that, too. I haven’t found much, yet. At present, I’m trying to figure out the code. I would prefer to use the Internet.” But they knew she wasn’t allowed to be online without Callum present.

  “I miss research,” Angus commiserated. “IT is fun. I like computers and technology, but I truly miss getting my hands into a good project.”

  Phoebe nodded, smiling as some of her tension drained away. “I don’t know if I could ever give it up. It’s been part of my life for so long I would feel as if I’d lost a family member if I quit.”

  Angus opened his mouth to respond, but Callum slammed the book shut, shattering the easy atmosphere.

  “There’s nothing to be worried about here. I don’t think the conversation will take more than thirty minutes. Angus?” Callum asked.

  “Yes, if that.”

  With a nod at each of the cousins, she hurried out of the office. She didn’t slow down until she reached her room. A light on her mobile was blinking indicating she’d missed a call. She knew without looking that it was McWalton.

  Even before she had time to flip open the phone, it rang again.

  “Yes?”

  There was a pause, as if he hadn’t expected her to answer. “Dr. Chilton, how are things going?”

  “Fine.”

  Another pause. She knew that McWalton weighed and measured every word she uttered. And even though it drove her a little mental, she waited.

  “I was wondering if you could meet me this week?”

  “I can’t make it to Inverness—”

  “I’m in Edinburgh. I thought before I headed back up north, we could meet.”

  She hesitated. That he was here in the city bothered her. She wasn’t sure why, or why she should find it so suspicious, but something tingled at the base of her spine.

  “I work most days, all day. But I guess I could try to make it into the city this Friday.”

  “That’s good. There’s a little shop on High Street. It is convenient to the library, if you have a reason to drop in there.”

  She agreed, given how little choice she had. After gaining directions from him, she rang off, eager to be rid of him. She’d never met him face to face, so she assumed this was a good sign. Nonetheless, it rankled that she had to find time out of her day to do it. Lord knew she could use a break from the heavy, sensual presence of Callum Lennon, but it meant she had to be deceptive again. Unless she went to the library instead of calling her mother. It would definitely be a more pleasant experience. And if she actually did research, she wouldn’t be lying about her trip.

  With her plans set, she decided to freshen up, eat, and get back to work. If she had to take a day off, she needed to get a bit more done.

  * * * *

  Callum tucked his shirt into his pants, the silence in the room growing more ominous and oppre
ssive by the minute.

  “I don’t understand you.” Calista’s voice held an odd combination of irritation and curiosity. He glanced at her. She sat amongst a tangle of her favorite black silk sheets, the very picture of a woman ready to be debauched. And damn him, but he’d wanted to be the one to do it. Or thought he had. She still wore the red lace pushup bra and matching thong, not to mention a disgruntled expression. He couldn’t blame her.

  “I didn’t ask for understanding.” He zipped up his pants and buckled his belt as she rose from the bed.

  “Don’t give me that rubbish.”

  He reached for his tie and said nothing. With a huff, she headed for her wet bar. As he watched her, he realized that normally he would take pleasure in viewing the tall, athletic Calista walk through her apartment nearly naked. They’d known each other for several years, and she had always been a favorite bed partner to him. A ruthless business woman with a penchant for bondage, she was perfect for him—or had been up until five minutes ago. No commitment, no ties, just a quick, raw shag.

  That’s why it made no sense that he hadn’t been able to close the deal today. His body was ready for a good fuck. Hell, it was fairly screaming for relief. But he’d had his mouth on her flesh and had found himself repulsed. His body rejected the idea of using Calista. It wasn’t that he didn’t think he could go through with it. His libido was alive and kicking, but something was holding him back.

  “Who is she?”

  “She?” She said nothing in response, only raised one sculpted eyebrow. “We never had an exclusivity agreement.”

  She pulled out a crystal decanter and a glass. “No, and we still don’t. But it never stopped you from shagging me senseless until today.”

  He paused then continued to straighten his tie. “Now who’s speaking rubbish?”