Callum Page 3

“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 came 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 a
nd 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 ask.”

  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.

  The meeting he’d had with all the cousins hadn’t gone exactly as planned. Of course, in the last few months, nothing had. He’d carefully constructed plans for the clan, such as it was. In the last few months, every strategy had fallen apart. It all started and ended with the damned witches’ diary. When he’d heard about the diary six months earlier, he’d spent a small fortune obtaining it. He truly didn’t think there was anything in it that would help them, but once he’d read the clan’s name on the faded parchment, he bought it for safe keeping. Even the smallest mention could set off investigations that could force them back into hiding.

  Callum had made the mistake of telling Angus, who wouldn’t let it go and went to the other cousins about it. That had been the end of ignoring the diary. Their problem now was detecting what it actually said about them. It wasn’t merely in different languages, but from what they could decipher, it was also in some sort of a code. Granted, they were still missing big chunks of it because not one of them could handle all the languages. He’d let Angus have a go at it, and when he’d failed to figure it out, Callum realized they’d need help to decipher it. Enter Dr. Chilton.

  He scowled, thinking of the argument from his cousin, Anice. She’d trudged through the endless hell of their collective curse with a practical, forthright view of everything except their damned situation. In that, she always saw hope. No matter how dark, how vile their circumstances, she was positive that one day they would succeed. Without even meeting Dr. Chilton, Anice was confident that their researcher would be their salvation.

  His investigations of Dr. Chilton were a bone of contention with Anice and would probably stay that way. She believed they had enough information to employ her, but Callum knew better. And while Angus might not like it, he hadn’t disagreed. They’d offered good money, but not anything she couldn’t make with a single speaking engagement. And that thought had been bugging him since she’d agreed to visit and speak with them about their “project.” Why?

  He reached his destination without finding an answer to any of his questions. It wasn’t a position he liked and one he was sure would agitate him. Add the attraction he felt for Dr. Chilton…well, it was going to be a long few weeks. Even thinking about the woman had him picturing her naked, that tangled mass of curls spread across his pillows. He could just imagine that crisp English accent dissolving into throaty moans as he kissed his way down her body.

  Trying to wipe the image from his mind—and not quite succeeding—he drew in a deep breath and knocked on her door. It opened almost immediately, as if she had been standing by the door waiting for him. Although from the way her eyes widened at the sight of him, she hadn’t been expecting him.

  “Good evening, Doctor.”

  He kept his voice as even as possible, but it wasn’t an easy thing. She’d cleaned up well, despite another boxy, brown suit. It did nothing to show off the abundantly curvy figure he was sure was beneath it, and it turned her skin sallow. He liked a woman who exuded confidence, from the way she moved to the way she dressed. She showed none of that, except when she’d stood up to him. He would’ve never guessed the woman was such a ball buster—or that he would be so attracted to her because of it.

  “Dr. Chilton?”

  She shook her head, breaking whatever trance she’d been in, and smiled. That damned professional smile, without an ounce of warmth to it.

  “Sorry. I wasn’t expecting you.” Her voice was cool, something he’d anticipated but didn’t like.

  “I’m here to escort you to dinner.”

  Her smile slipped fractionally before she recovered. She stepped over the threshold of her room and closed the door smartly behind her. “Well, I guess we should get to it.”

  Turning on her heel, she started off in the wrong direction. He reached her in two steps, grabbing hold of her elbow. She stopped, her back bumping against his front. Every nerve in his body went on alert. His cock twitched. He tried to draw in a deep breath to clear any of those thoughts, but instead he breathed in the clean scent of her and his brain scrambled.

  * * * *

  Phoebe’s heart beat out an erratic tattoo the moment Callum touched her. She stumbled back against him and heat zinged through her system. She craved this, his closeness. He smelled of sandalwood and soap. It took every ounce of her control not to sniff him. Needing some space, she tossed what she hoped was an incredulous look over her shoulder at him.

  “I apologize, but you’re going the wrong way.” He turned her in the right direction. “The dining room is this way.”

  As they walked down the hallway, Phoebe’s attempts at ignoring Callum Lennon’s hulking presence were failing miserably. His appearance at her door had thrown her off her stride, to say the least. She’d expected
one of the staff, or perhaps Angus, to escort her down. Having Callum pop up at her door left her off-center. Of course, bumping up against his mountain of muscle hadn’t helped the situation. Her hormones still popped and sizzled from the impact. Granted, just about any red-blooded woman would have some reaction. That made her normal. What wasn’t normal was her body humming with enough sexual energy to light up London on the darkest of nights. Her pulse thumped as if she’d run a mile. All that from just one little brush. Goodness, what would happen if the man ever kissed her?

  “You’ve been in archeology for most of your life?” he asked, pulling her out of her musings.

  She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “Before birth, really. I believe my mother was in Cairo until a month before I was born.”

  “What made you go into the field?”

  She laughed, and he looked up, his eyebrows raised. “I’m sorry, but most people know I had no choice.” She shrugged. “My parents planned my life.”

  “You let your parents decide?”

  She would’ve laughed again, but that would have been too painful. “I was so young. All I really knew was their world, their field of study. I never went to school. Private tutors in Cairo, Madagascar, everywhere. The first time I was really thrust into a group of peers was when I started college.” But they hadn’t been peers. They’d been older, more experienced, and most of the time, cruel.

  She didn’t like those memories any more than she liked the way he was studying her now. Any formidable opponent would be looking for her weaknesses. If she showed any kind of vulnerability, Callum would jump on it and exploit it during their negotiations.

  She schooled her features and focused on the multitude of antiquities that graced the Lennon home. Phoebe had always been an odd duck, never quite fitting in with other women. Most lusted after jewels, or they fancied pretty men or designer clothes—or a really great pedicure. Phoebe’s weakness had always been artifacts.

  There was no way not to gawk at the history hanging on the walls. Almost every surface had what she was sure were antiques dating back centuries, and Holy mother of God, they had what she was sure was a fourteenth century broadsword. She’d sell her soul to the devil to get ahold of that. If she could get it into a lab to have it tested, she could determine if it was a replica or real. Indentions in the handle told her there was something missing, perhaps jewels. From the intricate design, along with the quality of metal, she was sure—