Read Online Lion of Caledonia: International Billionaires VII: The Scots by Caro LaFever - Free Book Online

a velvet mat. Odd pens.
    Pens made of wood with fine steel points.
    Pens made of dark leather and pens with gold lacquered surfaces.
    Pens that no one would find in a regular office.
    She picked up the one she’d used to sign the contract. The wooden barrel shape of the body ran down into a black and silver end. The clip looked like actual ebony. It suddenly struck her; this collection resembled some of the other collections she’d found in her hunt. Extensive, well organized, unique.
    Could her employer seriously be collecting weeds and shells as well as these unique pens?
    As if the thought of him conjured him into reality, the door blew open.
    Jen jumped in her chair and dropped the pen.
    “Sorry.” His voice was brisk. “I’m late.”
    “Yes, yes you are.” She tried to ease the drawer closed, but his predator gaze had already spotted the transgression.
    Except he didn’t think it was.
    His golden-brown eyes lit with excitement. “You’ve found my pens.”
    “Um.” She glanced down at them because the burst of pleasure in his expression took her breath. “Yes.”
    “They’re amazing, aren’t they?” He paced to her side and leaned in. “I’ve collected them from all over the world.”
    “Um, yes. They are brilliant.”
    “I like this one the best.” He plucked up the barreled wooden one, the one she’d signed her contract with. “It comes from an old Scottish clipper ship. The last of its kind.”
    The enthusiasm in his voice shocked her. She’d heard intensity in his voice as he told his story. She’d heard the mocking tease of his voice. But she’d never heard this childlike eagerness.
    A sudden knot in her throat made it hard to breathe.
    “Look.” His hand, with its dusting of dark-blond hair on his wrist and the well-cut nails, filled her vision. “See the lines of the wood and the detail.”
    The only thing she could do was nod. No words could move beyond the knot.
    One of his fingers danced along her jaw and pushed her chin up until she had to meet his gaze. “Are ye all right?”
    “I’m fine.” She shouldn’t be choked up about this man. Not in any way.
    “You’re sure?” His tawny frown, so familiar now, in such a short time, tugged the knot from her throat straight down to her heart.
    “I’m sure.” Pulling away from the dancing finger, she sank into the chair. “It’s time to get to work, isn’t it?”
    A quizzical look flashed across his face before he stepped back. “Are ye becoming my slave master, then?”
    She was fast becoming his slave, though he didn’t know it, and never would. She needed to find that damn ring and leave. She had to take from this man and if she gave any part of herself to him, the taking would be impossibly hard to live with. With a snap, she pushed the drawer closed and placed her hands on the keyboard. “I’m ready when you are.”
    He laughed, a low, feral sound. “A challenging turn of phrase. And I always like a challenge.”
    Jen thought she knew what he was inferring, but didn’t look at him because she didn’t want to give him any fuel for that particular fire.
    Silence descended.
    He didn’t move.
    She didn’t either.
    “Before we begin the story again.” His voice was still low, still feline. “We need to sort a few things.”
    Her fingers curled into fists on the keyboard.
    “Ye remember.” He moved farther away, to stand in the window bay. “My bedroom.”
    A flush of mortification heated inside. Not only because he’d caught her there, but because he’d seen something no one had seen for years. One of her attacks.
    “Where do ye want to begin, Ms. Douglas?” His voice, the magic instrument that seduced her more than his body or his arms or his gaze, turned from enigmatic to harsh.
    Jen snatched her hands off the keyboard.
    “Shall we start with your panic attacks?”
    His choice, when she’d been expecting another inquisition about her trespassing, startled her enough she jerked her head to stare at