Second-Chance Seduction

She’d returned to Point Cairn three years ago in a low state, her heart and her self-confidence battered and bruised. There was no way she would’ve been strong enough to confront Connor on his home turf. Not back then. She was barely able to do so right this minute. In fact, she could feel her thin facade beginning to crack and wondered how much longer she could be in his presence without melting down.

“How’s your grandfather?” he asked, changing the subject. “I haven’t seen him in a few weeks.”

She smiled appreciatively. He and his brothers had always had a soft spot for Angus Campbell, and the feeling was mutual. “Grandpa is...well, he’s part of the reason I’ve come to see you today.”

He straightened. “What’s wrong? Is he ill?”

Maggie hesitated. “Well, let’s just say he’s not getting any younger.”

Connor chuckled. “He’ll outlive us all.”

“I hope so.”

He folded his arms again, as if to erect an extra barrier between them. “What is it you want, Maggie?”

She reached into her bag and pulled out a thick folder. “I want to discuss your offer.”

He reached for the folder, opened it and riffled through the stack of papers. They were all letters and copies of emails sent to someone named Taylor James. Many had been signed by Connor, himself, but there were offers from others in there, too. He looked at Maggie. “These were sent to Taylor James.”

“And that’s me.”

“But I was unaware of that fact when I made those offers. If I’d known Taylor James was you, Maggie, I never would’ve tried to make contact.” He closed the folder and handed it back to her. “My offer is rescinded.”

“No.” She took a hasty step backward, as though the folder were on fire. “You can’t do that.”

For the first time, his smile reached his eyes. In fact, they fairly twinkled with perverse glee as he took a step closer. “Yes, I can. I just did.”

“No, Connor. No. I need you to—”

In a heartbeat, his gaze turned to frost. “I’m not interested in what you need, Maggie. It’s too late for that.”

“But—”

“Meeting’s over. It’s time for you to go.”

For the briefest second, her shoulders slumped. But just as quickly, she reminded herself that she was stronger now and giving up was not an option. She used her old trick of mentally counting from one to five as she made one last effort to draw from that sturdy well of self-confidence she’d fought so hard to reconstruct.

Defiantly she lifted her chin and stared him in the eyes. “I’m not leaving this office until you hear what I have to say.”

Two

He had to admire her persistence.

Still, there was no way Connor would play this game with her. At this point in his life, he wanted less than nothing to do with Mary Margaret Jameson. Yes, they’d been high school sweethearts and college lovers. At age twenty-two, he’d been crazy in love with her and had planned to live with her for the rest of his life. But then she’d left him with barely a word of warning, moved to the East Coast and married some rich guy, shattering Connor’s foolish heart into a zillion pieces. That was ten years ago. At the time, he vowed never to be made a fool of again by any woman, especially Maggie Jameson.

Except it now looked as if she’d succeeded in fooling him again. All it took was a convenient lie. But then, he’d found out long ago just how good Maggie was at lying.

The last time they’d spoken to each other was on the phone. How screwed up was it that Connor could still remember their final conversation? He’d been about to go on some camping thing with his brothers and she’d mentioned that she wouldn’t be there when he got home. How could he have known she meant that she really wouldn’t be there? Like, gone. Out of his life. Forever.

Well, until today. Now here she was, claiming to be the very person he’d been trying to track down for months.

Odd how this mystery had played itself out, Connor thought. Eighteen months ago, a fledgling beer maker began to appear on the scene and was soon sweeping medals and gold ribbons at every beer competition in the western states. The extraordinary young brewmeister’s name was Taylor James, but that was all anyone knew about “him.” He never showed up in person to present his latest formulation or to claim his prize, sending a representative instead.

Taylor James’s reputation gained ground as the quality of his formulas grew. He won more and more major prize categories while attracting more and more attention within the industry.

And yet no one had ever seen him.

Connor had been determined to find Taylor James and, with any luck, buy him out. Or hire him. But he hadn’t been able to locate him. Who was this person making these great new beers and ales while continuing to hide himself away from his adoring public? For the past year, Taylor James had continued to beat out every other rival. Including, for the first time ever, MacLaren’s Pride, the pale ale that had put the MacLaren brothers on the map and helped them make their first million. Losing that contest had been a slap in the face and had made the MacLarens even more determined to find the mysterious beer maker.

Through one of the competitions, Connor was able to obtain Taylor James’s email address and immediately started writing the guy. He received no answer. From another competition, Connor unearthed a post office box number. He began sending letters, asking if the elusive brewer would be interested in meeting to discuss an investment opportunity. He never heard a word back—until this moment.

Now as he stared at the woman claiming to be the reclusive new genius of beer making, Connor was tempted to toss the fraudulent Ms. James out on her ear. It would be even more fun to call security and have her ignominiously escorted out to the sidewalk. The shameful exit might give her a minuscule taste of the pain and humiliation he’d endured when she walked out of his life all those years ago.

But that would send the wrong signal, Connor reasoned. Maggie would take it as a sign that he actually cared one way or the other about her. And he didn’t. The purely physical reaction to her presence meant nothing. He was a guy, after all. And he had to admit he was curious as to why she’d hidden herself away and worked under an assumed name. She was a talented brewer, damn it. Her latest series of beers and ales were spectacular. And why wouldn’t they be? She came from a long line of clever Scottish brewers, including her grandfather Angus, who had retired from the business years ago.

So he’d give her a few minutes to tell her story. And then he’d kick her excellent behind right out of his office.

With a generous sweep of his hand, he offered her one of the visitors’ chairs. Once she was seated, he sat and faced her. “You’ve got five minutes to say whatever you came to tell me, Maggie.”

“Fine.” She sat and cleared her throat, then smoothed her jacket down a few times. She seemed nervous, but Connor knew better. She was playing the delicate angel, a role she had always performed to perfection.

He scowled, remembering that he used to call her his Red-Haired Angel. She still had gorgeous thick red hair that tumbled down her back, and her skin was still that perfect peaches and cream he’d always loved to touch. God, she was as beautiful as she was the day he met her. But she was no angel. Connor had learned that the hard way.

“My formulas have won every eligible competition for the past eighteen months,” she began slowly, picking up speed and confidence as she spoke. “I’ve singlehandedly transformed the pale ale category overnight. That’s a quote from the leading reviewer in the industry, by the way. And it’s well deserved. I’m the best new beer maker to come along in years.”

“I know all that.” Connor sat back in his chair. “It’s one of the reasons why I’ve been trying to hunt down Taylor James all these months. For some reason, he didn’t feel compelled to respond.”

“He wasn’t ready,” she murmured, staring at her hands.

Connor was certain that those were the first truthful words she’d uttered since walking into his office.

She pursed her lips as if weighing her next sentence, but all Connor could think was that those heaven-sent lips were still so desirable that one pout from her could twist his guts into knots.

His fists tightened. He was about to put an end to this nonsense when she finally continued to talk.

“Here’s my offer,” she said, leaning forward in her chair. “I’ll sell you all of those prizewinning formulas and I’ll also create something unique and new for MacLaren. It’ll be perfect as a Christmas ale and you’ll sell every last bottle, I guarantee it.”

“At what price, Maggie?”

She hesitated, then named a figure that would keep a small country afloat for a year or two. The amount was so far out in left field, Connor began to laugh. “That’s absurd. It’s not worth it.”

“Yes, it is,” she insisted. “And you know it, Connor. You said it yourself. The Taylor James brand is golden. You’ll be able to use the name on all your packaging and advertising and you’ll make your money back a thousand times over.”

She was right, but he wasn’t going to admit that just yet. He stared at her for a minute, wondering what her real motivation was. Why had she come to him? There had to be other companies that wanted to do business with her. Or rather, with Taylor James.

“Why now, Maggie?” he asked quietly. “Why do you want to sell those formulas? And why sell to me?”

“Why?” She bit her luscious bottom lip and Connor had to fight back a groan. Irritated with himself as much as he was with her, he pushed himself out of his chair and scowled down at her. “Answer me, Maggie. Tell me the truth or get the hell out of here. I don’t have time for this crap.”

“You want the truth?” She jumped up from her chair and glared right back at him. “Fine. I need the money. Are you happy? Does it fill your heart with joy to hear me say it? I’m desperate. I’ve been turned down by every bank in town. I would go to other beer companies, but I don’t have the time to sift through bids and counteroffers. I need money now. That’s why I came to you. I’ve run out of choices. It’s you or...”

She exhaled heavily and slid down onto the arm of the chair. It seemed that she’d run out of steam. “There. That’s it. Are you happy now?”

“At least I’m hearing the truth for once.”

She looked up and made a face at him. He almost laughed, but couldn’t. She’d expended all her energy trying to finagle a deal with him and she just didn’t have it in her. She might well be the worst negotiator he’d ever dealt with. And for some damn reason, he found it endearing.

For his own self-preservation, he’d have to get over that feeling fast.

“Where did all your money go?” he asked. “You must’ve gotten a hefty settlement from your rich husband.” He gave her a slow up-and-down look, taking in her faded jeans and worn jacket. “It’s obvious you didn’t spend it all on shoes.”

“Very funny,” she muttered, and followed his gaze down to her ratty old boots. After a long moment, she looked up at him. “I know what you must think of me personally, but I’m too close to the edge to care. I just need a loan. Can you help me or not?”

“What’s the money for?” he asked.

She pressed her lips together in a stubborn line, then sighed. “I need to expand my business.”

“If you’re selling me all your formulas, you won’t have a business left.”

“I can always come up with new recipes. My Taylor James brand is going strong, growing more profitable every day. And my new Redhead line is popular, too.”

“Then what’s the money for?” he asked again, slowly, deliberately.

“I need to upgrade my equipment. I need to hire some help. I need to develop a sales force.” She sighed and stared at her hands. “I need to make enough money to take care of my grandfather.”

He frowned. “You mentioned Angus earlier. Is something wrong with him?”

It was as if all the air fled from her lungs. Her shoulders slumped and God help him, he thought he saw a glimmer of tears in her beautiful brown eyes.

“He’s been to the hospital twice now. It’s his heart. I’m so worried about him. He runs out of breath so easily these days, but he refuses to give up his goats. Or his scotch.”

“Some things are sacred to a man.”

“Goats and scotch.” She rolled her eyes. “He insists that he’s hale and hearty, but I know it’s not true. I’m scared, Connor.” She ran one hand through her hair, pushing it back from her face. “He needs medication. They have a new drug that would be perfect for someone in his condition, but we found out it’s considered experimental. The insurance won’t cover it and it’s too expensive for me to pay for it.”

Connor frowned. This wasn’t good news. Angus Campbell was one of the sweetest old guys he’d ever known. Connor and his brothers were first inspired to make their own beer while watching Angus at work in the Campbell family pub. That brew pub had been on Main Street in Point Cairn for as long as Connor could remember. Growing up, he and his brothers had all worked there during the summer months.

Then five years ago, Angus lost his beloved wife, Doreen. That’s when Maggie’s mom sold the pub to the MacLaren brothers. Angus insisted that she move to Florida to live with her sister, something she’d been talking about for years. But that left Angus alone with his goat farm, though he got occasional help from the neighborhood boys. This had all happened during the time Maggie was living back east with her rich husband.

Now Maggie was back home and the only family she had left in Point Cairn was her grandpa Angus.

Connor made a decision. “I’ll pay for that medication.”

“We don’t need charity, Connor.”

Her words annoyed him at the same time as he admired her for saying them. “I’m not talking about charity, Maggie. Call it payback. Angus was always good to us.”

“I know,” she said softly. “But he’s almost eighty years old. There’ll be lots more medication in the future, along with a hundred other unexpected expenses. I need cash going forward to get my brewery up and running. That way, I’ll be able to generate enough funds of my own to pay for Grandpa’s health care needs.” She started walking, pacing the confines of his office as if she couldn’t bear to stand still any longer. “I’ll also be able to hire some workers for both me and Grandpa and maybe make a few improvements to the farm. I’m looking to arrange a business deal, Connor. A fair trade, not a handout. And I need to do it right away.”

“What happened at the bank?”

“I expected them to come through, but they turned me down. They explained that with the economy and all...” She gave a dispirited shrug.

Connor had been watching her carefully. He had a feeling there was something she wasn’t telling him. Why wouldn’t the bank loan her the money? Even though she was divorced, she must have received a hefty settlement. Her beers and ales were kicking ass all over the state, so she had to be considered a good risk. Was she hoarding the settlement money away for some reason?

And another thing. She and her grandfather owned at least a hundred acres of prime Marin farmland that would make excellent collateral for any bank loan.

She might not be lying to him at the moment, but she was holding back some information. Connor would pry it out of her eventually, but in the meantime, a plan had been forming in his mind as they talked. If he wasn’t mistaken, and he rarely was, it would be the answer to all their problems. She would get her money and he would get something he wanted.

Call it restitution.

“I’ll give you the money,” he said.

She blinked. “You will?”

“Yeah.” He hadn’t realized until Maggie showed up today that he still harbored so many ambivalent feelings for her. Part of him wanted to kick her to the curb, while another more rowdy part of him wanted to shove everything off his desk and have his way with her right then and there.

He thought she had a lot of nerve showing up here asking for money. And yet he also thought she showed guts. It was driving him nuts just listening to her breathe, so why shouldn’t he pull her chain a little? Just to settle the score.

“What’s the catch?” she said warily.

He chuckled. Once again, she’d thrown him off base. She should’ve been doing cartwheels, knowing she’d get the money, but instead she continued to peer suspiciously at him.

“The catch,” he explained, “is that it won’t be a loan. I want something in return.”

“Of course,” she said, brightening. “I’ve already promised you the Taylor James formulas.”

“Yeah, I’ll take those formulas,” he said, “but there’s something else I want from you.”

Her eyes wide, she took a small step backward. “I don’t think so.”

“Take it or leave it, Maggie,” Connor snapped.

“Take or leave what?” she said in a huff. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets. “It seems I need a date.”

“A date?” she scoffed. “You must know a hundred women who would—”

“Let me put it this way. I need a woman who knows a little something about beer. You more than meet that requirement, so I intend to use your services for a week.”

“My...services? What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about taking you up on your deal. I’ll pay you the entire amount of money you asked for in exchange for your formulas, plus this one other condition.”

“That I’m at your service for a week? This is ridiculous.” Agitated, she began to pace the floor of his office even faster.

“It’s only for a week,” he said reasonably. “Seven days and nights.”

“Nights?” she repeated, her eyes narrowing.

He shrugged lightly, knowing exactly what she was thinking. Sex. “That’s entirely up to you.”

“This is blackmail,” she muttered.

“No, it’s not. I’m about to give you a lot of money and I want something in return.”

“My services,” she said sarcastically.

“That’s right. Look, the Autumn Brew Festival is next week.”

“I know that,” she grumbled.

“I need a date, and you’re the perfect choice. So you will agree to be my date the entire week and go to all the competition events with me. I’ll also want you to attend a number of meetings and social events with me, including the Friday night gala dinner dance.”

That suspicious look was back. “Are you kidding?”

“What? You don’t like to dance?”

She looked stricken by his words but quickly recovered. “No, I don’t, as a matter of fact.”

That was weird. Maggie had always loved dancing. “Doesn’t matter,” he said. “You’re going to the gala.”

“We’ll see about that.” Her eyes focused in on him. “And that’s it? We pal around for a week at the festival and I get the money?”

“That’s it. And I’ll expect you to stay with me in my hotel suite.”

She stopped and stared at him. “Oh, please.”

“You want the money or not?”

“You know I do, but I can drive in and meet you each morning.”

“That won’t work. I expect us to keep late hours and I have a number of early morning breakfast meetings scheduled. I don’t want to take any chances on you missing something important.”

“But—”

“Look, Maggie. Let me make it clear so there’s no misunderstanding. I don’t expect you to sleep with me. I just expect you to stay at the hotel with me. It’ll be more convenient.”

She frowned. “But I can’t leave Grandpa for that long a time.”

“My mother will look in on him,” he said, silently patting himself on the back for his split-second problem-solving abilities. Deidre MacLaren had known Angus for years, so Connor knew she wouldn’t mind doing it.

“And at the end of the week,” he continued calmly, “I’ll give you the money you asked for in full.”

“And all I have to do is stay with you for a week?”

“And be my date.”

“In your hotel room.”

“It’s a suite.”

“I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“You’ll be more comfortable in a bed.”

“And you’ll sleep on the couch?”

“No.”

Her eyes widened. “Stop kidding around.”

His lips twitched. “Am I?”

“Wait,” she said suddenly. “I’ll get my own room.”

“The hotel is sold out.”

A line marred her forehead as she considered that for a moment, and then she brightened. “We can switch off between the couch and—”

“Take the deal or leave it, Maggie.”

She flashed him a dark look. “Give me a minute to think.”

“No problem.”

She took to pacing the floor again, probably to work out the many creative ways she would say no to his outlandish offer. But she would definitely say no, wouldn’t she?

Hell, what in the world was he thinking? God forbid she agreed to his conditions. What would he do in a hotel suite with Maggie for a week? Well, hell, he knew what he wanted to do with her. She was a beautiful woman and he still remembered every enticing inch of her body. He’d never forgotten all the ways he’d brought her pleasure. Those thoughts had plagued him for years, so living with her for a week would be a dangerous temptation. It would be for the best if she refused the offer.

And once she turned him down, Connor would go ahead and pay for Angus’s medication, even if he had to sneak behind her back to do it. And as for Maggie getting a loan to grow her business, he figured that would happen eventually. She’d either find a bank that would agree to it or she’d tap one of the other brewery owners.

That thought didn’t sit well with him, though. He didn’t want anyone else getting their hands on her beer formulas. Or her, either, if he was being honest.

And in case he’d forgotten, he still needed a date for the Wellstone dinner meeting. As much as he hated to admit it, Maggie would be perfect as his date. Jonas Wellstone would fall in love with her.

So maybe he’d gone too far. If she turned him down—hell, when she turned him down, he would simply renegotiate to get those formulas and to convince her to be his date at the Wellstone dinner. That’s all he really wanted.

Meanwhile, he had to chuckle as he watched her stomp and grumble to herself. A part of him wanted to take her in his arms and comfort her—in more ways than one. But once again, that wayward part of him was doomed to disappointment, because other than the obvious outward attraction to her, Maggie meant nothing to him now, thank goodness. He counted himself lucky that he’d gotten over her duplicity years ago. This offer of his was just sweet payback, pure and simple. It felt damn good to push some of her buttons the way she’d pushed his in the past, saying one thing but meaning something else. Keeping him in a constant state of confusion. Now it was his turn to shake her up a little.

“So what’s your answer, Maggie?” he asked finally.

* * *

On the opposite side of the room, Maggie halted in her pacing and turned to face him. A big mistake. She could feel his magnetic pull from all the way over there. Why did he still have to be so gorgeous and tall and rugged after all these years? It wasn’t fair. She could feel her hormones yipping and snapping and begging her to take him up on his offer to spend a week together in that hotel suite of his.

What was wrong with her? Unless she’d missed the clues, he was clearly out for revenge, pure and simple. Imagine him insisting that she provide him services for a week. Even though he’d assured her that she wasn’t expected to sleep with him, she had a feeling he wasn’t talking about a plain old dinner date here and there.

Services, indeed!

At that, her stomach nerves began to twitch and buzz with excitement. Services!

Oh, this wasn’t good.

“Maggie?”

“Yes, damn it. Yes, I’ll do it,” she said, waving her hands in submission.

He hesitated, then took what looked like a fortifying breath. “Good.”

“But I won’t sleep with you.” She pointed her finger at him for emphasis.

He tilted his head to study her. “I told you I don’t expect you to.”