Kate Carlisle - Second-Chance Seduction

That’s where the chill came from. She shivered again.

But honestly, what did she expect? Happy hugs? Not likely since she’d found out that he’d considered her departure such a betrayal. But if his current mood was any indication, he had obviously moved on long ago.

And so did you, she reminded herself.

He circled his desk and leaned his hip against the smooth wood edge. “I heard you’ve been back in town for a while now. Funny how we’ve never run into each other.”

“I keep a low profile,” she said, smiling briefly. The fact was, she’d spotted him a number of times on the streets of their small hometown of Point Cairn. Each time, she’d taken off running in the opposite direction. It was self-protection, plain and simple, as well as her usual risk aversion.

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 “My offer is rescinded.”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.