Connor.
Maggie jabbed her finger in his chest for emphasis. Just so were clear. Im not going to have sex with you.
He looked down at her finger, then up to meet her gaze. Still negotiating, huh?
She whipped her hand away and immediately missed the sizzle of heat shed gotten from touching his chest.
Im serious, Connor, she said, hating that her voice sounded so breathless. Ill share your room with you, but thats it.
Its a suite, he corrected, and slowly leaned over and kissed her neck.
Dear lord, what was he doing? She knew she should slap him, push him away, but instead she shivered at the exquisite feel of his lips on her skin.
Say it with me, he murmured. Suite.
Suite, she murmured, arching into him when he gently nipped her earlobe. This had to stop. Any minute now.
Sweet, he whispered, then pulled her into his arms and kissed her.
* * *
Second-Chance Seduction is part of the MacLarens Pride trilogy:
From Scotland to California, three brothers are ready to claim their legacyand love!
Second-Chance Seduction
Kate Carlisle
www.millsandboon.co.uk
New York Times bestselling author KATE CARLISLE was born and raised by the beach in Southern California. After more than twenty years in television production, Kate turned to writing the types of mysteries and romance novels she always loved to read. She still lives by the beach in Southern California with her husband, and when theyre not taking long walks in the sand or cooking or reading or painting or taking bookbinding classes or trying to learn a new language, theyre traveling the world, visiting family and friends in the strangest places. Kate loves to hear from readers. Visit her website, www.katecarlisle.com.
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Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Epilogue
One
You need a woman.
Connor MacLaren stopped reading the business agreement he was working on and glanced up. His older brother Ian stood blocking his office doorway.
Whatd you say? Connor asked. He couldnt have heard him correctly.
A woman, Ian repeated slowly. You need one.
Well, sure, Connor said agreeably. Who doesnt? But
And youre going to have to buy a new suit, maybe two, his brother Jake said as he strolled into his office.
Ian followed Jake across the wide space and they took the two visitors chairs facing Connor.
Connors gaze shifted from one brother to the other. What are you two? The social police?
Ian shook his head in disgust. We just got off the phone with Jonas Wellstones son, Paul. We set up a meeting with us and the old man during the festival.
Connor frowned at the two of them. And for this you expect me to buy a new suit? Youve got to be kidding.
Were not kidding, Ian said, then stood as if that was the end of the discussion.
Wait a minute, Connor insisted. Lets get serious. The festival is all about beer. Drinking beer, making beer, beer-battered everything. This is not a ballet recital were going to.
Thats not the point, Ian began.
Youre right, Connor persisted. The point is that Ive never worn a suit and tie to a beer festival and Im not about to start now. Hell, nobody would even recognize me in a suit.
That much was true. Connor was far more identifiable in his signature look of faded jeans, ancient fishermans sweater and rugged hiking boots than in one of those five-thousand-dollar power suits his two brothers were inclined to wear on a daily basis.
Frankly, this was why he preferred to work at MacLaren Brewery, located in the rugged back hills of Marin County, thirty miles north and a million virtual light years away from MacLaren Corporation in the heart of San Franciscos financial district. The brothers had grown up running wild through those hills. Thats where they had built their first home brewery, in the barn behind their moms house.
Over the past ten years, the company had grown into a multinational corporation with offices in ten countries. But the heart and soul of MacLaren Brewery still thrived in those hills, and Connor was in charge of it all: not just the brewery, but also the surrounding farmland, the dairy, the fishery, the vineyards and the brew pub in town.
And he wasnt about to wear a freaking business suit while he did it.
Meanwhile his older brothers, Jake, the CEO, and Ian, the marketing guru, took care of wheeling and dealing at their corporate headquarters in San Francisco. They both lived in the city and loved the fast pace. Connor, on the other hand, avoided the frantic pace of the city whenever possible. He only ventured into headquarters on days like this one because his brothers demanded his presence at the companys board meetings once a month. Even then, he wore his standard outfit of jeans, work shirt and boots. Hed be damned if hed put on a monkey suit just to discuss stock options and expansion deals with his brothers.
Connor glanced at the two men, who were closer to him than any two people on the planet. What made you think I would ever dress up for the Autumn Brew Festival? Id be laughed off the convention floor.
True, the festival had become a very important venue for the fast-growing, multibillion-dollar beer production industry. In the past few years it had expanded to become the largest gathering of its type in the world. The powers that be had even changed the name of the event to reflect its importance. It was now called the International Brewery Convention, but Connor and his brothers still called it the festival because more than anything else, people showed up to have a good time.
It was a point of pride that the festival was held annually in their hometown at the Point Cairn Convention Center next to the picturesque marina and harbor. It was one of the biggest draws of the year, and the MacLaren men had done their best to ensure that it continued to be a not-to-be-missed event on the calendars of beer makers and breweries around the world.
But that still didnt mean Connor would dress up for it. What part of good time did his brothers not understand? The words did not equate with suit and tie in anybodys dictionary.
Jake gazed at him with a look of infinite patience. As the oldest of the three, he had perfected the look. Wellstones scheduled a dinner meeting with all of us and his entire family. And the old man likes his people to dress for dinner.
Oh, come on, Connor said, nudging his chair back from the desk. Were buying out their company. Theyre dying to get their hands on our money so the old man can retire to his walnut farm and enjoy his last days in peace and quiet, surrounded by nuts. Why would he care one way or another how we dress for dinner?
Because he just does, Jake explained helpfully. His son, Paul, warned us that if Jonas doesnt get a warm and cozy, old-fashioned family feeling from the three of us at dinner, theres a good chance he could back out of the deal.
Thats a dumb way to do business.
I agree, Jake said. But if it means snagging this deal, Ill wear a freaking pink tuxedo.
Connor frowned. Do you honestly think Jonas would back out of the deal over something so minor?
Ian leaned forward and lowered his voice. It happened to Terry Schmidt.
Schmidt tried to buy Wellstone? Connor peered at Jake. Why didnt we know that?
Because Wellstone insists on complete confidentiality among his people, Jake said.
I can appreciate that.
And Paul wants it to stay that way, Jake continued, so keep that news under your hat. He only brought up the Schmidt situation because he doesnt want another deal to fail. He wants our offer to go through, but it all depends on us putting on a good show for Jonas. Apparently the old mans a stickler.
Ian added, Terry blew the deal by wearing khakis and a sweater to dinner with the old man.
Khakis? Shocked, Connor fell back in his chair. Why, that sociopath. No wonder they kicked him to the curb.
Ian snickered, but just as quickly turned sober. Jonas Wellstone is definitely old school. Hes very conservative and very anxious that the people who take over his company have the same family values that he has always stood for.
He shouldve gone into the milk shake business, Connor muttered.
Yeah, maybe, Jake said. But look, hes not about to change, so lets play the game his way and get the old man firmly on our side. I want this deal to go through.
Connors eyes narrowed in reflection. Believe me, I want that, too. Wellstone Corporation was a perfect fit for MacLaren, he mused. Jonas Wellstone had started his brewery fifty years ago, decades before the MacLarens came along. He had been at the front of the line when lucrative markets in Asia and Micronesia first began to open up. Yes, the MacLarens had done incredibly well for themselves, but they had to admit they were still playing catch-up to the older, more established companies. Last year, the brothers had set a goal of acquiring a strong foothold in those emerging territories. And here they were, less than a year later, being presented with the opportunity to purchase Wellstone.
So if all it took to attain their objective were some spiffy new clothes, the decision was an easy one. Connor would go shopping this afternoon.
Okay, you guys win. He held up his hands in mock surrender. Ill buy a damn suit.
Ill go with you, Jake said, adjusting the cuffs on his tailor-made shirt. I dont trust your taste.
The hand gesture Connor flipped his brother was crude but to the point. This is the reason I hate coming into the big city. I get nothing but grief from you two wheeler-dealers.
Ian stood to leave. Spare us the country bumpkin act. Youre more of a cutthroat than we are.
Connor laughed and stretched his legs out. My rustic charm conceals my rapier-sharp business skills.
Ian snorted. Good one.
Jake ignored them both as he checked his wristwatch. Ill have Lucinda clear my schedule for this afternoon.
Fine, Connor said. Lets get this over with.
Jake nodded. Ill swing by here around three and well head over to Union Square. Weve only got a week to buy you a suit and get it tailored. Youll need shoes, too. And a couple of dress shirts.
Cuff links, too, Ian added. And a new belt. And a haircut. You look like one of Angus Campbells goats.
Get outta here, Connor said, fed up with the whole conversation. But as his brothers headed for the door, Connor suddenly remembered something. Wait. What was that you said about needing a woman?
Ian turned back around but didnt make eye contact. You need to bring a date to dinner. Jonas likes to see his partners in happy relationships.
And you didnt tell him thats a deal breaker?
Ian scowled and walked out as Jake and Connor exchanged glances.
Just find a date, Jake said finally. And dont piss her off.
Definitely a deal breaker, Connor thought.
* * *
Abandon hope, all ye who enter here.
There shouldve been a sign announcing that sentiment, Maggie Jameson thought as she stared at the massive double doors that led to the offices of MacLaren International Corporation. But Maggie wasnt about to give up hope. She was on a mission, so rather than whimper and crawl away, she summoned every last bit of courage she could muster and pushed through the doors to announce herself to the pleasant, well-dressed receptionist named Susan at the front desk.
Hes expecting you, Ms. James, Susan said with a genuine smile. Please follow me.
James? You had to give them a fake name to even get near him, the voice inside her head said, jeering. Walk away before they toss you out on your ear.
Shush, Maggie whispered to herself.
But the sarcastic little voice in her head wouldnt stay silent as Maggie followed the charming receptionist down the wide, plushly carpeted halls. And as if to amplify the mental taunts, everywhere she looked there were signs that the MacLaren brothers had succeeded beyond anyones wildest dreams. Huge posters of the latest MacLaren products hung on the corridor walls as she passed. Lush plants grew in profusion. Glassed-in office spaces boasted state-of-the-art furnishings and technology.
Maggie was even treated to the occasional stunning view, through wide windows, of the gleaming San Francisco Bay in the distance. Just in case she forgot that this was the penthouse suite of the office building owned by the MacLaren Brothers of Point Cairn, California. As if she could.
Despite her best efforts, Maggie felt a tingle of pleasure that Connor MacLaren had done so well for himself.
Yeah, maybe hell give you a nice, shiny medal for doing him such a big favor.
Maggie sighed and glanced around. The receptionist was many yards ahead of her down the hall, and Maggie had to double her speed to keep up. How long was this darn hallway anyway? Where was Connors office? In the next county? She shouldve left a trail of bread crumbs. If she had to leave in a hurry, shed never find her way out. Heck, she could wander these corridors for years. It was starting to feel as if she was stuck on some kind of never-ending death march.