Macgowan Meets His Match

“Why Scotland?”

“Why not? I like it here.”

He leaned back in his chair, staring at her from beneath his frowning brows. He had to be aware of how intimidating he looked. She wondered if he used that look to keep his employees in their proper place. She almost smiled at the thought. He might be laird of his castle but he would quickly discover that she wasn’t easily intimidated.

What did it matter to him why she was there? she wondered. Perhaps he enjoyed irritating people.

After a rather lengthy silence while he stared at her, he said, “Okay, now I get it. This is a joke, isn’t it? Todd told you to show up here, didn’t he?” He spoke in short, abrupt spurts. And his mind seemed to jump around like a grasshopper. She wondered if he was on pain medication. Being on drugs might explain his lack of focus and, to her at least, his strange remarks.

“Todd?” she repeated.

“Yes, Todd, my supervisor. He probably got tired of hearing me complain about not being able to find decent help and sent you to help out. Not that I’m bothered by the ruse, you understand. I need someone competent and Todd would make certain of that, at least. But there’s no reason for you to hide the fact.”

“Since I’ve no idea what you do for a living—other than write, that is—I have no idea who your supervisor might be. Why would you think I would lie about my reasons for being here? Are you always so suspicious of people?”

“Yes.”

Great. Paranoid, as well. He was going to be a joy to work with, she could see that already.

“Your story doesn’t quite work,” he said gruffly. “There’s no reason that I can see for you to come to Scotland in the first place, much less apply for work. If you’re serious about living in the U.K., London would be the most logical place for you to search for work.”

Was this some kind of test? Was she supposed to break down in tears at this point? Calmly Jenna replied, “Do you have a particular reason for questioning my honesty, sir? You may not believe me but I have no reason to lie to you.” She stood and ran her hands down her thighs to smooth her skirt. “You’ve made it quite clear that once again you’re displeased with Ms. Spradlin’s choice. I respect that. You certainly have the right to disagree with her.” She picked up her handbag. “I do want to reassure you, however, that I didn’t accept the position with some nefarious plan in mind. I merely wanted a job. Your family’s heirlooms would have been safe with me.”

Jenna walked toward the door, mentally telling the rows of books goodbye.

“Oh, for God’s sake, stop being so melodramatic,” Ian snapped. “Come back here. I don’t want to be hopping up and down every time I say something that displeases you.”

She turned and looked at him. “It isn’t melodramatic to dislike rudeness, sir. I’m capable of dealing with a great many foibles, but I will not tolerate your disrespect.”

He pushed himself out of his chair and faced her. Their gazes locked and she, for one, did not intend to back down. She felt a small victory of sorts when he glanced away and muttered something that might have been an apology.

Or a curse word.

“Let’s start over, shall we?” he asked, running his hand through his hair. Definitely irritated, she thought to herself. Well, so was she. “Please sit.” When she was seated once again, he said, “May I see your references?”

Without replying, Jenna reached into her purse and brought out her résumé and two letters of recommendation. After handing them to him, she waited for his next salvo.

After reading the documents, he looked at her and said, “According to this, your previous employer is convinced you walk on water. With this glowing recommendation, I’m surprised he allowed you to leave.” He studied her for a moment. “Did your departure have anything to do with a lover’s spat? Because if it did, I see no reason to have you settle in here only to receive an apologetic phone call from him that will send you scurrying back to Australia…with all due respect.”

“Not that such information is any of your business, but since Basil Fitzgerald is sixty-five years old with several children and grandchildren, I doubt he could have found time for an affair…and if he had ever entertained the idea, Mrs. Fitzgerald would have bashed him on the head for considering it.”

“If I seem to be prying into your personal life, Ms. Craddock, I do apologize. I need an assistant who will focus on my work. What you do on your own time is up to you. Just so we’re clear about our arrangement, I’m not looking for a personal relationship with you. I don’t have time for flirting or any of that nonsense. I need a skilled assistant. That’s all.”

Jenna fought to hang on to her temper. Fighting for control, she studied the man, allowing her gaze to slide over him from his curls to his rather large feet. Eventually she raised her eyes to meet his and said, “Tell me, Sir Ian, are you always this obnoxious or did I luck out and catch you on a bad day? I can’t for the life of me imagine why you think that I—or any other self-respecting woman, for that matter—would be interested in having a relationship with you.”

He looked startled for a moment, then gave her a boyish grin that was wholly unexpected…and devastatingly attractive. “You’ll do, Ms. Craddock. You’ll do.” Before she could find her voice to tell him that she wasn’t at all certain she wished to work for him, Ian mentioned a salary that made her eyes widen. The sum was at least twice what she’d expected to receive, taking into account that her room and board were part of the compensation. For that amount of money, she’d be willing to work for Attila the Hun. From what she had gathered so far, the man could very well be the reincarnation of Attila.

“I hope you’ll find your stay here satisfactory,” he said. He stood, wincing as he straightened his left leg. “I’ll have Hazel show you to your room.”

He touched a button on the extension phone next to his chair and Jenna heard Hazel’s voice. “Yes?”

“I believe Ms. Craddock and I have dealt with the necessary hiring procedures. Will you show her to her room, please?”

“Certainly.”

Jenna rose and walked to the door. When she opened it, she saw Hazel striding down the hallway toward her. As Jenna stepped through the doorway, Ian spoke again. “Ms. Craddock?”

She turned. “Yes?”

“Do I have your permission to call you Jenna?”

She doubted the sincerity of his conciliatory tone. With a regal nod, she answered, “Yes.”

His lips twitched. “Well, then, welcome aboard, Jenna. I would appreciate your returning as soon as you’ve settled in. I hope you won’t feel too rushed to begin working today. As you’re aware, I’ve been without help for some time.”

She lifted one brow and said, “Imagine that,” before quietly closing the door behind her.

Chapter Four

Ian drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair and stared into the fire as he waited for Jenna Craddock.

He’d never met anyone like her and he hadn’t expected her to be so young.

When he’d spoken to Violet Spradlin many weeks ago, he’d made it clear that he wanted a competent, no-nonsense assistant. He’d pictured a middle-aged woman who did what she was hired to do. Someone dependable…like Hazel. Most of the women he’d interviewed fit that description.

The last thing he’d expected was a petite woman with sparkling eyes and a charming smile. Not that she’d been smiling by the time their meeting was over, he reminded himself. She might as well learn that he didn’t have time for social chitchat. He had a busy schedule, what with his physical therapy three times a week, the exercises he needed to do to get back in top form and working on his novel.

He’d been grateful to have something besides pain to occupy his mind these past months. Who would have believed that he would find enjoyment doing something so out of his professional field? But he’d always been an avid reader. He wasn’t certain when he first thought about writing a book—probably during one of the nights when pain kept him awake. Whatever the reason for beginning the project, he was hooked.

He’d had no idea what he was doing when he started out, but somehow he began to realize what he wanted to say. He would revise, and revise again, until the story read more like the one he could hear in his head.

Life was full of surprises.

Jenna Craddock was one of them.

Her looks should be irrelevant but he’d turned into something of a hermit since the accident. His only visitor was Hal, his physical therapist, who irritated him to no end, always harping about not overdoing it.

He would do whatever was necessary to get back to top form. He’d devoted twelve years of his life to his job, and he wouldn’t allow his injuries to put an end to his career.

That career didn’t leave him time to develop a relationship with a woman. Therefore, he’d never been seriously involved with anyone. One woman went so far as to point out that he was married to his career, “whatever it was.” All she knew was that two to three months would pass without word from him. There were very few women willing to see him on his schedule.

His mother had already despaired of becoming a grandmother, he thought, amused. Not that she ever gave up haranguing him about the notion. He’d tried to convince her that he couldn’t find another woman like her, but she would have none of it.

Now he was faced with a situation where he’d become unavoidably celibate. The last thing he needed was a nubile young woman around him on a daily basis as a constant reminder of what he was missing.

He would work around the problem, that’s all. He’d make certain to maintain a professional relationship with her. Since he took most of his meals in his room anyway, he doubted he’d see her when she wasn’t working.

The important thing was to finish the novel. Once it was done, she would be leaving. Another spur to finish the novel as rapidly as possible. If by some fluke he actually sold the thing—and what a long chance that was—he intended to use the money for needed repairs to his home.