Chapter 1
Her enemy was handsome. Slate–gray eyes, dark hair
and aristocratic features—every inch the Scottish laird.
She shook his offered hand. "Nice to meet you. I'm Fiona
Lam."
"James Drummond."
I know. She smiled sweetly. His handshake was firm and
his skin cool to the touch. Her own hand suddenly felt hot
and she struggled not to pull it back. The glitzy cocktail
party hosted by an international bank hummed around them,
bright young things in expensive suits meeting and greeting
each other, but somehow they all faded into the background.
"I'm new to Singapore. Just moved here from San Diego."
"Really?" One elegant eyebrow raised.
"I sold my first business and I'm looking around for new
opportunities. Do you work here?"
"Sometimes." He still held her hand. Cheeky devil.
No wonder he had a reputation as a ladies' man. "I have
a place in Scotland."
The grand estate she'd heard about. She didn't care
about that. She did want her hand back, though. It was
getting hotter, and an unpleasant tingling sensation had
started to trickle up her arm. She gave a firm tug and he
released her fingers with the ghost of a smile.
She tried not to shake out her hand. "I've heard
Scotland's beautiful."
"If you like mist and heather." His steely gaze was
totally unblinking. No wonder he intimidated his business
rivals.
"You don't?"
"I inherited them. Don't really need to have an opinion.
Can I get you a drink?"
"Champagne." She sagged with relief as he turned to find
a waiter. This guy was pretty intense. Which was fine. She
didn't have to like him.
She just needed him to like her.
He returned with two bubbling glasses and handed her
one. No one had warned her he was so good–looking. It
was more than a little disconcerting. In her experience
venture capitalists were usually men in their sixties with
hair growing out of their ears. She sipped, then tried not
to sneeze as the bubbles tickled the back of her throat. She
wasn't a big fan of booze, but she wanted to look as if she
fit into James Drummond's rarefied world.
He raised his sculpted chin. "What brings you to Singapore?"
"I'm looking into a couple of business opportunities."
Again, his brow lifted. "I'm in business myself. What do you
do?"
"I just sold a company that makes decals. Smileworks."
The name usually made people smile. It made her smile and
she was still sad to have sold it. But not sad about all the
money she'd made on the deal.
"I read about the buyout. Congratulations. That was
quite a coup."
The sparkle of interest in his eyes had intensified. She
felt a tiny rush of power—or was it pleasure? "Thanks.
It was fun building Smileworks but I'd taken it as far as I
could."
"So what's next for you?" He leaned forward, clearly
intrigued.
She shrugged, annoyed to notice that her nipples had
tightened beneath her black cocktail dress and hoping he
wouldn't notice. "Not sure yet. I'll have to see what sparks
my imagination."
In his dark gray suit and dark gray tie, James
Drum–mond was sparking her imagination in all kinds of
undesirable directions. He was so buttoned down that the
prospect of tearing off his crisp white shirt or running
fevered fingers through his carefully combed hair seemed an
intriguing challenge.
Was it wise to bed an enemy? Probably not, but a little
flirtation couldn't hurt. She needed to gain his trust, then
figure out how to buy—or steal—her father's
factory back.
She managed another sip of the unfamiliar champagne. She
had to stay focused. Her dad needed her and at last she
could prove to him she cared. It wasn't her fault she'd
grown up nine thousand miles away, calling another man
Daddy. She hadn't planned the first two decades of her life
but she was in charge of the rest and she intended to right
some of the wrongs that had been committed against Walter
Chen. Starting with the wrongs committed by one James Drummond.
They left the cocktail party together, and James's
driver took them to Rain, the hottest new restaurant, where
even he had to pull strings to get a reservation.
"This place is stunning. I had no idea Singapore had so
much nightlife." She stared around at the minimalist decor
with its cool green lighting. "Clearly, I need to get out more."
"Got to keep the worker bees happy or we'd all fly off
somewhere else."
He sat opposite her, pleased by the surprise of having
dinner with a beautiful woman who'd been in his life for
only one hour. Fiona had his attention. Her company,
Smileworks, had created an international splash with its
funky graphics and new concepts for things to stick decals
to—like walls. That she'd already sold it and banked
more money than most people made in a lifetime was impressive.
And she was beautiful as well as smart, with dramatic
dark eyes framed by slightly arched brows, and a full mouth
that begged to be kissed. Her American accent had surprised
him, and added to the layers of intrigue. She was exactly
the kind of woman he could see himself marrying.
And he needed to marry.
The waiter gave them shiny black menus. He watched her
eyelashes flick lower as she scanned hers. Then she looked
up and transfixed him with those bright eyes. "What do you
recommend?"
"I've heard it's all good, but I can lend my personal
recommendation to the sea urchin."
Her eyes widened. "I had no idea those were edible."
The waiter showed him a bottle of his favorite wine and
he nodded. When the waiter had filled their glasses and
left, he leaned in. "Last time I had the pigeon. That was
good, too. All depends on whether you want to eat creatures
of land, sea or air."
She laughed. "How about a pond?"
"The duck is very tender." He smiled and lifted his
glass to her. "And I expect they could even make pond weed
taste good if they wanted."
"A little salt and pepper, saute it with garlic?" Humor
sparkled in her lovely eyes. Then she raised her glass and
took a sip. "That's some good wine."
A smile tugged at his mouth. "At four hundred dollars a
bottle it should be. I like it."
"You spend more time in Singapore than Scotland?" She
unfurled her napkin as she asked.
"I do. Scotland's not exactly an international business
hub." Funny how she hadn't even asked him what he did yet.
That was refreshing. Being new to Singapore, she obviously
had no idea of his reputation, which was also a plus. It got
tiresome explaining to people that you weren't a vulture,
or—lately—that vultures played an important role
in the circle of life. "You can work from anywhere these
days. I do most of my work over the internet."
"I do, too, but nothing beats meeting people
face–to–face." Fiona's face was lovely. Smooth
skin with a radiant glow that contrasted with thick dark
hair that swept to her shoulders. He wanted to run his
fingers through that hair.
And if all went according to his current plan, he would.
"It's funny that you have a Scottish first name, when
there's nothing Scottish about you."
She lifted her slim brow with a slightly defiant air.
"I do like plaid. I even bought a pair of plaid shoes
the other day. What's Scottish about you?"
"Good question. I'm not sure anyone's ever asked it
before. I'm probably the only person I've ever met who
actually enjoys single malt whiskey."
She wrinkled her nose. "You're certainly the only one
I've met. I tried it once and I won't be doing that again."
"I treat it with a healthy respect, myself, as it's
killed a lot of my forebears."
"They were drinkers?"
"Drinkers, fighters, fast drivers, the type of men who
go out looking for the end of a sword to run into."
Curiosity sparkled in her eyes, and stirred the arousal
gathering low inside him. "And you're not like that?"
"I prefer to be holding the sword."
He expected a laugh, or at least a smile, but she simply
seemed to consider his words for a moment. "I suppose that
is a better position to be in. Are you afraid of ending up
like your ancestors?"
"Can't say I am. Though I keep getting emails and
letters from my American cousin who's decided it's her
mission to save the Drummond family from an ancient curse by
reuniting three parts of a lost chalice."
Her eyes widened. "A curse? Do you think there's
anything to it?"
"I don't believe in that kind of nonsense. Hard work and
common sense are the cure for most so–called curses
I've heard about."
"You did say your ancestors kept wading into trouble."
She raised a slim brow. "Maybe there's something to the
legend. Where is the chalice supposed to be?"
"According to my cousin's last rather breathless email,
she's already found two pieces. One was in the family home
where she resides in New York—she's a Drummond herself
by marriage—and the other was found in the ocean off
an island in Florida, where it sank in a pirate ship three
hundred years ago. She thinks the third piece was brought
back to Scotland by one of my ancestors."
"How intriguing." She leaned forward, giving him a
tantalizing whiff of her soft floral scent. "Are you going
to look for it?"
Her obvious excitement stirred a trickle of interest in
the idea. He'd almost forgotten about Katherine Drummond and
her pleas for him to join in the hunt. He'd been so busy
lately he couldn't remember if he'd even responded. "I don't
know. Do you think I should?"
"Absolutely."
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