Tempt Me If You Can Read online

  “Rich characterization, passion and romantic adventure …

  Chapman is unmatched and unforgettable.”

  —Romantic Times

  PRAISE FOR NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR JANET CHAPMAN

  … and her captivating contemporary romances

  THE MAN MUST MARRY

  “Offbeat and charming. … Chapman’s gift for creating characters you love spending time with is on full display.”

  —Romantic Times

  “Ninety-percent laughter, ten-percent tears, and one-hundred-percent romance. Nobody writes a luscious romantic comedy like Janet Chapman. … Superb.”

  —ReadertoReader.com

  “Chapman excels at creating a melodious story of one heroine meant for only one hero.”

  —Compuserve Books

  THE STRANGER IN HER BED

  “A thoroughly enjoyable tale of a modern-day knight and his feisty ladylove set in the rugged mountains of Maine.”

  —Booklist

  “More hot passion and danger in the wilds of Maine. … When you crack open a Chapman book, you are guaranteed pure reading pleasure.”

  —Romantic Times

  THE SEDUCTION OF HIS WIFE

  “A charming story of love, growth and trust.”

  —Romantic Times

  “Chapman presents a cast of rugged characters in rural Maine who enact a surprisingly tender romance.”

  —Booklist

  THE DANGEROUS PROTECTOR

  “One thing that Chapman does so deftly is meld great characterization, sparkling humor and spicy adventure into a perfect blend.”

  —Romantic Times

  THE SEDUCTIVE IMPOSTOR

  “Chapman’s skills as a storyteller just keep getting better. Utilizing warmth and humor, she makes this thrilling romantic tale both funny and scary. Great reading.”

  —Romantic Times

  “One of the best books I’ve read in a long time. … A fun, sexy read!”

  —Old Book Barn Gazette

  “Engaging romantic suspense … surprising twists … Janet Chapman seduces her audience.”

  —The Best Reviews

  Don’t miss her thrilling new paranormal romance series …

  MOONLIGHT WARRIOR

  “Plenty of good humor … lovable characters, [and] a sweet romance.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “A warmhearted tale of love and magic. … Full of warmth, danger and romantic passion.”

  —Romantic Times

  “Will knock your socks off. … A must read. … I couldn’t put it down.”

  —Winter Haven (FL) News Chief

  “A magically believable story brimming with imaginative scenarios and unforgettable characters.”

  —SingleTitles.com

  “A charming tale with sympathetic and quirky characters. . . . Great fun.”

  —A Romance Review

  “Chapman’s romantic fantasy is a sweet and silly mythical mélange with a dark magic center. … Brimming with interesting, well-crafted characters.”

  —ReadertoReader.com

  … or her charming Highlander series

  SECRETS OF THE HIGHLANDER

  “Liberally spiced with mystery, this story has warmth and genuine love that make it the perfect antidote for stress.”

  —Romantic Times

  ONLY WITH A HIGHLANDER

  “A mystical, magical book if there ever was one. … A perfect 10!”

  —Romance Reviews Today

  These titles are also available as eBooks

  ALSO BY JANET CHAPMAN

  A Highlander Christmas

  Moonlight Warrior

  The Man Must Marry

  Secrets of the Highlander

  The Stranger in Her Bed

  The Seduction of His Wife

  Only with a Highlander

  The Dangerous Protector

  Tempting the Highlander

  The Seductive Impostor

  Wedding the Highlander

  Loving the Highlander

  Charming the Highlander

  Available from Pocket Books

  The sale of this book without its cover is unauthorized. If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that it was reported to the publisher as “unsold and destroyed.” Neither the author nor the publisher has received payment for the sale of this “stripped book.”

  Pocket Star Books

  A Division of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  1230 Avenue of the Americas

  New York, NY 10020

  www.SimonandSchuster.com

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2010 by Janet Chapman

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Pocket Books Subsidiary Rights Department, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020.

  First Pocket Star Books paperback edition March 2010

  POCKET STAR BOOKS and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  For information about special discounts for bulk purchases, please contact Simon & Schuster Special Sales at 1-800-506-1949 or [email protected].

  The Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau can bring authors to your live event. For more information or to book an event, contact the Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau at 1-866-248-3049 or visit our website at www.simonspeakers.com.

  Cover design by Min Choi

  Cover illustration by Gene Mollica

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  ISBN 978-1-4165-9544-1

  ISBN 978-1-4391-7120-2 (ebook)

  To Benjamin Chapman

  This one is all yours, even though you have always been the hero of your own story!

  (So now will you stop sending me those anonymous fan letters, asking when I am going to give my smart, handsome, eldest son his very own book?)

  Prologue

  Benjamin Sinclair stared up at his two brothers standing across the desk from him, presenting an imposing, united front. They hadn’t uttered a word since walking in, and they didn’t have to. Sinclair men never bluffed, and once committed, they never backed down.

  Knowing he wasn’t leaving the office until he explained his ongoing black mood, Ben silently pulled a card from an envelope on the desk, slid it toward them, then fixed his gaze on the opposite wall as they read the short, succinct note written on a plain white card.

  Sam Sinclair picked up the envelope, read the postmark, then looked at Ben. “You got this over three weeks ago.”

  “It’s taken me that long to find out if it’s true.”

  “And is it?” Jesse asked.

  Ben dropped his gaze to the unsigned note that had sent him into a tailspin.

  You have a son, Mr. Sinclair. He’s fifteen years old, and his name is Michael. It’s time you came and met him.

  The envelope was postmarked Medicine Gore, Maine.

  “The investigators I hired believe that it’s true,” Ben returned softly, his gunmetal gaze once again fixed on his brothers. “His name is Michael Sands, he lives with his aunt in Medicine Gore, and the timing is right.” He slid a thick folder toward them. “The investigators included a photo. You tell me if you think it’s true.”

  Sam opened the folder and he and Jesse stared down at the eight-by-ten photograph.

  “My God,” Jesse said hoarsely, looking at Ben. “This could be a picture of you nineteen years ago.” He looked back at Ben. “He has your eyes
.”

  Sam, the oldest of the three Sinclair men, collapsed with a sigh into a chair facing the desk. Jesse, the youngest, picked up the photo before sitting in the other chair.

  “All these years of enduring Bram’s petitions for us to get married and have children.” Sam shook his head. “And he had a great-grandson living in Maine all this time.”

  “How the hell could you not know you’d fathered a child?” Jesse asked. “It had to have happened that summer you spent protesting some logging practice in the Maine mountains. We suspected you fell in love with a girl up there, but you were in such a foul mood when you came back, you refused to tell us what in hell was wrong.”

  “I was protesting the building of a hydroelectric dam,” Ben clarified. “And the girl was Kelly Sands. I asked her to come back to New York with me, but she just laughed and told me to get lost. There wasn’t even a hint that she might be pregnant.”

  “Did she know who you were?” Sam asked. “Who your grandfather was?”

  “I didn’t hide the fact that I came from money, but I didn’t exactly flaunt it, either.” He shrugged. “I don’t think she ever equated me with wealth.”

  Jesse snorted. “If she had, you can be damn sure she’d have come knocking on your door once she discovered she was pregnant.”

  “The question is, why is she suddenly knocking now?” Sam asked. “Fifteen years is a long time to wait to tell a man he has a son.”

  “The note isn’t from her,” Ben said. “According to the investigators, Kelly Sands vanished ten years ago. Emma, her younger sister, has been raising Michael all by herself.”

  Silence settled between the brothers. Ben curled his hands into fists as his vision turned inward, narrowing on that long-ago summer when youthful idealism had pulled him north … into the arms of a beautiful and ultimately cruel young woman. Long-buried pain rose to the surface; remorse, grief, and anger warred inside Ben as he once again tried to wrap his mind around the fact that he had a fifteen-year-old son.

  “So what do you plan to do about this?” Sam asked.

  Dragged back to the present, Ben gave his brothers a tight smile. “I’m planning to go meet my son, just as the note suggests.”

  “And?” Jesse asked.

  “And, while my investigators find out where Kelly Sands has run off to, I plan to make Emma Sands very sorry for not contacting me the moment her sister left Michael in her care. Once they find Kelly, I intend to make her even sorrier—not only for not telling me I had a son, but for abandoning him to a nineteen-year-old girl.”

  Sam was shaking his head before Ben even finished. “You can’t,” he said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “I’m sure the boy loves his mother and aunt. You go after them for revenge, and you’ll destroy any chance of having a relationship with Michael.”

  “He’s right, Ben.” Jesse stood up and tossed the photo on the desk. “For all you know, they told Michael his father is dead. Instead of letting anger cloud your judgment, you need to decide how you’re going to approach the boy.”

  Ben also stood. “I’ve already got that part figured out. I leave tomorrow for a two-week bird hunt at Emma Sands’s sporting camps. I’m booked at Medicine Creek Camps as Tom Jenkins.”

  Sam also stood, clearly alarmed. “You can’t just show up there using an alias. The aunt will know who you are the moment she sees you.”

  Ben rubbed the neatly trimmed beard he’d been growing for a week. “I’ve changed quite a bit in sixteen years. Emma was only fourteen the summer I was in Maine, and she always disappeared into the forest whenever I visited Kelly. There’s no way she’ll know who I am. Then, once I get comfortable being around Michael, I’ll find a way to introduce myself.”

  “I don’t like it,” Sam growled. “Somebody in town is bound to recognize you. Are you forgetting what happened the day you left Medicine Gore? The FBI might have concluded you didn’t have anything to do with blowing up that dam, but they never caught the bastards. The townspeople probably still think you’re responsible for Charlie Sands’s death.” He stepped up to the desk. “At least take Jesse with you.”

  “Jesse will be running Tidewater International while I’m gone. We’re right in the middle of purchasing five new cargo ships, and the details still have to be worked out.”

  “Dammit, Ben,” Sam snapped. “You need to think this through.”

  “It’s the only thing I have been thinking about for three weeks.” Ben slid the note back in its envelope, set it and the photo back in the folder, then tucked the folder under his arm. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to finish packing.”

  Sam stepped around the desk to head him off. “At least take Ronald with you.”

  Ben gave a sharp laugh. “Showing up with a driver who looks like a hit man will certainly give the right impression. No, this is my problem, and I’ll deal with it my way.” He touched Sam’s arm. “Don’t worry, big brother, I can take care of myself.”

  Ben headed for the door, but stopped and looked back to Sam. “Oh, and that little wager the three of us had going, that you could persuade Willa to marry you and get her pregnant within two months of the wedding? Even though you succeeded on both counts, I believe your and Jesse’s millions should go into a trust for Michael, seeing how Bram’s first great-grandson won by fifteen years.”

  With that, Ben walked into the hall and up the stairs, his smile fading as his thoughts turned to tomorrow’s journey into the northern Maine woods.

  Chapter One

  Just as surely as it would snow this winter, Tom Jenkins would be trouble. Most of her guests from big cities were trouble, but usually they had the decency to actually arrive before they sent her business into chaos. Tom Jenkins hadn’t even made it to Medicine Creek Camps, and already he was causing her fits.

  The man was lost.

  Emma was sorely tempted to leave him that way.

  But here she was, walking down yet another one of the tote roads that spiderwebbed through her neck of the woods, trying to remember why she loved this business so much. Emma sighed, resigned to the fact that she would smile nicely when she found Tom Jenkins, tell him it was her fault he was lost, and get him tucked into his cabin.

  When she rounded a curve in the logging road, though, she stopped in disbelief. Four men, supposedly her friends, were beating up her missing guest.

  The brawl had been mighty, if the torn clothes and bloody faces and churned gravel were any indication. It must have been raging quite a while, too, from the looks of the hard-breathing men. But with the odds so uneven, the outcome was inevitable. Her lost guest was now being held between two burly loggers while another tried to pound him senseless.

  Only the man was not Tom Jenkins. Emma immediately realized that hiding behind all that blood, beard, and a mask of pain was the one man on earth she had sworn to kill should she ever get the chance.

  He shouldn’t be here, in her woods, turning this beautiful October afternoon into yet another black day of her life. Even the sun had suddenly gone behind a cloud, sending a chill down her spine that had nothing to do with the temperature.

  He was sixteen years older than the last time she’d seen him, but she would have recognized him in the middle of a blinding blizzard. He’d grown taller and his shoulders had widened, but it was him. And even held captive by two burly loggers, the man of her nightmares looked more dangerous than a cornered wolf.

  Benjamin Sinclair was back.

  Another blow landed on his defenseless torso, and Emma winced at his grunt of pain.

  Damn. She should be cheering, not saving his rotten hide.

  Emma shouldered her shotgun, clicked off the safety, and pulled the trigger.

  The echoing boom and avalanche of pelting birdshot got everyone’s attention. Three men dropped to the ground, letting their victim fall to his knees. The man with the punishing fists spun around, his eyes wide with horror. Emma saw the moment he recognized her, because his face darkened and his shock turned to a f
erocious scowl.

  “Dammit, Emma. What in hell are you shooting at us for!”

  “I’m postponing your war a bit, Durham.”

  Durham Bragg spit on the ground in front of Benjamin Sinclair, who was dazedly staring at her, his own look of horror barely masked by his bloodied features. His other three attackers were strewn around him like fallen bowling pins, widened eyes peeking out from under their arms covering their heads. Emma looked back at Durham and waited with the patience of a hunter.

  Her old friend snarled a curse she hadn’t heard since her father had died. “Dammit, Emma Jean! If you want to stay neutral, then stay the hell out of this! We’re having a little talk with this tree hugger before we send him back to his buddies.” Durham turned back to his victim.

  Emma jacked a new shell into the chamber and raised the barrel of her shotgun again as the three other men started to rise. They immediately dropped back down.

  “He’s not an environmentalist, Durham. He’s one of my guests. He’s signed up for two weeks of partridge hunting.”

  Durham spun back to face her. “Emma! Look at him—his clothes all but shout tree hugger. And I swear I’ve seen his face before, probably on some damn Greenpeace poster.” Durham pointed at the man weaving on his knees. “For chrissakes, the guy could be a model for the L.L.Bean catalog!”

  “His name is Tom Jenkins,” Emma said. “Stanley Bates dropped him off at the painted rock and gave him directions to Medicine Creek Camps.”

  Durham shot a hesitant look at his kneeling victim. “Bates couldn’t give directions to a goddamn homing pigeon,” he said with a frustrated growl. He rubbed his forehead and let out a sigh. “Dammit. I know this guy from someplace.” He gave Emma a speculative look. “He could be registered as your guest and still be a tree hugger. Hunting partridge could be a cover.”

  “Environmental soldiers don’t get lost in the woods.”

  “Dammit, Emma Jean. Your daddy wouldn’t be pointing no shotgun at me.”

  “Damn yourself,” Emma countered. “You beat up one of my guests. Go home, and leave this man alone in the coming weeks. I won’t have my sports harassed.”