How to Trap a Tycoon Elizabeth Bevarly (year 7 reading list txt) 📖

Lucas took a few more steps backward. "Uh … yeah. Yeah, I could definitely use … something," he said cautiously. Then, because he knew he was behaving abominably—no self-respecting man would run away from a woman like this … unless, of course, he'd just been slapped senseless by Edie Mulholland, which, now that he thought about it, surely explained his utter lack of interest in this woman—he forced his feet to halt their rapid retreat. And he wondered how long it had been since Edie's departure and if she would be back anytime soon and if there would be any of him left unconsumed by this vibrant piranha once she did return.

The redhead stopped, but only when a scant breath of air separated her from Lucas. Then even that scant breath was gone, because he sucked it in quickly and nearly passed out on the overwhelming aroma of Chanel Number Something Really Annoying that accompanied it.

The woman seemed not to notice, though, because she tilted her head in the general direction in which Edie had just departed and said softly, "She seems to be pretty upset."

Lucas nodded. "Yes, she does."

"Looks like you might have your work cut out for you tonight winning her back."

"It does look that way, doesn't it?"

The redhead considered him thoughtfully. "Then again," she puffed. Actually purred, Lucas noted. How incredibly off-putting. "You don't seem like the kind of man who needs to keep a woman like that," she finished.

Uh-oh. "No?" he asked.

She shook her head slowly and lifted a hand to smooth out what he was sure was a nonexistent crease in his lapel. "No," she said softly, flattening her hand over his chest. "You look more like the kind of man who needs keeping himself."

Oh, man . "Do I?"

This time she nodded. "Young women are just so excitable, aren't they?"

Lucas swallowed hard. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, I … I guess. Edie can be a little vixen sometimes. A little minx, a little spitfire, a little tigress, a little … little… Where was I? Oh, yeah. A little firebrand."

The redhead seemed in no way impressed by this revelation. "Yes, she's certainly something," she said blandly. "But it seems to me that what you need is a woman who has a little more patience. A woman who takes her time. A woman who has more experience in … handling … a man like you."

Yikes . "You, uh, you really think so?"

"Oh, yes," she cooed. Actually cooed, he thought. How incredibly irritating. "Why don't you and I go somewhere that's a little more … private?" she added smoothly.

Good God. "Private?" he echoed.

"Private," she reiterated. "I have my car tonight—but not my husband," she told him shamelessly. "We could have a lot of fun together, you and I. And not just tonight, either." She smiled with much satisfaction before concluding, "And it goes without saying that it would be my treat. All of it," she further assured him, "would be my … treat."

Unbelievable , Lucas thought. Everything he'd been looking for in a tycoon for weeks, everything he needed for his article, everything, in fact, that he could possibly have ever fantasized about in his entire life… It had all just walked right up and introduced itself. All he had to do was open his mouth and agree to this woman's proposition, and he would have both his story for the magazine and one helluva good time. And it even went without saying that it would be her treat.

So he opened his mouth to agree to the woman's proposition. Unfortunately, what came out was, "Thanks, but if you'll excuse me, I really need to go find my date."

And then, as gracefully as he could—which wound up being not very graceful at all—he disengaged himself from the woman's enthusiastic clutches, offered her a smile of—almost genuine—regret, and ran like hell in the opposite direction.

Tycoon schmycoon. What Lucas really wanted more than anything else in the world was Mulholland of Sunnybrook Farm.

* * *

"You blew it. You totally and completely blew it. I can't believe how badly you blew it. Excuse me a moment while I crown you King Blowing It the First. It just boggles the mind how you blew it."

Lucas waited patiently for Edie to finish berating him—again—and tried to focus on navigating the road ahead of him instead. Ever since leaving the gallery, she had taken enormous pleasure in telling him over and over and over again how close he'd come to bagging his quarry only to fail miserably by letting his tycoon get away. In fact, Edie seemed to take a little too much pleasure in telling him that. Here she'd gone to all this trouble to help him trap a tycoon, and when he'd finally had one in his grasp—or, at the very least, had found himself in her grasp—he had let the woman get away, and Edie actually sounded happy about it.

What an interesting development.

"The world isn't a big enough place to hold how badly you blew it," she continued relentlessly. "That big sucking sound you hear? That's you blowing it. I mean, Lucas…" She sighed heavily. "You blew it."

"So you've said. Sixty-four times now."

"But you blew it."

"Sixty-five."

He braved a glance in her direction to find that she had braced her elbow against the passenger side window and was clutching a fistful of blond curls over her forehead. She looked beat. She looked frustrated. She looked confused. What she didn't look was happy.

"I'm sorry," he said, turning his attention back to the highway. "I know you went to a lot of trouble, and I apologize for not taking advantage of you."

He felt, more than saw, her go rigid.

"It," he hastily corrected himself. "I apologize for not taking advantage of it. You, I would never apologize for taking advantage of. Mainly because I think you'd have as much fun as I would."

"Oh, right. In your dreams."

"Oh, believe me, Edie, we have definitely