Playboy's Challenge (Highlander's Series) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Playboy’s Challenge

  Copyright

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Epilogue

  A word about the author...

  Thank you for purchasing

  Playboy’s Challenge

  by

  Jo Barrett

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

  Playboy’s Challenge

  COPYRIGHT © 2013 by Jo Barrett

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: [email protected]

  Cover Art by RJMorris

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

  Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

  Publishing History

  First Faery Rose Edition, 2013

  Digital ISBN 978-1-61217-720-5

  Published in the United States of America

  Acknowledgements

  Thanks to all those fans who nagged me for more in the Challenger series.

  Chapter One

  The ice clanked in Adam Sutherland’s glass as he drained the last of his tonic and gin, wishing he were anywhere but in a baroque Scottish castle watching his parents glide across the dance floor seeing only one another. It was always like that with them. He’d not given it much notice as a child, but as he grew older, became interested in the opposite sex, he realized what it was.

  Love. Pure, unadulterated, absolute love.

  And once he’d been burned by the obscene emotion, he could barely stomach the sight of it.

  I am an ass to be jealous of what my parents have, his conscience prodded, but he ignored it.

  Jealousy or not, he wanted nothing to do with the emotion that could take a man down in one swift blow. Hell, throughout history it had caused chaos, toppled walls, collapsed empires. No, he could do well enough without it, thank you.

  The music ended and his parents joined him after an occasional nod to other couples. This was their shindig, after all. Another charity ball for another worthy cause his mother had taken up.

  She took his arm when she moved beside him. “Thank you for coming, sweetheart.”

  “No problem,” he said, adding an upbeat attitude to his tone that he didn’t feel.

  His father gave him a look when his mother glanced away to talk to someone.

  Yeah, he was probably pretty transparent, at least to his father, so he mentally knocked the devil on his shoulder to the marble floor and toned down his super happy face just a bit.

  “Hi, Adam.” A sultry little thing, whose name he couldn’t recall, winked as she strolled by.

  He grinned in reply with a wink of his own.

  “You know her?” his mother asked.

  “I suppose I do.”

  His father let out a heavy breath. “Another of your nameless conquests.”

  With a chuckle, he said, “Can I help it if I’m popular?”

  His mother covered her grin with her hand, while his father narrowed his eyes at him. Same old song there, but it wasn’t his problem. Dear old Dad was never happy with him, no matter the situation these days, so Adam just quit worrying about it.

  “Jenny, you look lovely as always,” an old man said, as he stepped up beside his mother. “Ian, mind if I steal your wife?”

  Always the gentleman, Dad replied in his brisk English accent, “I would be offended if you did not try, Oswald.”

  His mother grinned that sappy grin she always gave Dad, then took the old guy’s hand.

  “I’d be delighted,” she said, and swirled out onto the dance floor.

  His father was quiet, but Adam knew the peace wouldn’t last long.

  “This event means a great deal to your mother,” Ian said.

  Yep, right on queue. “Yeah, just like the last one and the one before that.”

  His father’s head snapped to the side and he shot him a glare. After a long silent pause, he took a deep breath, then returned his gaze to the floor and his wife. “If you did not wish to participate, then you should not have come.”

  The waiter appeared, and Adam set his empty glass on the tray. “Easier said than done,” he said, shoving his hands deep into his pockets, resisting the urge to snag another glass.

  “True.” A small smile played at the edge of his father’s lips.

  They both knew from past experience, if Jennifer Maxwell Sutherland wanted something, she got it. And not by force. No, she got it with a sincere look from her huge brown eyes that could make the devil feel guilty. Not to mention she would talk for hours on the topic until your ears bled.

  “So, how are you doing in your new position?” Ian asked.

  Adam really didn’t want to have this conversation, but knew he couldn’t avoid it forever.

  He pulled his hands from his pockets, took a deep breath, and straightened his tux. “I quit.”

  That brought his father’s glare back to the surface. “And I assume this has something to do with a certain woman,” he said, his teeth clenched.

  “You assume correctly. It was quit or get fired. Apparently Mr. Burns didn’t care for his daughter’s latest boyfriend.”

  His father turned to face him squarely. “If you had not gone to such great lengths to let the world know of your excesses with women, to be dubbed the ‘Playboy of the Year’ by every rag in the western world, then perhaps the man would not have been concerned.”

  The growing color in his father’s face was a warning sign, but Adam was tired of trying to keep the peace, it never did him much good anyway. He always ended up feeling the failure and listening to another of his mother’s lectures.

  “I can’t control the media, nor do I care if they’re interested in what I do or don’t do.”

  “Don’t do, is the correct phrase. You waste your nights in revelry with various women and unsavory characters, pay frequent visits to every gaming hell you can find, and do nothing useful with your talents.”

  Adam chuckled. “You don’t think women and poker require talent? Here’s a newsflash for you, Dad. I use my talents all the time.”

  Ian lurched forward, then pulled back just as quickly. No way would he mess up Mom’s party by making a scene.

  Another waiter drifted by and Adam grabbed a glass of champagne, a drink he hated, but considering the situation at hand, all he cared about was getting plastered.

  “And I suppose becoming a drunken sod is another of your talents,” Ian said, eyeing Adam’s glass.

  “You ain’t seen nothing yet,” he muttered.

  His father leaned in closely. “Mark my words, Adam. If you dare embarrass your mother, I will take it out of your bloody arse.”

  He nearly choked on his champagne, stunned his father would say something so crass.

  Man, he must have really pushed his buttons tonight. As far back as he could remember, Dad had portrayed himself to be calm and proper in all things. His grandf
ather could never stop talking about how lucky his mother was to have found him. Granddad treated his father like he was some sort of friggin’ royalty.

  Jealous of the attention from the old man maybe?

  Adam told his conscience to go screw itself and leveled his gaze on his father. “Maybe you should.”

  They hadn’t worked out with swords in a very long time. Not since he was in college—a million years ago. But Ian said nothing more and turned back to face the dance floor just as Mom started their way, having finished her dance. Her step faltered as she moved closer, her gaze darting between him and Dad. No doubt neither of them looked happy at the moment.

  “Have a word with your son, while I fetch you a refreshment,” Ian said, his voice low and gruff.

  “What—” Mom’s words were cut short as his father stiffly walked away. She looked to Adam, a frown on her face. “What are you two arguing about this time?”

  He sipped his champagne, deciding to be honest and not soften things for her. He’d been doing that for years, and now he wondered why he’d ever bothered. She wasn’t as fragile as she looked.

  “Same old thing. I’m a drunk and a disgrace to the Sutherland name.”

  Her brows rose. “Where on earth did you get such an idea?”

  He chuckled humorlessly. “Mom, I love you, but you’re blind where Dad’s concerned. I’m a failure in his eyes, always have been. He merely tolerates me for your benefit. You’re not exactly overjoyed with me these days, either.”

  Her jaw dropped at that for a scant moment then snapped shut. After a quick glance at the people around them, she snatched his drink from his hand and shoved it at a waiter, then snagged his arm and towed him outside. She didn’t stop tugging until they were far away from the house and any nosey ears.

  They came to an abrupt halt in front of a decorative fountain, supposedly where she and Dad had met years ago beneath a crisp winter night sky.

  “Now you listen to me, Adam Sutherland. I love you, and I love your father, but I’ve had quite enough of this war the two of you are waging. I don’t know where you got the idea that either one of us are ashamed of you. Disappointed in some of your choices, yes, but we both love you.”

  He shook his head. “Disappointed? Mom, a day doesn’t go by that he doesn’t rub my face in his prudish English manners. He’s a freakin’ paragon of perfection! I hear it all the damn time! Even Granddad couldn’t sing his praises loud enough.”

  Her eyes widened and her mouth fell agape. “Prudish? Your father?” She blinked like an owl for a moment, then started to giggle, then her giggle turned into a full blown laugh. Tears even leaked from the corners of her eyes.

  Adam shoved his hands in his pockets and sighed. “I’m glad you think this is so hilarious.”

  She cleared her throat and shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said, reining in her hysterics. “It’s just so funny that you see him that way, when he isn’t like that at all.”

  “Isn’t like that? The man can’t even talk like normal people. He’s like some throwback to the royal court or something.”

  “You don’t remember,” she said, her smile falling from her pretty face. Although in her fifties, she was still a very beautiful woman.

  “Remember what? That he can’t stand the sight of me?”

  She planted her hands on her tiny waist and glared at him. “That isn’t true, and you know it. What you seem to have wiped from your memory, is how we spent our summers when you were little.”

  He let out a heavy sigh. “What does traipsing around an old castle have to do with anything? So we did the back-to-basics thing with the MacLeans for a few years when he was on that historical kick. I don’t see what that has to do with him hating my guts.”

  “He does not hate your guts,” she said, her voice firm. “And those trips were not just for fun. He taught you about horses, how to ride, and how to use a sword. It wasn’t just a history lesson, it was your father’s life.”

  “His life, right.” He snorted and shook his head. “Well, a hell of a lot of good that does me. Since Granddad died, he’s hounded me to get a job, to use my talents. Well, I’m sorry but sword fighting and horseback riding isn’t something worth putting on my resume.”

  She shook her head, a deep frown pulling at her lips. “All these years, I thought you understood, I thought you knew what he was, what he went through. I thought those trips explained it all.”

  With a furrowed brow, she turned to the water in the fountain. “He was afraid to ask me to marry him, you know. He thought I’d turn him down because of his past, because of the things he’d done, the man he was.”

  Her gaze slid to him, her eyes filled with tears. “All he ever wanted was for you to not suffer the same mistakes he made.”

  “Mom, Dad doesn’t make mistakes. His stiff English pride wouldn’t allow it.”

  Her gaze narrowed. “Really? You think he’s been a perfect, prudish English gentleman his entire life, do you? That he’s always had it easy, that whatever he’s wanted he’s achieved with little to no effort. That his path was always clear and attainable to him.”

  He shrugged, not wanting to comment, because he had a feeling it would just make her more angry. Getting drunk sounded even better now.

  “Look, Mom, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. Jet-lag or something has me a little irritable, that’s all. Let’s go back inside and have a drink.”

  He took her arm, but she jerked free, her gaze narrowed.

  “A drink? Oh, I’ll give you a drink. I think it’s time you learned a thing or two about your father—and yourself.”

  Without warning, she shoved him backward into the fountain.

  Jenny watched her son topple into the cold water, praying she’d done the right thing. He had to know, he had to learn it for himself. If a trip back in time couldn’t straighten him out, she was at a loss as to what else to try. He needed something or someone to help him find his place in the world, to make him happy.

  She’d watched him change over the last few years, since her father’s death, drifting through life with no plans but the next thrill. A small grin slipped over her lips. He was so like his father at that age, but unfortunately he was also headed down the same dead end path.

  Why? Her father hadn’t been that big an influence, had he? He loved Adam, and he did think highly of Ian, but why did her son wander so? Had her father done or said something to bring him to this?

  Ian slipped up behind her, wrapped his arm around her waist and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Are you all right, love?”

  She nodded, not quite sure how he would take her news.

  “Where is Adam?” he asked. “Has he slipped off again?”

  She heard the sadness in his voice and prayed he would understand why she did what she did. “Um, not exactly.”

  He turned her into his arms and studied her face. “Why does that have an ominous ring to it?”

  She studied the buttons on his jacket before lifting her gaze to his handsome face. “I sent him on a little trip.”

  Ian nodded, then paused, his face losing most of its color as his gaze shifted to the rippling water behind her. “You mean you—”

  “Yes, I did. He needs to learn a lesson or two and I couldn’t think of a better place or a better pair of friends to teach it to him.”

  A slow crooked grin eased over his lips. “You little minx. Colin will pound that boy in the lists until he cannot so much as lift a sword.”

  “Don’t count Tuck out. I have a feeling she’ll add her own unique touch to the situation.”

  “Aye, she’ll help Colin rub his face in the dirt,” he said with a hearty chuckle.

  She had a moment of worry, which must have shown as Ian held her closer.

  “He will be fine, love. Time spent in the seventeenth century as a man will be vastly different than that of his youth, but our friends will watch over him.”

  “I hope so. I truly hope so,” she said, curling in tighter
in the arms of her husband, her gaze on the sparkling water, remembering their past and praying for their son’s future.

  Chapter Two

  Adam tried to catch himself, but there was little to grab onto other than his mother, and the last thing he needed was to drag her in with him. Dad really would beat him to a bloody pulp for that. So he landed in the water with a resounding splash and barely missed cracking his head on the centerpiece. He lay there a moment, staring up at the stars spinning wildly, then let out a grumbled curse. He must have had more to drink than he’d realized to be so dizzy.

  He clamped his eyes closed and shook his head as he lifted himself up onto his elbows, stunned by the realization that his mother had actually pushed him into a fountain. With half a chuckle, he opened his eyes to ask her how she was going to explain his situation, when his breath left him in a whoosh. She was nowhere to be seen…nor was the fountain or even the castle. Instead of sitting in a large pool of cold water, he was in the middle of a small field edged by trees and a trickling brook and in the middle of the day.

  Shaking his head again, he got to his feet. “What in the hell happened?”

  He felt the back of his head, thinking maybe he had hit it and was delusional, but felt no lumps. Maybe he’d staggered off somewhere after his mother had pushed him.

  No, that didn’t sound right either. She wouldn’t have let him do that no matter how angry she was. She would’ve made sure he was tucked in a bed somewhere safe and sound, regardless of how drunk or how big an ass he’d made of himself.

  “I’m out cold, I bet,” he said to himself. “This has to be a dream. I bet Mom is right now slapping my face trying to wake me up.” Sure, that made sense, although he wasn’t feeling any real pain, just soaking wet clothes.

  He slid his hand into his pocket and retrieved his cell phone. So much for getting a signal on his location. No GPS, no connection, no anything, just a ruined piece of hardware. He shoved the useless device back into his pocket and headed for the opening in the trees by the brook. Be it a dream or reality, he may as well go with it. Sitting around and waiting for something to happen wasn’t his style.