How to Trap a Tycoon by Elizabeth Bevarly Read Free Book Online

thoughtfully. "I guess it depends on how successful you are in your hunt."
    "I'm always successful, Adam. You know that."
    "Yes, I do. Which is why you're going to be the perfect candidate for writing this story the way I want it told."
    "And the story the way you want it told would be…"
    This time Adam was the one to smile the predatory smile. "Lucas, since you're such a fan of the book, I want you to use it to go out and trap yourself a tycoon."
    Lucas's rapt interest suddenly shifted to vague suspicion. "Come again?"
    "The way I see it," Adam began, "even though Ms. Grable-Monroe wrote her book for women who want to land themselves a rich husband, there's no reason why a man can't use the book to land himself a rich wife."
    "Whoa, whoa, whoa," Lucas objected immediately, raising his hands before himself palm out in a gesture of what was clearly self-preservation. "You want me to go out and trap a rich wife? Are you crazy? I don't care how much money she has. No way do I want to be married and miserable for the rest of my life."
    "Not a real wife," Adam told him. "You don't have to marry the tycoon you trap. Just use the instructions in the book to snag yourself … you know … a sugar mommy."
    Lucas shuddered visibly. "I think that's the single most revolting thing anyone's ever said to me. I do not want to go there."
    Adam ignored the comment. "Look, just write me a story for the magazine that offers a man's view of this whole thing. I want to see what happens when a young, ambitious guy like yourself reads the book and takes the advice to heart in the quest for a rich woman. It should make for a nice piece."
    "A nice piece," Lucas repeated flatly. "I'm not even going to touch that comment."
    "Hey, you don't have to touch anything you don't want to. No reason to get tawdry. Just get me a good story out of this," Adam reiterated. "One that will appeal to our readership."
    "Oh, I can definitely do that. It should be really interesting," Lucas said blandly. "And, gosh, really fun, too. And, whoa, very educational. And it should put to rest once and for all my father's theory that it's as easy to fall in love with a rich woman as it is with a poor one. Would that he had followed his own advice," he added in a voice that prohibited further probing.
    "You say that because you don't believe in love, period," Adam said.
    Lucas tilted his head to the side. "Excuse me, but I'm only a twenty-four-year-old bachelor, unlike the thirty-nine-year-old bachelor who is also sitting at this bar. Is it just me, or does this seem like an odd statement for the old guy to be making to the young guy in such a situation?"
    Adam ignored the comment, thinking he was getting pretty good at ignoring Lucas. Now, if he could just be as effective in getting the kid to shut up in the first place, he'd be okay. Of course, the fact that Lucas refused to be shut up was probably what made him such a good journalist to begin with.
    Damn, Adam hated these catch-22s. But he did love the way Lucas worked.
    "I'd still like to expose Lauren Grable-Monroe," his hotshot writer said. "How about I write an exposé on her as a companion piece to this story?"
    Adam opened his mouth to tell Lucas no, to state quite adamantly that such an exposé had no place in Man's Life magazine. And when he did, the oddest thing came out instead.
    "No way, Lucas," he told him.
    "Why not?"
    Unbidden, a feral little smile curled Adam's lips. "Because," he said, "Lauren Grable-Monroe is mine.

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    Chapter 3

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    " W hat do you think, Dorsey? The blue or the green?"
    Dorsey heard her mother's question and told herself it would be polite to answer. Unfortunately, she was far too busy doing other things—things like, oh, panicking, reeling from shock, quaking with fear, choking on terror—to form an adequate reply. She couldn't even bring herself to glance up from where she had buried her face in her hands after collapsing onto the edge of Carlotta MacGuinness's