Hell.
There had to be a million willing women in the world, but the one woman who worked him up was the dark and dangerous mind-fuck that was standing like a roadblock in the way of his business deal.
Finally, she acknowledged his presence with a subtle nod.
He motioned to the two empty chairs next to him. “Glad you could make it before dessert.”
Stan had circled the table with his cheesy flirting. When he got back to Grayson he held out his hand. “Thank you for having me, Mr. Reynolds.”
“My pleasure.” But Grayson said the words through gritted teeth. Jessie had snatched the chair furthest away and pushed Stan into the seat in between them. How was he supposed to talk to her with Stan seated in the way?
For the next half hour, Grayson listened quietly while his authors answered endless questions from fawning fans. He had to admit, the five women who’d won the raffle took their fiction seriously. Calling them super-fans would not have been unreasonable. But when the topic came around to Stan’s sexy book covers, Grayson motioned for the waitress again. “Why don’t you just leave the bottle? Charge me whatever you want.”
His head began to pound when the topic turned to Stan’s workout routine. Seriously ladies? Okay, the dude was ripped, but move on. And fake Fabio here—
Never.
Stopped.
Talking.
Someone asked Stan if he was seeing anyone special. Grayson damn near choked on his Johnnie Walker Gold. With muscle-boy’s healthy ego, a better question may have been who wasn’t he seeing?
Stan wrapped his big, meaty claw around Jessie’s hand. “Unfortunately, my work schedule doesn’t allow much time for romance. But I have one or two friends I try to get together with as much as possible.”
What the fuck?
A slow burn traveled a seething path through Grayson’s veins. And this time it sure as shit had nothing to do with the whiskey. He leaned around Stan and let his gaze connect with Jessie’s. “I had no idea you and your cover model were such good friends. That’s handy. I’m sure there are many benefits to that friendly arrangement.”
Jessie arched a brow. “You have no idea.”
Grayson upended the rest of his whiskey. The outlaw wasn’t stupid. He’d accused her of having a friends with benefits arrangement with Stan, and she hadn’t even tried to deny it.
Instead, she sipped her wine and said matter-of-factly, “The benefit of being able to work, again and again, with someone you enjoy so much is extremely handy.”
“Ha.” Grayson let loose a sarcastic laugh. “Romance isn’t my area of expertise, but I figured there must be a new hero and a new model for every one of your books.” He had no idea why a solid lump of vengeance had settled in his chest, but it had. “It was my impression that Jessie James never uses the same guy twice for anything.”
Stan leaned forward, twisting a little to become a human roadblock between them. “I’ve got an idea. Who wants to take some pictures with me and Jessie?”
Jessie slammed Stan’s big body back in the chair. The heat in her expression could have melted a lesser man. “It’s really all about chemistry, isn’t it? A less than interesting hero only rates a one-and-done book. But if the hero and heroine connect, maybe a series will develop. Isn’t it fascinating how art imitates life?”
Grayson swallowed down the insult. He was pretty sure she’d just implied they had no chemistry. And called him less than interesting in writer-speak. Lucky for her they were surrounded by guests, because he was about one whiskey away from calling bullshit.
He remembered her nails taking off the top layer of skin on his back. He remembered her crying out, and it sure as fuck wasn’t Stan’s name she moaned. And he damn well remembered the way her body trembled and tightened as she came around him.
More than once.
“You’re preaching to the choir, honey,” he said. “When the chemistry is boring, the story certainly isn’t worth repeating. No one knows that better than me.”
Grayson wanted to yank the words back as soon as they left his mouth. Way to go, dumbass. You’re supposed to be playing nice and smoothing things over.
Jessie narrowed her eyes, but offered no flip remark in return. She leaned back and stared at the wineglass in her hand.
He’d just fucked himself.
Stan sat quietly in the uncomfortable tension for a couple of minutes before he stood. “I’m going…over there… to see if anyone wants a picture.” He touched Jessie’s shoulder. “You okay?”
She nodded. “Yeah. But I don’t think I’m up for karaoke tonight, if it’s okay.”
“No problem.” Stan gave Jessie a quick kiss on top of her head. “See you in the morning.” Then he looked back at Grayson and gave him a cool nod before walking away.
“I’ve got an early morning,” Jessie announced. “Does anyone need a picture or anything signed?”
Grayson watched her paste on a smile, shake a few more hands, and then leave without so much as a glance in his direction.
He wasn’t surprised that she completely ignored him. For the most part, he didn’t blame her. He felt like a dick, and the chances of talking her into signing any kind of contract had just slipped into the ether.
But such a spectacular failure in one direction meant a whole new freedom opened up in another direction. He’d spent a year wondering why Jessie had left without a word. Now that he had nothing more to lose, he intended to find out.
He handed a credit card to the waitress.
Jessie was halfway to the elevators when he caught up with her. He grabbed her wrist and spun her around. “What is your problem?”
“You are my problem.” She yanked her hand out of his grip. “And as far as tomorrow goes, take your poker game and shove it. No amount of money is worth spending time with you. I’ll donate every cent I own before I’ll write another book for you.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose and tried like hell to rein in his temper. How had things gotten this out of control? Maybe he didn’t remember the same highlights of their night together that she did. Because as far as he was concerned, the sex had been pretty damn spectacular until she pulled a Houdini the next morning. If anyone had a right to be pissed, it was him.
“Don’t you think this tension between us is a little stupid and immature?” he asked. “We spent one night together a year ago. So what? Now you hate me?”
She looked at him like he’d just spawned a second head. “You really are a son of a bitch, aren’t you? The worst part is that you come waltzing in here like you’ve done nothing wrong, and you expect me to play nice so that you can make more money.”
“Excuse me?” He laughed and motioned between then. “Is this is your idea of playing nice?”
“You bet it is.” She looked around and lowered her voice. “When I found out you were the CEO of R and R, I could have made all kinds of trouble for you. You lied about who you were, screwed me senseless, and snuck out like a pathetic ass. But did I? No. I honored my contract, wrote the damn books for your company, and worked my ass off to promote them. And I made sure to stay out of your way while I was doing it. I don’t think it’s too much to ask for you to show me the same courtesy.”
What the hell version of the truth had she talked herself into believing?
Screwed her senseless? Snuck out?
He stood absolutely dumbfounded and watched her stalk off.
Again.
She was getting on an elevator when he finally caught up.
A second before the doors closed, he stepped in with her. Luckily, they were alone. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Just forget it,” she murmured. “And quit following me.”
The elevator stopped, apparently on the floor where her room was. The doors opened and she moved, but he blocked her exit with an arm across the opened space. “Forgetting doesn’t seem to be an option for either of us.”
Jessie was bold. Beautiful. Brash at times. Her
temper hadn’t been a surprise. But the fact that she looked so wounded right now bewildered the hell out of him. The alarm sounded on the elevator from holding the door open too long. He dropped his arm and debated which way to go before stepping out and following her.
She jammed her keycard in her door and cursed when it didn’t open. “Go away, Grayson.”
He took the card from her hand, turned it around, and slid it back into the lock. The door clicked open. “Jessie, wait. Why did you accuse me of sneaking out that morning?”
She shook her head, but refused to make eye contact. “Don’t play games with me, Grayson. I was there. I remember what happened. I’m not some flaky bimbo that’s going to let you twist the truth and get by with it.” Now she did look up. “But tell me something. Do you ever consider how a woman feels when she wakes up and finds that she wasn’t even worth a simple good-bye kiss?”
The woman was one hundred percent certifiable. Nothing she said followed a straight line of logic. And if she was playing a game, she was damn good at it. “I didn’t leave you. I went to get breakfast and… ” He closed his eyes and thought back for a minute. A horrible, sinking feeling began to take root. “I left, but I also left a note saying I went to the bakery, and I’d be right back.”
Nothing but contempt filled her eyes. “There was no note, Grayson.”
“I left it next to your coffee mug. Remember those stupid chocolate croissants you drooled over the night before? The bakery had been closed when we passed by so I went back the next morning.”
She shook her head. “All that I know is that I woke up and you were gone. There was no sign that you’d ever been in my room. I just figured—”
“What? That I was an ass? That I had left without even saying good-bye?”
She studied him for a long moment and then nodded. “After the night we’d had… I couldn’t believe you’d leave… I thought it had been… ”
“Amazing.” The word slipped out because there was no other way to describe it. He’d gone to her room half expecting a quick tumble and nothing more. But seeing Jessie naked was like taking a hit from a very dangerous, addictive drug. And being inside of her was still an experience he couldn’t put ordinary words to. He tilted her chin up. “I was coming back. I swear I was.”
She swallowed.
Her breath hitched.
He slid his fingers down the soft skin of her neck and felt her pulse galloping. For a second, he’d thought maybe she believed him. Then she pushed her door open and stepped inside. “Good night, Grayson.”
…
Jessie closed her hotel room door and leaned against it. He’d almost had her. Almost played her again. Apparently she had a mental block when it came to the slick CEO type that looked harmless but made love like a Hell’s Angel.
Was he just trying to see how big of an idiot she was? See how many years in a row he could hook up with the idiot writer, spout some lies, and use her like a high paid call girl.
“Nope,” she whispered to herself. “Not quite that stupid, Ivy League.”
But for a second there, she’d wanted to believe him. She desperately, desperately wanted to have an excuse to repeat the night that had changed her definition of mind-blowing sex forever.
He’d carried her into her hotel room and taken her fast and hard against the wall. Even a year later, every time she relived it, her core turned to liquid.
They’d both been out of control and greedy. He hadn’t even pulled out of her before falling back onto the small loveseat and taking her a second time.
And that had been just a warm up.
To this day she had no idea how many times they’d made love. It was hard to count when one orgasm rolled into the next.
But she’d die a slow, painful death before admitting to the ass how often she replayed their sexcapades in her mind.
Every ridiculous thing she’d done over the last year had been an attempt to recreate the high Grayson Reynolds had delivered that night.
Skiing.
Bungee jumping.
Skydiving.
Or maybe she’d just been running from the low when she’d woke and found him gone.
“Dickhead,” she grumbled. Either way, she wasn’t falling for the old, “Gee, I left a note, didn’t you find it?” routine.
She yanked off her dress, then let her bra fall to the floor. God, it felt good to get out of those clothes. She pulled her hair back and tugged on a tank top and shorts.
At six a.m. she was meeting the winning members of her “Outlaw’s Street Team” in the gym for a pole dancing lesson. She shook her head and smiled. In spite of her bad judgment with Grayson, she’d had a lot of success over the last year. Hundreds of people had joined her fan club, and sales from her books had been more than she’d ever dreamed.
She’d done insane things she’d never hoped to do, and met fun, amazing people she’d never thought to meet. She supposed R&R had a hand in it. Lauren had made sure she had ample advertising in all the right spots. And as far as she knew, Grayson hadn’t been directly a part of any of it. Surely she could keep her distance from Ivy League long enough to finish out her contract. If in the future she needed to negotiate with R&R, Lila could take care of it.
She stretched out on the bed and intended to do a few of the exercises that her therapist had recommended to help her leg and ankle, but the day had just been too long. She switched off the light and shut her eyes.
Lost in that first twilight sleep, she barely moved when someone pounded on her door. She ignored it. Probably a lost drunk knocking at the wrong room. It was Vegas after all.
“Jessie. Open up.”
Seriously? Was that Grayson’s voice? She pulled the covers up over her head. Definitely going to ignore it.
“Jessie, I need to talk to you.”
She groaned and threw the covers back. Fumbling for the light, she finally found the switch and stomped to the door. But she sure as hell wasn’t opening it. “Grayson? What do you want?”
“You don’t believe me, do you?”
She scrubbed her hands up and down her face. “Is this a conversation we really need to have right now?”
“Hell, yes,” he said from the other side of the door.
She looked out the peephole. Three women passed behind him. Great. That’s exactly what she needed. Being branded as the risk-taking bad girl had never bothered her, but she didn’t particularly adore the label “slut.” If any of the other authors at R&R got wind of their tryst, they’d think her book got preferential treatment and advertising because she’d slept with the CEO. She’d worked much too hard over the years to be slapped with that kind of reputation.
She opened the door and yanked him inside. “You shouldn’t be pounding on my door this late at night. People talk, you know.”
He ignored what she said as if she hadn’t spoken at all. “I didn’t sleep with you and sneak out. That’s a completely dick move. I’m not saying I never do anything stupid, but I didn’t do that.” He had two drinks in his hand. “I brought you a…” He turned and looked her up and down. His words faded as his gaze stalled at her hips. “You…uh…you don’t have any pants on.” He slammed back one of the drinks he was holding.
“I was in bed.” Her face flushed hot, but she had on shorts and a tank top. The man had spent the better part of a night inside her body, and it wasn’t like she was naked. “What do you want?”
He motioned toward her breasts. “And the bra…thing…is gone too.” He swallowed down the second drink and turned away from her. “Maybe you should put some clothes on. Because even when you’re dressed, I can’t always concentrate. But now, I can’t really even remember why I’m here—”
“Maybe you should go to your own room.” She wouldn’t call him drunk, but he’d had enough that he was soundly buzzed. And now that he’d seen her wearing very little, he was babbling.
The devil on her shoulder said, Good. Let the jerk see what he’d walked out on.
A more reasonable part of her brain reminded her that a year had passed since they’d had sex. In fact, a year had passed since she’d had sex with anyone. She’d spent more nights fantasizing about their encounter than not, so perhaps clothes were a good idea.
She rifled through her suitcase and pulled out some jeans and a sweatshirt. “I’m dressed. You can turn around now.”
He turned, and his eyes raked over her again. He looked at his watch. “Sorry. I guess it’s later than I thought. But I didn’t do what you’re accusing me of.”
“Why does it matter? It is what it is. There’s no proof either way. Let’s just say there was a note, and you did go get breakfast or whatever. You didn’t call. You didn’t even walk across the hall to say hello when I was at the R and R offices a few months ago.”
“Because I thought you walked out. I was pissed, okay? That night was… really, really good. And the fact that you skipped out—”
“I didn’t skip out. You did.”
“But that’s just it,” he shot back. “I didn’t. I think we had a miscommunication.”
“I’ll say.” She couldn’t help the sarcasm because he was right. She didn’t believe him. “Whatever, Grayson. I’ve got an early morning.”
He stood quietly for a couple seconds, then shook his finger at her. “Wait a second. I can prove it. Grab your key and follow me.”
“No. It’s late, and I’m not following you.” But if he cared enough to come back and stick to this ridiculous story, she was beginning to wonder if maybe there was some truth to it.
He eyed her room key on the counter, picked it up, and grabbed her hand. “Please. Come with me.”
He tugged her out the door, down the hall, and into the elevator. She didn’t even have shoes on. If she really wanted to put her foot down and stop, she knew she could have. But as pathetic as it was, she wanted to believe him. And sadder yet was the insane burst of excitement that zinged through her. The kind she hadn’t felt since the last time he’d taken her hand and pulled her inside a hotel room.
He swiped a card and pressed the button for the top floor. Apparently Ivy League rated a suite.
The large, beautiful space appeared to have all the amenities of home away from home. A sitting area with a desk, a kitchenette, a bedroom…or maybe two. “Wow. So this is how the other half lives?” She walked to the window and looked out over the spectacular Las Vegas strip. “Nice view.”
Tamed by the Outlaw Page 4