It was embarrassing enough that she’d offered herself up so blatantly. But even more embarrassing was how quickly he’d shot her down. She’d tried to be gracious about it.
Then he’d looked like he wanted to swallow her whole as he declared that he was “into” her. Everything in her body had heated and turned to liquid. But just as quickly, he’d told her there was no way they could ever be together.
She was way, way over the emotional whiplash. “You know, I just remembered I have another event before the ball tonight. I’d really like to freshen up beforehand. I’m just going to leave and catch a sandwich on the way back.”
She kept her tone light and cheerful, but dashed quickly away from the table. Confident he’d need to stay long enough to at least pay for the wine, she headed to the elevator. When the doors opened, she stepped inside and took the first real breath she’d managed since seeing him that morning.
No man had ever made her feel the things that Grayson did. Today she realized it wasn’t necessarily just in the bedroom. For some insane reason, she liked being near him. He’d been sweet and funny while they’d played poker. And he was oh-so-easy on the eyes. Every time he kissed her, it felt like she’d stumbled upon the missing link.
Unfortunately, he was also a mental case.
She’d learned from her parents that great rewards only came from great risks. But the risks were beginning to take a toll. After becoming smitten with Mr. Emotionally Unavailable and participating in Dr. Death’s school of skydiving, she was beginning to see the line between risk and stupidity.
She stepped off the elevator and almost made it to the door of the hotel before she heard his voice. “Jessie wait.”
Seriously?
“Jessie, please.” Grayson caught up with her.
Against every natural instinct, she turned and looked at him.
“Can we talk as we walk back to the Masquerade?” he asked.
“Look Grayson, you wanted to be honest with me, let me return the favor. I have no idea what you want from me. At first, I thought it might be a contract extension, until you threw that poker game today. Please don’t try to deny it.”
He didn’t, so she knew it was true. “Okay. So I concluded that if business wasn’t what you’re interested in, maybe it was personal. Apparently I was wrong again. I don’t know how to play these games…”
He put his hand under her chin and tilted her face up. His lips came down on hers so fast she couldn’t have objected if she’d wanted to. Not that she wanted to.
No wait, she did want to object.
Kind of.
But his fingers moved through her hair, and he groaned. His tongue swept into her mouth with such deep and intimate strokes that her head reeled and her breasts ached. She put her arms around his neck.
Grayson’s lips were a powerful and pleasurable head rush, they had been from the first moment she’d tasted him.
Her breath rushed out when he started kissing her neck.
“You have no idea how badly I want you,” he murmured.
She pulled his mouth to hers again. The tight press of his body told her he wanted her just as badly as she wanted him. “Come back to my room, Grayson,” she whispered against his ear.
He pushed her away and bent over with his hands on his knees and his breath rushing in and out. “Fuck.”
“Grayson? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“Do I look okay?” He stood and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I shouldn’t have done that. It was a huge mistake. I’m sorry.” His voice was impatient and gruff. “Come on. Let’s get a cab back to the Masquerade. We have things to discuss.”
He moved toward the door of the Palms Hotel, but she stood her ground. When he realized she wasn’t following, he turned and looked back. “Are you coming?”
Twice in twenty-four hours he’d kissed her into a puddle and then pushed her away. She reached into her purse, pulled out one of Lila’s cards, and tossed it at him. “If you have anything else to discuss, discuss it with my agent.”
“Jessie, come on.”
Nope. She turned and hightailed it in the opposite direction. From now on, she was incommunicado with Ivy League. At least verbally. She did, however, have one more thing to say. But she used her middle finger to do it.
Chapter Seven
Jessie sat with Stan at a beautiful table, in a stunning ballroom, waiting for some of Stan’s gorgeous buddies to arrive. She had on a killer dress with killer heels. Stan looked sinfully GQ in his suit. The bar was flowing freely. The music was pumping.
And man, oh, man, all she could think about was getting back to her room, packing up, and heading home first thing in the morning. “I must be getting too old for these crazy party nights.”
Stan put his hand, palm up, on the table in front of her. She looked down and laid her hand on top of his. In their age old ritual, they laced their fingers together.
“You’re not old, honey. But I think you’ve finally met a guy you don’t know how to shake,” he said. “And it didn’t help when you figured out he’s not quite the ass you thought he was.”
“Not an ass? Are you kidding me? The guy is a serious Jekyll and Hyde nut job. You should have seen the way he kissed me today. And then just as quickly”—she snapped her fingers—“tossed me back like I was kryptonite.”
Jessie looked down at the red, frothy drink Stan had set in front of her and wrinkled her nose. “This is not tequila.”
“No. It’s not,” he said. “I brought you punch. The music has barely started and you’re already two shots in the hole. Let’s pace ourselves, shall we?”
She narrowed her eyes. “I’m a grown woman. Since when do you care what I drink?”
“Since the last time you were at this conference, had too much to drink, and slept with your boss.” He pushed the punch closer. “Then blamed me for not stopping you. Despite the fact I was in another state at the time.”
“Ha.” She swirled the punch around and smelled it. “No need to worry this year. I wouldn’t sleep with that arrogant ass again if he wielded the last perfect penis in the free world.”
Stan’s eyes widened with interest. “Perfect huh? Care to share? Exactly how perfect was it?”
Perfect enough that it felt much like someone had put jumper cables up her dress and proceeded to zap her with a very pleasurable electric current. She shrugged. “Meh.”
“Sure.” Stan laughed. “I’m sure it was excruciatingly boring. That’s why you’ve been running around like Cher’s stunt double for the last year.”
“I have not.” She slugged him in his big muscular shoulder. “Have I?”
Stan raised a brow. “You can kid yourself if you want to, but I’ve watched you do one asinine thing after another over the last year to avoid dealing with Grayson. Both of you are handling this like ten-year-olds. You might want to consider that he’s a little twisted up about the crazy vibe between the two of you, also.”
Jessie shook her head. “There’s no vibe. Just a huge, embarrassing mistake.”
“Okey-dokey. I’ll just sit here and pretend the sparks between you two aren’t singeing my handsome and highly paid flesh.”
Jessie laughed. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the fact that your embarrassing mistake walked through the door a couple of minutes ago and hasn’t stopped giving me the death glare since. I have a photo shoot in two days. If he comes after me, I’m pushing you between us.”
…
How had everything turned to shit in less than forty-eight hours? Grayson had confidently walked in the Masquerade that weekend with a solid plan: to sell the romance line. Things were a hell of a lot easier when he was angry with Jessie. Because once they had gotten past their misunderstanding, he realized he liked her. A hell of a lot more than he should.
The heat from last year sparked again, almost the second he’d laid eyes on her. Judging by her invitation that afternoon, the feeling was mutual. But he
couldn’t very well sleep with her and then say, “By the way, I’m selling the romance division, see you around.”
He might be an ass, but he wasn’t that big of an ass. He had no desire to hurt her. Which was the only reason he hadn’t gone back to her room this afternoon and shown her that their night together last year had been just a small taste of what he was truly capable of.
Now, telling her about the sale of the romance line and then expecting her to still want to be with him didn’t seem likely. But at least it would be truthful. And that was a decision he could live with. Her anger he could live with. God only knew why, but the look of hurt and disappointment he’d seen on her face last night was not something he could stomach being responsible for.
And to make things worse, now he had a niggling in his conscious. An annoying little fission of doubt as to why he’d been so hell-bent to sell to King of Hearts. Was it because Jessie was the number one selling romance author at R&R? And because he’d spent so much time resenting her?
No. That he refused to believe. He had a better head for business than that. That wasn’t why he’d made the decision to sell to King of Hearts. The decision to sell was completely justifiable. Romance sales were soft. Romance wasn’t a genre he wanted in Reynolds & Reynolds. Plus, if his grandfather hadn’t agreed with the decision, he’d have certainly said so.
Wouldn’t he?
Christ.
All that Grayson knew for sure was that he was walking into the ballroom, finding Jessie, and leveling with her. He wanted to make her understand that signing with King of Hearts would be as beneficial for her as it was for him. Whatever bridge blew up after that, he’d deal with as it came. Unenthusiastically, he strolled into the ballroom and looked around. He moved from one area to another, finally did a double take when he spotted Muscle Man Stan holding the hand of the dark-haired woman next to him. What in the name of God? His breath jammed like someone lodged a cork in his windpipe. The woman with Stan was in a dress that, from behind, made her look naked from the ass up. There was no doubt in his mind that the long, sleek back belonged to the outlaw.
That damn dress should be outlawed.
She turned enough so that he could see the front of her. It was one of those fancy halter type things that cupped her chest but left enough cleavage for every guy in the room to fantasize about running his tongue through the hot little valley between her breasts.
Or maybe that was just his fantasy.
But he doubted it. Because her buddy Stan put a hand on the small of her back and leaned close enough to whisper something in her ear.
Grayson walked to the bar and ordered a whiskey straight up. The plan had been to stay stone sober tonight and finally talk to her like a rational adult. That was going to prove a hell of a challenge with his tongue tied in a knot. He stood at the bar for a minute waiting for the numbing effects of the whiskey to kick in a little.
Or a lot.
Because he wanted to snap pretty boy’s hand off, since it was resting on Jessie’s bare skin. He wanted to put his coat around her to cover everything from her shoulder blades to her ass. But most of all, he wanted to take her upstairs and… Damn it.
“Another?” the bartender asked. Grayson hesitated, but then shook his head. Tonight he needed to keep his thoughts clear and get his brain in the game. Tonight needed to be about business and nothing else.
Game face on, he approached Jessie and Stan from behind. No big deal. Just another business negotiation. As he got closer he saw her hair pulled up in some fancy do that left little curls dangling next to her ears. Her skin was covered in some glittery lotion. How the hell had she gotten lotion in the middle of her back like that?
Probably Stan.
It was ridiculous and childish, but the thought that Stan had put lotion on her back made him want to lose his mind. She obviously liked Stan, as a consolation prize maybe. Because unless he was very mistaken, the night they’d shared a year ago had been front and center on both of their minds. It was obvious in the way she’d kissed him. Hell, she’d invited him back to her room this afternoon. Had she come back to the Masquerade and invited Stan to her room just to fill the void?
Grayson stopped a few feet from them and took a couple of deep breaths. He rolled his head from side to side and reined in the urge to grab pretty boy around the throat.
“Nice dress,” he finally said.
Stan and Jessie both turned and looked at him.
“I was wondering if maybe I could get a few minutes with you.” He glanced at Jessie and Stan’s linked hands. “Alone. I never did get to finish speaking with you.”
Stan jerked his hand away and took a step back. But Jessie unleashed a big, fake smile. “I’m sorry. Stan was just getting ready to take me to the dance floor, weren’t you Stan?”
“No, no, that’s okay. If you two need to—ompft,” Stan grunted when Jessie caught him in the gut with her elbow. “Okay… I guess we’re gonna dance.”
The Party Anthem song began, and a gaggle of women surrounded Jessie. Grayson recognized most of them from the poker game.
“Come on, outlaw,” one of them said. “It’s not a party until you groove.” A couple of women caught Jessie by the arms and pulled her away.
She looked back and shrugged, but ended up in the middle of the dance floor.
Grayson looked over at Stan. “You’ll treat her well?” It was more of a warning than a question. “I know she’s not very happy with me. After I talk to her, she’s probably going to be even less happy. Take good care of her, okay?”
Stan grinned. “I’ve treated her like a queen for the last seven or eight years.”
What the hell was that supposed to mean?
Stan stepped closer to Grayson. “I have a partner.”
It was loud with the music pumping. Everyone was talking and dancing. Grayson wasn’t exactly sure what Stan had said. He leaned a little closer. “What?”
“Jessie is my best friend. I love her, but not like you think. I’m with someone. I have a partner,” Stan said again. “But that’s not common knowledge, and I’d like to keep it that way.”
It took a minute, but then the full impact of what Jessie’s friend had just confessed hit home. “No shit?” Stunned, the question slipped out before Grayson thought better of it.
“No shit.” Stan smiled, but then his expression turned much more serious. “I’m not the one she’s hung up on. I won’t be the one hurting her.”
Once again, Grayson felt like a huge ass. Which had pretty much been the theme of the weekend. He should have just tattooed dickhead across his forehead before he stepped on the plane Friday. “I sorry. I shouldn’t have implied—”
“It’s fine. A lot of people think Jessie and I have more going on than friendship. She doesn’t deny it for my sake. I’ve always been worried that authors wouldn’t want an openly gay model on the front of their books.” Now Stan’s tone turned dangerously close to a warning. “But I think it’s time a select few knew the truth. I’ve never seen her like this over someone before.”
Grayson felt the implication of Stan’s words press heavily on his conscience. If he were being honest, he’d never felt like this over a woman before, either. He had no idea what was going on between them. What he did know was that he was ridiculously relieved that Jessie and Stan were just friends.
Now more than ever he wanted to take a shot at making things right. He had no fucking clue how to do that, couldn’t even decide which disaster—personal or professional—he should try to fix first. But leaving tomorrow with things as they were right now felt wrong.
He looked over at the crowded floor and watched Jessie dance. She knew how to move and looked good doing it. Grooving from one person to the next, she danced and laughed and chatted with fans.
An ache started low in his stomach. It grew and spread the longer he watched her. Jessie was beautiful. That may have been what initially drew people, but he glanced at Stan and realized it was something much deeper tha
t kept everyone so captivated by her.
Grayson leaned a little closer to Stan. “Just so you know, no matter what happens with Jessie, I’d never talk about someone else’s personal life. It’s no one’s business.”
“Thank you.” Stan held his hand out for Grayson to shake. “I appreciate that.”
“So,” Grayson said. “You think she’s really into me?”
“Pretty sure. Yeah.” Stan chuckled. “But that doesn’t mean she isn’t going to give you hell.”
Chapter Eight
The upbeat song ended and Jessie decided she’d had more than enough dancing for one night. The thing about beautiful, high-heeled shoes was they often made her feet hurt like hell. But the pair she had on tonight was a particularly special brand of torture.
She turned to find Stan and plowed squarely into Grayson’s chest.
“Do you have room for me on your dance card?” he asked.
“No.” She moved to step around him.
“Please.” He gently took hold of her arm. “One song. Then I promise to go away if that’s what you want.”
“I’m sorry, Grayson. Stan is waiting for me.” She figured Stan had used her plenty of times to deter an unwanted advance from a woman. Paybacks were a bitch.
“Really?” Ivy League looked amused. “So, this thing with you and Stan, is it serious?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Maybe…”
Grayson was all but laughing.
She had a feeling the jig was up. Stan and his big mouth. “What did he tell you?”
“Enough. Let’s just say I like Stan a hell of a lot more now than I did an hour ago. And actually,” Grayson said, reaching for her hand. “I just got his blessing. He’s the one who sent me over here.”
She looked over at the table she’d been sharing with Stan. Stan waved and gave her a big, goofy thumbs-up. Seriously? Just wait until she got a hold of him.
“One dance. You can be rid of me in three minutes. Probably less now.”
Tamed by the Outlaw Page 7