The Billionaire's Sexy Rival (Jameson Brothers Book 3)

by Leslie North

  It had been absolutely incredible.

  Afterward, once they had roused themselves to clean off and shower, William lay back in Poppy's bed and gazed into the unfamiliar shadows of her ceiling. He caught himself trying to memorize, again and again, every detail of the room…the moment…. He consoled himself with the knowledge this wouldn't be his last visit, not by any stretch of the imagination.

  But it was that same comfort that worried him.

  He wasn't an idiot. He knew he shouldn't have allowed things to get this far with Poppy. Sex and work, especially with your rival, definitely did not mix—yet somehow he kept finding himself in these situations with the feisty CEO of Wildflower Agency. Their night together seemed like a natural conclusion to the tension that had always existed between them.

  But now what?

  We'll keep it separate, William thought. We're both professionals. It shouldn't be that hard to draw a line and agree to it. He was starting to feel drowsy, and he was satisfied with his solution…for now. He wasn't one to procrastinate normally, but he didn't mind putting this particular puzzle off until tomorrow. He tilted his chin. The crown of Poppy's head rested beneath him; he watched it rise and fall with each breath he took. She looked completely relaxed, completely undisturbed by the fact that her biggest business rival was currently lying naked in her bed.

  "I have a confession," he said after a while.

  "Mmm?" Poppy stirred against his side and nuzzled closer. His hand came up to stroke the fine hair at her temple; then he let his fingers trace downward to tilt her chin toward him. Her eyes were half-closed, and he wasn't sure she was awake enough to hear his sin.

  "I absolutely know what 'Netflix and Chill' means," he said. "Did you really think the CEO of Jameson Ad Agency would be out of the loop on that one?"

  Poppy's eyes snapped open. She surged upward in his arms to stare at him. She looked for all the world like a post-orgasmic woman who had just learned she had sex with a complete surprise cloaked in her usual lover's clothes.

  William grinned, and Poppy burst out laughing. She smacked his shoulder, and when she couldn't resist trying to hit him again, William pulled her in for a kiss.

  Chapter Eight

  Poppy

  Poppy normally wasn't one to kiss and tell. She liked to keep her private life, well…private.

  But after that hot night spent in William’s arms, the lines between 'personal' and 'professional' had irrevocably blurred. She needed to get a handle on it, and fast.

  So she called another impromptu meeting.

  "Ugh, sis. This is gross. You realize how gross this is, right?" The voice of her older brother, Tristan, chastised her from the other end of the line. Poppy traded her cell phone to the other shoulder as she unlocked her car. It was the Sunday after her "sleepover" with William, and she was headed into the office early. She needed some time alone to work through plans for the convention. Even with William taking the lead, she hadn't forgotten that Wildflower was competing with Jameson Agency for the contract…or at least, she had forced herself to remember as much this morning. It was easier now that she was once more waking up to an empty space beside her in bed.

  "Is the fact that I slept with William Jameson gross? Or the fact that I called you about my sex life gross?" she wondered.

  "That last one. I don't know. The first one!"

  "Let's just get one thing straight. William Jameson is not gross," she emphasized.

  "I know." Tristan sighed gustily into the receiver. Poppy winced and pulled the phone away from her ear. "If I'm being honest, every guy I know in this city has a man-crush on one Jameson brother or another. Rich, handsome, successful…I hate them as much as I want to adopt a baby with one of them."

  "What am I going to do?" Poppy asked mournfully. "He's my nemesis, Tristan!"

  "It's a fine line between love and hate," he quoted. The reminder was needless at this point. "Do you think you can keep work and…the rest of it…separate?"

  "No," Poppy moaned. "I don't know. Help me, Tristan Hanniford. You're my only hope."

  "I'm going to try, sis. But I'm afraid if he was quoting Rhett Butler at you, things might be too far-gone already. I know better than anyone how much you loved that movie growing up." She could hear Tristan pulling a face at the memory. "You subjected me to it practically every day."

  "What am I supposed to do now that the real-life Rhett Butler has shown up to sweep me off my feet?"

  "Are you sure this guy is Rhett in this metaphor?" Tristan asked. "Because you always struck me as the 'Rhett' in any given relationship, Pops. You're the charming and supportive one, who somehow still manages to get shit done in the process…you have to admit Rhett is a better fit for you."

  "I always thought I was Scarlett," Poppy muttered as she drove. Tristan couldn’t be right. He couldn't be. Scarlett O'Hara was her girlhood hero: a strong female character who didn't need a man like Rhett, despite how perfectly suited he was for her. Wasn't that the moral of the story? If what Tristan said was true, then everything she had ever thought about herself seemed suddenly turned on its head.

  "I think William might be the Scarlett in this case," Tristan said. He sounded sympathetic. "He's headstrong, take-charge."

  "I can be those things too!" Poppy exclaimed.

  "I think you're wonderful exactly the way you are, Pops. Sure, you could stand to promote your own agenda occasionally…okay, more than occasionally. But the great thing about you is the way you use your strength to support other people and raise everyone up together. I just don't want to see you get swept up in William Jameson's agenda at your own expense," Tristan said.

  Poppy pulled into the parking garage below the agency and got out. She mentally chewed over everything her brother had said as she clicked up the concrete stairs to her office. Reception was poor in the garage, which afforded her some time to think about what her next protest to her brother's claims would be… but what wound up coming out of her mouth wasn't a protest at all.

  "Okay. So I'm Rhett," she admitted as she let herself into the lobby. "I guess it's good to know the role I'm playing in all this. But it's more than William I have to worry about, Tristan. You remember that intern I was having trouble placing?"

  "Emo Kid?" Tristan supplied. "I've been wondering about him! Did you fire him yet?"

  "No. And I think that's becoming more of a problem than I've been willing to admit to myself." Poppy sighed heavily. She unlocked the door to the Wildflower Agency office and walked in. She immediately gravitated over toward Emo Kid's desk… and was unsurprised to find it in complete disarray. A cursory glance told her that the unfiled, water-stained papers on top of the heap were from at least three different projects, and two of those projects she had taken him from already.

  "Sounds like you're doing an okay job of admitting it now," Tristan pointed out. "Maybe you just need to figure out what steps you need to take to pull the trigger."

  Poppy grimaced. "I'm not taking him out back to put him out of his misery, Tristan."

  "Yeah, that was kind of tactless. My bad. Still, you need to start framing this as a problem requiring a permanent solution rather than a temporary one, Pops. I know!" His excitement caused her to hold the phone away from her ear again. "You said yourself that this situation requires Scarlett tactics… and let's just admit to ourselves those are skills you might not have necessarily acquired yet. Why don't you go to William with your problem and see what he says?"

  "William?" Poppy repeated uncertainly. Just hearing the name conjured an image of what he would do if he was in a similar situation…and Tristan was right. William would approach the problem with Emo Kid differently. He would have no problem calling him out on his bad haircuts and unprofessional workplace fashion; hell, William wouldn't have even let it get to this point. He would have sent the kid on his way with a curt farewell—and maybe a fairly-worded letter of recommendation—after the first colossal screw-up. "…I don't know," she muttered. "It doesn't feel fair to Emo Ki
d. He's my employee."

  "First of all, listen to yourself. Does this intern even have a name? You've been dehumanizing and distancing yourself from him from the beginning."

  "I have not!"

  Tristan chuckled. "You're right, that was unfair of me. I'm just saying you do have Scarlett instincts, Poppy, it's just not in your nature to act on them. Don't think of this as a blot on your character. You know what needs to be done, and if William is available to help you do it, why not take advantage of the resource?"

  Poppy chewed her lower lip between her teeth as she pondered Tristan's words. "I don't want to delegate this," she reiterated. "But maybe you're right. Maybe I should ask for William's advice."

  "And you need an excuse to see him again," Tristan provided helpfully. "One that isn't personal."

  She sighed. "I hate it when you're right all the time."

  "It's a tough racket being the smarter older brother," he lamented.

  "Goodbye smartass. I'm hanging up now."

  "Love you, sister. Whether you're a Scarlett or a Rhett. And you're definitely a Rhett," he said quickly as Poppy thumbed the call to a close. She shook her head, smiling ruefully to herself. Calls with Tristan always felt eventful, and she usually came away from them with more insight into herself…for better or for worse.

  "All right, William," she breathed as she sat down at her desk and opened her laptop to send the e-mail. "You're my Scarlett. Let's see what you got."

  Chapter Nine

  William

  "You," William said incredulously. "You want to fire someone."

  Poppy squirmed in his office chair. He had given her complete authority to sit behind his desk, mainly because he thought he would enjoy the sight of her on his 'throne' (as she liked to call it), but Poppy had never taken him up on the offer until today. It was Monday evening, and she had called his office to see if he was still in…likely knowing that this was precisely where she would find him, he suspected. She hadn't wasted any time in driving over and collapsing into his big leather office chair when he offered it today.

  "No, I don't want to fire anyone!" she protested. "I'm just…I'm in a bit of a bind, is all. I need some other ideas for what my options are."

  "Let me guess," William said as he crossed to the liquor cabinet. "Not only have you never fired anyone before, but your idea of 'firing' involves finding your employee a new position at another company. That position is likely a promotion over what they had with you, and pays more. Have you ever actually notified anyone they were terminated?"

  Poppy pulled a face. "'Terminated'. Ugh. I hate that word. Why is business-speak so…murderous-sounding? It's just advertising!"

  "'Just advertising'," William repeated with a chuckle. He poured them both a glass of amber-colored scotch and carried one over to her. Poppy accepted without really noticing and took a long sip. He loved the way her lush lips wrapped around the glass, the elegant way her throat worked as she swallowed. Just watching her now made the front of William's pants tighten, but he wasn't about to interrupt her work problem with his own personal urgency.

  Not until he helped her find the solution, anyway.

  "You're right," she sighed. "Advertising is what I live for. Good advertising."

  "It's what we both live for. And it's what the people who work for you should passionately pursue." William leaned back against his desk and crossed his arms, cradling his glass meditatively. "Who are you trying to cut loose? Someone I know?"

  "Again, not trying to cut anyone loose, per se," Poppy corrected him. "But the person in question is…someone who's made himself a bit infamous," she admitted. "It's Emo Kid. He…"

  William's fingers clenched over his glass. He didn't think he was in danger of breaking it, but he set it aside after a moment just in case. "He's the one who tied the knot that almost got you killed," he said darkly. "Poppy, what the hell is he still doing at your company?"

  "It was an honest mistake outside of his regular duties," she put in defensively. "Seriously, William. Anyone could have tied that knot incorrectly."

  "His oversight doesn't begin nor end there, and you know it," he reminded her. He was having trouble keeping his temper in check in the wake of this revelation, but he knew he needed to tamp down the flame a bit, at least until she was gone. His fury wasn't for Poppy. "The knot just so happens to be the least forgivable offense in a long string of them. Someone could have been seriously injured because of his gross negligence. I had expected you to fire him the moment we made it back from the course."

  "Well…" Poppy swirled her glass and stared very hard at the surface of his desk. "… that might be why I came to you. I'm not beyond asking for help. I know I get in my own way sometimes when it comes to my employees. I'm just not sure what to do in this case, and I need to look at multiple solutions. I was hoping you could help me think outside my own box. I am set in my ways when it comes to handling things like this…but I'm starting to realize it might not always be good for business."

  William's face softened as he took her in. She was a strong woman, and a strong leader within her company—of this he had never had any doubt. But observing the way she sat here now, slouched and looking vulnerable in her abject misery, was telling of how big her heart was. Of course she would struggle with something like this. How could she not? She valued her employees more than anyone William had ever met. Other ad execs, himself included, were ruthless in the way they conducted business. Poppy Hanniford was decidedly not ruthless, and her empathetic take on the human side of things was humbling.

  But she didn't need his reassurances now. What she required was his method. When those gorgeous green eyes of hers finally glanced his way, sad but hopeful, it was like a shock to his system. He had never felt so strongly that he needed to intervene on another's behalf. It was a feeling similar to the one he had felt the day Poppy had almost plummeted forty feet right before his eyes. Just thinking about it was enough to make his blood boil again, but he needed to stay calm. He needed to execute a plan, swiftly and precisely, to make sure this sort of thing never happened again.

  "I see what's needed here," he reassured her. "Give me the evening to think this over. By tomorrow I should have the solution for you." He picked up his scotch again and held it in a commiserating toast. Poppy hesitated, then smiled. She leaned across the desk to clink her glass against his.

  "I really appreciate your input, William. Seriously. Anything you can do. Including a refill," she hinted as she sat back in the chair. William smiled and rose, offering his hand, and she handed him her empty glass gratefully.

  A refill is the least I can do for you, he thought. But you're right, Poppy. I will do anything.

  William acted on schedule, as promised, although he didn't devote as much thought as he had implied before executing his plan. He knew exactly how he would put it into motion before Poppy left his office. He fulfilled his promise Tuesday.

  Poppy was in his office again Wednesday morning.

  "William!" She burst through the door in a flurry of blonde hair and billowing purple pea coat. William saw a snapshot of his secretary standing ineffectually, her arm outstretched, just before the door slammed shut behind Poppy. The blonde crossed to his desk in a fury…a fury, safe to say, that William had not been expecting. He mastered his astonished look before she arrived at his desk. He held out his hand to her, but she stopped short of accepting the offered chair. She glared at him.

  The silence that followed her stormy entry was deafening, but Poppy eventually broke it. "Tell me you didn't." Her voice was almost a whisper. "Please tell me that you didn't fire my employee."

  "Don't be absurd." It was the wrong thing to say. It was too defensive. Poppy's eyes narrowed, but she offered no immediate argument. She waited. "Poppy, of course I didn't fire someone from your agency. All I did was express my strong wish for his removal from our shared project. He was a threat to the work, and to the cohesion of the team…not to mention completely irresponsible when it came to che
cking his work when it was your life on the line."

  "You knew exactly what would happen!" Poppy hissed. William felt certain that if there wasn't a desk between them in that moment, she would be stabbing his chest with her finger. "I saw the memo you wrote to my project manager! You bullied her into taking him off the project and advising him to find employment in another industry. She used your words! He quit without so much as speaking to me, and without even a letter of recommendation!"

  "You should have never considered writing him one," William said. "Poppy…Poppy!" he snapped when she turned away from him. He bounded out from behind his desk and grabbed her by the shoulders to prevent her from leaving. She swayed slightly in place as he turned her around, but made no move to pull free from him. He didn't know if he should feel encouraged. Her eyes were green fire, and he had never seen a woman more ready to reduce him to ash. "Poppy, I did exactly what we discussed! I took care of it for you. I don't understand this reception."

  "We didn't discuss any of this, William! What I wanted was someone to support me while I made difficult decisions that had to do with my own company…my own life!" she exclaimed. "I didn't want you to take charge! Is that really what you thought?"

  "I…" William didn't have a ready response. In truth, he hadn't put much thought into it at all. As soon as Poppy had described her problem, he had zeroed in on the solution and implemented it. "I was just trying to protect you." The explanation sounded so weak, so facile, but Poppy didn't appear angry or resentful. She was peering at him intently. William gazed back at her. He wondered if she could see it replaying behind his eyes: the moment on the ropes course, the moment he almost lost her. It had been all he could think about. If I hadn't been near you, if I hadn't been prepared to shoulder our weight, if my climbing skills had been inadequate…if it were to happen again…