But when she turned, Grayson had disappeared into a different room. He came back with his laptop.
Okay? Not quite what she thought he had in mind when he manhandled her into his suite. He dropped down at a table and fired up his computer. “Come here.”
“Grayson look, if you say you were coming back, I guess I don’t have any reason to doubt you.”
“Except that you do doubt me. And you’re always going to wonder. Ah, here it is.” He looked up at her. “What was the name of the bakery where you saw the croissants?”
She raised a brow. What on earth? It was a year ago, how was she supposed to… “Ginger’s,” she said, when the name popped into her head. “It was Ginger’s.”
Grayson motioned to the computer screen.
Her gaze fell on the balance and she gulped. Probably just an account with his play money, but it was close to a year’s earnings for her. He fiddled with some statement files and pointed to the date. Then he pointed to a listing: Ginger’s Bakery and Café in the amount of $34.57.
Exactly a year ago.
A wild rush of guilt and relief twisted in her gut.
“I went to get breakfast.” He stood and brushed her hair back away from her cheek. “I left a note. And I was coming back.”
He hadn’t left her. But she’d left him. She looked up into his eyes and for the first time, realized what a huge mistake she’d made. For an entire year, she’d hated him. And then hated herself for still wanting him in spite of it all.
“Oh, Grayson. I don’t know what to say.” She was barely able to get the words out. “I assumed you snuck out while I was sleeping. I was angry and humiliated, so I packed my things and left.”
She’d jumped to a stupid conclusion, and because of it they’d both paid the price. She wanted to touch him, at least put her arms around his neck and apologize. But she settled for laying a hand on his chest. “I’m so sorry, Grayson.”
He covered her hand and squeezed. “I’m sorry, too. My stupid pride.” He shook his head. “One simple conversation would have fixed everything. I can’t imagine what went through your head when you thought I’d left.”
“Well, it wasn’t good,” she admitted with a nervous laugh. “But you inspired a couple of great villains in my books.”
He gave her a devilish smile. “I really need to take a closer look at those books of yours, don’t I?”
Before she could form a reply, he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her softly, but the gentle press of his mouth grew increasingly urgent with every second that ticked by. His hands tangled in her hair and urged her head back.
Tentatively, she slipped her hands around his waist. She was doing the one thing she swore she’d never do again—kiss Grayson Reynolds.
He pressed his tongue through the seam of her lips and began tasting her with long, deep strokes.
Her nerve endings went on high alert, feeling raw and exposed, like someone had burned away the protective top layer. There was whiskey and heat and, oh God, just Grayson. It was so, so good.
He groaned into her mouth.
The low, rumbling sound twisted her insides. The kiss was far from unpleasant, but it wasn’t smart either. It felt like only yesterday that they’d kissed—like this—for hours.
Before they’d made love.
While they’d made love.
After.
Her lips had been tender and raw for days. What she wouldn’t give to have a reason for her lips to feel so abused again.
His arms came around her, pulling her tight. Heat poured off of him.
“Christ, the things you do to me.” He kissed a path down her neck, and the impressive nudge of his erection pressed into her stomach.
Oh, yeah, she remembered exactly how that felt too. Good enough that if he wanted her again, even for just one night, she’d stay. Pathetic as it was, she knew she’d stay.
He backed her up against the wall, positioned her hands above her head, and grinded against her core while kissing the hell out of her. The night they’d shared had clung to her so vividly she’d been unable to give any other man a chance, but she desperately wanted to give him another one.
He moved his hands down her back, starting at the top of her shoulders and sliding south so that they eventually cupped her ass. “Jesus,” he whispered in her ear. “You feel exactly like I remember.”
Putting her arms around his neck, she sagged against him. She traced his mouth with her tongue and tugged his bottom lip between her teeth, sucking and nipping with just enough force to make him groan again.
His forehead fell against hers. Breathless and obviously shaken, he said, “That was a blast from the past, huh?”
Her eyes and throat burned. Holy crap. Please don’t let me cry. She’d never been able to comprehend how he’d walked away so easily. But he hadn’t walked away—she had. So what the hell was she supposed to do now?
…
Grayson pulled back just enough to look at Jessie. Her lips were red. Her eyes dazed. He’d tangled his fingers in her dark hair just long enough to leave it wild and sexy. He wanted so badly to press her up against the wall and fuck her. Hard. Just as he’d done a year ago. Then he wanted to take her to bed, get her naked, and wrap his fingers around her hips so that she had no choice but to ride him nice and slow, until they both came so hard they passed out. And then maybe bend her over—
“Grayson. Hello. That’s your phone, isn’t it?”
He sucked in a breath. “Damn.” It was his phone. He walked over to the table and picked it up. His grandfather’s picture lit up on the screen.
“Hello.”
“Good news, boy. I’ve spent all day with our lawyers. We’ve read every word of the King of Hearts contract. If this is really the direction you want to take the company, the offer looks solid.”
Grayson turned away from Jessie and walked into the bedroom for a moment of privacy. “You think it’s a good move, right? We’ll have more flexibility to offer substantial advances to writers we really want to work with.”
“That, my boy, is no longer my decision to make. It took forty years and a heart attack to see I needed to step back. I’m just the hired help now,” his grandfather teased.
“Sure you are.” The hired help that had retired but still owned the majority percentage of R&R. The old man might take a few more vacations, but Grayson knew his grandfather would go to his grave with an earnings report in his hand.
“As long as you get Jessica Jameson to agree to a new contract with King of Hearts, you’re several million dollars richer,” Gramps said. “But they want an answer next week. Any progress with her yet?”
Oh yeah. But not the kind Gramps meant. “Uh, no. Not quite yet. But I’m working on it. Can I call you in the morning?”
Grayson hung up and walked back into the main room of the suite.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
“Yeah. Sure. Just business. Look, Jessie… ” She still looked shell-shocked. And sexy as hell. Full-blown Armageddon broke out inside him. Everything in his body wanted to—very badly—finish what they had started a year ago. But everything in his head knew he’d only made one substantial decision since becoming CEO. That was to sell the romance line.
His grandfather had sacrificed forty years of his life for R&R. The least he could do was pass on one night of sex. If he didn’t screw things up by sleeping with Jessie again, maybe they could have an adult discussion and he could convince her to sign the contract. Then they could part ways amicably.
He cleared his throat. “Believe it or not, I didn’t bring you up here for a repeat performance of what happened between us a year ago. It was just, when I figured out what happened, I wanted to clear the air. That’s all.”
“Okay.”
She’d said okay. But he could tell by the look on her face that things were far from okay. She was confused. Hell, he was confused. He wanted her. Maybe more than he’d ever wanted anything. Except for that multimillion-dollar contr
act with King of Hearts and to unload a division in his publishing house that he refused to sink any more money into.
He stepped closer and looked into those big, brown eyes of hers. “I lied about who I was when I met you,” he finally said. He wanted to touch her. He even moved his arms as if to cup her face, but ended up jamming his hands in his pockets. “I’m very sorry, but I use my mother’s maiden name when I just want to be a normal guy. You’d be surprised how many women only care about sleeping with the Reynolds name. Especially at a romance conference.”
She nodded. “No. I get it. You don’t need to explain.”
“I went to get us breakfast because I wanted to spend more time with you, tell you the truth about who I was. I had no intentions of leaving without explaining. When I got back to the room and found you gone… I’m not going to lie, I was pissed. And my wounded pride is why I never contacted you. It’s ridiculous and stupid, but it’s the truth.”
“Not so stupid,” she said. “Or if it was, I’m just as stupid. Because it’s the same reason I didn’t contact you. But I’m sensing that figuring out the truth doesn’t mean we can go back and have a do-over.”
“I wish. But, no. I don’t think we can.” Jessie wasn’t stupid, she was preparing for the fatal swing of the blade. So he decided to deliver it.
“A year ago, I wasn’t CEO of R and R. My grandfather was grooming me to take over someday, but I didn’t make the day-to-day decisions. When he had a heart attack a few months back, he decided to retire. Now that I do make the decisions, I don’t think it would be a good idea for us to be involved.”
There. He’d said it. He’d done a lot of unpleasant things since stepping in for his grandfather as CEO. He’d reprimanded and fired people, cut budgets, cut authors that had been with the company a long time but just weren’t selling well. Still, he couldn’t remember a decision he’d regretted more than the one he’d just made.
She watched him for a moment, as if waiting to see if that were really his final word on the matter. “Okay. Yeah. You’re probably right.” She backed up. “I, um…I should go now.” She backed up more and stumbled over the briefcase he had resting against the desk.
He grabbed her arms and pulled her close to keep her from falling. On a sharp inhale, her eyes opened wide. Were he a betting man, he’d wager a year’s salary the startled look had nothing to do with her stumble and everything to do with their proximity and the firm hold he had on her.
Because it was exactly why he couldn’t manage a logical thought either.
Her eyes dipped to his lips and then returned to his gaze. “Sorry. I’m so clumsy.” She pushed at his chest, broke loose, and scurried toward the door.
He followed her. “Jessie, wait. Are we okay here? I’m sorry we didn’t have more of a chance—”
“Don’t be silly. It was one night, no big deal.” She shrugged with a dismissive wave of her hand. “We’d both had a few drinks, which is probably the only reason it happened. Truthfully, I don’t even remember the night very well, just that I was alone the next morning…and well…we worked that out, didn’t we?”
He narrowed his eyes. Like hell she didn’t remember that night. He remembered every kiss, every touch, every stroke, and she damn well remembered it, too. But he didn’t suppose pushing the issue now made sense. “So I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m planning to have our poker challenge set up for around noon. Is that okay?”
“Text Lila and give her the details.” She turned and bolted away from his suite as if it had caught fire.
He let go of the door and stood there while it shut between them. Maybe he’d spent too many years in publishing, because it was hard to miss the symbolism of a closing door in the wake of kissing Jessie James again.
Irony was in full force, too. Why the hell was he standing here feeling as though he’d offer up his left nut for one more night with the very woman he’d avoided for the past year?
Chapter Five
Poker was serious business in Vegas. Grayson hadn’t wanted to impose on the real gambling floor of the casino for his bet with Jessie. Plus, he figured she’d have a bunch of fans wanting to hang around and watch. He wasn’t sure how serious she’d be taking the game, but from his perspective, they’d mostly be horsing around and putting on a show for her fans.
He’d spoken with Patricia Plimpton, the woman who appeared to have more power than God inside the Masquerade Hotel and Casino. She’d agreed to arrange a spot for their friendly poker game.
Friendly being the key word. He hoped that he and Jessie had taken a large step toward making amends last night. As badly as he’d wanted her to stay, he’d done the right thing and let her go. Because now that she no longer hated his guts, as soon as their poker game was over, he intended to get her alone and discuss the King of Hearts contract.
He stepped into the meeting room that had been transformed into a poker showdown masterpiece. A man in a black suit approached. He looked a little bit funeral director, a little bit mafia lord. “Good morning, Mr. Reynolds. My name is Spencer. I’ll be your dealer for the day.” Spenser shook hands with Grayson. “I work closely with Ms. Plimpton. If there’s anything you need, please let me know.”
“Seems like you guys have thought of everything,” Grayson answered. “In less than twenty-four hours, Ms. Plimpton has worked magic.” Three large screen monitors had been set up so that Jessie’s fans could watch more closely. An audio system was being put in place. Workers scurried around putting the finishing touches everywhere.
“We have a saying around here. Whatever Plimpton wants, Plimpton gets.” Spencer smiled and walked away.
Grayson was helping test the small microphones he and Jessie would wear during the poker match when he heard her enter the room. He hadn’t looked in her direction yet. Didn’t need to. Because today, just like a year ago, a low, sultry chuckle penetrated all the chaos, and he knew what he’d find when he turned around—the woman who, for one night, had owned him.
Finally, he turned and saw her. As usual, she was jabbering with attitude and cutting up with her crazy, mismatched posse. He’d been worried that after he’d kissed her and then put the brakes on she might be angry. But everyone appeared in good enough spirits.
Except Lila. Either Lila had a wicked hangover, or her face was incapable of a pleasant expression.
Jessie finally made eye contact and headed his direction. Her long legs were encased in tight, black pants. Why the woman insisted on wearing heels that no sane person could possibly walk in bewildered the hell out of him. Then he noticed every guy in the room standing up and taking notice of her. Or, more specifically, the tight, red shirt that was cut low enough for any asshole with eyes to see more of her than they needed to.
As she got closer, the print on her shirt became readable. Her breasts were covered in dice. The words just under her cleavage read: Blow me for luck!
Grayson shook his head but couldn’t help laughing. “All this time, I thought it was an act. The crazy stunts, the clothes. But you really are certifiable.”
“Who? Me?” Jessie looked down at the spot where his gaze was clearly focused. “This little old thing? I’ve had it in the back of my closet for months.”
“Somehow, I don’t doubt that.”
“Come on, Grayson. It’s Vegas. Live a little. Take a chance. Do something you wouldn’t normally do.” She handed him a bag and winked. “Wear something you wouldn’t normally wear.”
He reached in the bag and pulled out a black T-shirt. It had a ten, a queen, a king, and an ace of hearts on it. But in the spot where a jack should have been, there was a two of clubs. It read: One Jack Off.
He smiled. “Nice. But I don’t think I can wear this.”
Jessie laughed. “No guts. No glory. Although I figured being a high-powered CEO now, you wouldn’t be up for it. Too bad.” She pouted. “You were much more fun before your promotion.”
…
Jessie learned the hard way that Grayson Reynolds had a hell
of a poker face. And his abs weren’t half bad either. Much to her surprise, he’d stood right in front of her and stripped off his crisp and corporate button down and put on the shirt she’d bought him as a joke.
But Grayson’s torso was no joke. Under his belly button was the sexiest tattoo she’d ever seen. The phoenix bird’s tail feathers lead straight to the promise land. Not that you could tell that from the short few seconds he’d been without a shirt. But her lips remembered every line of ink on his stomach.
Flustered, she cleared her throat and looked around after his impromptu striptease. “Do we have ice water in here?”
Grayson grinned and handed her a bottle of water. But when she went to take it, he held onto it a moment longer than he needed to, then glanced at her low cut shirt. “You bought the shirts, I’m just playing your game.”
Yes. He was. And playing it well.
A few minutes later, they were ready to begin. Spencer shushed the crowd and began to explain the rules. She and Grayson sat at the poker table and were given five hundred dollars in poker chips to begin. In the interest of time, they were to play seven rounds of seven-card stud. Minimum ante was fifty dollars.
Grayson was better at poker than she’d have given him credit for. The matches were surprisingly close. Then again, he was in charge of a multimillion dollar publishing house. He’d probably bluffed his way through more than a few negotiations.
Before the sixth round Jessie had been ahead by two hundred dollars, but she’d gotten cocky with her last hand and bluffed with two aces showing. Grayson seemed to have nothing. Nothing but a jack. But when he’d flipped his cards, two more jacks appeared giving him three of a kind.
“Excuse me, outlaw. I think my shirt has a misprint on it.” Smiling like he had the whole game sewn up, he pointed to the three jacks in his hand. “I seem to have just enough jacks.”
Tamed by the Outlaw Page 5
