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Tamed By The Outlaw
by Michelle Sharp

Copyright © 2015 by Michelle Sharp. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.
 

Chapter One

Apparently, when social media catches you making a fool of yourself, people crawl out of the woodwork to see what a spectacular dumbass you are in person.

Romance author Jessica Jameson closed the convention room door, turning away. She hoped a long, deep breath would ease the urge to puke. “Holy crap. I am not this interesting.”

Jessie’s agent, Lila Kent, reopened the heavy wooden door and looked into the Grand Ballroom of Las Vegas’s Masquerade Hotel for herself. “Wow. There are a lot of people here. A local reporter and TV camera too. That’s unusual for a romance conference. Good thing they switched our session to the ballroom.”

“No. No, it’s not a good thing. You said a room with a handful of people in it. Where I could casually chat with fans and other authors. That”—she pointed to the ballroom—“is a lynch mob. You said I didn’t have to prepare anything. What the hell am I supposed to talk about for an hour?”

“You’re kidding, right?” The Bronx accent spilled out of her agent’s little body with a badass New York brashness that people instinctively knew better than to screw with.

Jessie certainly knew better. Lila had been kicking ass in the publishing world longer than Jessie had been alive.

Lila folded her arms across her chest. “You’re Jessie James. Outlaw of the romance world. You’ve got a smoking hot book sitting at number one on the New York Times bestseller list. That’s what you’re supposed to talk about.”

Lila reached up and put her hands on Jessie’s shoulders. She was the size of a pixie—couldn’t reach five-foot-nothing with heels on. “And let’s be honest, the amount of crazy in your life could fill a three-day workshop. This is just a one-hour question and answer session. Easy breezy.”

Jessie begged to differ. There were twenty times more people here than any other Q&A she’d been a part of. And she knew some of them were going to ask about more than her books.

Lila must have recognized her look of nausea and took pity. “Lauren and I will be on the panel with you. Just be yourself and answer the questions.” Her tone was much gentler this time. “You’ve done this before. Fans can’t get enough of you. But watch your mouth. Your cursing gets out of hand when you’re nervous.”

Jessie scrubbed her hands over her face.

“Stop it.” Lila smacked at her hands. “You’re messing up your makeup. Why are you freaking about this?”

Jessie loved chatting with fans, but usually she was on a panel with other authors and could deflect any questions that made her uncomfortable. Not the case today.

She had only her agent and editor to save her ass. “It’s just that there are so many people this time.” Sweat trickled through her hairline. “I’m hot. Are you hot? Why is it so hot in here?”

“Because you’re wearing black leather from head to toe and it’s like six hundred degrees outside.” Lila looked her up and down. “At least take off the jacket.”

Jessie slid her favorite jacket from her shoulders, exposing a black, silky tank with Love Rocks scrolled in sequins across her breasts.

“On second thought, put the jacket back on and suffer.” Her agent’s Bronx accent made the last word sound like suffa.

It made Jessie snicker. “What? It’s a romance conference. Everyone wears sequins in Vegas. It’s funny. Besides, you’re the one that wanted to brand me as the bad girl.”

“Yet you’re worried about being boring?”

Jessie smiled and stepped farther away from the dreaded door. Lila was right. She could do this. She’d worked a long time for this kind of success. For years, she’d kept a second job to pay the bills. Now that her romance series had exploded, she could afford to focus solely on the one thing she loved most—writing.

This is a good thing.

She paced back and forth a few times, frankly a little stunned that this many people were gathered to hear her speak. Hell, a couple of years ago no one gave a damn who she was. She wasn’t any different now than she’d ever been, except she’d sold a few more books.

Slipping back into her jacket, she yanked her hair out from under her collar. As it fell back around her face, she looked up, straight into the eyes of Grayson Reynolds— CEO of Reynolds & Reynolds Publishing, sex god, and asshat extraordinaire.

Standing just a few tiny inches from Mr. Large-and-in-charge made an uncomfortable heat radiate from her face again. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Asshat lifted an amused brow, but his gaze never faltered from her chest. “Interesting choice of shirts.”

She tugged her jacket closed.

Lila lunged between them like an Olympic long jumper. “Mr. Reynolds. I…uh… I apologize. Jessie doesn’t visit the corporate offices much. She obviously has you confused with someone else.”

Nope.

Jessie knew exactly who the Ivy League prick was, despite the fact he’d given her a false name to get her into bed a year ago.

When she’d slept with him, she had no idea he was the Reynolds heir, in line to be CEO of her publishing house. Absolutely no idea he’d be the one signing her paychecks. And she certainly hadn’t known he was a cold-blooded snake, cruel enough to make love to a woman and then sneak out as if he were a thief in the night.

But she sure as hell knew it now.

“I know who he is.” Jessie zipped her jacket, taking care to cover her Love Rocks. Especially since asshat’s sultry stare had her body responding much like it did the first time she’d laid eyes on him.

“Your editor is not going to make it to the conference. She was on the way to the airport this morning and started having contractions. She headed to the hospital, and I got on the plane in her place.”

Jessie’s heart raced even faster. Lauren was a kick-ass editor, but she’d also become a good friend. “Is she going to be okay? There’s nothing wrong with the baby is there?”

“I just talked to her husband again. Sounds like they’re both fine, but the doctors want her off her feet,” he said.

“Thank God.” Jessie felt relief buzz all the way down to her toes. Lauren and her husband had been trying to have children for years. “Good. I’ll call her when my session is over.” And okay, she was moderately grateful that tall, dark, and heartless was courteous enough to deliver the news before her session started. Both she and Lila had already discussed their concerns that Lauren hadn’t showed yet.

In the interest of time—and because of a death glare from Lila—Jessie refrained from any further derogatory remarks.

She decided to throw out a little false bravado and pray Grayson Alexander Reynolds the third crawled back under whatever rock he’d slithered from. “Thank you for informing us.”

The moderator of the session poked his head out of the door. “Ms. James, are you ready? I’ll be introducing you in just a few minutes.”

“Sure. We’ll be there.” Lila answered for her. “But we’re down a person. Lauren Evans is ill and won’t be on the panel today. You might want to mention that to the crowd. The program states that an editor from R and R will be answering questions with Jessie.”

Lila rocked and was already doing damage control. With Lauren out, Jessie was confident her agent would jump in and do her best to field some of the questions inside the ballroom. Now, if Lila could chase Grayson away, Jessie vowed to give her the biggest Christmas bonus ever.

Instead, Ivy League turned to the moderator. “I’ll be taking Lauren’s place on the panel today. I’m Grayson Reynolds, CEO of Reynolds and Reynolds. I’ll be happy to answer any questions from a publisher’s perspective.”

In Jessie’s head, the words echoed like she’d been dropped into a bottomless canyon. Finally, she managed a weak, “What?”

Which didn’t come close to fully expressing what she really meant.

What the fuck?

Or, Not in this lifetime.

Or, I’ll sit on a panel with you when wild monkeys fly out of my ass.

Grayson turned to Jessie. “I’m taking Lauren’s place today.”

“No. I mean…why would you do that?” She looked desperately at Lila for backup. “We certainly don’t need you in there.”

“I beg to differ. R and R is my company. In spite of your popularity, you tend to be a bit…”

He paused, and oh man, she just knew he was mentally running down a checklist of insults he was refraining from verbalizing.

“Unconventional,” he finally said. “You are one of my authors. And I’m responsible.”

“You? Responsible?” To her mind, Grayson Reynolds was about as responsible as using a condom made of fishnet. Her eye twitched from the effort of restraining the comment.

“You’re not afraid to sit next to me, are you, outlaw?” His voice turned low and condescending. He emphasized her nickname like it was the filthiest word that had ever passed his lips.

Which was ironic, since she knew, intimately, the scandalous things that poured out of the man’s mouth in the heat of the moment. “Yes. Afraid I might catch something.”

“Don’t worry. I don’t bite.”

“Tell it to the scar on my shoulder.” Jessie narrowed her gaze. “That’s sure as hell not how I remember it.”

Lila shrieked and gave Jessie a bony little elbow to the ribs as she lunged to intercept the rapid-fire insults winging back and forth. But before they could be pushed to neutral corners, asshat held up one dangerous finger.

Then he unleashed a cold, withering stare on Lila. “I’m going to need a moment with your author.”

Don’t you dare make me talk to him alone!

Jessie did her best to transfer the mental demand to Lila through pleading eyes and her own version of a Jedi mind trick. But clearly the Force was not with Jessie, because Lila turned and abandoned ship into the ballroom. No Christmas bonus for you, Jessie decided as the door clicked shut.

And she was left.

Alone.

With the bastard that had delivered more orgasms in one night than all the other men in her life combined.

Then had disappeared like he’d been as make-believe as a hero in one of her romance novels.

Fine. Maybe now was the time to set some boundaries. They’d ignored each other for a year. Enough was enough. She glared at Grayson. “I have no idea what you’re trying to pull. But when I discovered, quite by accident, that you were the new CEO of R and R, I bent over backwards to fulfill my contract and stay far, far out of your way. I have never come to your office and made trouble. Do you really need to come here and mess with me?”

“It’s a romance conference. I own a publishing house. You write for my company. It’s not rocket science. Did you honestly think we’d never cross paths again?” He arrogantly held up his hands as if to shush her before she spoke again. “Besides. I think it’s time we clear the air. In spite of what happened a year ago, we both need to move on. I may not have been completely honest about who I was, but in all fairness, you didn’t give me a chance to explain.”

“I didn’t give you a chance to explain?” Jessie let out a sarcastic laugh and poked him—hard—in the chest. “Here’s a piece of advice for you, Ivy League. Lies tend to piss women off. Find the time to explain who you are before you put your mouth on a woman’s breast.”

…

Grayson watched Jessie’s superb ass stalk furiously away. Today, she was all black leather, sequins, and soft, full, red-painted lips.

She made him think of sex. She made him think of the sex he’d had with her.

Perfect.

Why did he go there every single time he saw her? Probably because in spite of his wounded pride, he wasn’t blind. Nor did he have memory loss. He knew exactly what those lips were capable of.

It was just too goddamned bad she was the devil.

He looked up and saw a giant poster for her new book. The quote on the front read: Erotic Suspense with Heart.

Ha. Erotic he had no problem believing. Suspense, maybe so. But last year she’d fucked him into a sexual coma, and as far as he knew, hadn’t looked back since. So the heart part…not so much.

Which begged the question: why the hell had she jumped down his throat?

Because women are complete enigmas. One of his grandpa’s favorite mottos.

It occurred to him that he had not given gramps full genius props for that little gem of wisdom. Not until he’d sparred with Jessie James.

Didn’t matter. He just wanted to be rid of her. He wanted to be rid of her books in his company. He wanted to be rid of her face plastered on every piece of advertising material that passed across his desk. In fact, he wanted to be rid of the company’s entire romance line.

If he could pull off a weekend of being civil to Jessica Jameson, he’d be rid of her, the frivolous romance division she wrote for, and, finally, the mind-fuck of being naked with the outlaw herself.

And as much as he loved and respected his grandfather, R&R needed a facelift. The romance division had a few authors putting up big numbers. Like Jessie. But overall, sales were soft. And as far as respect, to his mind it was lacking there, too. He wanted the big names. Patterson. King. Clancy. Pulitzer Prize winners. He doubted very seriously that was going to happen pushing sex and love with the same hokey happily-ever-after in every book.

Five months ago his grandfather had suffered a mild heart attack, and Grayson had stepped in as the new CEO of Reynolds & Reynolds publishing. R&R wasn’t just a business or publishing house. R&R was pride and years of dedication, built from decades of his grandfather’s grueling work.

Now his grandfather had left him a legacy, and he intended to run that legacy until R&R was one of the most respected publishing houses in the world.
R&R needed changes. The first big one was going to be dropping the romance division like a bad habit. Last week, King of Hearts Publishing had offered to buy R&R’s romance line for a cool twenty million dollars—provided that Jessie James and her wildly successful romance series came with the deal.

A sign from God himself.

The fly in the ointment was that selling the romance division of R&R voided Jessie’s contract. Legally, she’d have the right to publish the rest of her series anywhere she liked. Which meant he sure as hell didn’t want to approach Lila Kent with the deal first. The little gremlin had nothing but dollar signs in her eyes. Jessie James may have been a wild card, but if he could get her onboard with the King of Hearts contract, Lila would be easier to maneuver.

He looked at his watch, trying to decide if he had time for a whisky or two—or ten—before he had to walk into the ballroom. But he knew the answer before he’d ever glanced at the time.

He made the decision to get on the plane this morning for a very specific reason. And that reason just stomped away like she’d prefer a lobotomy over sitting next to him for the next hour. Too bad. By the end of the weekend, he planned to convince Jessie James to sign with King of Hearts. Surely they could be civil long enough to have a real conversation about a move that would be mutually beneficial for both of them. Although her go-to-hell attitude didn’t look promising.

But he was a Reynolds. And when a Reynolds had a goal, the goal got achieved. If he had to suck it up and deal with Jessie for a weekend, so be it. If she wanted an apology, he’d grovel just to be rid of her. If he had to play the poor, sorry schmuck, okay.

Hell, if she wanted her ass kissed—fine.

Actually, he’d kissed her ass before and it was, in fact, a world-class ass. As was the rest of her. Tall and curvy. Long, lean legs. And dark hair that waved around her head with wild attitude. Which was nothing but prophetic when you thought about it—even her hair was probably a bitch to tame.

Unfortunately—he knew from experience—so was the outlaw!