Getting Wild Read online

  Getting Wild

  www.escapepublishing.com.au

  Getting Wild

  Sarah Barrie

  The Devil Wears Prada meetsMan vs Wild in this fast-paced romantic comedy set in the no-holds-barred world of travel journalism.

  When Ella Jameson steps into a room, people scramble to attention. She’s ruthless, terrifying, and untouchable — and very, very successful as Editor-in-Chief of Australia’s top travel magazine. Then Ryan Edwards, adventure traveller, walks into her office with an unexpected job proposal, and Ella just knows he’s going to be trouble. As far as she’s concerned, the man’s a self-indulgent, kamikaze, adrenaline-junkie with an authority complex — and he’s also infuriatingly sexy! The idea of them working together is ludicrous, but the opportunity to co-host a new travel show is just too good to refuse.

  As she is swept from her world of innercity glamour into a nightmare of camping, crocodiles, and outback adventures, Ella’s feelings for Ryan begin to heat up, and her walls start to come down. In the tropical beauty of Australia’s Top End, it’s not just the weather that’s going to sizzle…

  About the Author

  Sarah Barrie lives with her husband and children in a rural area on the Central Coast of NSW. She divides her time between writing, being a mum and her position as editor of an Australian equestrian magazine. When she finds a spare moment or two, she enjoys spending time with her Arabian horses and the various other animals that call the farm home. Though her writing career has traditionally revolved around producing articles for various publications, her true passion lies in fiction and she enjoys writing contemporary romance, romantic suspense and paranormal romance.

  Acknowledgements

  I have to give an enormous Thank You to Kathryn Andersen. Kathryn, without your help this would not have been possible. You are an inspiring teacher and a treasured friend.

  To everyone — and you know who you are — who has supported, guided and put up with me on my road to publication. Thank you x

  Contents

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Bestselling Titles by Escape Publishing…

  Chapter One

  “I need one more piece of crap to fall on my desk today and that’s it – you’re all fired!” Ella Jameson had a reputation for being a bitch and today she was earning it. The women seated around her were all but quaking in their shoes. “It is too much to ask that you people do your job?” As her voice rose, people poked up their heads to watch, until as though sensing them, Ella’s head spun around and all onlookers ducked for cover. “Patricia, were you drunk when you wrote this, or was I drunk when I hired you? Deidre, no disaster could excuse this and these two…” She waved the last of the submissions in her hand before throwing them over her shoulder. “I’m just not going there.”

  “Ms Jameson…” one of the women hesitantly raised her hand.

  “Don’t speak!” The glare cut through the woman like ice. “We’re printing a prominent travel magazine, ladies, not toilet paper! You want to work for Kleenex, they’re four buildings down. You want to keep working for me? Prove it!”

  Ryan Edwards smirked with wry amusement as women ran in all directions. So, the rumours about the Ice Princess were true; Ella Jameson was talented, beautiful, demanding and utterly ruthless. His eyes swept with appreciation over the tall, slender woman with curves in all the right places. She had, he decided, the face of an angel, though he smirked even as he thought it, as right now those large, dark eyes of hers were tempestuous at best. He wondered if he pulled the pin on that very businesslike topknot, how far that rich mahogany hair of hers would spill down over her shoulders. It was a tempting thought.

  “They really did model The Devil Wears Prada on that woman,” a voice behind him muttered to another employee.

  “She makes Miranda Priestly look like Mother Teresa,” the companion grumbled. “And what is she, thirty? She’s only gonna get worse.”

  He turned, amused, but the pair had already moved on. Another woman caught his eye, gave him a shy appraisal and hurried past. He was accustomed to women admiring him and wasn’t noble enough not to take advantage of it from time to time. But this was business. There was only one woman he was interested in today. He had intended on heading straight to her office but hadn’t been able to resist the show. Now he found himself wondering how long it would be before he found himself on the receiving end of that temper. He thought with a grin that in all probability it wouldn’t be long.

  She was heading quickly toward him to the hallway, those long, long legs eating up the ground as she strode – no – glided along, leaving a small band of followers rushing awkwardly in her wake. He gave himself a moment to admire the picture, before deliberately putting himself in her way.

  “Ms Jameson?” As they very nearly collided, his hand shot out to steady her. “My apologies,” he murmured, enjoying her quick catch of breath and the instant awareness that flashed in those captivating eyes.

  In a heartbeat she composed herself, turned her attention to the hand on her immaculate charcoal-grey suit and pointedly waited. Catching her meaning he bit back a grin and removed his hand.

  Without a word she moved off, then turned and looked him up and down. A hint of cool appreciation touched her face and with a small “Hmm” she was off again.

  He caught the smirks of her assistants as he fell into step. A young man wearing an Armani suit and a smug expression glanced up at him, asked, “Can I help you?”

  “No.”

  “Look, you can’t just – ”

  “I assure you I can. Excuse me.”

  Ella had reached the door to her internal office as her assistants scattered to their various desks. He walked straight by them to her door, evoking a chorus of panicked opposition which he ignored as he proceeded inside.

  She was at her desk, a phone already pinned between her shoulder and her ear as she scrawled something on a notepad with one hand and scrolled through something on her computer screen with the other.

  Ryan sat, made himself comfortable and bit his tongue down on the very real urge to laugh as she halted her conversation, scrawling and scrolling and stared wide-eyed in total disbelief. He took note of the same split-second gathering of composure he’d witnessed in the hallway, then she was off the phone with a “Later” and her hands were in front of her, fingers linked, a look he could only describe as haughty on her perfectly made-up face.

  “This ought to be good,” she murmured.

  “I thought I’d drop by and introduce myself,” he drawled lazily, his eyes deliberately roaming over her, “See if the rumours about you were accurate.”

  “They generally are,” she replied in that velvety voice that made him think more of the bedroom than the boardroom. “Especially the nasty ones. How did you get in here?”

  “I walked.”

  Her expression was fleetingly withering then bland. “I see. Looks like I’ll be firing someone today after all.”

  “I don’t allow obstacles to get in my way, Ms Jameson. Your small herd of loyal sheep out there aren’t to blame.”

  “Wow. Give me a minute to admire your ego.”

  As he inclined his head and did just that, he
thought she almost – almost – smiled. Instead she frowned. “Who are you and what do you want?”

  He leant forward, allowed his gaze to move to her blood-red painted lips. “I’ll tell you over dinner.”

  “I’m sorry,” she replied, lifting the phone, “I have a rule about narcissistic men with delusions of grandeur. You’ve wasted enough of my time. I’m calling security.”

  Ryan simply leant forward and depressed the receiver. “Dinner, Ella.”

  This time she made no attempt to mask the quick flare of anger. “Like hell,” she replied also leaning forward, her furious face now inches from his. “I asked you a question.”

  The air around them all but crackled with static as he seriously considered closing the distance and kissing her senseless. To stem this undoubtedly insane urge and prevent probable bodily harm he leant back and made himself comfortable. “My name, Your Highness, is Ryan Edwards, and under the circumstances I think we should get to know each other.”

  Something flickered in her eyes before they narrowed dangerously. Ignoring the jibe she asked, “What circumstances?”

  A lop-sided grin crept onto his face. “I’m crushed you haven’t heard of me.”

  “What circumstances?”

  “I’m actually very well known in the States.”

  “Oh, I’ve heard of you. Don’t make me ask you again.”

  “You’re going to give yourself a jaw ache, clenching it like that. I’m here because of the company takeover.”

  “You work for Montague Enterprises?” she asked sceptically.

  “It’s a recent thing.” He shrugged. “And you haven’t checked your emails. We’re going on assignment. Together.”

  From somewhere a clock ticked rhythmically, the only sound for several moments as she stared at him, completely appalled. “Are you insane?”

  “Nope,” he replied, delighted with her reaction. “Your new boss wants you – and I – on his pet project. So…” he grinned, bracing himself for impact. “Ever slept in a tent, Ella?”

  He thought it almost akin to waiting for a tornado to hit. There was calm, a quiet anticipation, all the while knowing that at any moment all hell could break loose. Ella’s face was like that. Calm – too calm, but her eyes stirred with the first breezes of an oncoming natural disaster. Her voice, when she found it, rumbled like far-off thunder. “Wait outside.”

  He got to his feet, chuckled. Oh yeah, he thought, pleased with his decision, she’s perfect.

  Five minutes later, Ella put down the phone with a resounding click, her reality fast becoming a nightmare. Briefly she allowed her head to fall into her hands while she attempted to make sense of it.

  When her magazine had been taken over by a large company with diverse interests, she’d felt secure in her position knowing she’d turned Travel magazine into the top selling publication in its field. She hadn’t doubted they’d want to keep her on. It had been her staff she’d worried about.

  Every one of her handpicked team was brilliant on their own, as a group she couldn’t have hoped for better. Almost six months ago she’d received the email outlining the commencement of random reviews of staff performance, something about ‘reassessing their suitability’ for the ‘new direction’ of the magazine. Of course, she’d been struck by a jolt of pure dread. She was asked not to draw their attention to the reviews. In other words, she was unable to warn anyone they would be taking place. So she’d pushed, stressed, demanded that every single word submitted be better than perfect, beyond criticism, award-worthy. No one was going to find her people lacking, no one was going to have an excuse to fire them. They were her team. Hers. And although most of them now considered her the boss from hell, she thought she’d just about pulled it off.

  Now this.

  How could she have predicted this? Her new boss was turning her magazine into a television series. They wanted her on it. What did she know about television? She was a travel writer turned magazine editor, not a television reporter. The idea was ludicrous. And going on the road again? She’d lived out of a suitcase for seven years – had enjoyed it, true – but she’d worked damn hard for this position. She’d finally bought an apartment. She had a cat for heaven’s sake!

  She released a long, unhappy breath and sat back in her chair, trying to come to terms with the proposal. It didn’t make sense. And then, of course, there was Ryan Edwards; the cult-status, adventuring idiot who got himself into more trouble than was entirely believable. The idea of them working together was as incomprehensible as it was outrageous. She was a highly respected professional. He was, well, a lunatic.

  No. This would not do. If Montague weren’t interested in keeping her on in her current position, she’d quit. It would hurt – this magazine was her baby. But she’d find something else. There were plenty of companies out there that would hire her.

  Her eyes turned back to the email outlining the proposed changes to her contract and she read through it again carefully, slowly. When her intercom buzzed she answered it distractedly.

  “Mr Jameson is on line one, Ms Jameson.”

  Ella bit back a curse – this day just got more and more perfect by the minute. “Grandfather,” she greeted, picking up the line.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Vincent Jameson demanded.

  “I’m sorry, tell you what?” though she already knew. Somehow he knew everything the moment she found out, if not before.

  “This takeover rubbish. What’s this about television?”

  She didn’t bother to ask how he’d found out. He always did. “I’m just looking into that now, grandfather.”

  “There’s no excuse for incompetence, Ella. Did you not receive the email this morning?”

  Ella checked the time and date. “Yes,” she admitted reluctantly, but I’ve – ”

  “Don’t ‘but’ me, young lady. You’ll hand in your resignation, of course. It’s more than time you rethought your priorities anyway.”

  “Grandfather, we’ve been through this.”

  “I don’t understand you! You’ve more than proved you’ve a better head on your shoulders than either of your useless parents. You need a good husband, make a family your career.”

  “Grandfather, I have more in mind for my life than producing heirs for you.”

  “Watch your tone! At your age, you’ll miss out if you procrastinate. If you really insist on working I’ll find you a position closer to home. I hear Global Holidays is looking.”

  Fighting back the urge to scream at his interference, Ella took a deep breath. “I appreciate that, but I can do this on my own. Right now I’m busy ensuring my staff are able to keep their positions. I don’t want – ”

  “Ella, you are consistently, frustratingly short-sighted. If they’re worth keeping, you take them with you. Otherwise, they go. There’s no room for sentiment in business. Honestly, sometimes I wonder how you’ve held that position; whether I taught you anything at all.”

  “Do you?” she replied through grated teeth, “You can’t expect me to just – ”

  “I think I’ve earned the right to expect you to do what you’re told!”

  Ella knew that tone. He was undoubtedly turning beetroot red and reaching for a brandy. “I’m sorry for upsetting you, grandfather. I do appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”

  “Then act appropriately.”

  When the dial tone sounded in her ear, Ella replaced the receiver. “Have a nice day, grandfather. Thanks for the call,” she muttered. She pressed the heel of her palm to her forehead, counted to ten and took a deep breath. He was the most frustrating, interfering, old-fashioned… Still, he was her only family. He’d taken her in after her parents had died, when she was only eight years old. He’d sent her to a spectacular school and had funded her early travels as a young writer. He’d pushed her to be the best in everything she did and she’d succeeded.

  The only time she’d ever deliberately crossed him in business was in taking this position. He’d lined s
omething up – because he was the legendary Vincent Jameson, publisher extraordinaire and millionaire businessman – in one of his own companies. But Ella had wanted to earn her position on her own. She’d wanted the challenge of taking on a lesser-known publication and moulding it into something great. And she’d succeeded there, too. And so he’d forgiven her, because nothing meant more to her grandfather than winning. Except maybe an heir. And even if she’d wanted to be it, she wouldn’t do because she wasn’t a boy.

  She glared at the emailed copy of her new contract. It was all there, in black and white. Had this been the ‘new direction’ all along? She didn’t like not knowing what was going to happen – hated not being in control, despised knowing she had only been fed small amounts of information on some sort of need-to-know basis. Well, she’d just see about this. She’d just see.

  Working herself up to furious she pressed a button on her computer. A moment later she snatched the print out and gathering herself together, strode purposefully from her office.

  As she came through the door, assistants jumped to attention. Ryan was seated, reclining comfortably in a chair with a coffee in his hand and an openly amused look on his face. “Time to batten down the hatches,” he murmured, lazily getting to his feet.

  Ella barely spared him a glance. “Mary, please contact Henry Bales. Tell him I’m on my way.”

  “Yes, Ms Jameson.”

  “Blake, cancel my appointments for this afternoon and reschedule my meeting with Brian Ferguson for tomorrow after lunch.”

  “Mr Ferguson is flying out this evening, Ms Jameson.”

  Ella swallowed the sharp retort that formed on her lips, paused, took a breath and tried again. “So reschedule his flight, Blake.”

  “I’m sorry Ms Jameson, but he was adamant about seeing you today.”

  She found her palm returning to her forehead, found herself again counting to ten – quickly. “Get him on the phone,” she ordered as she marched to his desk and waited. “Brian – Ella Jameson. I have to reschedule for tomorrow… I assure you my time is every bit as valuable as yours and this is unavoidable… well, that would be a shame Brian. To date my personal review of your resort is glowing. I’m considering featuring it with a cover… Yes, we’ll take care of your altered flight arrangements. I appreciate that. See you tomorrow.” Ella hung up and turned to Blake. “See what I just did? That was your job. Don’t make me do it again – and organise those flights.”