Getting Wild Read online

  “Sorry Ms – ”

  “Mary, did you get hold of Henry?”

  “I’m on hold, Ms Jameson.”

  “Thank you.”

  Ryan leant forward, whispered to Blake, “Who is Henry?”

  “Ms Jameson’s solicitor,” he mumbled.

  Ryan wasn’t surprised. “Cancel that, Mary,” he ordered, getting to his feet. He moved smoothly to Ella’s side and took her by the arm before propelling her toward the exit. He had a brief moment to appreciate the stares of amazed horror on the faces of her employees before a quick glance at Ella’s face told him the tornado was about to hit category five.

  He smoothly went into damage control. “You don’t really want to cause a scene,” he muttered under his breath as she opened her mouth to do just that. “Just give me five minutes to hear what I have to say.”

  Two steps out the door, Ella dug in her heels and turned on him. “Take. Your. Hand. Off. Me,” she grated, ripping her arm from his grasp. “Are you looking for an assault charge?”

  “Are you intending on wearing that to dinner or do we need to stop off at your place?”

  Ella practically gaped at him as she attempted to figure out whether the man was simply too arrogant to comprehend or whether he perhaps had some sort of sociological disorder. “I’m not sure anything I’m saying is actually sinking in, so I want you to look at me while I say this very, very clearly,” she ordered, looking him directly in the eyes. “You could not drag me kicking and screaming into a restaurant with you. I would starve to death before we sat over a meal together. Is this making sense to you?”

  “It’s making for amusing chit-chat. Now, about that challenge.” He moved quickly – too quickly. Before she had a chance to fully grasp his intent he had her over his shoulder and in front of the lift. He pushed the button and the doors opened instantly.

  The spell of complete and utter disbelief that held her silent for the first few seconds broke. Torn between fury and the terror one of her employees would witness this humiliating scene, she prayed for the doors to close then considered her chances of taking him out.

  Slim, she decided unhappily. “Put me down. Right now!” she demanded instead, too proud to completely lose her composure and too furious to consider anything less than formal charges.

  “Nope.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, Ella, we’ve yet to come to the kicking and screaming portion of the argument. Any restaurant preferences?”

  “You are insane!” she hissed into his ear, “Put me the hell down!”

  “Are you going to behave?”

  “When these doors open you’ll get your kicking and screaming – along with a stint in a cell and multiple serious injuries. Do you hear me?”

  “Undoubtedly, and there’ll be a hundred witnesses leaving work for the day that’ll get front row seats to your very delectable ass. The photos will be circulating in seconds. Ready?” he asked as the lift came to a halt.

  Oh God, he was right… Heat rushed to her face. “Alright!” she snapped.

  Instantly she was deposited on her feet, and a split-second later the doors slid open to a packed lobby. With a look that could have levelled the building, she strode out of the lift and headed for the front doors. This is not happening, she reassured herself. I’m having some sort of stress-induced hallucination. That has to be it.

  “This way.” His hand was once again on her arm and steering her, this time to a waiting car. A uniformed driver nodded in greeting and opened the back door. Without protest, Ella slid into the sleek black limo. She hadn’t given in – not by a long shot. She just needed a minute to collect her scattered thoughts. The man had just picked her up. Picked. Her. Up. How dare he! He was as crazy as the rumours. He had to be. Who did that? No one. No one she should be in a car with she realised, suddenly anxious. Was he kidnapping her? Did he honestly expect her to have dinner with him?

  Ryan slid in beside her, studied her murderous expression and grinned widely. “So… where would you like to go?”

  “The nearest police station.”

  “Sure, I’ll choose.” Ryan gave the name of a prominent restaurant to the driver and they were on their way.

  Ella looked out the window, seething. Never had she been treated like this. Never. She supposed at least the driver did indeed appear to be travelling in the general direction of the restaurant. She was probably safe.

  “Calm down.” Ryan drew her attention back to him. “We’ll have dinner, have a chat. If you don’t like what I have to say, you can leave.”

  “Just why the hell would you for one second believe that someone like you could have anything to say that would interest me?”

  She saw his jaw tense and heard him inhale sharply. Her own body tensed in response and she felt a definite sense of relief when his eyebrows rose and his expression turned back to wry amusement. Still, his tone was no longer the lazy drawl it had been. “Dinner. Let me explain. You say no to my proposal, I’ll leave you alone.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “Or?”

  “Or I’ll keep getting in your way until you hear me out.”

  “Hmmm.”

  “Is that a yes?”

  She wanted to say no, wanted to warn him what would happen if he started threatening her. But something in that determined expression made her hesitate, made her wonder if maybe he was just a little more dangerous than her ego was allowing her to process. After all, wasn’t he the guy that had survived more life-threatening experiences than most people could even think up? Hadn’t he, while in the role of adventure traveller, bashed heads with corrupt governments, gone out of his way on countless occasions to raise awareness of human rights issues? Hadn’t he been arrested? Abducted? Held at gunpoint?

  To be safe, she replied, “I’ll hear what you have to say, if only to satisfy my own curiosity and get rid of you. Then you go and you don’t come anywhere near me again. Are we clear?”

  “As crystal.”

  Chapter Two

  Ella didn’t utter a word as they were seated inside one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city, nor when Ryan ordered the wine she had no intention of sampling. Instead she busied herself by looking around.

  The restaurant was busy, but not over-crowded. It was mostly couples, with a large group celebrating someone’s birthday in the far corner and a few tables of businessmen, she noted. Through the glass windows the views over Sydney Harbour were breathtaking. Sunset was almost complete and the lights of the city were flicking to life and shimmering in vivid colours over the water.

  The waiter left their table, and refusing to be charmed by the scenery around them, Ella turned her attention to Ryan Edwards. “Alright, I’m here. You have five minutes.”

  “Straight to business, huh?” he mocked. “Ok… I want you to seriously consider taking this opportunity.”

  “To what? Have you charged?”

  He sighed and looked at her with clearly stretched patience. “You really are everything they say about you.”

  “And then some. Why am I here?”

  “Montague Enterprises’ offer. It’s a good one.”

  “I disagree.”

  “On what grounds?”

  “Let’s just say, I like things the way they are.”

  “This is better. Montague is bringing Travel to life. The magazine will still exist, but it will complement a website and a TV series. The combination will cover everything – introduce travellers to locations, plan itineraries, feature tourism deals and book restaurants, inform people on local customs, what shots to have, where not to go, share other traveller’s experiences and even book their transportation. And that’s just a taste. This is massive, Ella.”

  “And in my current position I would have been happy to be a part of that,” she told him coolly.

  “Your position, as it stands, will no longer exist. The whole structure is evolving. The magazine will simply become a reflection of the TV series. All those decisions you ma
ke, all that control you have will be shifted to the television producers and writers. You wouldn’t be happy for long under those conditions and the pay is going to fall dramatically.”

  “I’m not a television reporter.”

  “Up until you became editor at Travel magazine, you were the best travel writer in the business.”

  “That doesn’t explain why Montague wants me on TV.”

  “For your experience; to bring the enthusiasm that came through in your articles onto the screen. Montague’s not looking for just another pretty face to sell locations. The series needs serious presenters that people are confident really know what they’re talking about. You’re well known, you know your stuff, can be trusted with a fair amount of autonomy and you’re gorgeous. Why wouldn’t they want you?”

  “That doesn’t explain why you’re pushing this.”

  “I want you, too.”

  Ella blinked in surprise. But if there was innuendo in that last comment, if his eyes heated a touch and his tone deepened suggestively, she refused to be affected. No, she wouldn’t be the least bit fooled or distracted by his compliment or by her body’s instant and unexpected reaction to it.

  She was obviously flustered, she told herself, by his He-Man tactics, by his sheer size and, she had to admit, rugged good looks. Right now, intense blue eyes the colour of cobalt stared out of a deeply tanned face of sharp planes and angles. His face was well structured with a strong jaw and straight nose, and a mouth that seemed to be permanently turned up a fraction at the corners. His thick, wavy hair was probably a very ordinary brown, she told herself, but constant exposure to the sun had much of it in several shades from brown to blonde. Yes, attractive by anyone’s standards, she admitted, topped off perfectly by an adventure-toughened body that was both strong and lean with some sort of invisible magnetism that was hard to ignore.

  “Why exactly do you think you want me, Mr Edwards?”

  “It’s Ryan and I’m investing a lot into this. It needs to be a success.”

  Ella pulled an unimpressed face. “As they already have Indiana Jones, I don’t see why I’m required to join you.”

  He grinned at that and her attention was drawn to a small dimple that formed on his left cheek. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “May as well, you won’t be getting any more.”

  “You’re hard on the ego, you know that?”

  “Oh please, like the whole Tarzan thing in the lift was a reflection of your debilitating inferiority complex?”

  He laughed. “You pack quite a punch. Give yourself some credit, Your Highness.”

  They were interrupted by the waiter with their bottle of wine. Ryan tasted it, nodded.

  Ella took the opportunity to take a calming breath. She was on edge, she realised, defensive even. This whole thing was ridiculous. Just when did one actually reach breaking point? She put her hand to her forehead and rubbed it, taking it all in.

  This was just too much. The whole six months had been just too much. The take-over, the reviews, the working all hours for a job she may no longer have; and now this infuriating, gorgeous, somewhat unusual man was attempting to flatter her into being on television? What did he care about whether or not she took the job at Travel? What did he even know about her, really?

  Undoubtedly this was all just some great, new opportunity to him. He obviously lived on adrenaline fumes and the next, great adventure. She needed to get out of there. Needed to think. She stood abruptly, realised she didn’t even have her purse.

  “Where are you going?’ he asked, exasperated.

  “I didn’t come here to be insulted. This conversation is over.”

  “Wait.” His hand clasped around her wrist and halted her movements, exerting enough pressure to suggest she sit back down.

  She resisted the urge to break the hold – to break his damn arm – and held onto what composure she had left. No one touched her unless she invited them to. And he was making a habit of it. “Ok, that’s three. Next time it’s an AVO.”

  “For touching you?”

  “I don’t like it. So yes, hands off, or forget not making a scene. I’ll make one you’ll be reading about for decades.”

  He lifted his hands truce-style and nodded. “Ok, my apologies… again. Please sit down, Ella.”

  She didn’t want to sit down; she wanted space, breathing room, a meeting with her solicitor. “I have things I need to do. I…”

  “Sit down, Ella.” There it was again, she noted, that hint of steel under the cool surface.

  Reluctantly she sat, forced the slightly aloof, bored expression back on to her face. “Well?”

  “Where were we?” he asked, immediately relaxed again. “Oh yes…not just another travel show. Between the show, the magazine and the website, we’ll provide travellers with a network of information that is second-to-none.”

  “Impressive speech – ambitious idea. Sounds like Montague wants to control the global travel market.”

  He shrugged. “Not a bad ambition. But of course, we need the right people on side. Companies, travel agents, resorts – if they’re going to invest in advertising with Travel, they’re going to want to know they’re getting their money’s worth. They’re going to want results. All this can be expedited by some initial trust.”

  “Of course.”

  “Serious travellers already know who you are and businesses scramble for a good word from you. I have a blog of a million plus readers a week. Investors and travellers alike will want to get on board with this, because we’re involved with it.”

  “There is just no end to your unfathomable conceit, is there?”

  He pulled a wry face. “If there is I’m sure you’ll be the one to come across it. Look, bottom line: I need you. You’ve already worked with many of our target clients and you’ll add a critical, respected female perspective to the show. You’re also more believable to those who aren’t adventure travellers, because neither are you.”

  Ella’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Correct me if I’m wrong but you just said ‘adventure travellers.’ Just where would we be going?”

  “Nowhere would be off-limits.”

  This is it, she thought, my last day at Travel. “Maybe not to you. I have limits. Plenty of them.”

  “You don’t need to worry, I’ll look after you.”

  “Oh well then – what could possibly be stopping me?” She rolled her eyes to the ceiling. I need you… I want you… I’ll look after you… The guy had a way with words. It was throwing her off balance again. “I don’t know the first thing about television.”

  “Montague will see you get any and all training on the job.”

  She looked at him suspiciously. “I don’t do tents. I don’t go anywhere I’m likely to be murdered, abducted for ransom or eaten by wild animals. End of story.”

  “Nothing under five-star Your Highness? Figures. I’ll buy you some hiking boots. You never know, you might like them. As for the rest – Montague’s prepared to offer you a three-week trial period once filming commences, in which to opt out of the contract if you’re unhappy.”

  “I don’t want you buying me anything and so help me if you call me that again!” This was her career – the wrong move could ruin everything. She couldn’t take that sort of risk. Could she? What if she failed? Did she even want to be on television? “Find someone else.”

  “I don’t want anyone else."

  And there he goes again, she thought. And despite what her head was telling her, her gut responded to that slightly predatory gleam in his eyes by sinking, then lifting again on a wave of butterflies that had her swallowing uncomfortably and shifting in her seat. He’s doing it on purpose. He’s definitely doing it on purpose!

  “I’m not interested,” she repeated. But was that true? If she took away this weird and unwelcome sexual tension she could admit her interest was growing, especially with the added escape clause. She took a sip of the chardonnay, hoping to settle her stomach as she rolle
d the idea around in her head.

  Ryan watched her with intense, determined eyes. “If nothing else it’s an insane amount of money,” he said after a moment.

  Ella considered him warily over the rim of her glass, her eyes meeting his, unconvinced and distrustful. “You think that’s going to matter when we’re lost and dying of thirst in the Kalahari?”

  He just shrugged muscular shoulders, that lopsided grin reappearing. “I don’t get lost. And if it makes you feel better, I know how to find water in the Kalahari.”

  “Of course you do.”

  “Besides, we’d be heading down to the Amazon before we went anywhere near the Kalahari,” he said lightly.

  Ella stood abruptly. This was madness. “Bon voyage.”

  He laughed and it was deep, musical. “You don’t have a thing to worry about.”

  Ryan Edwards himself would be enough to worry about. “There are tribes of cannibals running around in the Amazon, Ryan. Cannibals. Just how does one guarantee anyone’s safety in those circumstances?”

  “You’re being dramatic.”

  “I have a flair for it. I’m also particularly good at writing about luxury holidays and yes, five-star locations.” If she was going to go far enough out of her mind to even consider this, she’d have to assume she could cover different stories, let him go play He-Man, while she did what she did best – whenever possible at opposite ends of the planet. “If Montague really wants me to be a part of this, they need to put me in my element and I’ll consider saying yes to a trial.”

  “No cannibals, no deserts. Got it. Say yes, Ella.”

  She saw the glimmer of challenge in his eyes, decided he was probably used to getting what he wanted with disturbing regularity. Then it occurred to her. “Who do you think you’re fooling? I can see the spin on this a mile away. The big tough, seasoned adventurer – namely you – with the helpless side-kick city girl in need of constant rescuing.”