Getting Wild Read online

  He leant back in his chair, hands behind his head and nodded slowly. “Good angle, I like it already. It could work in reverse too – you can drag me into some of the posh places and I can look all out of place.”

  Ella sighed, shook her head. “I hate to stroke your ego, but you don’t look the least bit out of place here tonight.”

  “Why thank you, but I can play a part. And can I remind you that you’ll be doing as much of the planning and script writing as I will, so you can make it whatever you like. Do you think you might sit down – again?”

  She should walk out. Right now. She was beginning to feel some enthusiasm for the job and was sure she wasn’t in the best frame of mind to make a sensible decision.

  Which was probably why she sat back down. Again.

  The waiter reappeared and Ryan rattled off his order without addressing the menu. Ella hadn’t even looked at it. She quickly scanned her memory for what she’d sampled before at this restaurant, found she couldn’t think at all. So she shrugged. “Whatever he said,” she told the waiter who nodded and left them again.

  “See? Subconsciously you trust me already.” Ryan smirked.

  “I might have ordered it, but I don’t have to eat it. And just so we’re clear – I wouldn’t trust you as far as I could throw you.”

  His expression hardened. “Nice. Mind telling me if this just a taste of your engaging personality, or is there a particular reason for this attitude you have towards me?”

  “From all accounts you’re nothing more than a self-indulgent, kamikaze, adrenaline-junkie with an authority complex.”

  “Really?” his expression cleared, his eyes actually lit-up. “I could use that,” he replied, not the least offended.

  “Then there’s the matter of you man-handling me into being here,” she snapped. “Are you in the habit of abducting people to get your own way?”

  “Usually I just use my charm.” He grinned. “For some reason that didn’t work with you. Besides, you threw down the gauntlet. I had to pick it up. That’s just the kind of guy I am.”

  “Well, that bodes well for a good working relationship.”

  “We’ll be great together.”

  “I know,” she somehow managed with a hint of sarcasm. “You want me, you need me, you’ll take care of me. I get it.”

  A wicked gleam came back into his eyes. “Absolutely.”

  No, she wouldn’t let him get under her skin. She would not. “Cut it out. I’m not about to be charmed by a known womaniser.”

  “I see. These stories you’ve heard about me just keep getting better and better. Still, you probably shouldn’t believe everything you hear. I heard you’re a heartless bitch.”

  “That all?” She shrugged. “There’s plenty worse than that out there.”

  “It doesn’t bother you?”

  “Why would it bother a heartless bitch?”

  “Touché.” He touched his wine glass to hers. “Why don’t you like being touched?”

  Taken aback, she snapped out the first insult that came to mind. “I’m fussy.”

  Ryan’s palms slammed onto the table, making her jump. “Alright. Thanks for your time, Ella. I have to go offer your position to Reece Bailey.”

  Ella did a double take. She felt like she’d been slapped. “Reece Bailey? Reece Bailey is a plagiarist and a fraud!”

  “She’s the next-best travel writer around. And she has documentary experience – time in front of the camera.”

  “She stole my work.”

  He shrugged. “Say’s you.”

  As the entrées were served Ella looked at her plate of quail like it was play dough. No way. No way was that woman… She looked at Ryan. He was smirking again. Talk about a Jekyll and Hyde. “Is this your idea of blackmail, Edwards?”

  “Absolutely.” Then at her furious glare, “OK, I have to ask… do you practice those scary expressions in the mirror?”

  Perversely, despite her spike of temper, Ella found herself fighting back the – probably hysterical, she reassured herself – laugh that wanted to break from her throat. She cleared it, straightened. “Is Montague paying you to push this?”

  “Not everyone can do that thing with the eyebrow.”

  “Hmmm.” It was the wine, she told herself, biting down hard on her tongue, pursing her lips hard against their urge to twitch. The wine, the man and she was over-tired. “Well, I asked-”

  “-me a question. Yes I know, don’t make you ask me again.” That did it. Her lips twitched, turned up. In response that wide grin of his spread over his face. “Don’t do it, Ella.”

  “Don’t what?”

  “Laugh. I just might fall in love with you.”

  Immediately her eyes hardened, her back went up. “I told you to cut the crap, Ryan. If you want me to consider this, then I need to think we have a chance of being able to work together. And I can’t work with… that.”

  “You could always try it. You’ve got three weeks from start of filming to change your mind.”

  She hated that she was wavering. “I don’t need this. I can get another position tomorrow.”

  “A step back.”

  “It’s what you make it. I can turn any publication into something special.”

  “I believe it. But you’d be mad to knock this back. Say yes, Ella.”

  “I want to see the fine print.”

  “Of course.”

  “And I’m not even going to consider it unless I have a say in the reorganisation of the magazine.”

  “I’m sure that’s a given. Just out of curiosity, what kind of say?”

  “My team. They stay.”

  “You’re seriously concerned?” Ryan relaxed again, returned his hands to their position behind his head and got comfortable. A small smile played at the corners of his mouth.

  Ella shifted uncomfortably in her seat and asked, “Why are you suddenly looking at me like I’m some sort of science experiment?”

  “Because I’m thinking the renowned heartless bitch may have a pulse after all.”

  “Don’t bet on it, and I’ll add that unless you’re keen to experience that side of my personality up close and personal, you should consider keeping your thoughts to yourself.”

  He studied her intently for a moment. “You really do take after your grandfather. And I’ll add that despite that unfortunate fact, I’d be happy to experience any part of you up close and personal, anytime, Ella.”

  And bam, there was the look – the look he’d undoubtedly used on countless female victims with outstanding success because an explosion of awareness detonated in her system like a nuclear weapon and radiated throughout her body with unnatural velocity. She swallowed hard, blinked a couple of times and quickly decided offense would be the best defence. If she could just formulate a sentence! Thankfully, their meals arrived and she was saved from replying long enough to pull herself together.

  As the waiter again left them, Ella stiffened her spine and levelled him her most officious glare. “First of all, my relationship with my grandfather is none of your business. Secondly, I thought I’d made it clear I’ve had just about enough of the innuendos and outright propositioning. If – God help me – we end up working together, then we work together. That’s it.”

  “If? Ella…”

  “You’ve got me here; you’ve got me considering this position. For some reason I’m still speaking to you. So, I may as well hear the rest.”

  And damn it, the more Ryan talked, the more she liked it. The work would be challenging, no doubt, and interesting, completely different. Grandfather would… what? Disown her?

  She took another sip of her chardonnay and wondered briefly at her inability to reduce the level of her glass. How many times had Ryan casually filled it as he’d been talking?

  Sneaky, she thought and she hadn’t been kidding when she’d said she didn’t trust him. Could she work with him? She’d been determined to dislike him – he stood for everything she’d been carefully coached to
detest and yet the entire time she was in his presence her body seemed to be vibrating at some higher frequency. If she didn’t have some wild fantasy or other in her sleep tonight about the man she’d be shocked. It just wasn’t normal. It just wasn’t her.

  “Are you interested in desert?”

  Ella eyes widened and she shook her head. “In case you weren’t paying attention I just ate half a cow.”

  “Actually you did a good job,” he replied, impressed, “How do you stay in shape?”

  “Being a heartless bitch is hard work.”

  “See, I’m really not so sure you’re as comfortable with that term as you make out.”

  “Doesn’t matter what you think. You’ll find out soon enough.”

  “Then you’re going to do it?”

  “I’m agreeing to take another look at the contract. That’s it.”

  Chapter Three

  The Montague Building stood proudly in its place; a multi-storey monolith rising over Sydney’s busy Pitt Street. Ella entered the impressive, modern interior of the lobby and strode purposefully to the lift. Following instructions, she pressed the button for the top floor and leant against the wall.

  She still wasn’t sure this was a good idea, but something about the opportunity had lodged in her mind and wouldn’t let go. She wanted to do it. She’d thought long and hard about the offer from Global Holidays. It was a position much the same as one she had held with Travel and the conditions were incredibly good. But so close to grandfather? And he’d sabotaged the idea by going out of his way to ensure it would be handed to her on a silver platter.

  She’d never taken him up on his handouts and had no intention of putting herself under his thumb, no matter his grand ideas for her future.

  Then there were the other offers that had trickled in once word got around she was possibly looking. Generous offers. But she just couldn’t rack up any enthusiasm for them. She didn’t step backwards or sideways. She wanted forward. And moving from writer to editor to writer and television presenter was new, exciting, forward.

  God only knew how grandfather would take it. What she did know she was that she was about to sign a contract that would change the way she saw herself spending at least the next year of her life, if not longer.

  For confidence she’d worn her best suit, put her hair up in an ultra-professional chignon and, of course, her make-up was flawless. The only accessories she was regretting were the heels. They looked great, they felt torturous.

  The doors opened and she was greeted with a lovely, large reception room, complete with reflective marble floors, plush seating and a large, polished-marble reception desk. The walls were covered in elegantly framed images of the many undertakings of Montague Enterprises.

  A neatly presented secretary looked up from her typing. Ella guessed she was somewhere on the high side of fifty. She wore a dress-suit in a pretty shade of musk, a fashionably styled haircut, sharp green eyes and a friendly smile. “Hello, may I help you?”

  “Hello, I’m Ella Jameson.”

  “Yes, Ms Jameson,” she replied. “I’m Clare, Mr Montague is expecting you.”

  Ella followed Clare down a wide hallway and was shown into a large window-lined office. The man who stood to greet her was in his late-thirties, she guessed, with a rangy build, a charming smile and tall, blonde good looks.

  “Ms Jameson,” Ben greeted warmly, coming around his desk to shake her hand, “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. Ben Montague.”

  “Mr Montague, it’s a pleasure.”

  He gestured for her to take a seat and she did, while he moved back to his. “Call me Ben, please. You’ve kept me waiting.”

  Ella blinked and checked her watch. “I assure you I’m on time.”

  Ben smiled and shook his head. “I was referring to the time it took you to decide to take me up on my offer.”

  “There was a lot to consider. I’m still not entirely convinced I should be here.”

  “Then Ryan’s done a good job getting you here. And you won’t regret this, Ms Jameson. May I call you Ella?”

  “Of course.”

  “Shall we take another look at the contracts before legal gets here? Then I’d like to take you down and introduce you to your producer.”

  By the time Ella let herself back into her apartment that evening, her head was spinning. But she’d made the right decision, she was sure of it. Ben was giving her full discretion over the reorganisation of the magazine and six weeks in which to sort it out, another six to step away from it, gradually handing over responsibility to her charges. Then they would begin planning for the show.

  She knew she’d have no problem working with the series producer, Hannah Moorcroft – the tall middle-aged blonde beauty with a sound head for business and admirable knowledge of her craft was straight-talking, organised and incredibly capable. Jill, her young, petite, auburn-haired assistant was friendly and efficient. Of course, she still had Ryan to deal with. But she had to admit that on a professional level at least he was very good at what he did. The project was exciting, it was new… The phone rang, cutting off her line of thought.

  It was Vincent Jameson.

  “Here we go,” she muttered in resignation and picked it up. “Grandfather.”

  “Ella, I’ve heard something disturbing. I’ve had to postpone a meeting to call and ensure the rumour is inaccurate.”

  “Would this be the rumour that I’m taking the position as presenter on the Travel television series?”

  “Are there more I should know about?”

  “No, of course not. And the rumour is accurate.”

  There was an ominous silence and she closed her eyes, braced herself. His words, when they came, were soft and much more dangerous, she knew, than the outbursts of temper. “You’ve signed the contract?”

  “Yes.” She tried to be positive. “Grandfather, I know you’re not convinced this is the best move and I value your opinion, but I’m really looking forward to this. It’s a completely new opportunity for me.”

  “It’s a joke – that’s what it is! How could you do this to me?”

  “I’m not doing this ‘to you’, grandfather. I’m doing it because I believe it is good career move.”

  “Being on television? You’ve never shown the least bit of interest in television. You know if you make a mess of this your reputation will go down the toilet. Right now you’re in demand. Ella, don’t be stupid. If you really must work, come back to Melbourne and work from here, with Global Holidays.”

  “I’m not interested in Global’s offer.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s what you do.”

  “It’s what I used to do.”

  “You are so mule-headed! Did you not learn anything from your father’s mistakes?”

  “Grandfather, please.”

  “I didn’t want to have to tell you this but…they don’t want you, Ella. They just want you to stay away from Global. They know you were offered a position there.”

  “I see.”

  “They didn’t even interview you for this, did they? Have you ever heard of anyone being hired for an on-screen position without ever having been on camera? Tell me you didn’t feel the least bit railroaded. Whatever they offered you, they’ll renegotiate – I guarantee it, once the Global position is filled. How long is your contract, Ella? One season? Even thinking about it makes me furious beyond words.”

  “So what you’re telling me,” Ella began, desperately trying to get her head around it all, “is that Global was going to poach me from Travel, Montague found out and re-contracted me in a position that suited his purposes before that could happen.”

  “Honestly Ella, you’re a disobedient and ungrateful child,” he spluttered, “Don’t forget reputation is everything and when you fail, I won’t have mine associated with you. You need to come home and start living up to your responsibilities.”

  When the call ended abruptly, Ella closed her mobile phone with a snap and her eyes mov
ed to the windowsill, where a large tabby cat stretched lazily. “I wonder how many thirty-year-olds get accused of being a disobedient child?” she asked the cat who simply blinked and relaxed back into position.

  Should she assume grandfather was right about Montague simply wanting to keep her away from Global, giving her a short contract so they could renegotiate lesser terms…or dump her altogether? She’d been told the short contract was simply a reflection of the shift in Travel – that something more suitable could be hashed out between them once all parties got a better idea of its future. That made sense…didn’t it? Still, Vincent Jameson’s words lodged in the back of her mind and her cautious nature filed the information away. Grandfather could be ruthless and self-serving, but he was rarely wrong.

  She walked into her spare room, flicking on the stereo as she went. Music up loud she picked up her gloves and spent an hour taking out her frustrations on her punching bag.

  Nine weeks later, Ella walked into the Montague building feeling confident that her team were able to run the magazine self-sufficiently. Now she could turn her attention to her new position and this morning she intended on doing just that.

  She walked into the office she’d been allocated, already reading up on the notes from the meeting she’d had to miss due to her magazine commitments. From what she could see, they were going to start the first episode of Travel with a special on Australia.

  Wrapped up in her reading, she didn’t immediately notice Ryan standing in her doorway, two coffees in-hand, but from the way he was leaning comfortably against the frame, she decided he’d likely been standing there watching her for quite some time.

  She’d run into him several times since he’d insisted on escorting her back to her office after that first dinner. Although she’d spent the majority of the last couple of months in her old building, she’d also been in and out of her Montague Enterprises office, familiarising herself with her new role.