Tuesday, September 3, 2013

Reporting to Him is OUT NOW!

Career driven to a fault, Sydney Grayson has forged a path up the corporate ladder at a NYC newsmagazine. When she learns about a potential rung coming open, she takes a shot on the editor-in-chief job and dreams of the big office. Unfortunately, a corporate merger nearly pushes her out the front door instead. Once she learns she's not getting the job, a night of excesses ends up with her tied in a sexy Brit's bed. He drives her past the quiet control she has on her life and demands more than one night.

Jensen Archer flies into town on his father's orders--close the barely profitable magazine arm of their new acquisition and do it quickly. But when he realizes his sexy one night stand is also the assistant editor, he knows he has to touch and taste her again. But can hot sex lead to love? He's in for a battle pitting himself against his embittered father. Jensen has to decide if he stands with his family or the woman who makes his body tremble with need.



BUY HERE from Loose Id
(Coming Soon to Amazon
and other third party retailers)

“You promised you could get me that interview, Manny. I’ve already pitched the story, and it all hinged on you making the meet happen.” Sydney Grayson looked out the window from the backseat of the cab. Pouring rain hit the outside of the glass, the storm the only reason she was paying for transportation. She typically walked the few blocks to work, but she didn’t want to be soaking wet by the time she got to her office. The morning wasn’t a good one because of the weather. Manny trying to wiggle out of his promise only made it worse. “I need this interview.”

As Sydney held her cell to her ear with her shoulder, she juggled her coffee and her planner, trying to find her story notes in her bag. Without the interview with the real estate mogul’s son, her piece would be worthless. Her contact in his building had promised her a break, but since making that promise Manny had come up with excuse after excuse as to why he couldn’t get her in to see the man.

“I didn’t know he was going to be heading overseas, Sydney. It was a last-minute schedule change. He won’t be back for a month. If you still want to talk to him at that point, I can make it happen.”

Likely story. “The piece was supposed to be ready for the upcoming issue. I need that meet now. When does his plane leave?” Sydney dug in her bag for her pen, knowing she was pushing her luck. But if she didn’t pin Manny to the wall now, the interview was never going to happen.

“What? You gonna track him down at LaGuardia and force him to answer your questions?” Manny chuckled into the earpiece.

She scribbled the airport name down. The more she got Manny talking, the more she could get him to spill. “If I have to. I’ll do just about anything to get the story. When’s he leaving? Today, tomorrow?”

Sydney heard the sigh on the other end of the line before silence filled her ear. She could still hear breathing and the tiny hum of the open line, so she knew he hadn’t hung up on her. “If he finds out I gave you these details, I could be out of a job, Syd.”

“You know I won’t give you up.” Come on, come on…just tell me already. “You’ve helped me out before, and I’ve never ratted you out.”

“Yeah, but only a small few know his itinerary. They could narrow it down. It would be one thing for you to show up in the building, another to show up at the airport. It’s just too close.”

“He won’t find out through me. Come on, Manny. If we don’t nail his father for the tenements, who will? You grew up in one of those buildings. Don’t you want the kids living there now to have a better life than you did? Where are those families gonna go if Tate bulldozes those buildings?”

Sydney knew it was a low blow to bring up Manny’s history, but she needed this story, and not in a month. She needed it now, or the story could all fall apart around her just like the buildings were going to. There would always be some excuse coming. Andrew Tate was a busy man, always on the go. She needed to cut through Manny’s bullshit and get to Andrew.

“Why not interview the old man? What’s Andrew going to do?”

“Andrew’s being groomed to be just like his father. His armor may not be as thick as his dad’s yet, so I can get to him and obtain the info I need to blow this wide open.”

“And if Andrew doesn’t know about the buildings?”

“Then perhaps he needs his eyes opened.”

“You know he’s not going to answer you, no matter where you see him. He didn’t fall far from the tree at all.” Manny released another sigh. “He leaves today in about an hour. And you’re in luck. He has to go through TSA because the plane could only pick up in a secured area due to the rush. Typically he’s driven straight out to the plane.”

I would’ve found a way onto the tarmac if I had to. “Which terminal?”

Terminal D.

“Manny, I owe you big-time.”

“You got that straight. I’m expecting a big steak dinner at Peter Luger for me and my girl outta this.”

Sydney cringed. The price tag on that meal was going to hurt her pocketbook, but it might be worth it if she got a chance to obtain what she needed. “Sure, yeah.”

As she hit the End button on her phone, Sydney leaned up close to the driver. “Change of direction. Take me to LaGuardia.”

* * * *

Sydney stood at the terminal entrance, her mini digital recorder in hand, waiting for Andrew Tate as a long list of questions ran through her mind. Her gaze roamed the crowds. She was looking for signs of his arrival, knowing he rarely traveled alone. As she leaned against the wall, she felt antsy, her nerves getting the better of her. For all outward appearances, she was a balls-to-the-wall reporter willing to do just about anything to get the story, but in reality she was only human. Fear peeked in on occasion as she wondered what the hell she was doing. She was one story away from landing her ass in jail.

She watched as a group of passengers de-boarded. Family members waited for them in the terminal with signs and flowers and whatnot. Hugs and shows of affection abounded, and it hurt Sydney to watch. Who would be there to welcome her back from a flight? No one, really. Jealousy spiked as Sydney scrutinized the people, her chest aching with intense need to belong somewhere outside of work. She knew she shouldn’t feel the emotion. Yet she was unable to stop it.

Lost in thought, she nearly missed the pack of burly men strolling through the terminal. They had to be a security team. Andrew Tate would more than likely be at the center of that throng, hidden behind a wall of brute strength. Sydney couldn’t even see between the musclemen, but in her gut she knew it was him. They quickly approached the TSA checkpoint, and that was when she spotted him. Dark sunglasses hid his handsome face, but there was no hiding the tailored clothes encasing the fit body of the man all five boroughs hailed as the Prince of New York City.

Clicking her tape recorder on, Sydney rushed toward the checkpoint, ready to invade the group. When she was a few feet from Tate, she saw another man approach Tate from the other side of his horde of bodyguards. One of the guards blocked the man’s path, but Andrew stopped the guard and clasped the man in a bear hug. Suitcase in hand, the random guy was apparently de-boarding a recent flight and was currently getting in her damned way. The only good thing about the encounter was that the guards seemed more interested in the man Andrew Tate was talking to, and less aware she was closing in for the kill. As she neared, she heard a snippet of their conversation.

“Still flying commercial?” Tate smiled as he stood facing the mystery man.

“My father’s still cheap as ever, but then I’m a nobody. I don’t have to hide on a private jet.” The stranger spoke with a British accent, clipped tones that were really pleasant to her ears—that is, if he hadn’t been throwing a wrench into her plan. His gaze moved to hers, and she nearly stopped in her tracks as their stares locked. Sydney was stunned by how handsome he was. Electricity sparked through her. He seemed to tense and take note of her as well. Her breath caught in her lungs as his gaze perused her, her body tingling under his appraisal. Heat pooled between her legs just from the attention he was giving her.

She shook off the sensation. There was no way she could let the interloper prevent her from getting what she needed. She had a story to do, and a casual attraction wasn’t in the cards. Andrew Tate was the target, not some guy her libido was standing up and taking notice of. And oh boy, it was taking notice, all right.

“Mr. Tate, what do you have to say about the tenement buildings your father is demolishing? How is he going to care for the poor families living there now?”

Andrew Tate spun around, his scrutiny clearly showing he was not happy to be interrupted from his little reunion just as one of his security guards began dragging her away.

She wasn’t going to let that stop her. “Where will the families live now that your father is tearing down their homes? Do you have any idea what these families are facing?”

Sydney felt the security guard’s arm wrap around her neck, cutting off her air supply and ending her futile attempt at a forced interview. Tate and the mystery man looked at her in horror. The guard’s thick arm was doing the trick; little specks of light were glimmering in her gaze as her oxygen levels slowly depleted.

The Brit jumped forward, worry etched on his face. “You’re suffocating her!”

“Just doing my job, sir,” the burly guard replied, his husky voice vibrating through her.

“You’re not supposed to kill her.” The Brit wrestled her away from the security guard as she sucked in a few large drafts of air. Dots began to dance even more furiously in her vision. She took in more oxygen, and pressure filled her chest, her lungs burning. Once she gathered her wits, she stood up straighter and looked around.

They were all gone.

Except for the Brit. He stood before her, concern written in the lines of his face. “Are you well?”

Sydney nodded, trying to look through the crowds to see where Tate had gone. “You let him get away!”

You’re welcome?” He shook his head and casually glanced over his shoulder in the direction Tate had more than likely escaped in before turning back to her and capturing her gaze with his. “By the way, I don’t have the power to stop Andrew Tate when he’s on the move.”

Sydney eyed the man, the electricity from his crystal blue stare making her body grow warmer and warmer. A hum seemed to sound between their bodies, a palpable charge in the air. She wanted to swim in his gaze and get lost in him. She pushed the thought from her mind. He’d given Tate time to run off and ruined her chance at an interview. He wasn’t a guy to go gaga over.

The Brit drew his bag over his shoulder and picked up his suitcase. “Glad to see you’re all right.” He began to walk away as she watched, dumbstruck.

Sydney followed once she realized he could be a way in, suddenly smelling the key to fix her current problem. “How do you know Tate?”

“Why do you care so much?” he asked as he continued to walk briskly through the terminal.

“His family is about to cause a lot of heartache for some families in this city. I just want to find a way to stop them.”

“Ahh…so you’re a do-gooder searching for a way to right wrongs and fight the good fight.”

“Something like that.” She cringed at the little white lie. Yes, the story could potentially get Tate Construction to stop their plans, so it wasn’t a complete fib.

The Brit suddenly halted and looked her over. His gaze settled on her face for a moment before he continued to walk on. “I haven’t seen him in years, so I doubt I can be of any help to you.”

“That’s not what I asked. I just wanted to know how you knew him,” she said as she caught up with him.

He was quiet a long minute, enough to make her think he was ignoring her. She wanted to reach out and grasp his wrist, anything to make him stop and look at her again. Finally before she took drastic actions he sighed. “We were in university together.”

The man didn’t appear to be a cutthroat businessman. He was comfortable and relaxed, without the killer instinct. “You went to Harvard?”

“Is that a stretch to the imagination?” He gazed at her, his smile broadened with amusement.

“No, you just don’t seem to be cut from the same cloth as Tate.”

“You’re quite right on that account,” he said as he glided through the airport’s terminal exit doors. A limo was parked outside, and a driver was waiting for him. The driver took the man’s bags as he neared the car.

Sydney took in the car, knowing there was something familiar about the man, but she couldn’t make the connection. If he had a car and driver waiting for him, he wasn’t a run-of-the-mill schmo. “What’s your name?”

The Brit shook his head as he opened his own door, the driver pushing his bags in the trunk. “I’m nobody.” He smiled at her, a bright white grin that made her girlie parts want to introduce themselves, intimately. She beat them back into submission and stared him down, determined not to melt. He nodded, entered the car, and closed the door.

As the car drove off, she wrote down the license plate on her notepad, missing the last two numbers in her rush. She started jogging ahead, trying to get a better view but it was a lost cause. Sydney stopped in the middle of the pickup area, defeated. She’d just lost a potential key into Andrew Tate’s world. She just knew it.

Not only that, her body screamed its anger that she didn’t have a name or any way to find the most delicious man she’d ever set eyes on. Her body was still reeling from being in his presence. Her nipples were hard, and her pussy was wet and achy. Sydney wasn’t the kind of girl to throw herself at a man. There wasn’t time in her life for strings, but she was curious what a night in his arms would feel like. A shiver raced down her spine as a vision of her in his bed entered her mind.

A horn blared behind her and made her jump right out of her skin. She turned and glared at the cabbie behind her, sticking up a middle finger as he screamed at her to get out of the way. How dare he ruin a perfectly good fantasy?

Copyright © Alexandra O'Hurley