Sweet Talk Boxed Set (Ten NEW Contemporary Romances by Bestselling Authors to Benefit Diabetes Research plus BONUS Novel) (25 page)

Jackson bypassed Leila’s glacial-paced building elevator and sprinted up the fire escape to her fourth floor apartment. 

What he saw when he got there almost made him go postal. 

That opportunistic prick of an ex of hers was back.  But instead of trying to shove a forest of lavender roses down her throat, this time, he’d brought lilies. 
Moron.

Meanwhile, Leila was fighting tooth and nail to keep both the asshole and the offensive flowers out of her house. 

Worst of all, she’d obviously been crying.  The evidence of that was the equivalent of white-hot coals raking over Jackson’s heart.  He knew without a doubt that the red-eyes were all his doing.

But the red-nose, he wasn’t taking the blame for. 

She sneezed.  Over and over again, all the while trying to stop long enough to push Grant away.

Jackson stalked forward and yanked the vase out of the prick’s hands, before running the flowers across the hall and shoving it down the trash chute.  He returned and handed his suit handkerchief over to Leila.  “She’s allergic to lilies, you idiot.” 

Leila gave one final, gusty sneeze into the handkerchief and then fell against the wall in relief.  “Thank you.”  Her watery eyes turned lethal a moment later.  “Now you can both show each other out.  I’m having the mother of all crappy days, and you two are to blame.” 

“Leila,” rumbled Jackson in a low tone, just as she was stepping back to slam the door in their faces. 

Leila halted in her tracks, and their gazes tangled as he stepped forward.  He estimated that his calling her by her name would buy him a few precious seconds, at least.  He had to make them count. 

“Please, Leila.  Give me a chance to explain. What you heard earlier, you heard out of context.”

The hurt in her eyes flashed forward again for a moment before she hardened her expression, closing him out completely.  “It didn’t really need to have any context, Jackson.  Your thoughts about me were pretty clear.”

“Only because you continue to believe what your father and this douche bag here have been drilling in your head all these years.”

Grant, who’d been silently watching the exchange with calculating eyes that hadn’t escaped Jackson’s attention, finally made his move.  “Honey bear, who
is
this Neanderthal?  What did he do to you?  Say the word and I’ll make him pay for making you cry, sweetie.”

Good lord.  Time to make some use out of the billions Jackson had lining his pockets—anything to make this asshat stop talking. 

“My apologies for not properly introducing myself,” Jackson offered in his best old-money voice, layered with just the right cocktail of bored snobbery that was practically encoded into the fabric of his designer suit…it was, after all, his brother’s.

Like the trained political monkey he was, the weasel immediately stepped back and gave Jackson the head-to-toe politician once-over, which mentally catalogued Jackson’s clothes and shoes to tally up his net worth.  Knowing how the man wasn’t the brightest crayon in the box, he figured he’d help him get there quicker.  “My full name is Reginald Jackson Grayhurst II.”  All the while, Jackson’s eyes never once left Leila’s.  “My father was Nathaniel H. Grayhurst, and my half-brother is Nathaniel Junior, whom you’ve probably seen on every news channel today for the legal problems he is currently facing.” 

Silence resounded in the hallway after he dropped
that
bomb. 

Jackson paused to study the rush of emotions running across Leila’s features, spanning shock, hurt, and disbelief, and every emotion in between.  Then he explained in the most clear cut terms possible just what he’d meant by the ‘complicated’ life he led:  “Due to my brother’s legal issues, as of today, I will be reclaiming my managing seat on the board of Grayhurst Industries in Connecticut.” 

When the gawping politician yanked out his phone and began typing away on his screen, Jackson reached over to wipe the last of Leila’s tears away.  “In case your data banks don’t store random corporate trivia, sunshine, my family owns DBC Sports Network.  The man you heard me talking to had been questioning if you were some sort of evil genius corporate spy.  What you heard was my response to him.  Thus, I repeat, you heard it out of context.  But all the same, I hate that my words caused you any pain at all, baby.  I’m so sorry to be the cause of these tears.”

As he stroked her cheek with his thumb, he watched some of the tension leave Leila’s shoulders, and the hurt in her eyes slowly ebb away. 

Soon, the fist around his heart loosened enough so he could breathe again.  “Leila, I hid my family name out of necessity.  You know more than most how sometimes, we have to do that—be two people, even though we don’t want to be.  But don’t believe for a second that I haven’t been sharing my real life and who I really am with you all along.  Everything I’ve ever told you is the complete truth.  Only now, you have the names to go along with the stories.”

“Jackson, this is way bigger than my keeping L.J. Hart from you, and you know it.”

At that opening, Grant shoved his phone back in his pocked and chimed in, “I agree.  And the reasons behind the deception are also vastly different.  Don’t be drawn in to his charm.  Be strong, Honey Bear.”  He stepped forward and reached out in a show of comfort for Leila as well.

Jackson let loose a feral growl before the asshole could lay a single finger on her. 

“Don’t.  Touch.  Her.”

Grant froze.  But he didn’t back down.  Instead, he took an arrow and aimed it at Leila’s heart.  “Honey bear, he lied to you.  He can spin it any way he wants, but it doesn’t change the fact that he didn’t trust you enough with his name or his money.  He clearly doesn’t think you’re good enough for him.  Face it, all you’ve been is some billionaire’s tawdry, hidden mistress—”

Leila flinched, a split-second before Jackson’s hand shot out and grabbed Grant by the throat. 

“
Apologize
,” he barked, in a voice so raggedly vicious, it sounded more animal than human. 

Grant’s face turned red and gasping gurgles bubbled out of him where air should’ve been. 

Jackson allowed him one breath, before roaring, “
Now!
”

“I-I’m s-sorry, Mr. Grayhurst—” he sputtered.

For crying out loud, the man was a complete imbecile.  “Not to me, you damn idiot.  Apologize to Leila.”

At Grant’s baffled look…and moment-long hesitation, Jackson squeezed Grant’s throat and slid him up the wall a foot.  Panicked, Grant started frantically clawing at Jackson’s vice-like hold.

“Jackson!  Enough.  Let him go.”

Leila’s voice was his only saving grace.  He released the sack of wasted air and watched him crumple into a puddle.  “He still owes you an apology,” he snarled.

A soft hand stroked over his arm, bringing his blood pressure down out of the rafters.  “No, he doesn’t need to apologize.  I don’t need it.  Nothing he says means anything to me.”

Jackson turned to cup her beautiful face.  “Do my words mean something, sunshine?  Does my apology?  That hurt I saw in your eyes today…”  He shut his eyes in pain.  “That about killed me.  I never want to be the cause of any pain for you again, sweetheart.  I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

From his puddle on the ground, Grant snorted.  “You can’t possibly be buying any of this, Leila.  All you’ll ever have with him is pain.  He’s a multi-billionaire.  Wake-up.  You know well enough that you’ll never be good enough for him.  With him, you’ll be nothing more than his dirty little secret.  Just another notch on his bedpost.  With me, you can be so much more.  So much more than you are now, and more than you ever imagined.  You can be a politician’s
wife
.”

Teeth clenched in fury, Jackson gritted out—slowly so the idiot would get it through his thick skull—“Leila is already so much more than you and your pea-sized brain could ever fathom.  She’s talented; one of the most incredible reporters I’ve ever met.  Brilliant, quick, dedicated, and resourceful.  She’s made a lasting name for herself in the media with her fans, and with some of the world’s greatest athletes and coaches.  Leila isn’t now nor will she ever be
‘just’
anything.  And if she’ll let me, I’ll spend my lifetime helping her celebrate that remarkable fact, along with every single amazing thing she’s surely going to accomplish.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

While Leila was busy trying to keep her knees locked under her, the bane of her existence now finally crawling up to a standing position again was stifling another derisive snort. 

The insulting sound was soundtracked a moment later by the ringtone that belonged to the other man in her life who’d managed to hurt her over and over.

She sighed, knowing exactly what the phone call was going to bring, but figuring it would at least serve in an extermination capacity for her current pest problem.

“Hi, Dad.”

“Leila, sweetheart, why didn’t you tell me that the young fellow you’re dating is the heir to the Grayhurst f…
family
.”

“You almost said ‘fortune,’ didn’t you?” she asked, dryly.  “The Grayhurst family fortune that’s probably worth, what over twenty billion dollars?”

“Thirty-six, actually,” whispered Jackson for her ears—and Grant’s—only. 

Oh boy, she wished she had a spare camera.  She’d never seen Grant stunned into silence before.

“You can’t blame your old dad for being impressed by a man’s longstanding fortune.  So again, why didn’t you tell me?” 

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t know Jackson was a Grayhurst.  And frankly, I’m not so sure I would’ve dated him if I had known.”

A wide smile broke out across Jackson’s face.

Damn, he had a great smile.

“Dad, can I help you with something?  I have company.”

“Oh, of course, of course.  Busy life for my famous TV daughter.”  Impressively, he was holding strong to that doting fatherly tone.  With billions entering into the picture, he was certainly upping his game.  “I’m just calling to invite you and Jackson over next weekend for dinner.”

“Dad, remember, I took down my Gridiron Locks and Picks site.  I don’t have the money to just fly over to Utah for dinner.”

“Well, I’m sure for Jackson, it’d be a drop in the—”

“Dad, before you finish that sentence, I should probably mention that Jackson’s standing right here.”

“Oh!  No harm, no foul.  It’s a pleasure to meet you, son.”

She rolled her eyes.  She’d had just about enough of the freaky body snatcher version of her dad.  “I also forgot to mention that Grant stopped by as well.”

“Is that no-good boy still sniffing around you?”  His voice was raised to a protective tone she’d never once heard in her life.  “I’ll have to give him a talking to as soon as he returns to Utah.”

“Sir!” sputtered Grant, finally breaking radio silence.  “Just last week, you said—”

“Grant, you leave my daughter alone now you hear me?”  The interruption was forced, and rushed—she could only imagine what would have been revealed at the end of that sentence.  Her father barreled along before she could speculate, however.  “Now boy, I know you’re hung up on my daughter but she’s already made her answer perfectly clear.  So you leave Leila and her new beau alone.  You know good and well I can destroy your political career with my thumb, and I won’t hesitate to do that for my little girl.”

Leila nearly burst out laughing, both from the laughable words spewing like volcanic crap from her father’s mouth, and from the shade of purple Grant’s face was turning as he all but stomped his foot like a three-year old.

After a few more carefully worded threats, Grant was soon slinking away, his dejected exit a sad little final tantrum, which they all ignored.

“Gone in under a minute.  Impressive, Dad.”  She was being perfectly honest, there.  If there was one thing the man really
was
impressive at, it was crushing the hopes and dreams of those around him.

“Anything for you, sweetheart.  You just tell me if he continues to bother you.”

Gag. 

“Dad, Jackson and I are going to have to turn down your dinner offer this weekend.”

“Well maybe your mother and I can go up there to meet you?”

“To see me?  Anytime.  But if I’m not good enough for you to want to see on your own then again, I’ll have to decline.  I’m not Stacey, Dad.  It’s not okay for you to look at me and see a prize cow to get a son-in-law that can further your political career.”

A hint of the father she’d known her whole life crept back into his tone.  “Leila, don’t be so dramatic.  You always blow things out of proportion and make things difficult for everyone.”

“Then let me make this simple.  Until you can look at me without wishing I were more like Mom, or Stacey, or everyone in the world besides your ‘difficult’ daughter…consider me your non-existent daughter.  I’ll stay completely out of your life, and you’ll stay out of mine.  If one day, you decide you ever want me to start existing again, all you have to do is call me.  I promise I’ll pick up.”

And with that, she hung up the phone and shut it off.

Boundless pride shown in Jackson’s deep, hazel eyes.  “Nicely done, sunshine.”

“Thank you.”  She crossed her arms and raised her brows.  “But you’re not off the hook.”

A grin tipped up one corner of his mouth.  “Didn’t think I was.”

“Who was the guy you were talking to earlier?”

“That would be Caleb.  An old family friend who worries about me, looks out for me.  He’s always been the older brother I wished Nate was.”

“And Nate is the one in the news right now?”

“Yes, the half-brother I told you about.  Everything I’ve ever shared with you about my life has been the complete truth.  I just…never told you my whole name, for obvious reasons.”

“Because a billionaire couldn’t be seen dating ‘just’ a sideline reporter?”

He flinched, and then snarled, “Don’t ever talk about yourself like that.  I told you what you heard was out of context.  When I told you in my past that my life was complicated, I meant that women were always after my money or my family’s companies.  What you heard back there, it was me responding to Caleb’s concerns that you might be like one of those women—a con woman after my money or a corporate spy after my family’s companies.”