The Billionaire's Sexy Rival (Jameson Brothers Book 3) Read online

  The Billionaire’s Sexy Rival

  Jameson Brothers Book Three

  Leslie North

  Contents

  Jameson Brothers

  Copyright

  The Billionaire’s Sexy Rival

  Blurb

  Mailing List

  About Leslie

  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

  End of The Billionaire’s Sexy Rival

  Thank you!

  Sneak Peak

  Jameson Brothers

  The Billionaire’s Ex-Wife

  The Billionaire’s Pregnant Fling

  The Billionaire’s Sexy Rival

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  RELAY PUBLISHING EDITION, NOVEMBER 2017

  Copyright © 2017 Relay Publishing Ltd.

  All rights reserved. Published in the United Kingdom by Relay Publishing. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover Design by LJ Anderson of Mayhem Cover Creations.

  www.relaypub.com

  Blurb

  He wants to beat out the competition. But he never imagined the competition would be so tempting...

  William Jameson is a born leader. Strong, efficient, and with a special talent for knowing exactly what turns people on—it’s no surprise that he’s the CEO of the billion-dollar Jameson Ad Agency. He’s always had his choice of client—that is until a boutique agency called Wildflower sprouts up like a weed in his perfectly manicured world, stealing the last three jobs out from under him. It’s hard not to be attracted to the free-spirited owner. Her mind and body are exactly what his heart wants...it’s too bad his goal is to crush her as competition.

  Poppy Hanniford, CEO of the Wildflower Agency, has always been unique and as colorful as her business’s name. A fan of communal collaboration and out of the box ideas, Poppy and William come together in the perfect storm when a rogue romance publisher decides that two is sometimes better than one: challenging Poppy and William to work together on a trial project. The person who performs best, wins their future business.

  Forced by the client into teaming up, William and Poppy are about to find that while their leadership styles don’t mix, romance is one subject they agree on. A smoldering kiss for the cover of a book kicks off an affair that’s hotter than the bestsellers they want to advertise. When it’s made clear that only one of them can walk away with the contract, they’ll need to decide what’s more important: the job or their love.

  Mailing List

  Thank you for purchasing ‘The Billionaire’s Sexy Rival’

  (Jameson Brothers Book Three)

  Get SIX full-length novellas by USA Today best-selling author Leslie North for FREE! Over 548 pages of best-selling romance with a combined 1133 FIVE STAR REVIEWS!

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  About Leslie

  Leslie North is the USA Today Bestselling pen name for a critically-acclaimed author of women's contemporary romance and fiction. The anonymity gives her the perfect opportunity to paint with her full artistic palette, especially in the romance and erotic fantasy genres.

  To discover more about Leslie North visit:

  LeslieNorthBooks.com

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  Chapter One

  William

  The clock on the wall read five minutes to three. William Jameson could see it clearly from where he sat. It hung just above the head of the CEO of Wildflower Agency, Poppy Hanniford, who sat across from him in the waiting area, her long legs crossed and one ankle wagging along with the music the secretary played at her desk.

  William Jameson kept himself still. He kept his eyes trained forward, and his broad hands laced in his lap over the paper copy of his proposal. Poppy had brought an identical folder with her; it rested on the low end table beside her.

  He watched his rival without ever making eye contact, or giving the appearance of watching anything in particular. Poppy was less practiced at pretending not to watch him in return. A minute or so would pass, and she would glance across the room, as if to check if anything in his stony demeanor had changed. William remained inflexible.

  He recognized her, of course, from her own agency's promotional materials, and from glimpses across the New York mixers they had both attended in the past. They had never met officially, and neither of them had ever gone out of their way to initiate a proper introduction. The closest he had ever come to direct contact with Poppy Hanniford was watching her steal three accounts out from under him.

  Three. That was three too many, and he was determined that there be no fourth.

  Love Connection Publishing had invited them both in today for a joint interview. When William was informed that Wildflower Agency had agreed to the terms, he had likewise come onboard. It was unusual for clients to request simultaneous pitches from two agencies at once, but William had no problem rising to the challenge. He allowed himself to feel coolly impressed that Poppy hadn't backed down, either—then again, he would expect nothing less from the CEO of his agency's most formidable rival.

  Why had he even agreed to this interview? The Jameson Agency didn't need this account. In fact, they were swimming in projects already—something Trinity, his sister-in-law and one of his top employees, had been all too happy to remind him of. Repeatedly. Their staff and resources were already stretched thin from coast to coast, not to mention preoccupied with building clientele overseas; it was a good and prosperous thing to be so inundated with work, with more potential clients eagerly hammering on their door.

  But damn it, William didn't want to lose to Poppy Hanniford and her hippy-dippy agency again. If his reputation wasn't at stake, then his ego certainly was. And if this trend of losing kept up, he wasn't certain it wouldn't affect his family business. Curious clients might start turning their heads.

  Not that he could blame them.

  William decided to change tack now. He sized Poppy up in the hope of making her feel a bit more intimidated than her quiet grooving implied. He let his eyes linger obviously on her jouncing leg; her feminine figure; her long blonde hair and youthful face. He knew she wasn't many years younger than him, but she could have passed for twenty with the heels and fiery red lipstick. He couldn't fathom how she had managed to take those accounts from him. In every situation he exuded calm, authoritativeness, maturity. He upheld a reputation in New York that had been established three generations ago. Jameson Advertising Agency was old, and respected, and venerated. It was a fixture. What the businesses of New York wanted was a clear history of leadership and a pronounced willingness to win. History was what his agency had to offer that Wildflower did not; hell, even the name 'Jameson' trumped the whimsy of her floral appellation, and he had arrived at that opinion completely objectively as an ad man. And as for winning? He had
only postponed it in this case. Now, he knew he couldn't afford to ignore Wildflower any longer. He would lead his agency to victory, and put that upstart Poppy Hanniford in her place: that is to say, second.

  Who named their child Poppy, anyway?

  The name was cute, even lovely in its own way—certainly as lovely as the woman who answered to it—and utterly misleading. Like a flower, the eye-catching Poppy had sprouted up out of nowhere, but she was no gentle specimen. She was a thorn in his side, utterly unpluckable despite his best efforts, but maybe it was time for the gloves to come off. He wanted this account. He would have this account—and his obsession with the gorgeous, leg-swinging, glance-casting woman sitting across from him would end alongside his victory.

  All he had to do was command the presentation room marginally better than he was commanding this one.

  His phone buzzed in his back pocket, and he shifted slightly--his first mistake of the day. The proposal slipped from his lap and slid across the carpet between them. It came to a stop in front of Poppy Hanniford.

  The jogging ankle froze.

  William half-rose in his chair, but Poppy picked his folder up in one smooth movement. It fell open in her hands, exposing the mock-up of the first splash page. "Oh. This is really good," she said.

  William blinked.

  "Your social media spot," Poppy unpacked unnecessarily. "It's far and away better than mine." She cast a longing glance toward her own folder, as if she could see right through it to a design she found wanting. "I'm still going to pitch, but I really think you're a shoo-in for the account this time."

  "You think so?" he asked drily. He wasn't sure what game she was playing, but he allowed himself to relax back into his chair, as if having his folder in enemy hands wasn't any cause for concern… and as if her off-handed this time hadn't rankled him in the slightest. The chessboard was getting interesting now that Poppy had made her first move.

  "Do you mind?" Poppy held up his proposal, and William nodded an invitation. She flipped through it quickly, nodding to herself with every page. She rose before she had even reached the end and sidled over to the chair beside him; William adjusted himself unnecessarily. In rooms this small, he always felt he took up more room than he should physically. Poppy didn't appear to notice as she sat down.

  "This is excellent work," she continued. "Really, really excellent. Did you do this yourself?"

  "I gave my input." William steepled his fingers as he watched her go over it all again from the beginning. "It doesn't matter if the account is big or small: nothing leaves our offices without my final approval." On any coast, he appended privately, and a little proudly, although he didn't think it necessary to further remark on his involvement.

  Poppy flipped back to a page she kept getting hung up on. She squinted. Her eyes were a rare green, William noticed; it was only upon closer examination that he saw them clearly. Her headshot, though lovely, didn't do her justice. She was an extraordinarily beautiful woman when experienced in three dimenions.

  "You know what would make it even better?" Poppy tapped her index finger meditatively against her lower lip as she spoke. William would have found the gesture infinitely more distracting if her words didn't get his hackles up in an instant. "What would really make it pop?" she continued, perhaps after sensing her assertion could be taken the wrong way.

  …but William refused to let any criticism, uninvited or otherwise, disturb his outward peace and calm. He had deliberately worked to project himself as a lordly presence in the room, and he wasn't about to let the little flower bloom large enough to soak up his sun. "What would make it 'pop', exactly?" he asked her.

  The finger continued to tap the plump, dark red flesh of her lip. William wondered if it was some sort of trick Poppy had picked to lull her male competition into complacency; whatever it was, he refused to fall victim to it. He had been doing this for far too long to be struggling against such charms now. When the finger came away, it rose toward the ceiling as if to punctuate a sudden thought. Poppy fished around her purse and pulled out a compact.

  "Purple highlights." She sounded so confident in her suggestion that William didn't second-guess how she knew. "That's what the title needs. Your font choice is impeccable, but a shadow will really make it stand out without being too obnoxiously intrusive." She flipped the compact open to show him a pallet of shimmering violet powder. Eye shadow, William realized.

  "Hmmm." He mulled over her words as he squinted down at the title of his media spot. "You know, I think you're right." He reached for the compact to apply the shadow himself, but Poppy drew it out of his reach and shook her head.

  "Please. Allow me. I promise I have more practice with the application process." She beamed so wide her eyes partially closed, and it was the sweetest, most genuine smile that William had ever seen… and he saw a lot of smiles in his line of work, genuine and otherwise.

  "That smile pushes products and steals clients," he noted, as if there had ever been any question. Poppy laughed appreciatively as he passed his proposal to her. He was glad to see that she had taken his words as the compliment they were meant to be. "If you weren't my rival, I would put you on a billboard."

  "Thank you, Mr. Jameson. I admit those are more flattering words than I expected from you."

  "Do you do this with all your proposals?" he inquired as he craned across the arm of his chair to watch her work. Now that the presentation was out of his hands, he was genuinely nervous, although years of experience enabled him to hide the fact. Still, what if she sabotaged him now? He would have no one to blame but himself.

  Poppy shook her head. It was a pretty gesture, and William liked the way her shimmering spill of blonde hair fell around her shoulders. Another tactic? She engaged with him so naturally he thought he probably wasted his energy looking for an underhanded motive in everything she did. "No. I usually save the makeup for my face."

  You don't need any, he was tempted to say. He held his tongue. "Not many people would think of purple," he observed as she dabbed along the sides of each letter. "I certainly wouldn't."

  "It hardly matters," Poppy offered offhand. "Your entire presentation is far and away better than what I brought with me." She spoke with such conviction that William drew back a little to get another look at her. He had never sat through a rival lavishing praise on him before… then again, Poppy wasn’t 'lavishing' so much as she appeared to think she really was identifying a superior product. "I'm still working to find a place for this one former intern." She glanced mournfully at her own proposal, neglected and still sitting on the table across the room. "He's an emo kid, and he's constantly on social media. I really thought he'd nail this one." She sighed.

  "I thought emo kids went extinct in the early 2000s," William said.

  Poppy chuckled. "He has a good heart. I really would like to find him a permanent place at Wildflower… I just think he's maybe less cut out for design than his extreme penchant for personal grooming had led me to believe. There." She finished her adjustment with a flourish and passed the folder back to William. "That's better, don't you think?"

  "I think you're right," he replied. The social media spot looked miles better than it had when he first walked through the front doors of the publishing house. Why hadn't anyone on his team thought of this? Didn't he take pains to acquire—and hire—the very best in the business, just like his father and grandfather before him?

  Poppy grinned. "You're going to do great in there. It really is an awesome piece of media." She took her makeup brush, twiddled it once more in the eyeshadow, and began to apply the shimmer to her upper lids. William watched her, fascinated. He knew his guard was down, and yet he couldn't help it…and anyway, he was confident that Poppy wouldn't notice him looking at her keenly in her present pursuit.

  He needed to say something. He knew this, and yet the harder he racked his brain, the harder to come up with something appropriate given the circumstances. Did he offer her advice on her own proposal? Did he wish he
r luck in return? Every option sounded absurd, and yet…it hadn't rung wrong, or false, when Poppy did it.

  "Mr. Jameson? Ms. Hanniford?"

  William glanced up, and Poppy's compact snapped shut. The secretary stood in the doorway to the boardroom, hands laced, wearing an expectant smile.

  "They're ready for your presentations now. If you'll follow me?"

  Chapter Two

  Poppy

  The room was like any other New York boardroom Poppy Hanniford had seen: boxy, with a forced air of personality that didn't quite escape past the two-dimensional motivational posters and recycled, misattributed quotes that papered the walls. At least the side of the room that looked out toward the cityscape was a floor-to-ceiling window; this, too, was typical, but she never found the view of the bejeweled skyscrapers and distant harbor any less breathtaking. A plate of miniature muffins steamed on a plate positioned in the dead center of the table, hopelessly out of reach of anyone who might dare to think they were intended for consumption.

  She knew the room. She knew the script. She knew her presentation backwards and forwards—the only difference was this time, she also knew she was going to lose the contract.