Taming the Takeover Tycoon Read online

  Jack Reed spells trouble. But has trouble met its match?

  The business world trembles at the mere mention of Jack Reed, but Becca Stevens has no such fear. Her pleas for him to end his hostile takeover of Lassiter Media should be laughable. Yet there’s such sincerity in her eyes, such a light his own life seriously lacks. Becca wants to show him just what his ruthless quest is costing others. And he goes along with her plan, seeing it as the perfect opportunity to woo her into his bed. But is he walking right into her trap—one that neither of them will want to escape?

  “Give me a month,” she said, “and I’ll change your mind about dismantling Lassiter’s assets.”

  Interesting. “So you think I’ll win this takeover battle?”

  Becca lifted her chin. “Four weeks.”

  “One day.”

  “One week.”

  “On one condition.”

  “Name it.”

  What the hell. “I’d rather show you.”

  He slid a hand around her waist and drew her in as his mouth dropped over hers.

  * * *

  Taming the Takeover Tycoon is a Dynasties: The Lassiters novel—A Wyoming legacy of love, lies and redemption!

  * * *

  If you’re on Twitter, tell us what you think of Harlequin Desire!

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  Dear Reader,

  When Wyoming billionaire J. D. Lassiter passed away unexpectedly, bereft family members and associates were left shaking their heads. Angelica was J.D.’s favorite—his princess. So why was his only daughter (and acting head of Lassiter Media) all but snubbed in her beloved father’s will? Corporate raider Jack Reed says his late friend J.D. wasn’t thinking straight. Furthermore, he has offered to help Angelica mount a takeover bid to regain control of the company that is rightfully hers.

  Coordinator of the Lassiters’ Charity Foundation Becca Stevens admired J.D. There must be some good reason controlling interest was left to Angelica’s ex-fiancé. Meanwhile, rumors are rife, shares are down and public support for the foundation is circling the drain. Before the family destroys itself, and all the good the foundation does along with it, Becca must make Jack Reed reconsider—back down, move on—or else.

  The toughest wars are waged over the concept of good versus evil. In this installment of Dynasties: The Lassiters, Becca and Jack are not only worthy opponents on the business battlefield, their sexual chemistry is downright dangerous.

  I hope you enjoy Taming the Takeover Tycoon!

  Best wishes,

  Robyn

  www.robyngrady.com

  @robyngrady on Twitter

  TAMING THE TAKEOVER TYCOON

  Robyn Grady

  Books by Robyn Grady

  Harlequin Desire

  The Billionaire’s Bedside Manner #2093

  Millionaire Playboy, Maverick Heiress #2114

  Strictly Temporary #2169

  *Losing Control #2189

  A Wedding She’ll Never Forget #2216

  *Temptation on His Terms #2243

  *One Night, Second Chance #2292

  Taming the Takeover Tycoon #2318

  Silhouette Desire

  The Magnate’s Marriage Demand #1842

  For Blackmail…or Pleasure #1860

  Baby Bequest #1908

  Bedded by Blackmail #1950

  The Billionaire’s Fake Engagement #1968

  Bargaining for Baby #2015

  Amnesiac Ex, Unforgettable Vows #2063

  *The Hunter Pact

  Other titles by this author available in ebook format.

  ROBYN GRADY

  was first contracted by Harlequin in 2006. Her books feature regularly on bestsellers lists and at award ceremonies, including the National Readers’ Choice Awards, the Booksellers’ Best Awards, CataRomance Reviewers’ Choice Awards and Australia’s prestigious Romantic Book of the Year.

  Robyn lives on Australia’s gorgeous Sunshine Coast, where she met and married her real-life hero. When she’s not tapping out her next story, she enjoys the challenges of raising three very different daughters, going to the theater, reading on the beach and dreaming about bumping into Stephen King during a month-long Mediterranean cruise.

  Robyn knows that writing romance is the best job on the planet and she loves to hear from her readers! You can keep up with news on her latest releases at www.robyngrady.com.

  For Penny and Gracie,

  Two very cool ladies.

  xoxo

  Contents

  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

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Excerpt

  One

  The Robin Hoods of this world were Becca’s heroes. As she watched Jack Reed strike a noble pose then draw back and release an arrow that hit dead center of his target, the irony wasn’t lost on her.

  Jack Reed was no Robin Hood. He was anathema to everything she stood for. To every living, breathing thing she believed in. Beyond all else, people ought to give back—even sacrifice—to support others who need help. Some mistook that level of compassion for weakness, but Becca was far from easy prey.

  Looking GQ-hot in jeans and a white button-down, cuffs folded back on strong forearms, Reed lowered the bow and focused on his guest. The slant of his mouth was so subtle and self-assured, Becca’s palm itched to slap the smirk off his face. She might have done it, too, if she thought it’d shake him up some. But it was said displays of true emotion only amused him.

  Jack Reed owned a property in his hometown of Cheyenne, Wyoming, as well as two residences here in L.A.: an ultramodern penthouse apartment in a downtown high-rise building that he’d purchased as well as this spectacular Beverly Hills estate. With a quiver slung across his broad back, he sauntered over the manicured lawn to meet her. Although he was expecting her visit, Becca doubted he would welcome what she had to say.

  She introduced herself. “Becca Stevens, director of the Lassiter Charity Foundation.” She nodded at the target. “A perfect bull’s-eye. Well done.”

  “I took up archery in college,” he said in a voice so deep and darkly honeyed, the tone was almost hypnotic. “I try to squeeze some practice in every week.”

  “Difficult with your schedule, I imagine.” All that dismantling of companies and banking the proceeds had to take up oodles of time. “I appreciate you seeing me.”

  His smile, designed to disarm, got bigger. “Any friend of J.D.’s is a friend of mine.”

  “If J. D. Lassiter were alive, he might not count you as a friend at the moment.”

  The smile widened more. “Straight for the jugular, Ms. Stevens?”

  Given Jack Reed was a highly successful corporate raider, he ought to be used to the approach. “I thought you’d appreciate it.”

  “I only want to help Angelica Lassiter reclaim what she rightly deserves.”

  Becca let out a humorless laugh and then sighed. “Ah, sorry. Just the idea of someone like you being in any way self-sacrificing...”

  His gaze sharpened. “Angelica wa
s J.D.’s only child.”

  “You’re forgetting Sage and Dylan.”

  “They are Ellie Lassiter’s orphaned nephews, adopted after J.D. and Ellie had been told by doctors—”

  “I know the background, Jack.”

  “Then you’ll also know that Angelica, J.D.’s own flesh and blood, was his favorite—that he’d entrusted her with the running of Lassiter Media those crucial months before his death. It makes no sense that his will should insult her with a paltry ten percent while controlling voting interest of J.D.’s multibillion-dollar company goes to Angelica’s ex-fiancé—” Jack paused for effect “—even if J.D. had handpicked Evan McCain for his daughter.”

  “J.D. might have liked Evan for a son-in-law. No one would argue he has remarkable business sense.” Becca joined Jack as he headed off toward his target. “But Angelica trusted Evan. They fell in love.”

  “Betrayed by the man she was ready to marry. Tragic, wouldn’t you say?”

  Oh, please. “Evan had nothing to do with J.D.’s will.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. But nothing stops him from reinstating to Angelica what should be hers now. He could do the decent thing by the woman he professes to love.” Jack’s lips twitched. “I don’t know how he sleeps at night.”

  An image flashed into Becca’s mind—Jack Reed lying butt naked on a rumpled sheet, fingers thatched behind his head, an unmistakable thirst reflecting in the depths of his glittering onyx eyes. Nerve endings ignited and flashed over her skin. The tingle raced through to her core, all the way down to her toes.

  Reed was an attractive man; she would go so far as to say he was exceptional. If half of what the tabloids published was true, hoards of women had surrendered to the drugging heat she felt radiating off him now. The effect was gripping—beguiling—and, in Becca’s case, about as welcome as boiling water on a third-degree burn.

  As they continued to walk, she tried to stay focused.

  “I’m here to implore you, in J.D.’s memory, to show some human decency. Walk away from this. After her father’s death, Angelica’s in no shape to link arms with the likes of you.”

  “Don’t underestimate Angelica.” His classically chiseled profile hardened as his chin lifted a notch. “She’s stronger than you think.”

  “Right now, she’s desperate.”

  He laughed, a somehow soothing and yet cynical sound. “You don’t beat around the bush, do you, Becca?”

  No time. “You own an interest in Lassiter Media and rumors are rife. People are bracing for a hostile takeover bid. The charity’s donations are down. Regular beneficiaries are actually looking at other options. Want to guess why?”

  “I’m sure you’ll tell me.”

  Damn right she would. “The name Jack Reed means trouble—the kind of trouble clear-minded people run a mile to avoid.”

  He blinked slowly and grinned as if the description was something to savor. “As long as Angelica wants my help, I’ll give it.”

  “You sought her out,” she reminded him, “not the other way around.”

  “Your point?”

  Her heart was pounding in her ears. No one wanted to make an enemy of this man, but Becca had a principle to defend. A fight to win. Hell, she’d faced worse situations than this and survived.

  “I know what you’re up to,” she said as they neared the target, “even if Angelica can’t or won’t face the truth. After you’ve used her to gain majority control over Lassiter Media interests, you’ll aim the next arrow at her back. You’ll sell off Lassiter assets like you have with every other company you’ve acquired.”

  “Got it. I wear the black hat.”

  “Simple, isn’t it?”

  “If only.”

  Lord above, how she wanted to shake this man. “Seriously, how much money does one person need? Is this worth betraying your friend’s memory? J.D.’s family?”

  “This is not about money.”

  “With you, it’s always about money.”

  His jaw flexed as he stopped in front of the target and freed the arrow.

  “I understand your desire to help, but Angelica and I have this covered. And make no mistake.” His uncompromising gaze pierced hers. “We intend to win.”

  Becca’s focus shifted from the steely message in his eyes to the arrow’s bright red feathers, the shaft’s long straight line and finally the weapon’s potentially lethal head. Then she thought of this man’s lack of empathy—his obsession with self-enrichment. How could this superb body harbor such a depraved soul? How could Jack Reed live with himself?

  Becca took the arrow from his hand, broke the shaft over a knee and, shaking inside, strode away.

  * * *

  Jack watched Becca Stevens’s spectacular behind as she marched off in a fiery temper and had to smile.

  When Becca had contacted his office hoping to meet, instinct had said to shake her off. If ever Jack set his sights on a target, he committed to that goal two hundred percent. No one and nothing would sway him. In certain circles, the term pathological was used to describe his drive.

  No offense taken.

  The same circles might suggest that his reasons for meeting Becca today had been selfish. That it was probable to very likely he would take advantage of his position in this Lassiter standoff for personal gain. And where Becca was concerned, Jack did mean personal.

  As she disappeared over the rise, he smiled again.

  What a woman.

  His cell phone rang. Jack checked out the caller I.D. and, toeing Ms. Stevens’s broken arrow aside, connected. “Logan. What’ve you got?”

  “Just making sure we’re still on track.”

  Coming from humble beginnings, Logan Whittaker had worked hard to build a successful career. As a partner at Drake, Alcott and Whittaker Attorneys based in downtown Cheyenne, Wyoming, Logan had looked after J. D. Lassiter’s affairs, including the execution of J.D.’s last will and testament. The document had cast some challenges Logan’s way. Some unanticipated rewards, as well. Through work associated with settling the will’s terms, he had found his future wife.

  “I’ve spoken with Angelica Lassiter again this morning,” Jack said. “She’s still going forward.”

  “You’re sure about that? I’ve told Angelica more than once the will is airtight. J.D. was in his right mind when he drafted the terms. With majority voting interest, Evan McCain will remain chairman and CEO of Lassiter Media no matter how many punches she wants to throw. I thought she was finally coming around, listening to reason.”

  Jack headed back toward the shooting line. “Sure, she has reservations. Her father was a huge influence on her life. Even with him gone, it goes against the grain to disappoint him and battle that will. But her heart and soul are in that company, Logan. She has J.D.’s stubborn streak as well as his keen bent for business.”

  “How hard will you push her?”

  “This isn’t my first rodeo.” When the attorney audibly exhaled, Jack wasn’t fazed. “You’re acting under strict instruction here.”

  “I’m aware of my obligations, damn it. This still leaves a god-awful taste in my mouth.”

  That all came with the territory...with being obligated, no matter what.

  “No one said you had to like it,” Jack said.

  Logan huffed. “You’re one hard-nosed son of a bitch, you know that?”

  “That from a corporate lawyer.” Funny.

  As Jack reached back to draw an arrow from his quiver, Logan asked, “How did your meeting with Becca Stevens play out?”

  Logan was aware of Becca’s phone call and today’s arrangements.

  “She might run Lassiter Charity Foundation,” Jack said, “but Becca is no Mother Teresa. She put on her boxing gloves and told me to back the hell away.”

  “Did you t
oss her off your property?”

  Remembering the fire blazing in those beautiful green eyes, Jack held the phone between his ear and shoulder as he slotted the arrow’s notch against his bow’s string. “I would’ve asked her to stay for lunch if I thought she wouldn’t try to run a butter knife through my heart.”

  “Will she be a problem?”

  “Lord, I hope so.”

  Logan groaned. “For God’s sakes, Jack. Tell me you plan to keep your pants on here.”

  “After the way you mixed Lassiter business up with pleasure, you’re in no position to lecture.”

  When J.D. had bequeathed five million big ones to a mystery woman who didn’t want to be found, Logan had not only tracked her down, damned if he hadn’t taken her to bed, and more than once. Talk about calling the kettle black.

  “I won’t deny certain lines got blurred,” Logan admitted. “But I fell in love with Hannah Armstrong and married her. I’ll hand my resignation in to the bar the day anything approaching marriage enters your head.”

  Jack laughed. What an idea.

  After the men disconnected, Jack resumed his stand behind the shooting line. He drew back the arrow and, enjoying the tension of the bowstring as he took aim, thought of Becca Stevens—the undisguised malice in her eyes, the sweeping conviction of her words. Then he imagined how darn good she would feel folded in his arms...how sweet her smooth, scented skin would taste beneath his lips. In his mind, Jack heard her whimper his name and then cry out as he sank into her again and again.

  Jack released his shot and then shaded his brow to measure the result. When was the last time he’d missed a target’s center gold ring? This arrow had sailed clean over the top.

  * * *

  Felicity Sinclair’s blue eyes sparkled as she shifted her chair closer to the café table and lowered her voice. “Becca, I have something I need to ask.”

  “About Lassiter Media?”

  As Lassiter Media’s recently promoted vice president of public relations, Fee was always brimming with ideas. Since Becca’s appointment with the Lassiter Charity Foundation two years ago, the women had worked closely. More than that—they’d become good friends, the kind who shared everything, during good times as well as bad.