Gray Quinn's Baby

‘Can I buy you a drink?’

Was he joking? ‘It’s been a long day.’ She kept her back turned so Quinn couldn’t see her cheeks flushing with the memory of humiliation. His idea of free love wasn’t hers. She was better off without him.

‘Are you sure?’

‘I’m quite sure, thank you.’

She hadn’t realised Quinn was right behind her and bumped into him when she turned around. He showed no sign of moving. She could only get past him by brushing up against him—something which no doubt would give Quinn great amusement. ‘Excuse me, please…’

She didn’t want this; she didn’t want to feel Quinn’s heat warming her, or the power in his body reminding her of what they’d shared. She certainly didn’t want him towering over her, or his hard, muscular frame awakening memories better left undisturbed.

She exhaled with relief when Quinn stood back. ‘I would prefer it if we could keep everything between us on a professional level,’ she said, staring into eyes that were nowhere near convinced.

‘Suits me.’ A faint smile played around the corner of Quinn’s mouth.

‘We’ll have the presentation ready for you very soon. My girls are ready.’

‘And you, Magenta?’

‘I’m ready too,’ she assured him.

The crease in Quinn’s cheek deepened. ‘Any chance you might have lightened up by the time the party comes around?’

‘I’ll be on the cocktail bar,’ she said. ‘And I’ll mix you anything you like.’

Quinn hummed. ‘I take it you have something appropriate to wear?’

‘An apron?’

‘I was thinking of something a touch more glamorous than that.’

‘Something you’d approve of?’

‘Pleasing me would be a first.’

Short memory, she thought. ‘I won’t be trying to please anyone—I’ll be wearing one of the products your team is eager to push in the campaign.’

‘Now you’ve got me worried. Are you going to give me a clue?’

‘Paper?’ She kept her face admirably straight.

‘Paper?’ Quinn frowned, but then his eyes began to dance with laughter. ‘You’re going to wear a paper dress?’

‘Apparently they’re going to be the next big thing.’

‘Is that right?’ Quinn said. He even held the door for her, and was still smiling when she left the room.

The day of the presentation dawned bright and clear. Quinn kept everything close to his chest. He hadn’t been in the previous day, and Magenta had missed the electricity between them as well as Quinn’s ironic glances and challenging stares. The office had ticked over while Quinn had been away, but had lacked some essential spark. Now he was back.

Magenta’s heart rate soared when Quinn strode into the office, and she wasn’t the only one to be affected. He had changed the mood in an instant from diligent to enthused—and no wonder; Quinn looked like a film star with his tan, his build and bearing.

Magenta was pleased she had gone the extra mile with her appearance for the all-important meeting. Jackie Kennedy had set the pace for the elegant woman of the sixties, with the clean lines of her Oleg Cassini fashions, and this morning Magenta was wearing a copy of one of the beautifully tailored suits the girls were keen to feature in the ad campaign. A better bet than paper, Magenta thought wryly. The men didn’t stand a chance if they were pushing things like that. She had made sure the girls had the first choice from the rail of stylish garments which the photographer had left in the staff room, but she couldn’t have been more delighted with the soft red suit Nancy had kept to one side for her.

‘Nice,’ Quinn said briefly, looking Magenta up and down. ‘Call everyone in, will you?’

Would he ever change?

Never, Magenta concluded.

Would he ever pause to take breath? Rarely, she thought, remembering the non-stop action in his bed—which was the only encouragement her cheeks needed to fire up to the same shade as her jacket.

Oh yes, it was a triumph, Magenta agreed with the other girls later. Quinn had chosen their ideas hands down. ‘But no crowing,’ she insisted. ‘Especially not if there’s someone in the office you like. Remember, no man likes to be put down.’

‘Like we’ve been for years?’ Nancy countered, still glowing from her promotion to assistant account-executive.

‘Men are more fragile,’ Magenta said thoughtfully. ‘We have to protect their egos if we want the best out of them.’

‘Just as they have to treat us as equals if they want the best out of us,’ Nancy put in.