Gray Quinn's Baby

‘Trial a product?’ he suggested.

‘I am not a product.’

‘If you were, I’d buy you.’

‘Like you’d get the chance,’ she huffed, but fighting off images of Quinn in his role of sexual master of the universe with a shopping list in hand wasn’t quite so easy. ‘And what am I supposed to do now?’ Crossing her hands and arms over her sodden paper-bra and pants, she glowered at him. ‘Should I staple a few sheets of A4 together and go as a galleon?’

‘Lucky for you, I bought a dress.’

‘You bought a dress?’ she queried. ‘Good for you. I’m sure you’ll look very nice in it.’

‘For you, idiot.’

And now she was shocked. ‘What type of dress?’ she demanded suspiciously. ‘I’d better warn you now, I don’t do caftans.’

‘Or micro-minis, apparently.’ Quinn stared at her legs, where to Magenta’s horror she realised her hold-up stockings were slowly slipping down and wrinkling unattractively around her ankles.

‘Shame about the underwear,’ he murmured, drawing Magenta’s attention back to his sexy mouth. ‘I guess that’s gone south too.’

She tipped her chin in the air and refused to look at him. Quinn had probably bought her a prim little school-ma’am dress, complete with a coy little Peter Pan collar, long sleeves, full skirt, and a nipped-in waist—and she’d hate it. Or not.

She stared in surprise as Quinn produced the dress.

Now she was thrown into total confusion, because this was a dress that perfectly complemented Quinn’s twenty-first-century clothes. It was a figure-flattering navy-blue column of silk cut just above the knee—but the finishing touch really floored her. ‘Where on earth did you get these?’ she gasped as Quinn handed her a pair of sexy black suede shoes with tell-tale red soles.

‘Not only am I well prepared,’ he said dryly, ‘I am also way ahead of my time.’

A feeling of light-headedness passed over her. She could hear the music playing outside Quinn’s office. A selection of Beatles hits was just coming to an end, and the following track was some raunchy Rolling Stones.

‘You seem bewildered, Magenta,’ Quinn murmured as he ran the palm of one warm hand very lightly down her naked arm. ‘Why is that?’

Because she wanted Quinn, with his dangerous smile and sexy eyes, in spite of the fact that he had treated her no better than a novelty product to be tested, trialled and put aside when he grew tired of it. And because there was no longer any place for reasoned thinking.

He lifted his hand away, breaking the spell. ‘I’ll turn my back while you get changed, shall I?’

‘Yes, you do that,’ she told him.

Magenta was willing to bet she had never thrown clothes on so quickly in her life. ‘It sounds noisy out there,’ she said as she made the final adjustment to the tights Quinn had also thoughtfully provided, along with some underwear that proved that he had both good taste and the ability to judge her size down to the nearest millimetre. ‘I think I should go and check.’ She didn’t wait for Quinn to answer; she knew how fast he moved.

When she returned to the main office, she saw the party had really livened up. All the desks had been pushed to one side to create a dance floor, and if dirty dancing hadn’t been invented yet there were certainly some hot contenders for stealing the crown. The boys and girls in the office were definitely getting to know each other a whole lot better….

‘You look like you’re missing out, Magenta.’

She tensed as Quinn’s shadow fell over her. ‘If I were looking for a partner, you might be right.’

‘I am right,’ he said.

Did the music have to change that very moment from heated to cool? And did Quinn have to pull her into his arms? ‘Did I say I wanted to dance?’

‘You didn’t say no.’

The psychedelic classic A Whiter Shade of Pale was hardly conducive to tension, but she held herself aloof.

‘Oh good—you’ve relaxed,’ Quinn murmured against her hair.

She knew he was teasing her; she could hear the smile in his voice. ‘Do you seriously expect me to relax after everything that’s happened?’

‘I know a way.’

They both knew a way, but whether she was ready to play with fire again was another matter.

‘Do you want to go home with me? Or would you rather live dangerously in my office?’

Quinn always got right to the point. She should say no; she should do a lot of things. But the heat rising inside her was making sensible decisions impossible. And what did she have to lose? This was a dream, wasn’t it? Any self-respect she might lose in the short term would be restored the moment she shook herself awake.