All It Takes (Romancing Manhattan 2)

“But I’m just down the hall if there are questions. And with that, I’ll leave you to it.”

He nods and leaves, and I look around the room, grateful to have the help.

“Do you mind introducing yourselves?”

“I’m Christy,” the blonde says with a smile. “This is Peter, Matt, and Caden.”

“Great. Call me Sienna. We’ve already found these.” I hold the receipts up for them to see. “There should be two more, but they could be anywhere in these boxes. I assume they’ll look the same, but we don’t know that for sure either.”

“Needle in a haystack,” Matt says with a sigh.

“Exactly,” I agree. “I’ve also been pulling out marriage certificates, death certificates, things like that so they’re not mixed in with the other nonsense. If you run across anything like that, I’d appreciate it if you just set it aside.

“But the receipts are the most important thing.”

The door opens, and Quinn’s assistant, Kami, walks in with a large pot of coffee.

“Quinn asked me to bring this in,” she says with a smile. “There are mugs, sugar, creamer over here.”

“Thanks, Kami,” I reply with a grin. “Let’s get to it.”

An hour later, I glance up to see Caden pull a stack of papers out of a box, set them aside, and pull another stack out, then put it all back in the box and take it to the finished pile.

“You didn’t look through those,” I say.

“Yes, I did. They’re just invoices from 1943.”

“I’m sorry, maybe I didn’t make myself clear. You have to look between every paper. The files aren’t organized well.”

“Are you kidding?” Caden asks.

“Unfortunately, no. I know, pain in the ass, but that’s why we need your help.”

“Jesus,” he mutters, retrieves the box, and starts combing through it, one paper at a time.

Kami returns with a tray of fruit and what looks like packets of trail mix.

“More snacks,” she says with a grin, sets them on the wet bar, and sees herself out.

“We never get snacks around here,” Peter says.

“Special guest,” Christy reminds him, pointing at me, and I feel my cheeks flush. “Maybe Quinn has a crush on you.”

“Or maybe he’s just being kind to a colleague,” I reply with a laugh. “And are you guys saying that you work under harsh conditions most of the time?”

“No,” Christy says immediately. “I’ve worked for far worse than this. They just don’t usually offer us refreshments.”

“But I’ll take them,” Caden adds as he pops a handful of trail mix in his mouth and munches loudly.

The rest of the morning is smooth and quiet, if uneventful. We don’t find any more receipts of payment for the borrowed money.

“You guys should go get some lunch,” I say at last and rub my neck. “Give your eyes a break.”

“Good idea,” Peter says. “Want us to bring you back anything?”

“No, but thanks for asking.”

The four of them leave, and five minutes later, Quinn walks in carrying a bag and wearing a smile.

He locks the door behind him, making me giggle.

“Alone at last,” he says. He sets the food on the table, then sweeps me up in a long, wet kiss. “How was your morning?”

“Fine. Uneventful. But we’ve already made a lot more headway than you and I do alone.”

“That’s the goal,” he says with a nod.

“Also, you sent me trail mix.”

“You need protein,” he replies with a stern face. “I don’t want you to go hungry.”

“Christy thinks you might have a crush on me.”

“Christy would be right.” His hand slides down my back to my ass and he yanks me against him, buries his face in my neck, and nibbles me there. “You’re delicious.”

“You know, we’re at work.”

“The door’s locked and no one gives a shit.”

I giggle and give in. I want him to kiss me.

And he does. Boy, does he.

When we finally come up for air, I have to pull away, smooth my hand over my hair, and take a deep breath.

“You’d better give me that food before I do something silly like strip out of my clothes and lie on this table.”

His brown eyes flare with lust and humor.

“Let’s do that.”

“No.” I laugh and reach for the bag of food. “Maybe later.”

“Definitely later.”

“You need to sleep,” Quinn says. It’s late, after ten in the evening, and I haven’t gone back to his place for the night yet.

“I just want to finish this. I want to find it.”

“You’re exhausted, sweetheart. You need to rest, and get back to it in the morning.”

I yawn, and then shrug. “I guess you’re right.”

My phone starts to ring, making me frown.

“Who’s calling at this time of night? You’re with me.” I read the display and answer. “Uncle Patrick?”

“Where are the boxes?” he demands.

“What boxes?”

“You know what boxes. The files. They’re not here.”

I look up at Quinn, whose face is like stone.

“Why are you at Grandpa’s?”

“I own this house now, Sienna, I have every right to be here. I also have every right to know where my father’s property is.”