Gray Quinn's Baby

‘Anything else?’

Magenta listed everything she thought might give the girls an even playing-field at work—including banning sexist comments.

‘You are turning into quite a force to be reckoned with.’

His thoughts on that were unreadable. Would he crush her, or would he give Magenta and her team a chance?

Quinn pushed a bowl of salad towards her with the instruction to add dressing and give it a toss. She did as he asked and then sat down across the polished-steel breakfast bar from him.

Quinn’s gaze remained steady on her face. ‘You sure don’t go for gentle change.’

‘Gentle might not be enough.’

‘You want things fast and now.’

Intensity had drawn their heads closer to the point where she could see the flecks of amber fire in Quinn’s eyes. It was warning enough, and she started to draw back, but Quinn caught hold of her wrist, stopping her. ‘Don’t back off now, Magenta.’ His voice dropped low. ‘You know there’s nothing more you love than a challenge.’

Just when she thought she was safe, Quinn reminded her there was another tension between them, and one that had nothing to do with business. Part of her longed to go along with this, to soften and invite as Quinn expected her to. Fortunately, that part was firmly under control.

‘You’re blushing,’ Quinn observed.

Yes, because he had no inhibitions and she had plenty.

The breath hitched in her throat when Quinn ran one firm fingertip very slowly down her heated cheek until it came to rest on the swell of her bottom lip. ‘Why are you blushing, Magenta?’

‘No reason,’ she said, pulling back. ‘The heat of the kitchen, probably. I’m impressed you can cook,’ she added, moving out of range.

‘The men you know don’t get hungry?’

‘I don’t know many men.’

‘I taught myself how to cook.’

‘That’s good.’

‘More like necessity.’

She relaxed a little. ‘I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s just, you don’t look the type.’

‘To cook? What type of man doesn’t like to eat, Magenta?’

‘Most men have someone to cook for them.’ Yes, even in the twenty-first century, Magenta thought wryly.

‘More fool them. I’d rather trust my own abilities.’

Than those of some woman—was that what Quinn had left unsaid? How much leeway would he give her, or any woman in his business? ‘I’m sure you have all the skills required,’ she said recklessly.

How was she supposed to concentrate on her concerns at work now when Quinn’s eyes had darkened to smoky black?

CHAPTER ELEVEN

SHE was operating on two levels, Magenta realised as she watched Quinn’s skilful hands at play on the second omelette. Whether the cautious part of her approved or not, she was violently aroused. And this was the best chance she was ever going to get to discuss business with Quinn, that sensible side reminded her.

‘Sit. Eat,’ he said, putting a perfectly prepared golden omelette on the table in front of her.

The aroma alone was enough to make her salivate. ‘This is delicious,’ she said, forking up a feather-light morsel of buttery, golden egg.

Quinn joined her at the table and dumped some salad on both their plates. ‘Tell me more about your ideas.’

He never wasted a moment; she liked that about him. It encouraged her to confide more. Quinn was an attentive listener. He asked her about the Christmas party. She took him through her plans as far as she’d got. ‘I’m pleased you trust me to take care of it.’

‘If I can’t trust you on any level, Magenta, you’d better let me know now.’

And there it was again—the change in Quinn from charming host to uncompromising employer in the blink of an eye. She would have to be more circumspect in future, Magenta warned herself.

‘I just make these stipulations for the party,’ Quinn continued. ‘No clichés. No glitz. No threadbare traditions. And, of course, no unnecessary expense. And I love surprises,’ he added, having wiped out most of her plan in a matter of seconds. ‘Eat,’ he insisted.

No one had said this was going to be easy.

‘That was delicious,’ Magenta told Quinn as she helped him to clear up.

He nodded briefly. ‘Let’s get on to your talents, your ideas.’

‘I work in a team.’

‘But it’s your brain I want to mine. Whoever came up with those ideas, it was your drive and initiative that brought them to my attention.’

‘I can’t claim all the credit.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because that’s just not the way we do things.’