Gray Quinn's Baby

‘But we’ve got all your ideas,’ John said with a laugh in his voice as he traded smug glances with his friends.

‘It’s what you do with what you’ve got that makes the difference,’ Magenta argued, stealing a glance at Quinn through the office window. ‘Girls, follow me to our new headquarters.’

They worked until the end of the day on finessing their campaign, and then the girls insisted on staying behind to help Magenta plan the Christmas party.

‘Quinn had a few stipulations to make. Beyond that, we’re free to interpret the theme any way we choose.’

‘Within a tight budget?’ Nancy guessed shrewdly.

‘This is hardly the best time to go overboard,’ Magenta agreed. ‘But I’m happy to cover any shortfall.’ Though quite how far her office manager’s wage packet would stretch…

‘Am I right in thinking you have come up with an idea?’ Nancy prompted.

‘I have,’ Magenta confirmed, revealing her theme for the party.

‘But no space-food,’ Nancy insisted. ‘The only thing I’m prepared to drink through a straw is a cocktail.’

‘You don’t have to follow a space theme at all,’ Magenta explained. ‘All I’m suggesting is that each of us interprets the future as we see it.’

‘No long hair, caftans, beads or beards!’ Nancy exclaimed with relief.

‘Not if you remember to shave,’ one her friends added with a laugh.

‘But the food stays how we like it,’ another member of the team insisted. ‘All the usual, with my favourite, cheese-and-pineapple on sticks. I’ll even volunteer to cover the cabbage with foil.’

‘Hang on,’ Magenta protested. ‘I’m good with cheese and pineapple, but since when do we eat cabbage at a party unless it’s in a bowl of coleslaw?’

‘We don’t eat it,’ Tess said, giving Magenta a sideways look. ‘We cover the cabbage in foil and stab sticks loaded with the cheese and pineapple into it. Surely you’ve seen a finished hedgehog before?’

‘A hedgehog?’

‘Oh, never mind. You’d better handle the cocktails.’

‘My pleasure,’ Magenta agreed, mentally wiping her brow. Her knowledge of sixties food-fads was non-existent.

‘It’s just a pity the men are going to be there,’ Nancy observed as the girls started working out who was going to be involved in dressing the office and who would arrange the music.

‘I’m glad they’ll be there,’ Magenta argued. ‘I want this year’s party to bring everyone together. We need something to stop this silly bickering. We have to land this colour-magazine job, and to do that we have to work as one.’

‘That’ll be the day,’ Nancy snorted.

‘Well, at least let’s give it a try.’

‘I suppose there could be worse things than spending the night with a crowd of randy ad men,’ Nancy agreed thoughtfully.

‘Can we put sex to one side for a minute and concentrate on planning?’ Magenta suggested.

‘If we put sex aside for as long as that, it will all be over.’

‘Give those poor men a chance, Nancy!’ Magenta exclaimed, choking back a laugh.

She caught Quinn glancing at them through the window as he walked past. Their eyes might only have clashed briefly, but it was enough to tell Magenta that there was still a live spark between them. Interesting. According to some market research she’d been working on, fifty-nine per cent of men rated women who stood up to them as having the ideal qualities they looked for in a mate. Excellent. En garde, Gray Quinn…

Tamping down the rush of heat inside her, she called the meeting to order. ‘Can we get back to work, please? There’s very little time to do this and we have the campaign to work on during the day—which, by the way, is more important. We’re going to give those men a real run for their money when we submit our final ideas to Quinn.’

‘And we’re going to have the best Christmas party ever,’ Nancy added.

Magenta smiled back. ‘This is one party that is definitely going down in history.’

How she missed the computer! She never thought she’d say that, Magenta realised, checking the mock-up of the party invitation she had designed. But finally the invitation was ready to go to the printer’s and the Back To The Future party was on its way.

‘Still here?’ Quinn commented, peering round the door.

I could say the same about you, Magenta thought. They were both workaholics.

As Quinn came into the room, her skin began to tingle with anticipation. It was no use pretending she could somehow make herself immune to Quinn. There was a connection between them and she wasn’t prepared to let go of it yet. The air had changed—she had changed. She was like an animal scenting her mate. Every breath she took was drenched in Quinn’s energy and his clean, distinctive scent. All the more reason to get out of here, her inner alarm advised her. ‘I was just leaving, actually.’