Gray Quinn's Baby

Slowing down meant walking through the park instead of powering along the pavements, but slowing down allowed more thoughts to crowd in. There had been a pregnancy, she remembered—yes, a pregnancy in a dream, but the baby had seemed very real to her. It still did…

Silent tears crept down her icy cheeks.

She wanted a baby.

Having a baby had never crossed her mind before. She hadn’t realised there was anything missing in her life. She hadn’t had time to realise anything was missing; work took up every minute. Slowing to a halt in front of a park bench, she sank down onto the cold wooden slats. Stretching out her legs in front of her, she gazed across the placid surface of the boating lake. She’d made a baby with Quinn? Well, that should have brought a smile to her face.

It didn’t.

Picking up a pebble, she stood up and skimmed it across the surface of the lake. Ripples spread outwards, unstoppable ripples. There was nothing she could do to change the direction of those ripples any more than she could change the direction of her life to match the dream.

There was no baby.

Wrapping her arms around her empty belly, she mourned the dream-child in wistful silence until a spike of cold wind reminded her she should be getting back. She turned reluctantly. Dreams, Magenta reflected as she hurried back to the office—who knew what secret lives people lived in their dreams?

Sometimes dreams weren’t just longings, they were premonitions.

And that was crazy thinking. She shouldn’t be greedy. She should think about all the things she had instead and be grateful. Wasn’t that enough for her?

A hollow no…

Magenta had almost walked past the store when she stopped dead and retraced her footsteps. She stood in front of the window staring at the dress in silence. It couldn’t be. But it was. It was the same dress—the identical dress. It was the flattering navy-blue shift dress Quinn had bought for her in the dream. She stared at it, hesitating until her heart rate reached danger point, and then she hurried towards the entrance. She had to have it…

They’d sold out of her size.

It wasn’t meant to be, Magenta told herself sensibly as the sales assistant tried to persuade her to try on any number of alternatives. ‘They’re all lovely,’ Magenta agreed politely. ‘But not quite what I’m looking for.’ Not nearly.

But she should make some sort of special effort tonight, make a good impression on Quinn for a change. She couldn’t go out in the clothes she’d worn all day at the office, so she chose something modest with a twist. Minimal, loosely draped and delicately loose, it was a silk crêpe dress in a shade of ice-blue that brought out the colour of her eyes. Having thanked the woman for helping her choose, she made her way to the exit. She was still short of a costume for the party tomorrow night—and she didn’t want to be predictable.

She was tired of predictable, Magenta mused as she hurried along the brightly lit parade of shops. Tess was right, she did take herself too seriously, and the party was everyone’s chance to break out. Heading for her favourite vintage shop, she ducked inside.

Well, that was certainly something different, Magenta thought a little later, smiling triumphantly as she hugged the package containing her prize purchase close to her chest. She doubted anyone else would have thought of wearing the outfit she had chosen to a party.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

SHE arrived at the steak house exactly on time. Quinn did too, it turned out. They walked up to each other at the entrance with a laugh. ‘Shall we skip the meeting?’ Magenta suggested.

‘Skip it why?’ Quinn said as he held the door for her.

‘I thought the purpose of this meeting was to help us to get to know each other better so we read each other’s minds—it seems we already do.’ Magenta smiled as the maître d’ came forward to take her coat.

‘You look beautiful,’ Quinn murmured.

She was glad she had gone to the trouble of buying a special dress. ‘And you look…’ Was this appropriate chat for a business meeting? But Quinn did look incredible. With his thick, black hair as neatly groomed as it could be, and wearing a crisp white shirt, plain dark trousers with a heavy casual jacket, he looked tanned, vital, dark and amazing. She wasn’t the only woman in the restaurant to notice.

He held her arm as he ushered her towards a secluded booth. ‘You’ve loosened up, Magenta.’

‘Have I?’ She raised an eyebrow as Quinn handed her a menu.

‘Your eyes aren’t shooting daggers at me.’

‘I haven’t done that for some time, surely?’

‘Since I scared you with the motorbike.’