One Night with Her Brooding Boss. Cathy Williams
gave a confident shake of her head. ‘There’s something else—something you’re not telling me.’
Maybe her red cheeks had given her away, Magenta thought wryly as the biker flashed into her mind.
‘It’s nothing to be ashamed of if you’ve met someone you like,’ Tess insisted.
‘But I haven’t,’ Magenta argued—too heatedly, she realised now.
TESS hurried to reassure her. ‘I know you’re worried about the company, and what’s going to happen under the new owner, but you’re entitled to a private life, Magenta. In fact, as your friend I’m going to be blunt about this—you need a private life.’
Magenta paused before continuing. ‘All right. This is going to sound ridiculous…’
‘Try me.’
Tess was waiting but, though she worked with words for a living, Magenta was suddenly struck dumb. How could she explain the trembling inside her, or the excitement, the awareness, even the outlandish suspicion that she had met her soul mate this morning? The biker had caught her at the worst possible moment and yet with his arrival it was as if everything had brightened. As if the world had suddenly come into sharp focus—and in a freezing-cold car park, of all places. How romantic!
The fact remained, it was as if the sun had shone down just on her, as if her life had opened up to a multi-coloured carousel of opportunity.
If she’d had the courage to seize it, which she clearly she hadn’t. ‘There was a guy this morning in the car park.’
‘I knew it.’
‘Shh.’ Magenta glanced round, but no one was listening; they were too busy fighting over the choice of music for the party. ‘It was nothing—just a good-looking guy. Not my type at all, and he wasn’t remotely interested. So now you know.’
‘But he excited you? ‘
‘He certainly did something.’
‘He made you tingle. He made you feel alive.’
‘You’re a romantic, Tess. He made me angry.’
‘You shouted at him?’ Tess frowned.
‘I gave him a piece of my mind, yes.’
‘And how did he react?’
‘He laughed at me.’
‘But that’s wonderful!’ Tess exclaimed. ‘What a start.’
‘There is no start, it was just an episode.’
‘And episodes have sequels.’
‘Not this one, Tess.’
‘You never know, he may come back. He’s seen you now—how could he resist? And when a man laughs with you, well, that’s the start of intimacy, in my book.’
‘It is?’
‘Don’t you know anything? ‘
‘Not much,’ Magenta confessed. ‘After the rush of gold-diggers when I was in my first flush of youth, all the likely contenders lost interest.’
‘Only because you frightened them away, dragon lady.’
‘They weren’t worth keeping.’
‘And this guy’s a keeper? ‘
‘For someone, definitely, but not me.’
‘Why not? What’s wrong with you?’
‘It’s not even worth discussing,’ Magenta said wryly. ‘He’s not going to ask me out on a date. I don’t expect I’ll ever see him again. It was just a chance encounter that made some sort of ridiculous impression on me because I was feeling tired and vulnerable, and—’
‘Lacking in confidence where the mating game is concerned,’ Tess supplied. ‘Just promise me one thing, Magenta— if you do see him again, don’t shout at him. Try a smile next time.’
They both laughed as Tess demonstrated how to do it.
‘Come on,’ Magenta said, turning back to the room. ‘I need to call this meeting to order or the Mighty Quinn will be here and my father will never speak to me again. So, are we good?’ she asked her team. ‘Does everyone like the theme for the party?’
‘Can we share out the sixties samples for costumes and accessories?’ one of the girls asked her.
‘Of course. Just help yourselves.’
Magenta was relieved her idea had gone down so well. Everyone needed a boost. They were all on edge wondering what changes the new owner would bring, and the sixties theme allowed them to indulge their fantasies and forget about work for a while. Her team had really been infected by the sixties bug, with quite a few of them trialling the fashions of the time. The sixties styling really suited Tess, Magenta noticed now, with her smoky eyes, long, curving fringe and high ponytail, Tess looked fabulous.
‘I still can’t believe you’re not going to be here when the new boss arrives,’ Tess said, seeing she had Magenta’s attention.
‘I’ll leave that pleasure to you. All right, go on,’ Magenta said, seeing Tess was bursting to tell her something. ‘You’ve heard some gossip about him,’ she guessed. ‘What is it?’
‘Girls!’ Tess exclaimed dramatically as she turned to face the room. ‘Will you enlighten this poor innocent about our new owner, or shall I? ‘
No one was going to deny Tess that pleasure, Magenta suspected.
She was right. Raising a carefully drawn eyebrow, Tess explained, ‘They call him the Mighty Quinn because according to the gossip mags—’ and here she paused ‘—Gray Quinn isn’t just a giant in business, if you take my meaning.’
Magenta pretended to be shocked. ‘But no one knows him, no one’s seen him. How do they know? ‘
‘Oh, come on,’ Tess protested. ‘Don’t tell me you don’t like a little mystery in your life? And if he’s built—’
‘Tess, this is a professional environment.’ But Magenta had started to laugh. ‘Okay, so maybe we have to get him into some tight-fitting flares to find out.’
‘There, I knew you wouldn’t leave us,’ Tess declared. ‘You have to stay and see him now. You can’t resist.’
Magenta felt a frisson of alarm. She wasn’t an experienced girl-about-town like Tess. Business was her comfort zone; it would be far better if she wasn’t here if Quinn was some sort of lady-killer. She felt confident behind a desk—writing, dreaming, imagining how other people might react to an advertisement, to life—but when it came to herself.
‘Look at this,’ Tess said, pushing a magazine across the table. ‘And then tell me you’re going to stay away from the office while Quinn settles in.’
‘There’s not much to see,’ Magenta complained, though her body reacted strangely to what was little more than a shot of a man’s back. What was so arousing about that? For some weird reason, her body disagreed.
Quinn was obviously in a hurry to get wherever he’d been going, Magenta registered, studying the grainy print to try and fathom out her reaction to it. And then she got a bolt of something totally inappropriate for a woman who by her own admission was hardly sexually experienced. Quinn’s height, the imposing width of his shoulders, the way he held himself—everything appealed to her. Quinn was different from most men in that he was taut, powerful and exuded confidence, as if he were ready for anything. He looked like the type of man who inspired confidence in others, too.
He wouldn’t even look at her, Magenta reassured herself,