One Night with Her Brooding Boss

CHAPTER SIX

WHEN the meeting ended, Quinn asked Magenta to remain behind, and her heart sank as the last man out of the room threw her a pitying look. But even if this was a dream she had to defend her corner. Was Quinn content with a weak team? Wouldn’t he at least evaluate the skills of his female workforce and give them a chance? The more she thought about it, the more fired up she became. ‘This is quite an experiment you’ve got going on,’ she commented lightly as she shut the door.

‘An experiment? This is no experiment, Magenta. This is my company, and you work by my rules or you walk out that door and you don’t come back.’

‘You can’t just fire me.’

‘Watch me.’

Was she au fait with sixties employment law? No. And what good would she be to the girls she hoped to recruit if Quinn threw her out?

‘For someone so recently promoted, you have a disappointing attitude, Magenta—which is why I want to speak to you.’

‘I’m just surprised by the quality of the team you’ve drawn around you.’

‘Firstly, it’s not in your remit to pass comment on my decisions. And secondly, that’s not my team. That’s a batch of individuals I am evaluating.’

Like battery hens. ‘Ruthless’ didn’t even begin to describe Quinn. She was almost sorry for the men.

‘I’m evaluating everyone’s performance—and I have to tell you that you are my biggest disappointment to date. Instead of being thrilled by your promotion, you seem discontented.’

‘That’s not the case at all.’ Above all she had to hold on to her job. How else would she fight for recognition, not just for herself but for her colleagues? ‘I’m overwhelmed by my new role, and your trust in me.’ She held back from batting her eyelashes. ‘You won’t have to wait until close of play today. I’m up to speed now and I promise I won’t let you down again.’

Suspicion flared in Quinn’s incredible eyes, which she quickly took care of. ‘I hope the notes I’ve taken down are what you require?’ She offered them for his approval.

He ignored them. ‘I’ll let you know when you’ve typed them up. And one more thing, Magenta.’

‘Yes?’

‘Your duties include running the office and managing the cleaners, the girls in the typing pool and those on the switchboard. They do not include interfering in my business meetings. Is that clear?’

‘Even if I have an idea I’d like to put forward?’

Quinn’s expression would have sent grown men scurrying for cover, but Magenta pressed on. ‘There are a couple of things I’d like to suggest for the good of the company—and I only mention them as your office manager and secretary to save you unnecessary aggravation in the future.’

‘Spit it out.’

‘Take smoking.’ Quinn was an overwhelming presence in the room—a fact her body refused to ignore however she felt about it. Determinedly, she pressed on. ‘Nancy mentioned you have people working here who suffer from asthma, heart conditions.’

‘And you think I should get rid of them?’

‘No! ‘ Magenta exclaimed, wondering how two people could be so far apart in their thinking. ‘I want you to ban smoking in the office.’

Quinn laughed as if she had said the funniest thing that year. ‘Tell you what,’ he said. ‘I’ll let you handle that.’

‘Okay, I will. It’s either that or I’ll have to open all the windows wide—and I don’t think you would want the girls’ work-rate to drop if their fingers seized up with cold. Didn’t you say there would be a lot of work coming down the line for them?’

Quinn’s face creased in a deceptively attractive smile, but his eyes were dangerous. ‘Nicely done, Magenta, though I must admit I prefer my secretaries decorative rather than combative.’

A shiver of worry crept down Magenta’s spine when Quinn added brusquely, ‘Are we finished here?’

‘Yes. Yes, of course we are.’

‘You’re sure I’ve heard all your complaints?’

So now he had her down as a moaner. Great. ‘I’ll get started on those notes for you, shall I?’ she said brightly.

‘You do that,’ Quinn said, turning back to his work. ‘Oh, and don’t forget to take the coffee tray with you when you go.’ He didn’t even bother to look up from the document he was studying.

‘I hope this is satisfactory? ‘ Magenta asked Quinn later that day, handing him the typewritten notes she had prepared. It was a long time since she had typed anything without the option of making corrections on a computer.

‘Don’t deviate from this standard.’ He handed the document back again.

Could she survive this level of praise? She had only spent most of her lunch hour mastering the art of using a cranky typewriter with a ribbon that came off and keys that stuck. From what she’d seen, all the office hardware needed a thorough overhaul. This might be the sixties, but surely they didn’t have to use faulty equipment? She put her concerns to Quinn.

‘You’ve just put yourself in charge of repairs and renovations. I hope you can handle that on top of your other new duties?’

She would have to. But she was so eager to get stuck in, she was taking on more and more, when what she really wanted to do was form a team. To call together and convince those girls in the typing pool that they could do a lot more than type up lists and letters for the men.

‘Dinner tonight?’

She stared at Quinn. ‘Would you like me to book a dinner reservation for you? ‘

‘I’m prepared to make a few allowances until you get up to speed, Magenta, but if you don’t start paying attention when I speak to you my patience will very quickly run out.’

Quinn’s patience? Had she missed something?

‘I believe I just asked you if you would care to join me for dinner tonight.’

Her heart raced. Her mind said no. But how could she refuse him without causing offence?

How could she accept Quinn’s invitation to dinner without compromising her position? Since falling down this rabbit hole he had shown her no warmth at all—though he had shown the occasional flicker of another type of interest; if her heart would stop hammering long enough for her to say anything remotely intelligent, she must find a way to refuse him. ‘I’d love to have dinner with you, but unfortunately I have so much work to do…’

‘You have to eat.’

His charm offensive was overwhelming. ‘I’ll probably have a sandwich here. I’m conscious of the tight deadline you’re working to as far as launching the ad campaign in the New Year is concerned, and I’m also working on some ideas of my own.’

‘You’re doing what?’

‘Trying a new angle.’ Her voice was starting to shake. Quinn’s expression wasn’t exactly encouraging. He couldn’t imagine a lowly woman coming up with a single original idea. She owed it to the team she was now determined to build to prove him wrong.

‘I take it these ideas you mention have nothing to do with the work you do for me?’ His tone was critical.

They had everything to do with the creative work she wanted to do for him. ‘Correct, but—’

‘If the work you do for me suffers…’

‘It won’t suffer.’

Standing up, Quinn propped one hip against the desk, managing to look both formidable and desirable at the same time. ‘It had better not,’ he said.

Half-man, half-beast—all male… The shout line on a sixties massage-cologne rushed into Magenta’s mind. The thought of massaging it into Quinn was quickly stifled. She held her breath as he stared at her thoughtfully.

‘Let me see those ideas when you’re ready.’

Did she have to feel so gratified at his grudging concession?

‘And don’t tire yourself out working on personal projects to the point where you’re no good to me.’

‘I’m only too happy to stay behind and work.’

‘You should have asked the girls to help you.’

The girls had enough to contend with from the men during normal working hours without Magenta asking them to stay behind and do more work for her. ‘I’m fine—honestly. You go.’

‘May I? ‘ Quinn demanded ironically. ‘That’s very good of you.’

‘I’m sorry—I didn’t mean—’

‘Goodnight, Miss Steele. Remember to lock the door behind you when you leave.’

Watching Quinn stride towards the exit made her wish that just for once she could be a femme fatale that no man could walk out on.

Dream on, Magenta thought wryly, turning back to her work.

She was stiff from sitting at her mean little work-station for hours on end, working on the final tweaks to the campaign, when the sound of the lift arriving made her tense with alarm. She felt exposed and vulnerable without an office door to lock and sat bolt-upright as the lift doors slid open.

It was almost a relief to see Quinn emerge, but what was he doing here?

Her heart thundered with anticipation. ‘Have you forgotten something? ‘ She hurried to greet him. However much Quinn infuriated her, there was no doubt he injected life and vitality as well as a sense of security into the empty, silent office—though she still felt uncomfortably like a soldier on parade.

‘Miss Steele.’ Quinn’s eyes were sparkling in a very un-Quinn-like way—which was to say his expression was both warm and amused, leaving her a very confused and shaken-up soldier. ‘Can I get you something?’ she pressed.

‘Coffee?’ Quinn suggested.

‘No problem.’ She could smell the night air on him, cold, clean and fresh. There was snow on his collar, and ice crystals sparkling like diamonds on his thick, black hair. It was a change to see Quinn looking so windswept, a good change that took her back in time—or was that forwards?—to a young biker removing his helmet and shaking out his unruly mop of inky hair.

‘You didn’t expect me to come back tonight,’ Quinn guessed correctly. Shrugging off his overcoat, he tossed it over the back of a chair and walked with her to the kitchen. ‘I saw the lights from the street and took pity on you.’

‘How kind,’ she murmured. ‘Strong and hot?’ she said, pushing the kitchen door open.

Quinn’s laugh was low and sexy. ‘If you say so.’

Were they flirting? ‘I’m talking about coffee.’

‘And so am I,’ he assured her. ‘Put a dash of this in it.’ He produced a bottle of very good whisky. ‘You looked worn out earlier, so I thought I should bring you something to get your blood flowing again. Something told me you might baulk if I offered you fortified wine.’

‘Whisky is my drink of choice, as it happens. You know me well.’

‘I don’t know you at all, Miss Steele, but that is something I intend to put right.’

It was a tiny moment of connection between them, and she wanted to protect and nurture it like a candle flame.

Quinn was way ahead of her.

‘Apologies in advance for contravening one of your feminist by-laws.’

She gasped as his lips brushed hers. In the same instant, he pressed her back against the kitchen counter and, with one powerful thigh nudging her legs apart, he drew her close. ‘Forget the coffee,’ he murmured, teasing and nuzzling her neck and mouth in a way that delivered a powerful charge to every sex-starved part of her. ‘You need this more.’

Oh yes, she did, Magenta realised as she wound her arms around Quinn’s neck. What her sensible side would have to say about it when she woke up in the morning was another matter. But she was dreaming and, according to the law of dreams, anything was possible, even forgetting her inhibitions where sex was concerned. She would just have to put up with Quinn kissing her like a god.

Quinn’s hair was thick and lush, his body was hard and strong, and she was instantly aroused. Quinn’s heat was iced with night air and the taste of mint was on her tongue. He had splashed on some cologne—musky, spicy, warm and clean—and his stubble was an unaccustomed rasp against her face. He was an expert in the art of seduction who knew just how to tease, stroke and nip, until she was pressing herself against him, writhing, sucking, biting, practically demanding the invasion of his tongue as she showed him in no uncertain terms that she had fully embraced the concept of free love—at least in her dreams.

But somewhere deep inside her a warning bell was ringing, and that bell was determined to spoil everything. It said that she might be on a fast track to pleasure, losing all sense of right and wrong, but Quinn was still firmly in control. She was strong in everything else she did, except this. Free love was one thing but it had to be on her terms. She’d put a price tag on it, Magenta decided, and that price tag might just buy a chance for the team she planned to build.

Using every bit of mental strength she possessed, she pulled back. ‘I’ll make that coffee for you.’ Turning away, she continued to prepare their drinks with hands that shook slightly. ‘Do you think you could spare the time to look at the ideas I’m putting together?’

‘Would I like to see what you’ve been doing when I’m paying you to work for me? I think I should, don’t you? ‘ Propping his hip against the counter, Quinn waited until she had finished and then he led the way back into the office, where he swung her ideas book around. ‘This is good. What gave you the inspiration?’

‘Research.’ She could hardly say, the benefit of living fifty years from now. ‘I’m keen to push the campaign to the next level.’ She had never cheated in her life before, never needed to.

‘Your idea certainly moves things somewhere,’ Quinn agreed dryly. ‘Do I take it you weren’t impressed with the team you saw in action earlier today? ‘

‘You could say that,’ Magenta admitted as Quinn stared at her keenly.

‘Maybe they just need time to settle in.’

‘There is no time to settle in if you want to launch in the New Year.’

‘So you’re suggesting I accept a campaign designed by a woman?’

‘Is that so crazy?’

‘You’ve forgotten the natural order of things, Magenta. Men lead at work so that women can enjoy a certain lifestyle.’

‘Women can do that for themselves, given half a chance.’

‘And I don’t let them—is that what you’re saying?’

‘Maybe men feel threatened—’

‘Not this man.’ Quinn cut across her.

She took her courage in both hands and went for it. ‘Then prove it by allowing women to play a part in your campaign.’

His lips curved; he took it well. ‘How do I know that there’s anyone working for me, other than you, that has this flair?’

‘You’ll never know until you give everyone an equal chance to prove themselves.’

‘If there’s so much latent talent here, why has no one put themselves forward before now?’

‘Because women want to keep their jobs, so they keep their mouths shut. Is there any reason good enough to make you ignore a possible seam of in-house talent? I think we must consider our female audience when we design a campaign.’

‘What do women want?’ Quinn didn’t even pretend to think about it. ‘Who cares when men pay the bills? This is business, Magenta, not some feel-good society for you to float around in. Men earn the money women spend—remember that. So men are our target audience.’

She hated herself for trembling with awareness of Quinn when he was preaching this heresy. But Quinn was a product of his time, Magenta remembered, which made what she had to do while she was a visitor in this dream world all the more important. ‘But you’ve just admitted women do the shopping, so they have control of the finances.’

‘Nonsense. Are you the most argumentative woman I’ve ever met?’ he demanded. ‘Who tells a woman what to buy, Magenta? Her man.’

‘Not this woman.’

Quinn looked at her and almost laughed. He controlled it well, but at least he’d lightened up. That was a small victory of sorts, Magenta supposed, wondering if her heart would reach some critical point where it would have to slow down.

‘All I’m asking you to do is to tune in to your audience, Magenta, but sometimes, I think your head’s elsewhere—like another century, maybe.’

Close. But she couldn’t stop now. ‘If you go on with this belief that we only have to sell to one sector of the community, then this company will sink like a stone, taking your investment with it.’

There was silence, and then to Magenta’s relief Quinn’s face relaxed as another idea occurred to him. ‘Why don’t you illuminate me on the correct way to reach every member of our target audience?’ Challenge turned his steely gaze to fire.

CHAPTER SEVEN

‘I’D BE pleased to explain,’ Magenta said, facing up to Quinn. She had to look up at him; he towered over her. ‘There are plenty of women in the workplace trying to keep a family afloat.’

‘You think I don’t know that?’

How attractive was that crease in his cheek? And how determined was she not to be distracted by it? ‘Women have always been fighters, Quinn—they’ve had to be—and if you want to know what appeals to them you capture the whole of the market—their men and the next generation, too.’

‘And if I want to know how to appeal to women I should ask you?’

Like Quinn didn’t appeal to every woman he met. But he didn’t face up their ads. ‘You could ask any of the women who work here for their opinion. Use the resources you have, don’t ignore them. Ask them what they like to buy, to use, to experience.

‘You’re suggesting we run a series of trials?’

‘Why not?’

‘Involve women in our brainstorming sessions?’

‘Of course.’

‘Persuade me.’

Quinn’s eyes were dark and smoky; how she longed to. But this was her chance; she couldn’t blow it. ‘Okay. So, women want to buy your products because they’re dependable, exciting and they can trust them—but women want to command attention too. They want to look sharp—they want to be in control.’

‘And they want to do all this while they’re sitting behind a typewriter knocking three bells out of their expensive manicure?’