One Night with Her Brooding Boss: Ruthless Boss, Dream Baby / Her Impossible Boss / The Secretary’s Bossman Bargain

‘We still get our chance?’ She kept the pressure on. She had no intention of walking away from this and making things easy for him.

‘Don’t push me, Magenta.’

‘So, that’s a yes?’

‘That’s a maybe,’ he corrected her.

She counted it as a victory—however small—and, knowing she’d pushed things as far as she could, she turned to the subject of the end-of-year party. How many more of these cold-blooded meetings with Quinn could she take? It was better to get through as much as she could now, Magenta reasoned.

Quinn was looking at her as if assessing how much she could take on. ‘It will be held at the end of this week, well before Christmas,’ he said. ‘Not much time for you to arrange things, but that suits my schedule better. Well? Don’t you have work to do?’

Magenta’s head was reeling with all the things she had to do. Quinn had just brought the party forward with no warning at all. She could throw up her hands and admit defeat, or.

‘If you can’t handle it,’ he said, ‘just let me know.’

‘I can handle it,’ she assured him.

‘Do you have a theme?’

Did she have a theme?

‘If it’s good enough, it might buy your team a second hearing.’

In that case, she definitely had the theme. ‘I’ve got the theme.’

Well, she would have in a minute.

‘I’m listening.’

‘The theme is.’ She had to come up with something mildly original or go to the bottom of the class, risking the girls’ opportunity to advance in the business in the process. ‘Back to the future,’ she said as inspiration struck. Okay, it was not so original, but Quinn wouldn’t know that. ‘It can be interpreted any way people like—but, as we’ve had the first man in space, and the race is on to land a man on the moon.’ Ideas were tumbling over each other in her brain.

‘Could be different,’ Quinn admitted.

‘Could be fun.’

‘Could be.’

‘I’m interested to see how you interpret it. And Magenta?’

‘So…?’

She turned at the door.

‘I’m going to trial some of your ideas.’

‘You are?’ All her personal battles with Quinn were put on hold. She felt like hugging him. Fortunately, after what had happened, she had more sense.

‘Tell your team to get back to work on the ad campaign right away.’

‘They never stopped working on it,’ she said quietly.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

‘WHAT are you complaining about? ‘ Magenta heard one of the men, who she’d heard others address as John, taunting Nancy in the main office as she closed Quinn’s door. ‘You’ve still got a job, haven’t you?’

The men hadn’t waited long to resume their bullying tactics, Magenta reflected angrily. It was vital the girls won this battle or there would always be conflict between the sexes in the office. But at least Quinn had agreed to give them a chance. She had even persuaded him to let them use the old boardroom as their temporary campaign-headquarters, and she’d planned to call an emergency meeting there now. But overhearing the exchange between Nancy and their male colleague reminded Magenta how far they had to go—that and the fact that she could wake up at any moment, leaving her new team in the lurch.

‘It’s tradition,’ John was saying. ‘You women are supposed to make all the homey, holiday preparations. Just because you have a few letters to type, that’s no excuse. We need our mince pies and treats while we handle the real work around here.’

If any useful work was going to get done, they all had to calm down. ‘I’m afraid the girls won’t be free to run errands for you,’ Magenta explained, shooting a warning glance at Nancy.

‘Oh?’ John demanded. Glancing at his cronies, he sat back, staring at Magenta as if he were a headmaster forced to deal with a child he considered very much his intellectual inferior.

‘We’re all going to be busy, because we’re all back in the race,’ Magenta explained. ‘Quinn is going to judge both campaigns and choose the one he prefers.’

‘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.’

‘Can I buy you a drink?’

Was he joking? ‘It’s been a long day.’ She kept her back turned so Quinn couldn’t see her cheeks flushing with the memory of humiliation. His idea of free love wasn’t hers. She was better off without him.

‘Are you sure? ‘

‘I’m quite sure, thank you.’

She hadn’t realised Quinn was right behind her and bumped into him when she turned around. He showed no sign of moving. She could only get past him by brushing up against him—something which no doubt would give Quinn great amusement. ‘Excuse me, please.’

She didn’t want this; she didn’t want to feel Quinn’s heat warming her, or the power in his body reminding her of what they’d shared. She certainly didn’t want him towering over her, or his hard, muscular frame awakening memories better left undisturbed.

She exhaled with relief when Quinn stood back. ‘I would prefer it if we could keep everything between us on a professional level,’ she said, staring into eyes that were nowhere near convinced.

‘Suits me.’ A faint smile played around the corner of Quinn’s mouth.

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