by Ava Miles
“We have no audience except the chaperones,” she said, her eyes scanning his space. “Besides, you used to be more creative when you were relaxed. I hope that’s still the case.”
“Man, so do I.”
He came around the desk and noted the way her posture changed, stiffening. She thought he was going to take her into his arms. And yes, he did want to do that, but she’d made it perfectly clear she wasn’t ready. Besides, they would need to remain mostly professional to complete the restructuring.
“As you and other family members have pointed out,” he continued, “my grouch factor is off the charts. I need to relax. Will you rub my temples?” They’d always teased each other, and he wanted to lighten the air between them.
Thankfully, she laughed as he’d hoped. “You can call a masseuse for that. Now, where are we working?”
He gestured to his office. “I thought here. Hell of a view.”
“No, this is your space. We need a shared space. How about the guesthouse?”
Was that a twinkle in her eyes? He was so down with more teasing. “No way. That’s reserved, as I mentioned.”
“But it’s not in use at the moment,” she said with a challenge in her beautiful violet eyes. “Shame to waste the jasmine.”
He gave her a heated stare, already able to smell the jasmine as he tasted her. “It stays reserved until it’s utilized. Full time.”
Her nostrils flared, and the desire between them scorched the air. Good. He wasn’t the only one thinking about what they would do to each other in the guesthouse.
“I should have anticipated this,” Quinn said, knowing when a retreat was needed. “Okay, what kind of a space do you have in mind?”
“A cozier one than this. Although it’s impressive, you reign here. I need a space where we meet as equals.”
“Other than the bedroom? Don’t glare. You know it’s true. But I see your point. You want a neutral but cozy place. Follow me.”
He waved at Uncle Arthur and Aunt Clara as he walked out of the office. They were seated on the sofa. She was knitting something in peacock blue, and his uncle was reading on his tablet. Alice waved to him from the kitchen, where she was working with Hargreaves, and he had to laugh at her audacity.
“I was wondering where these stairs went,” Francesca said as they climbed down.
“It’s a partial lower level with a deck. I had the decorator treat it like an entertaining space. This has to work because I don’t have any other options.”
The open room had a modest bar on the far side, but the three cream leather couches in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows anchored the room. He’d often imagined having his family over to watch the sun go down. He’d also hoped to have new friends. Maybe a woman. But he’d never watched the sun go down except on moving day, and he realized if he continued like this, the space would continue to go unused.
“It will be fine,” she said, walking forward and putting her hand on the couch facing the windows. “This will be my office chair.”
He wanted to roll his eyes. “I’ll take the one beside you so I won’t be distracted by the view.” That way he could give her his total focus, which was what he wanted anyway. “Anything else?”
“We’ll need a flip chart and eraser board. I’ll have Alice see to them if you don’t mind.”
“Fine. What else?”
“That’s it. How about some tea? Do you have tea stocked down here?”
He scoffed. “It’s a bar, not a coffee shop.”
She gave him a regal look that drove him wild.
Running to the edge of the stairs, he yelled, “Hey, Alice. Can you come here for a minute? Your mistress calls.”
“Mistress?” Francesca arched her brow.
He couldn’t help but grin. “You’re totally the mistress.”
“You rang,” Alice said, descending the stairs. “Francesca, what do you need?”
She gave her order, which included the office supplies as well as the items for a full tea and coffee service. Saluting Quinn, Alice headed back upstairs.
“She’s not your assistant, Quinn,” Francesca said, sitting down on her office “chair” like a grand lady. “You’d best remember that.”
“I was teasing you,” he said, crossing to his own seat. “I might be more grouchy than I used to be, but you’re more formal. What happened?”
“It’s called professionalism,” she said as if he didn’t have an MBA from the London Business School.
He laid his arm on the top of the couch and faced her. “No, it’s more than that. I can’t imagine it’s easy to keep business moguls in line. I remember what you said about Alice’s experience as a chaperone. You’ve had trouble before? Overtures?”
She waved a hand. “Of course. I handle it by being clear on the rules and keeping everything orderly. I hope you’ll comply. It will make things easier.”
“While we’re working, I’ll comply.” He shrugged in response to her scrutiny. “I mean it, but I’m not sure I can promise more than that. How else am I supposed win you back? The kiss we had yesterday rocked both our worlds, but I don’t need to tell you that. You’re backing away because it was better than ever.” He sent her a naughty wink.
“Moving on…” Her voice was all crisp professionalism. “Let’s restate your goals for the consultancy as a way of kicking things off.”
He knew what that meant: time to get down to business.
“Easy. I want to make Merriam Enterprises profitable and respected again.”
She folded her hands in her lap. “Wonderful. Improving corporate performance and increasing stakeholder confidence will be the key pillars of our approach.”
Pillars? God, he found it oddly hot when she talked corporate like that. “One more goal. I also want to create a senior office structure that will support me having a life. As in seeing my wife and kids daily.”
Did she gulp? The gorgeous line of her throat changed shape briefly in the late morning light filtering in through the windows. “Organizational structure comes after we’ve agreed on the new strategic direction and functional realignment.”
He gave her his most charming smile. “I know. I only wanted to be clear what some of my personal goals are as the CEO.”
She unfolded her hands and laid them on her thighs like she was trying to ground herself. Good. She understood his intentions, and they hadn’t failed to make an impression.
“Your goals are important in that they impact the leadership of the company.”
“I don’t have enough time to do anything well. Neither did Connor.”
Her eyes grew veiled. “Your father and his predecessors did, however. What do you attribute that to?”
He felt the lash of misplaced pride even as he reminded himself that his father had never been home for his family. “Maybe they were giants of men. Maybe they didn’t want it any different or know it could be different. Maybe the demands were different before email became so common and the speed of doing business ramped up. Doesn’t matter. I’m certain I can’t be a CEO and have a life, but I want to try. Do you understand what I’m saying here?”
You asked me how this would work, and I’m telling you. I want to have enough time to be with you.
“I understand, and it’s noted.” She sat up straighter, almost fidgeting, which was unlike her. “Let’s talk about functional areas.”
And so they did, only pausing when Alice brought down the tea and coffee service and set it up discreetly in the corner while Francesca continued to drill him. He’d forgotten her incredible ability to circle back to a point and recast it in a new way. To coax out someone’s thoughts and feelings.
They both knew he had to reverse Connor’s stance on new offshore drilling acquisitions. Those sites brought in some of the most reliable and largest profits Merriam Enterprises could lay claim to. The company had been founded on offshore oil, and like they both understood, investors were comforted by the bread and butter.
But it gave
him heartburn to think about it.
“You’re worried about how this will make Connor look,” she said out of the blue. “Don’t. He’s not in this game anymore. Besides, he’ll understand on some level.”
“You a mind reader?” His response was terse even to his ears.
“Only when it comes to you,” she said quietly.
That cheered him in a moment of despair. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to damage his rep. That’s my problem, though, and my hesitation to act is probably how we got here. Let’s move on. I’m committed to reversing his decision.”
“Do you envision bringing it to the board?” she asked.
He set his ankle on his knee. “No. He did it unilaterally, and somehow I think it would be a show of strength to undo it the same way.”
“I agree.” She poured them both tea—a fragrant Earl Grey, which he’d only ever drunk with her. “Now, let’s talk about what I expect will be a sticking point.”
His shoulders were already knotting. “Shoot.”
“You agree restructuring around oil is the way to go, yes?”
“Yes. Absolutely.”
She veiled her eyes. “There were some tremors in the oil market this morning after China released more information about this pneumonia-like virus they’re dealing with. Do you know of it?”
“I’ve read the reports too, and my aunt and Hargreaves have been following it. I think they’re making too much of it. So far, the virus seems small and contained.”
“It does.” Her voice was modulated.
What was she getting at? He tilted his head down to try and catch her gaze. “I checked oil prices at our last break. They took a tumble, but that’s not a surprise. The Saudis released a statement saying they’re confident the Chinese will contain the virus. You know what that means.”
“Yes. They were trying to calm the market. So, you’re not concerned?”
“When you’re in the oil business—and my family has been for decades—there’s always some volatility. But the world’s system is built on oil. You have to ride the wave.”
“Then we’re on track for restructuring around oil.” This time she met his gaze directly. “No hesitations?”
“None.”
“Good,” she said decidedly. “Then we need to talk about what to do with the skincare line.”
Acid poured into his stomach. Now he understood. “You mean Caitlyn’s enterprise.”
She positioned her teacup calmly in her lap. “Not exclusively, although she did exceed profit expectations—and in very short time frame, I might add.”
“Her perfume took off.” He was so damn happy for her. “She’s preparing to roll out the men’s cologne as we speak with her fiancé, Beau Masters, as the spokesperson.”
“He was also the spokesperson for the women’s line.” She drank her tea before continuing, “Was that brilliant marketing idea hers or yours?”
“All hers. I only approved the budget.”
Her eyes were narrowing, and he felt like that damn python was around his diaphragm again.
“A hefty budget, I might add.”
“Thirty million is hefty?” Okay, he knew it was.
“You’re fortunate her endeavor worked out so well.” She took another sip of tea, and he felt like she was using the tea to pace the conversation, throwing out grenades one sip at a time.
“Dammit, this is about Flynn’s wife, Annie, isn’t it? You know she merged her boutique skincare line with Merriam. What you don’t know is that she wants to be one of us in business. She’s got damn good products too.”
She traced the rim of her cup. “Valentina wouldn’t have agreed to be the spokesperson otherwise.”
Having an international model was bank, and they both knew it. “So what’s the problem?” he asked, even though he already knew what she’d say.
“You’ll have to expend a lot of upfront capital for a wide launch of Annie’s products. Capital you could use elsewhere. There’s also the issue of corporate identity. Do you want Merriam to be known for oil and skincare? Without the pharmaceutical division, you don’t have enough functional legs for this to make sense to investors, Quinn.”
He lurched off the couch and stalked to the window. “You want me to sell off the skincare line? Jesus. You might as well ask me to cut out my sister’s and my new sister-in-law’s hearts.”
He heard her set her teacup on the coffee table. Moments later, her hand was rubbing the tension in his lower back. “I told you this would be hard, Quinn.”
Caitlyn’s cheery face filled his mind. “That lavender farm and perfume enterprise means everything to my sister. Hell, Annie gets the same glow whenever she talks about one of her products.” He’d used her new shampoo for men last night, and now here he was discussing the possibility of selling off her company.
“Let’s table this for now. We have plenty of time to discuss it.”
Her hand left his back, but he caught it before she walked away. “I need you to help me find a way to keep them, Francie. Merriam is a family company, dammit. That’s our bread and butter too. If we aren’t that, then…”
He wasn’t sure what the hell they were fighting for. Only he and Trevor would be working for it then. How could he accept that?
“Negotiating with Annie and bringing her into the family business was one of the best damn things I’d done in a long time.” He cursed softly. “Francesca, it gave me hope for the future. I can’t give that up. I certainly can’t betray them. We have to find another way. You’re the wiz. I’m trusting you to find it.”
When she faced him, her eyes were dark with sorrow. “I knew it would hurt, and I’m sorry, but I had to bring it up. It’s my job, Quinn.”
“I can’t do it,” he rasped. “I’d rather file for bankruptcy and start again if that’s the case.”
She nodded briefly. “Okay, we’ll find another way. But Quinn… You’re not making this easy.”
“You told me you knew how personal this was. I’m telling you what I can and can’t accept and asking you to use that brilliant mind of yours to figure something out.”
“I will do my best,” she said softly.
The pull to kiss her—to find comfort in her mouth—overwhelmed him.
“We should take a break,” she said, her eyes tracking to his lips, but footfalls sounded on the stairs and they both glanced over.
They separated, and he watched as Alice hefted one of the flip charts while Hargreaves carried the dry-erase board.
“Perfect timing,” Francesca said, stepping farther away.
Quinn wasn’t sure he agreed, but he wouldn’t have wanted Francesca to kiss him out of compassion. Plus, he needed to put aside this raw feeling from their talk about the skincare line.
Francesca pointed to where she wanted them placed. “Set them to the side, please. I would hate to obstruct the view.”
Alice went over to help Hargreaves once she’d positioned her equipment, Quinn noted, and the man didn’t bristle as she shifted the metal legs out at a greater angle. He only smiled. Alice Bailey had won him over. That was fast.
It was also telling… Hargreaves’ dignity usually got ruffled if any Merriam dared to carry a drink from the kitchen into the dining room or heft their own luggage into the house. Apparently Miss Bailey was different. Was it because she was an assistant as well? No, that was genuine fondness on his face. Interesting.
“We’ve been wanting to play Pictionary,” he told them, rubbing his hands together to shake off the lingering sickness in his midsection. “Anyone have an idea for how to draw the word inscrutable? Francesca has been acting that way for the past two hours.”
Maybe resuming their teasing would right his balance.
Alice shared a look with Francesca before uncorking a blue marker and starting to draw a shockingly good rendition of her boss. “How about this?”
“A beautiful likeness, Miss Bailey, if I may say,” Hargreaves said.
“That’s incredible,” Qu
inn said.
“I told you she was brilliant.” Francesca clapped her hands briefly. “Thank you!”
Alice quietly arranged the pens in a jar. “Wait until you see what Hargreaves and I have planned for dinner.”
“I thought you were trading nights cooking,” Quinn said, partially alarmed by the conspiratorial gleam in their eyes.
“We talked about it over tea and decided it would be fun to cook together. It’s so nice to be around someone else who loves food. In fact, Francesca, I’ve talked him into going to the private chocolate cooking class. I figured you would be okay with it.”
“I’ll be handling the expense myself, Miss.”
“I’m happy to cover it,” Francesca said, a soft smile on her face. “I’m glad you two have become friends.”
“Me too! Come on, Hargreaves. We have plans to execute. We’ll leave you two.”
When she reached for the drawing of Francesca to rip it off, Quinn lurched forward. “No! I’ll…handle it.”
Alice froze, and Hargreaves cleared his throat. They both nodded and left quickly.
Great, he’d made an idiot of himself. He carefully tore the paper. “I couldn’t let her throw it away. It’s a memento of our first day working together.” It was also Francesca’s beautiful face, which he couldn’t bear to see destroyed.
Her hand rose to her mouth to cover the emotion there, but her eyes told him everything he needed to know. She was touched and the earlier desire to kiss her charged the room.
“I should have asked her to draw you at your grouchiest then, since you’ve already had some moments today,” she teased, a smile peeking around that luscious mouth.
“Inscrutable and grouchy. We’re a pair.”
“But we’re making good progress.” She checked the discreet Cartier watch on her wrist. “It’s four o’clock. How about we go until six? Then we can see what surprise Alice and Hargreaves have worked up for dinner. I assume you meant for us to eat together with your family every night except Sunday. If not, Alice and I could dine down here should you wish to be alone with them.”
