by Reese Ryan
Shit.
It was the same lie he’d told himself when he’d first laid eyes on Quinn that summer.
Just look at how that turned out.
Three
Quinn changed her outfit for the third time this morning. It was unlike her. She was organized and decisive. With her planner on hand, she was always ready for the day ahead. But she hadn’t slept well last night. It didn’t help that she’d drifted off while reviewing her notes for her upcoming meeting with Max.
He’d seemed disappointed to discover that her proposal was a good one. He’d clearly been expecting her to flop. And if she did, Max would no doubt be ready to pull the plug on their project. So there was no room for failure, fear or hesitance. She had to show up today at Max’s office with her game face on. Make it clear that she knew exactly what she was doing.
This deal meant too much to her grandfather’s farm and to her future. So she wouldn’t allow herself to be intimidated by the fact that Max clearly didn’t want her there. Nor would she be distracted by Max’s good looks, his charm or the fact that when his eyes met hers she still felt...something for him.
When she’d seen him yesterday, a jolt of electricity had rocketed up her spine. His dark eyes had seemed to peer straight through her, like armor-piercing rounds shredding her flesh, despite the mental suit of armor she’d donned before she’d stepped into the room.
The truth was that she hadn’t gotten lost on her way back to the conference room that morning. She’d simply needed a moment to compose herself before she came face-to-face with Max again.
It’d been thirteen years since she’d seen Max Abbott, more than a third of her thirty-one years. Enough time to give her distance and perspective. Enough time to realize that Max Abbott hadn’t been as important in the overall scheme of her life as her teenage brain had once believed.
Yes, he’d been her first love, and over that long, hot summer she’d allowed herself to believe that Max was the alpha and omega of her romantic life. That there would never be another man for her.
Quinn laughed bitterly. God, you were naive.
Unfortunately, she hadn’t learned her lesson after Max. She’d still wanted to believe that people were inherently good and could be taken at their word. Her most recent ex had finally cured her of her Pollyanna-ish misconceptions.
The cold, hard fact was that there were a lot more liars in the world than there were people she could count on. But her grandfather was firmly in the latter camp. She wouldn’t disappoint him by allowing her inconvenient history with Max to sabotage this deal.
Quinn followed the smell of pancakes, bacon and coffee down the stairs. Her grandfather stood over the sizzling cast-iron pan with a spatula in hand.
The memory of her grandmother—vibrant and beautiful until the day she died—standing there in the kitchen, cooking in that pan, with that spatula, flashed through Quinn’s brain. Her mouth curved in a faint smile, though her chest suddenly felt heavy.
“You’ve got her smile, you know.” Her grandfather’s voice startled her from the daze she’d fallen into.
“I know.” Quinn’s smile deepened. She set the heels she was wearing today by the kitchen door. “And I love that I’ll always have that connection to her.”
She didn’t bother to ask how her grandfather knew she’d been thinking of her grandmother. It was hard not to enter what had been Lydia Bazemore’s domain and not think of her.
“Maybe you’ll have a little girl someday with that same smile.” Her grandfather winked, chuckling when she rolled her eyes and groaned in response. “Hey, an old man can dream.”
“Hate to break it to you, Gramps, but there are zero prospects of a great-granddaughter on the horizon. At least not from me.” She kissed her grandfather on his stubbly cheek. “I can’t speak for Marcus and Mavis,” she said of her younger twin siblings.
“I don’t think the world is ready for the progeny of Marcus or Mavis.” Her grandfather laughed, and she did, too.
Her younger brother and sister were hyperfocused science geeks who lived in their own little world. A world she never quite fit into. They were just five years younger than she was, but with the emotional distance between her and her younger siblings, it might as well have been five light-years.
The two of them were more like their parents—both scientists working in academia—than Quinn would ever be. At the dinner table with her family, she’d always felt like the answer to one of those Sesame Street skits: Which one of these doesn’t belong?
“One day.” He smiled. “Just not today.” Her grandfather nodded toward the coffeemaker. “Grab yourself a cup of coffee and have a seat. I know you have to get out of here soon.”
Quinn didn’t argue. Instead, she poured herself a cup of coffee and added creamer from the fridge. Then she pulled out one of the yellow-vinyl-and-chrome chairs from beneath the chrome and yellow Formica table. Her grandparents had owned the vintage set for years, and, despite its age, it was in excellent shape. She sank onto the chair.
Her grandparents had always been frugal and sensible, saving up for when they’d leave the farm to their children or grandchildren and then travel the world. But none of their children or grandchildren had ever taken an interest in owning the farm. And then her grandmother had died suddenly of a stroke a few years ago, leaving her grandfather devastated.
Since Quinn had come to stay with him a few months ago, he’d been the happiest she’d seen him since the death of her grandmother. Maybe it was because her smile reminded him of his beloved wife’s. Or maybe it was because it had given him a new purpose—fussing over her.
Her grandfather brought their plates to the table and they settled into their usual morning rhythm. Only there was nothing usual about this morning. Today she would return to King’s Finest, where she and Max would start working together on this project.
“You must’ve had a good time at the country club yesterday.” Quinn put a forkful of the buttery pancakes in her mouth and chewed.
“We did.” He nodded. “And I would’ve told you all about it, but you were knocked out when I got back. I put all of your paperwork on your desk and draped one of your grandmother’s quilts over you.” He sipped some of his coffee. “You haven’t crashed like that since the day you first arrived here from Atlanta. When you were so stressed-out it was like you were all tied in knots.”
There was an odd stretch of silence between them as he nibbled on his bacon and she ate her pancakes.
“You seemed tense in the meeting yesterday.” He peered at her over his coffee cup. “Particularly with Max.” He set his cup down and folded his arms on the table, his dark eyes assessing hers. “Everything okay between you two?”
“Of course.” Quinn drank long and deep from her coffee mug before lowering it. She forced a smile much bigger and brighter than the occasion called for. “Why wouldn’t it be? I haven’t seen him since I was eighteen.”
One of her grandfather’s wiry eyebrows seemed to levitate. He frowned. “You remember exactly how long it’s been since you’ve seen the boy?”
Quinn froze, her smile still in place.
“It was the summer before I went to college.” She stuffed more pancakes in her mouth and chewed.
“But there’s no bad blood between you two, right? I mean, you got on well enough the summer he interned for me, but if there’s something I need to know—”
“There isn’t.” Quinn placed a hand on her grandfather’s forearm. Her voice was firm as she met his gaze. “Everything is fine.”
“You’re sure? Because I sensed some tension on his side of the table, too. When you walked in that door, it was like the boy had seen a ghost.”
It’d felt that way for her, too, though she’d had the advantage of expecting that ghost and bracing for it.
“Well, like I said, we haven’t seen each other in...what...?” Sh
e made a show of counting in her head. “Thirteen years. That’s bound to surprise someone, right?” She laughed nervously. “As for the tension... Look at it from Max’s perspective. He’s the VP of marketing and I come waltzing in the door with my fancy plan. To him, it must feel like a challenge to his authority. Like I’m saying I can do his job better than he can. But it’s not about that. It’s about this single joint project and how we can make it amazing by thinking more broadly about opportunities for collaboration.”
Her grandfather nodded and sighed—a sure sign he wasn’t convinced of her explanation for the tension he’d noticed.
“Well, you don’t want to be late on your first day.” He stood, collecting his dishes. “Leave everything when you’re done. I’ll clear the table.”
Quinn ate the last of her bacon and finished her coffee. “Thanks, Gramps.” She got up, pushed her chair under the table and kissed his cheek again. “I’ll keep you posted on how things go today. But don’t wait up for me. By the time I drive back from Magnolia Lake, it’ll probably be pretty late.”
He stopped running the water in the sink and frowned. “You know I believe in doing things face-to-face rather than on the phone or those video calls. But I hate that you’ll be on the road so much.”
“I know, but it won’t be forever. Just until we get everything sorted out and in motion.”
“Still, it’s an hour each way. Maybe we should rent a place for you in Magnolia Lake for a few months.”
“Things are already tight around here.” Quinn hated bringing it up. Her grandfather felt bad enough about being so distraught over the death of his wife that he hadn’t noticed the accountant he’d hired to manage the books—something her grandmother had handled—was robbing him blind.
It had been Quinn’s distinct pleasure to throw the guy out on his ass and report him to the local sheriff.
“I know.” He nodded solemnly. “But I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you. So keep an eye out for a room or apartment you can rent short term. I’ll ask around at the senior center—”
“Not necessary.” Quinn shook her head vehemently. She’d end up staying in some creepy room filled with dolls or cats or hooked up on a blind date with someone’s worthless grandson.
No thanks.
“I’ll handle it. You just worry about sticking it to them in the next Scrabble tournament.” Quinn grinned at her grandfather.
Her grandfather raised his fists and shuffled his feet as he bobbed and weaved, doing his best Muhammad Ali imitation. “This time, I’m gonna take every last one of those suckers out.”
Quinn laughed. Her grandfather was still smarting over his second-place finish in the last tournament. “I know you will, Grandad.”
She got into the Honda her younger brother had gifted her when the lease for her expensive import had ended. Here in rural Tennessee, she couldn’t get anywhere without a reliable car, and she’d never learned to drive her grandfather’s truck—a stick shift.
It was a long drive, and she used the time to review the plan in her head while listening to something soothing and upbeat.
Prepare the plan. Don’t worry about the man.
That would be her motto as long as she worked with Max. Still, she couldn’t help thinking about how handsome he looked. Or how incredible he smelled. The heat she’d felt standing so close to him when the two of them were alone. His pained expression when she wouldn’t accept his apology.
She shut her eyes and sighed. It didn’t matter if she was still attracted to him. It didn’t matter that her memories of that summer had come roaring back to her in her sleep, as vivid as the day they’d occurred. Her summer fling with Max was a part of her distant past. And that was exactly where it would stay.
Four
Max glided into the office well ahead of his usual start time, but not early enough to beat his assistant.
“Mmm...doughnuts.” Molly’s eyes danced with excitement when she caught a glimpse of the small box in his hand. “Did you get—”
“A bear claw for you?” He grinned, holding up a separate bag in the same hand as his cup of coffee. “Of course.”
She thanked him, accepting the bag. Molly tilted her head as she scanned him for a moment.
“What is it?” He looked down at his shirt. Had he spilled coffee on it?
“You look...nice,” she said. Only Molly Halloran could pay someone a compliment and still make it sound like an accusation.
“That’s a good thing, right?” He unlocked his office door. “Besides, I’d like to think I look nice every day.”
“You do.” She trailed him into the office. “But today it feels like you tried to look good, and you went a little heavy on the cologne. So I’m guessing this is for the benefit of Ms. Bazemore.” Molly stated the facts as if they were the elements of a math equation. Two plus two equals four. She studied his expression, then nodded. “You’re definitely into her.”
Max wouldn’t debate Molly’s conclusion, and neither was there reason for him to give it credence. “Remember what we talked about, Mol. Use your deductive powers for good. Not to analyze my romantic interests.”
“Right,” Molly took a bite of her bear claw as she contemplated his words. “The doughnuts were a nice gesture, since you obviously aren’t happy about having to work with her on this project.” She put the rest of the bear claw back in the bag and closed it. “I’m going to get one of those cake stands of your mother’s from the break room. It’ll make a nice display.”
“Sounds great. Thanks.” He settled behind his desk and took a deep breath, glad for a few minutes alone with his thoughts.
It’d been nearly twenty-four hours since he’d seen Quinn Bazemore again, and his head was still swimming. The memories of their summer fling had kept him up all night, tossing and turning.
He hadn’t thought about Quinn in so long. And now he couldn’t think about anything else. There had been something so authentically joyful about her. He couldn’t ever recall laughing and grinning more than he had during those few months.
Max remembered the first time he’d laid eyes on her that summer. He hadn’t seen Quinn since she’d been ten and he’d been thirteen. He’d been stunned that the annoying little chatterbox in pigtails had grown up to be the sexy, long-legged temptress in front of him. And yet, he’d feigned a complete lack of interest and maintained his distance.
Their grandfathers were close friends. Getting involved with her could only mean trouble.
But she’d been flirtatious, persistent, funny and just so damn... Quinn. She’d cut through his resolve to ignore her like a hot knife slicing through whipped butter.
How could he not have fallen for her?
Quinn had been gorgeous with her dark brown skin and her thick, black hair pulled back in a single braid. She was bright and amusing. Thoughtful and opinionated. Hopeful yet pragmatic. She’d stimulated his curiosity about the world beyond his privileged purview more than anyone or anything else had. He’d loved seeing the world through her eyes and debating all manner of issues with her.
And there was something mesmerizing about her brown eyes. He still remembered the first time she’d gazed at him like he was everything she’d ever wanted. It was one of those nights she’d snuck up to his loft with leftovers in tow and they’d played video games while debating which male tennis player would win the US Open that year.
She’d been right, as she so often was.
Max sighed softly. He’d felt incredibly lucky to be the object of Quinn’s admiring gaze. He’d also felt unworthy of it. But when she’d leaned in and pressed her mouth to his, he’d been an absolute goner. One kiss was all it had taken to get him completely addicted to the sweet taste of her mouth. To the lush feel of her soft curves pressed against him.
The look Quinn had given him when he’d called her Peaches at yesterday’s meeting w
as the complete opposite of how she’d regarded him when he used the affectionate moniker back then. Max knifed his fingers through his headful of short curls and groaned quietly. He would never forget the fleeting look of abject disgust in the same brown eyes that had once shone with deep affection.
A knock at the door startled Max.
“Quinn.” He stood suddenly, tipping over his cup of coffee. The dark brown liquid spread, soaking the papers on his desk, including the presentation he’d been reviewing.
Not a good look, man.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Quinn dropped her bags near the door and quickly scanned the room. She spotted a stack of napkins on the small table in the corner of his office. Quinn grabbed a handful and blotted the mess while he stood there, frozen, staring at her. “I realize I’m a few minutes early, but your assistant was away from her desk, so I just knocked. I didn’t mean to—”
“You’re fine,” he said. He swallowed hard, his cheeks heating as his rogue eyes quickly scanned her deliciously curvy form, highlighted by the fitted skirt and blouse she wore. “I mean...it’s fine.” He finally sprang into action, grabbing a handful of napkins and dabbing at the wet papers. “I shouldn’t have been sitting here daydreaming.”
“Garbage can?” Quinn asked.
He grabbed the trashcan from beneath his desk and held it up so she could drop the wet napkins into it. “I’ve got this.”
“I don’t mind.” Her gaze met his momentarily. “After all, I feel partly responsible.”
“You shouldn’t,” he said. “Really.”
Molly rushed into the room with the sparkling-clean glass-domed cake stand.
“Sorry it took me so long, but I had to wash this. It’s been sitting on top of the refrigerator for a few months and—” She stopped short when she noticed Max wasn’t alone. “Oh, you must be Ms. Bazemore.”
