The Ramseys Boxed Set

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The Ramseys Boxed Set Page 11

by Altonya Washington


  Quest bowed his head while massaging his jaw. “Well, I know it’s just a sign, but this place is going to be one of our most ambitious housing endeavors. You just don’t seem very impressed,” he added, without realizing how much he wanted her to be.

  “Oh Quest, I’m sorry,” Mick said and laid her palm flat against his chest. “The homes look like they’ll be exquisite-beyond exquisite. It- it’s the yards that put them to shame.”

  “The yards?” Both men sounded off in unison.

  Mick trailed one hand through her curls as they whipped against the wind. “I’ve seen these high-end high-income developments before, and for the most part one thing is both consistent and disappointing-the yards.”

  “Go on, Ms. Sellars,” J.C. urged, interest clear on his tanned face.

  “Well, all the yards just appear so small. They make the homes seem like giants crouching for space on the same hill. Sure, many of these developments boast private parks, but it should be considered that some parents may prefer having their kids play closer to home. You guys should take that into account, that this is a Ramsey Group project. It should boast spacious yards in addition to spacious homes.”

  Quest and J.C. stroked their jaws simultaneously. Their eyes surveyed the land with renewed understanding.

  “Sorry for speaking so frankly, I’m sure whatever you guys decide will be great,” Mick said hoping to assuage their egos.

  “Ms. Sellars, please don’t apologize. Your honesty is more than appreciated, believe me,” J.C. assured her.

  “Michaela, honestly you’ve not only given us a new direction to take our project, you’ve given us a terrific selling point to exploit.” Quest added.

  “I can’t believe we didn’t discuss this before. We should set up a meeting with Stanton and his group right away,” J.C. suggested, referring to their architect. “We could definitely use a troubleshooter like you on our team, Ms. Sellars,” he added, smiling down at Mick before he looked over to Quest. “When does she start?”

  Quest’s laughter was easy. “She’s mine,” he responded simply.

  Mick wondered if she was the only one who heard the underlying message in that remark.

  ~~~

  The day wrapped up at the Cigar Bar, an establishment frequented by the area’s most powerful professionals. Men and women alike flocked to the dark, stern watering hole that harbored a surprisingly relaxed mood with its hand-rolled cigars, top-notch whiskeys and liquors, light menu, and very own pianist.

  “Mmm...so this is where the deals are made,” Mick noted, inhaling the intoxicating aroma of leather and cigar smoke.

  “Made or broken,” Quest teased, nodding toward those he recognized. “It’s best to dangle this treat before the client after the papers are signed,” he added and graced Mick with a sly wink.

  “Mr. Ramsey!” the bartender called when Mick and Quest approached. “And Mr. Ramsey’s beautiful companion,” he added.

  Quest grinned. “Ralph, this is Michaela Sellars.”

  “Beautiful,” Ralph continued to compliment.

  “Pleasure to meet you,” Mick said, enjoying the man’s adoration.

  “We’re going to eat here at the bar, Ralph,” Quest said as he ushered Mick into one of the high-backed maple-wood stools skirting the bar. “What’ll you have, Michaela?”

  “Hmm?” she responded absently, her eyes feasting on the portraits of all the well-known celebrities from Hollywood’s Golden Era. Each portrait featured a different actor or actress puffing on a cigar.

  “Michaela?”

  “Oh! Um, I’ll let you order,” she responded hastily.

  “What sort of cigar do you want?”

  The question almost rendered Mick speechless. Quest asked the question in the same manner he would had he been inquiring if she liked her steak well done. She managed to contain her amusement enough to address his question.

  “Quest, I’m afraid you’re with a woman who is completely out of her element here. I’m not afraid to admit that. I honestly wouldn’t know what to do with the damn thing,” she confided, staring skeptically at the small menu of cigars he held.

  Quest only nodded while his deep set gaze scanned the book. “You up for a lesson?” he challenged.

  “No,” Mick sang, “I’m not about to let you waste a bundle on an expensive cigar that I’d only mess up.”

  “Ralph,” Quest called, waving in the barkeep’s direction, “bring me two Royal Jamaicas. The lady will have a Robusto and I’ll take a Ten Downing Street.”

  “Yessir,” Ralph replied and quickly obliged the order.

  “Alright,” Quest announced once he’d used a brass cutter to clip the end of the longer cigar. He took it between his thumb and index finger. “You light the end like so,” he demonstrated, puffing intermittently, “and you’re all set,” he added, motioning for Mick to take the cigar he held.

  “No way,” she refused flatly.

  “Come on.

  “No way.”

  “I hate to smoke alone,” he said then, fixing her with his most disappointed expression.

  Mick was thankful he hadn’t requested anything more involved. That expression could make her give in to anything. Of that, she was sure. She took the cigar and put forth a valiant first try. Sadly, she only succeeded in a bout of coughs and sputters.

  Quest leaned forward to pat her back, chuckling as he did so.

  “I can do this,” Mick decided, bracing herself for another puff. After a few unsuccessful attempts, she managed to take a long drag from the cigar that had to be at least ten inches long.

  “Mmm…” she murmured, offering a little smile. She found the taste and smell to be quite intoxicating.

  Quest was intoxicated as well. He was entranced by the sight of her, not quite believing how alluring and arousing was the sight of a woman with a mouth like hers puffing on the end of a cigar. He’d driven around town all day with her trying to keep him mind off how good she looked and smelled. The majority of his thoughts revolved around how very much he wanted to carry her off some place and make love to her until she couldn’t walk. Now, he’d brought her there and she was succeeding in arousing him to an even higher level. Down, Quest, he warned.

  Mick noticed his intense stare. “Sorry,” she whispered, believing she’d been hogging his cigar.

  “You’re fine,” he said and reached for the other cigar. “Are you ready for your own?”

  “Yaay,” Mick said.

  “Don’t make this a habit,” he warned softly.

  “I promise I won’t,” she lowered her eyes in a demure fashion when he began to laugh.

  ~~~

  “I’m sorry for putting down the project before,” Mick said later when they were dining. “I’ve been known to be pretty opinionated,” she explained when he looked over at her.

  “What are you talking about?” Quest set aside his knife and fork. “Your opinion was very valued. We’re real big on constructive criticism at Ramsey. You’ve got a job there if you ever decide to leave the writing business.”

  “Mmm, is this another ploy to get me to stay, Mr. Ramsey?” she teased, watching him slice off another morsel of his ribeye.

  “Is it working?” he asked.

  “No comment,” Mick decided with a chuckle. “I must admit though, this place is incredible. Seattle is incredible. I’d definitely like to visit a lot more.”

  “Glad to hear it,” Quest said, amidst savoring the tender beef. “I really want you to consider coming back.”

  “Well I’m not gone yet,” Mick made her point lightly.

  She had no idea how serious he’d been in his statement, Quest realized. He didn’t like her use of the word ‘yet’ and it showed.

  Mick glanced over at him and caught the tightness of his expression before he could mask it. She decided to let silence settle for the duration of the meal.

  ***

  When Quest returned Mick to her hotel suite that evening, he went through his ritual of checkin
g the room. As usual, Mick waited by the message desk near the front door.

  “Lunch tomorrow? If you’re free?” he asked when he joined her out front.

  She rolled her eyes. “Quest no,” she said, groaning when she saw the hurt flash in his misty gray eyes. “You’ve taken up enough time with me today. You do have a business to run, you know?”

  “One has nothing to do with the other,” he argued, folding his arms across the slate-blue of his shirt.

  “So why’d you insist on showing me every aspect of it today?” she challenged.

  “Because I’m trying like hell to impress you.”

  “I was impressed way before today,” Mick admitted and then looked away as though she’d said too much.

  “Lunch tomorrow?” he asked again softly.

  “I’ll be ready,” her response was just as soft.

  Unfolding her arms, Quest stepped closer. His hand curved loosely beneath her chin while his mouth slanted across hers. Mick parted her lips eagerly, moaning seconds before his tongue began to caress her own. What could have been a sweet good-night kiss quickly became something heated and intense. Soft moans rose in Quest’s throat as his tongue delved deeper into her mouth. He was lost in a sea of unsatisfied and constantly building desire.

  Mick stood on her toes and kissed him with wild abandon. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and wished he’d never stop thrusting and curving his tongue around hers. Quest’s hands tightened upon her waist as though he were struggling to keep them there. He lost that battle and soon his thumbs were brushing her nipples outlined against the smooth cotton fabric of the asymmetrical shirt she wore. Mick tried to gasp his name, but she couldn’t breathe beneath the kiss and she didn’t care. When she felt Quest moving back, she frowned and curled her fingers more tightly into his shirt.

  “Michaela,” he whispered, breaking the kiss to speak against the corner of her mouth. “Baby wait.”

  The soft urging in his voice told Mick that the magical day had truly reached its end. She refused to look up at him while stepping out of his embrace. She turned her back toward him, leaning into the kiss he placed at her temple before he left.

  ~~~

  “That’s what you think

  Mick rolled her eyes in response to County’s rebuttal to her announcement that the Ramsey book was dead in the water. “As far as I’m concerned, it is,” she retorted.

  “Well, the last time I checked, Contessa House had my name on the sign,” County challenged tersely. “You won’t feel betrayed by us continuing our research and putting another author on it, will you?”

  Again, Mick’s lashes fluttered in the midst of another eye-roll. “Betrayed, hell. You probably already have another author in mind.”

  “You know me so well,” County sighed over the phone. “Seriously, Mick, I really want you on this. A book like this has the makings of millions- dollars and awards.”

  “I know,” Mick fully agreed, but silently admitted she’d choose Quest Ramsey over a tell-all any day.

  “So have you made a decision about L.A. or are you gonna disappoint me on that too?”

  Mick was slapping her palm to her forehead as she approached the hotel restaurant where she was to meet Quest for lunch. “The literary conference?”

  “Mmm hmm…”

  “Next week, right?”

  “Mmm hmm…”

  Mick groaned. “Oh County-”

  “Damn it Mick! This man has got you floating in the clouds.”

  “Yeah...yeah he does,” Mick didn’t bother to lie. Her amber eyes sparkled when she saw him already seated in the restaurant. His head was tilted and his eyes were narrowed as he concentrated on the menu he held. Mick felt completely removed from her body as she studied him- admiring the presence he made without doing a thing. He raised his head and his gaze shifted to hers. Mick smothered a gasp and barely managed a wave.

  “Mick!”

  “Sorry-sorry, County, I- um-”

  “Forget it. I’ll have a fine time at those boring lectures and an even better time all alone in my room for the week.”

  Mick fiddled with the hem of the thin-strapped copper swing tee she wore and smiled. “You must think I’m a fool to believe you’ll be all alone anywhere. Especially your hotel room.”

  County sucked her teeth. “On that note, I’ll say good-bye.”

  “I’ll call if anything changes.”

  “Which it won’t.”

  “County…”

  While Michaela debated with her best friend, Quest watched from across the dining room. His sleek brows drew close and his head bowed again when his heart refused to cease its frantic beating. Lord, he felt like a kid overjoyed because the girl he liked had just walked into the cafeteria. Sure, she was a luscious beauty but he’d been a fan of her work long before he ever met her. Putting such a face (and body) to such a sharp mind held him in a captive state and he wanted to remain there forever. She affected every last male hormone he possessed. He felt almost desperate to lose his fingers in those gorgeous curls of hers and take her body until only exhaustion forced him to stop.

  Last night he’d almost scared himself by the intensity of how much he wanted her. If he hadn’t left they would’ve gone too far, too fast. It was the reason he’d suggested they meet in a crowded restaurant that day. The more people, the better. Michaela Sellars was too sexy and sweet and alluring and intelligent and even still there was so much more that intrigued him.

  “Hi Quest,” Mick greeted when the host escorted her to the table. Her voice was surprisingly airy since she could barely look into his probing gray stare when he stood.

  “I got it, Graham,” Quest told the host, already holding Mick’s chair.

  She cleared her throat and reached for her own menu. “Have you ordered?” she asked.

  Quest reclaimed his seat and grimaced. “No, no, I haven’t. There’s something I wanted to ask you.”

  Curious about his tone, Mick leaned back and watched him. He was clearly on edge about something judging from the repetitive manner in which he tugged on the cuffs of his camel-colored suit coat and the white shirt beneath. “What’s wrong?” she inquired softly.

  “Ramsey’s unveiling a new project next week. I’d like you to go with me.”

  Mick blinked, certain there was more to it. She decided against asking ‘that’s it?’ seeing how unnerved he appeared. “I’d like that,” she told him in a careful tone.

  He grimaced again and the deep left dimple flashed. “It’s in California. Malibu,” he clarified, sounding as though he were waiting for her to decline.

  Nodding, Mick realized why he was on edge. “I’d still love to go.”

  “It’s an overnight trip.”

  “That’s fine, Quest.”

  “I mean, of course you’d have your own room,” he began to explain. “I don’t expect you, to um...you’d have your own room.”

  “Alright Quest,” she assured him, enthralled by his uncharacteristic unease. “Malibu, you say? County’ll be out in L.A. that week.”

  “Great! Tell her to come out! The more the merrier,” and a better chance of me behaving myself.

  “So what kind of project is it?” Mick asked, hoping the conversation would keep her from smiling overmuch.

  Quest cleared his throat. “It’s a teen center.”

  “In Malibu? Wow, yes I’d love to see that.”

  “Well, hold on before you toss out any accolades,” he warned with a raised hand. “Quay and I haven’t been down there as much as we’d like, so we hope the construction crew followed our instructions. It’s already complete, but I want your honest opinion on it.”

  Mick’s light eyes narrowed playfully. “Why?” She asked, leaning closer to the table. “Will you have it torn down if I don’t like it?”

  “I might,” he replied without hesitation, without humor.

  Mick had no doubt that he’d do just that. Thankfully, the waiter arrived then and their attention was directed toward l
unch.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Malibu, California~

  “If you’re still trying to impress me, trust me, you’ve done that and then some,” Mick proclaimed a week later when they stood in the entryway to the grand, state-of-the-art Malibu Beach facility.

  Quest grinned over Mick’s hushed admission. He kept one arm neatly in place at her waist, while his free hand grasped her bare arm in an overtly possessive manner. “I’m impressed myself,” he told her, also scanning the outstanding establishment.

  Each year, Ramsey Group sought to outdo themselves with the cause for the upcoming year. Each member of the company believed the people they were helping deserved nothing but the best.

  “Do you think the kids will be pleased?” he asked Mick.

  “Oh I think they’ll be well past pleased,” she assured him, propping one hand on her hip. “Is this something you guys do often.”

  Quest spoke while escorting them through the sea of guests that filtered through every hall, room and staircase of the teen center. “Each year we take on a project for charity or, as we prefer to call them, causes. Last year, we constructed a complex for battered women and their children. There’s even a school constructed on the grounds with a full faculty available to teach and train the mothers who want to obtain degrees or job certifications.”

  “That’s incredible,” Michaela marveled, folding her arms across the bodice of her strapless black A-lined dress. “It’s so rare for a high-profile company to take interest in such issues,” her eyes misted with a faraway look. “I wish there was a place like this when I was a kid in search of a home,” she said, taking in the spacious rooms complete with oversized furniture, bean bags and plasma TVs.

  Quest’s gray stare bordered on black as he listened, not caring for the lost tone in her voice. He wanted to know more, but didn’t want to intrude on unwelcomed territory. Thankfully, the moment was saved.

  “Michaela Sellars!”

  Mick whirled around and expressed a gleeful shriek when she saw Contessa switching toward her. The distance closed quickly between the two friends and soon they were hugging.

 

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