by Dee J. Adams
“I told you if you needed me I’d help you. Whatever it was.” Their gazes locked and Quinn grinned, but it wasn’t his usual bright smile. This one had something else behind it, something intimate. It sent a sweet shiver down her back.
“If you’re really serious,” she said, “then you can drive my car and I’ll drive Ashley’s.”
He smiled, but put his palms up. “No way. I’m not driving your classic Mustang. I refuse to be responsible if something happens to it. I’d be more comfortable in a clunker than worrying about every yahoo on the road who might dent your Mustang. I’ll drive Ashley’s car.”
“Okay, if you’re sure…I’ll see you tomorrow morning at my place. I want to visit Ashley first, but then I’ll see you at the apartment at ten. How’s that?”
“It’s a date.” The light was back in his eyes. A smile curved his lips. The man was absolutely edible, and it never seemed to fail that he got his way.
Someone called Quinn’s name, and he and Ellie turned at the same time. One of the men Ellie had met the other day, Hank, strode up to them. He looked all business in his suit as he pumped Quinn’s hand. He extended a hand to her next. “Hey, nice to see you again.” His face lit up with a smile.
Ellie shook his hand. “Nice to see you too. I hope you’re having a good stay.”
“It’s business first this trip.”
Quinn slapped Hank’s shoulder. “Hank’s always about business. He’s been invaluable to the company.”
Grinning, Hank shook his head. “Stop already. You’re making me blush.” But he clearly enjoyed the attention.
“How’d you get on the set?” Quinn asked.
“I called Mac. He got me on. I know we were planning to meet later. I tried your cell but I only got voice mail and I wanted to give you an update…on our current situation.” He lowered his voice and leaned into Quinn. “I think I saw the Humvee he rented cruising around here a little while ago. Anyway, Mac said he had some time so I came over as quickly as I could.”
Neither man elaborated on the “current situation” or the man in the Humvee, which Ellie guessed had to be Aaron Gerhardt. After Quinn directed Hank to Mac’s trailer and told him he’d be there shortly, Hank headed off with another polite smile.
Ellie watched him go. “He seems nice.”
“He’s a good guy. He’s been with FRD almost since my dad started the company.” Quinn shifted his gaze from Hank back to her.
Suddenly she knew that taking Quinn’s time tomorrow was a bigger thing than he let on. “You’re sure about tomorrow? I really hate that I’m tak—”
“You’re not taking me away from anything. I offered.” He took her hands and Ellie looked into his eyes even though it about melted her heart to do it.
“Thank you. Really. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Quinn squeezed her hand. “I’d better go talk to Hank and Mac. I’ll see you in the morning.”
As Ellie watched him walk away, she never looked more forward to a new day.
Quinn headed to the trailer. What the hell had he done?
Drive? Was he really going to get behind the wheel of a car? Could he? He broke out in a cold sweat just thinking about it. He forced out a deep breath. Fuck it. He could drive a damn car. And not kill anybody. It might not have been the case six months ago, but something like that accident couldn’t—wouldn’t—happen again.
Guilt rose up and swamped him. He’d been behind the wheel and he’d killed someone. His pulse quickened and he forced out another hard breath. Dammit. He had too much to do to think about this now.
Shoving the memories of that day aside, Quinn opened the door to Mac’s trailer without knocking. He grabbed a soda from the fridge before joining his brother and Hank at the corner table. “What’d I miss? I’d hate to think you were plotting behind my back.” He slid into the blue-and-red plaid bench seat and sipped his root beer.
“Paranoia doesn’t suit you, Quinn,” Mac grumbled.
“This isn’t paranoia. It’s business. Let’s cut to the deal. What did Gerhardt say that makes you think I left something out about his offer?”
“You didn’t tell me he came up another quarter of a million.”
Quinn snorted. “Because he didn’t. He came up two hundred grand and if he told you something different then he’s lying.”
“Either way, he came up with more money.” Mac sat back and spread his arms. “You can’t ignore it.”
“Sure I can. I’ve got George Brant waiting for my answer. He’ll buy FRD today if I tell him we have a deal.”
Hank shook his head. “I’m really hoping you don’t take that route, guys. I’ll be out of a job if you go with Brant. And let’s be honest here, aside from Kurt, I’m the only one who can run production at this point. I’m the troubleshooter.”
“Then you don’t have to worry,” Quinn said, jumping at the opportunity. “Brant won’t let you go when you’re so important to the new design.”
Rubbing his forehead, Hank sighed. “You don’t understand, Quinn. George and I go way back. He won’t keep me on.”
“What the hell did you do to piss him off so bad?” Quinn asked.
Hank leaned back in the seat. “It goes back to Purdue. We were in school together. Long story short, we’re oil and water. Never got along, never will.”
Brant had guaranteed that most of the employees at FRD would keep their jobs. But he’d said most. Not all. Apparently, Hank was part of the latter.
“Gerhardt all but guaranteed Hank’s job security when we spoke the other day,” Mac said. “He knows he needs him to oversee the new design.”
Quinn leveled his gaze at Hank, feeling as outnumbered as he was. “So you want the company to go to Gerhardt too? Is that it?” Hank didn’t answer and the makings of a headache stirred behind Quinn’s eyes. He took another hit from his soda. He had something else up his sleeve, but he’d been holding onto it.
“I can call Howard Billings at Motorways. He told me a couple of years ago if we ever wanted out that he’d be interested.”
Mac scowled. “Billings doesn’t have the kind of money that Gerhardt has. We’d be giving him the company.”
“It’s been years, Mac. We have no idea if the company can handle the buy. It won’t hurt to ask.” But Quinn was almost certain his brother was right. He sat back in his seat. There had to be a way to make things work with George Brant. “Hank, what if I call Brant? Talk to him about—”
“No.” The word shot out of Hank’s mouth like a cannonball. “Don’t say a word to him about me. I hate hearing his name as much as he hates hearing mine. Do yourself a favor and don’t mention it.” Hank scrubbed a hand down his face. “Look, do what you have to do, Quinn. It’s your company.” He gathered his things and stood up. “I’ve been with FRD since your dad brought me on and I think of the place as home.”
He shrugged. “I can’t imagine working somewhere else, but I’ll roll with the punches.” Hank shook his head, looked as if he wanted to say something, but instead he went to the door. “I owe you an apology. I shouldn’t have come all this way, but I thought I could help. I thought since I’d been with the company so long that…” He shook his head again and sighed. “Never mind. I’m going to hop on the next flight back to London. Giselle told me Gerhardt was supposed to leave this afternoon for a meeting at his office, so it’s not like I need to be here to keep track of him anymore. Let me know what you decide.” Hank opened the door and went down the steps.
“Nice,” Mac said. “You’re so fucking worried about all the employees, but you’re letting our best guy sink if you sell to Brant. Nice.” Mac left Quinn sitting at the table by himself.
“It’s not like Hank doesn’t have a pot to piss in,” Quinn said at his back. “He could retire tomorrow if he wanted to. We’ve taken care of him since day one.”
Mac leveled him with a hard stare over his shoulder.
Shit.
He’d spent the morning putting the cars into plac
e. Three nondescript cars in three unobtrusive places across the city. Each near one of the locales Reynolds most frequented. This was why the company should be his. He was ready for anything. Always would be. He could take any situation and turn it around to his advantage. It’s what a leader did. Whether he used any of those cars or not, didn’t matter. The fact was he had a plan…sketchy at the moment, but still there.
Reynolds and the blonde were joined at the hip so anything he did had a high percentage of being a twofer. That suited him fine.
Of course, this new development was even better. The idea of Reynolds driving for the first time since the accident…and crashing… Actually, the next accident would be far more fitting. He smiled, knowing the panic Reynolds would suffer before he died. Just what the man deserved.
He considered Reynolds’s death the final hurdle in amassing the power he craved.
He had a whole night to play with the car too. Plenty of time to rig it the way he wanted. Too bad he wouldn’t be there to see the destruction himself. But with Reynolds out of the way, the company would be in good hands. He’d make sure of it.
Quinn paced his hotel room. Talking to Mac and Hank had set him on the edge. Despite what Hank told him about Brant, Quinn had called the man anyway. But it was Friday night and who knew when Brant would get the message. If Quinn greased the wheels with Brant and convinced him to keep Hank then he was halfway home. All he really needed to do was figure a way to bring the two of them together. Mac trusted Hank so much that if Hank didn’t have a problem working for Brant, Quinn would be that much closer to selling. So he paced and he seethed. Waiting for the phone to ring. Waiting to talk to George Brant.
He missed Ellie. He worried about her too. What was she doing now? How was she coping? Was she as lonely as he was? Sitting on the bed, he clicked on the television and surfed a few channels before shutting it off. He paced across the room, ready to jump out of his skin and he didn’t know why. He fished out his phone and called Fido. “You feel up for a drive?”
“Anytime. Where’re we headed?”
“I don’t know. I’ll let you decide. I need to get out of this room. I’m going stir-crazy.”
“If I can make one suggestion…”
Quinn didn’t mind suggestions. It was orders he hated. “Sure. What?”
“Pack a small bag.”
Pack a bag? Where did Fido plan on taking him? Did he care? Obviously the man knew money wasn’t an object. What the hell. He’d pack a few things. Fresh clothes, a razor, a toothbrush couldn’t hurt. He sure could’ve used those things this morning.
Fifteen minutes later he was in the limo. “How’s Miss Morgan doing?” Fido asked, glancing at him through the rearview mirror.
“I haven’t talked to her since this afternoon,” Quinn said. “I’m sure she went to the hospital after she got both cars home. She told me she’d turn her phone off when she was there. Hospital regulations.”
“It’s after eight. Aren’t visiting hours over?” Fido had a point. The man was too smart to be driving a limo. And he knew human nature. At least he knew Quinn’s nature. What the hell, he’d been dying to talk to her all day. Quinn punched his speed dial. He’d entered Ellie’s number last night. She answered on the third ring…just as the glass partition swooshed closed between the front and back seats.
“Hi,” he said, suddenly at a loss for words. What was he supposed to say? That he missed her. Worried about her. Wanted to be with her. “I…uh…I was thinking about you. How’s Ashley?”
“She’s the same.” Ellie paused then took a deep breath. “But I know she’s in there, getting stronger. Waiting for the right moment.” She sounded confident. Absolutely certain. “She’ll come out of it. She has to.” The tinge of desperation in her voice didn’t get past him.
“What are you up to?” she asked, clearly in need of a subject change. “If I was you, staying at a hotel, I’d bring in room service. Something decadent.”
He wasn’t hungry. At least not for food. Hungry for the sight of her…for her company, definitely. “I had dinner earlier. Actually, I got a little stir-crazy so Fido is taking me for a drive.” God, he missed her. After last night he couldn’t imagine her alone in her apartment. “Are you at home? Are you doing okay?”
She sighed. “I just walked in and I’m tired. It was a long day preceded by a long night.” It sounded as if she’d collapsed on the sofa. She snorted. “But you know that. It was your long night too.”
Yeah. He was dead tired, no doubt about it. But he itched. And he couldn’t imagine sleeping without scratching that itch. It wasn’t like he could show up at her door. Again. How many times could he get away with that?
“Hello? Are you there?” she asked.
“Yeah. Sorry. I faded for a sec.”
“Where’s Bill taking you? Where are you now?”
Quinn peered out the window as Fido rolled to a stop. He recognized the neighborhood, laughed and sat back in the seat. Fido was either jonesing for a serious tip or hoping to get fired.
“What’s so funny?” she asked.
“I’m at your place.” He heard her moving around, then he watched the door open and there she was. Looking like a California wet dream. Long blond hair and curves in all the right places. She leaned against the door frame.
“Well, so you are.” She watched him for a second. No way could she see through the tinted glass, but it looked as if she could.
“I’m sorry…Fido meant well, but I’ll tell him to move on out. I had no idea he was headed here. Honest. I didn’t mean to—”
“Come in.” She flipped her phone closed and walked back into her apartment.
Quinn sighed, shut his eyes and pocketed his phone. He had a whole evening in front of him with a lady he wanted more than his next breath. So why the hesitation? Leaning forward, he tapped on the glass. The window slid down and Fido looked over his shoulder. “I should fire you,” Quinn said. “But I’m giving you another bonus instead.”
Fido chuckled. “Don’t forget your bag,” he said. He lifted a hand before Quinn could tell him he wouldn’t be here that long. “I’ve got my cell if you need me. Otherwise, I’ll see you in the morning.”
“You’ve got this whole thing figured out, huh?”
“No. I just know what I see. She needs you and it looks like you need her too.” He shrugged. “What’s to figure?”
A lot as far as Quinn was concerned. Last night had been a no-brainer. He couldn’t screw her when she’d been so clearly distraught and vulnerable. But this morning…this morning she’d been calmer, more in control. And he was a weak son of bitch. He’d also had no problem with a little comfort sex, so he’d caved.
But now. Tonight was a whole new ball game. An invitation into her apartment didn’t necessarily translate to her bed. How much could a man torture himself?
Shaking his head, Quinn slapped Fido’s shoulder. “If you don’t hear from me in a few hours, take the night off. And tomorrow too. I won’t be back from Barstow until afternoon and I’ll have Elle take me back to the hotel. I’ll talk to you Sunday.”
At her door, Quinn noticed a small folded Post-it note near the knob with Elle’s and Ashley’s names scribbled on the front. She must have been damn tired to miss it. He snagged it, stepped inside her apartment and set his bag down. Ellie came out of her bedroom, makeup-free. Up close, her red-rimmed eyes gave away the fact that she’d been crying. She looked wiped out too. There was nothing remotely sexy about her pale yellow, baggy pajamas aside from the way the soft cotton fell against her body, forming to every curve. Accentuating the fact that there were no panty lines to be seen. Whoever invented the thong needed to win an award.
“Can I get you something to eat or drink?” She didn’t stop as she headed for the kitchen, and Quinn snapped to attention and quit staring at her ass.
“No,” he told her. “I’m good.” He held out the note in his hand. “Here. This was stuck to your door. You must have missed it.”
“Thanks.” She took the note, tossed it on the table without a glance and continued to the kitchen. That seemed odd. She didn’t seem the least bit interested as she pulled two glasses from the drain board and filled them with ice.
“Aren’t you going to read that?” he asked.
She looked up as she poured some water. “You read it. What’s it say?”
“You want me to open it?”
“Sure.” She gave him a quirky grin. “The CIA quit sending me notes years ago. I think you’re safe.”
Quinn shot her a smile before scanning the note. “Dear A and E, postman said you haven’t emptied your box. It’s too full. Be back tomorrow. See you then. M.F.”
“Damn. The mail.” Ellie headed toward him.
“M.F.?” Quinn asked. As in motherfucker? “Where I come from M.F. is not a nice thing to say to a lady.”
Ellie laughed. “M.F. is Mr. Folsom, the neighbor next door. He thinks he’s being funny.” She set the drinks on the table and grabbed a set of keys from the desk. “I completely forgot about the mail the last two days. I’ll be right back.” She scooted out the door and returned two minutes later, tossing a pile of mail next to the glasses.
“Have a seat,” she said. “Did you get a nap today? You must be as tired as I am.”
He nodded. He was ripped. But he wouldn’t have slept at all worrying about her being alone. “Look,” he stood by the door. “This is dumb. You should go to bed. I’ll call Fido and go back to the hotel. I was just worried about you and now that I’m here, I probably shouldn’t be and…” When had he turned into a rambling idiot?
She came toward him, her pajamas floating around her in a soft wave. Taking his hand, she pulled him forward and grabbed her water as she moved back to the couch. “Shut up and sit down.” Her soft smile started that torture he’d been afraid of.
They sat next to each other, but Quinn gave her space. He still wasn’t sure if now was the time to make love to her. Oh, he could imagine it, but he wouldn’t force it.
