Crazy for the Boss (Crazy in Love Book 1)

by Ashlee Mallory

  “Have you ever watched a bout?” Sabrina asked, leaning over.

  James shook his head, still in wonderment at seeing Quinn’s transformation down on the rink. Sabrina gave him a brief explanation, describing how Quinn’s job as the jammer was to get through the blockers and earn points for her team. The women were ruthless as they knocked into each other, occasionally sending someone to the ground, where they immediately got right back up and joined the rest.

  But it was Quinn who shined. Taking each shove and hit and holding her own.

  He’d always known she was a fighter, but usually on a more metaphysical level.

  Here, she was all-out fighter. And he couldn’t be prouder.

  Or, as he cast a nervous glance to her sister and mother seated next to him, undeniably turned on.

  Chapter 14

  “You still have it,” Sabrina said as Quinn left the locker room later than night in her street clothes, her Derby gear packed away in a bag over her shoulder.

  “You were wonderful out there, sweetie,” her mom said.

  But it was James’s eyes she was having a hard time meeting, despite the fact he looked like a giant green cream puff in the parka that he’d put back on, likely for her mom’s sake.

  What must he be thinking of her?

  After spending so much time perfecting this image of polished, hardworking, and no-nonsense attorney, to have put herself in a position that might shed her in a different light, she was…nervous.

  But James didn’t seem similarly embarrassed. In fact, the glint in those blue eyes was unnerving. “All I can say is, after that rousing match, Thornhill Management is definitely not worthy of the great Quinn the Ter-Quinn-A-Tor. Actually, it’s got me thinking…about what we might play at our next company Christmas party. I can see it, can’t you? Paul and Dennis whizzing by on roller skates. Skirts optional, of course.”

  Whatever anxiousness she might have felt dissolved as she laughed. “Only if you’re out there, too.”

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  “I’m going to be heading home to have dinner with your dad,” her mom said, reminding her they had an audience.

  Her dad wasn’t much for crowds, so his absence didn’t surprise her at all. He was probably home already starting dinner since, of the two parents, her dad was the only one with any real talent for cooking—not that they’d ever admit this to their mom.

  “Are you girls still planning on dinner in town then?” her mom asked.

  Her sister was watching her a little expectantly. Quinn had planned on hanging out with her sister and a few friends tonight, eating dinner at the beer hall and then heading to Crawley’s—a dive bar that was usually the most interesting place to be on a weekend night—or any night—in Eureka.

  But having James in tow made things a little less certain. And then there was the whole throwing Quinn under the bus thing tonight. Ambushing her with no warning.

  Quinn smiled, reluctantly. “Yeah, Sabrina’s going with us.”

  “Okay, then. You all be careful. Don’t stay out too late,” her mom warned before rushing off.

  “You’re really okay with me tagging along?” Sabrina asked as they headed to the doors.

  “I think we’ll be able to squeeze you into old Bessie. We’ve squeezed five of us in the cab before, back in high school.”

  “Really?” James sounded far too intrigued. “That’s something I would have loved to see. You unguarded and carefree and, more importantly, not worried about whether there was a safety belt for everyone.”

  Quinn merely rolled her eyes, not bothering to reply. Especially since, as she recalled, the thought had entered her mind. Even back then.

  They reached the exit doors and pushed them open, the air even more impossibly bitter and cold as the sun had disappeared, giving way to evening and the fat snowflakes that were falling from dark gray skies above.

  She loved it when it was like this.

  “So, James, has my sister let you take old Bessie out for a spin yet?”

  Quinn snorted.

  “Why is that so humorous?” he asked.

  “Do you even know how to drive, James? I mean, in the time I’ve known you, you’ve been chauffeured everywhere.”

  “I’ll have you know, I’m actually a pretty good driver.”

  “Really? Then here.” Quinn held the keys out to him. “Prove it.”

  “Bessie is it? Well, navigating stubborn women is something of my expertise,” he said, accepting the keys. His eyes, though, held a certain challenge that told her he definitely wasn’t just talking about cars.

  Sabrina opened the door and held her hand out for Quinn to go first. Quinn looked inside, where James was already buckling up, and tried to steady her pulse that was now beating too erratically before she slid across the seat. She was all too aware of his heat on the other side of her—not helped by the fact that the column on the floor had her legs straddling each side so her left leg was pressed close against his.

  The interior temperature of the cab shot from icebox to furnace in three seconds.

  James turned the key, the truck revving to life, before he grabbed the gear stick that was resting between her legs.

  “Sorry,” he said, grinning without any hint of apology. He moved the gear into reverse before putting his arm on the seat behind her—another step into her personal space that was making her all sorts of crazy—and looked back as he pulled out.

  The light scent of his cologne that hinted of leather and something dark like incense surrounded her, and it was hard not to shiver as his breath practically whispered against her neck. She closed her eyes.

  Deep breath in. Out.

  What the heck was wrong with her? This was precisely why she’d needed time and space away from James Thornhill. To rid herself of these thoughts once and for all.

  And yet, here she was, entertaining them once again, if not with more lurid images running through her mind. The allure to lean into him was making her crazy.

  In an attempt at distraction and to escape the nook he’d created for her against his body, she flipped on the radio.

  “James seems to know how to handle old Bessie better than you thought, Quinn,” Sabrina said from her other side.

  “It’s not much different than an old Ford my grandfather bought me one summer, right after I’d tangled my new Porsche around a mailbox.”

  “The Porsche I can totally see,” Quinn said, relieved to hear something so reckless, so like the James she needed him to be for her own sanity. “The Ford truck? Not so much.”

  “Yeah, well, he decided that I had clearly not appreciated the Porsche and, instead of buying a replacement, chose the truck, something that he said was more fitting for a humble line cook. To tell you the truth, I kind of enjoyed it the short time I had it. So where exactly am I going?” he asked as they came to a four-way stop.

  “Left.”

  A few minutes later, they were back on Main Street, where James pulled the truck expertly into one of the parking spots that lined the river walkway, and the three of them crossed the street. It wasn’t hard to figure out where they were going as half the town was already heading to the beer hall on the corner—one of the few places that could handle the dozens of booths that the various restaurants and town vendors needed.

  Quinn breathed in the sharp night air, taking a second to steal a glance at her boss. How was it possible that even outside his usual polished surroundings, transplanted here in the near wilds of northern Idaho, he still seemed to just…fit? And looked damn fine doing it?

  Fortunately, neither James nor Sabrina had an inkling of her thoughts as they stopped to pay the entrance fee. The place was packed as they stepped inside, and the cold night air was forgotten as warm, savory aromas filled the air.

  Good Lord. She was going to need a bucket to hold everything she was going to eat. At least James was well aware of her eating habits and she wouldn’t have to pretend she ate like a bird. Unless it
was Big Bird.

  She scanned the room, getting the lay of the place that hadn’t changed much in all the time the town had hosted this event. The food booths were all placed around the perimeter of the room with tables and chairs in the middle. At the end of the hall was a stage and podium, where the talent show competition would take place—something she hoped to avoid at all costs as memories of mimes and twelve-year-old girls who danced too provocatively in previous years came to mind.

  “So what do you recommend?” James asked them.

  Quinn met her sister’s gaze. “Everything,” they both said at the same time.

  “Sabrina!” It was Bridget over at the falafel booth, waving like mad at her sister.

  “I’ll catch up with you guys later,” Sabrina said before bouncing off to join her best friend.

  Leaving her alone with James. Something that was usually par for the course, the two of them often working alone and late at night over the past few months. But there was something entirely different about being left alone with him now.

  There was a new type of synergy in the air—and between them. Unspoken, of course, but undeniable. And she didn’t know exactly why. She just knew that the attraction she’d had for him that had been building in the past few weeks had turned from a low flame to a bonfire over the course of the day, making her wish she was anyone other than Quinn Taylor, dignified employment attorney. Someone who didn’t take risks with her life, always staying the course, understanding her responsibilities.

  How she wished she could be someone else sometimes. Someone who, when James had watched her with that wicked gleam in his eyes back at the Derby, would have marched—or rolled—right over to him and planted a bone-melting kiss on that succulent mouth until he cried for mercy.

  Who would have pounced on him back at her parents’ house in that moment when they’d been tucking the sheets on the bed and he’d looked all kinds of crazy sexy despite the scrapbook and sewing crap that surrounded him in that room.

  Someone who, when his leg had pressed against hers in the truck like it had, would have rested her hand on his thigh and whispered a few dirty things in his ear like she was some heroine from one of her sister’s books.

  Instead, though, Quinn cleared her throat, willing herself to be natural. “We like to start on the end, there. Make our way around. There’s no skipping and you have to try everything at least once.”

  He glanced around the hall, his eyes settling on the plates of food. “You can actually eat that much?”

  “You might be surprised.”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

  He did it again. Grinned and gave her that look. Like she was something…wonderful.

  Holy Hannah. Get it together, Quinn.

  “Okay. Well, let’s get started,” she said and led the way, hoping he hadn’t noticed the way her face had flushed under his intense gaze.

  Just remember, Quinn. He’s out of here tomorrow. Partying with any number of beautiful women in Cabo, not giving you or this night a second thought.

  Don’t do anything you might regret.

  Chapter 15

  James stared in wonder as Quinn not only finished the last bite of the bratwurst but also downed it with a half pint of beer from the town’s microbrewery. He had no idea where she was putting everything, considering the fact that, before she’d consumed the brat, she’d also had half of a steak shish-ka-bob, a small rack of baby-back ribs, cheese fries, a fried glob of dough she called a scone (he’d been to London, so he begged to differ), an egg roll, a taquito, and a cup of clam chowder.

  She leaned back and put her hand over her slim stomach. “Okay. Maybe that last bite was a bad call.”

  “Yes, since, according to your rules, you still have the falafel and custard stops to go.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut. “Oh. Don’t say falafel.”

  He bit off a laugh just as an older couple in their fifties stopped by. “Why, hello, Quinn. So good to see you.”

  It seemed like she knew everyone in the town if the number of people who’d stopped by to say hello was any indication.

  “Tell me, is there anyone here you don’t know?” James asked when the couple wandered off. He took a drink of a pilsner from the town microbrewery that was actually quite good.

  “It’s part of that small-town charm. For better or worse,” she said and winced slightly. “It’s like living in a fishbowl.”

  He considered that. “You seem to have survived pretty well. Not that I could imagine the great Quinn Taylor ever doing anything that would warrant censure.”

  She stared down at her empty glass.

  “What’s this? Don’t tell me that Quinn Taylor was anything less than class valedictorian, president of the debate team, and all-around all-star.”

  She smiled slightly. “Well, you have most of that correct. But let’s just say that having that reputation can also make things harder. Not wanting to let people down, living up to their expectations.”

  “Yes. I imagine that would have been difficult.” He studied the prim attorney who was always doing the right thing, making the right choices, being the golden girl everyone could be proud of. It could be tiring, he supposed. As compared to him, who no one really expected anything from but failure.

  Quinn suddenly went still, her gaze on something happening by the front doors. He turned around but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, just more people, including a couple towing three kids.

  “Anyone you know?” he asked.

  She put her hands to her hair and smoothed it down before tucking it behind her shoulders. “You could say that. Crap. They’ve seen us.”

  Now he was insanely curious. “Who’s seen us?”

  “My ex-boyfriend. Just smile and nod. Pretend that we’re having a good time.”

  “I thought we were having a good time.”

  “Well, try to have a better time.” She smiled a little wildly at him, reaching over to take his pilsner and helping herself since she’d finished hers back with the bratwurst.

  “Quinn? Quinn Taylor, I thought that was you,” the blonde female half of the couple said as she reached them, pushing a baby stroller in front of her.

  “Shelby, hi. How are you?” Quinn asked through a face-cracking smile.

  “I’m six months pregnant, with three little ones under foot, so as good as anyone can be expected to be,” the blonde said and laughed. “How are you doing? Still trying to save the world out there in California?” There was a definite note of derision as she said this last bit.

  “I do what I can. Hi, Dan,” she said to the dark-haired guy holding a toddler under one arm. A third kid somewhere around nine was hitting the back of the guy, trying to get his attention.

  “Hi, Quinn,” he said, managing to ignore the butt-swatting tike. “I heard you were in town.” He glanced over at James, telling them with a derisive look that he’d also heard she was in town with James. “I’m Dan and this is my wife Shelby and our three kids. I didn’t catch your name,” he said and held his free hand out.

  “James Thornhill,” he answered, shaking hands.

  This wasn’t awkward at all.

  “How’s the insurance business?” Quinn asked as James studied the guy. Slim and with that overly earnest expression on his face like he wanted to please people. Yeah, he totally looked like insurance.

  “It’s doing great—” Dan started.

  “Everyone in town has been talking about the fact the two of you arrived in a private airplane—a Gulfstream, was it?” Shelby asked, not apparently caring that she’d cut off her husband mid-speech. “That’s so fancy. Heck, I haven’t even been on any airplane, let alone my own private one. But no surprise. Quinn always knew that what we had in this little old town wasn’t going to be good enough. I guess working for some millionaire has some benefits,” she added slyly.

  The toddler who’d been squirming in his dad’s arms started to wallop loudly, demanding to be put down. “Well, we d
idn’t mean to intrude,” Dan said. “We’ll let you two get back to your dinner. It was good seeing you, Quinn.” The guy, James noticed, barely could meet Quinn’s eyes and appeared almost relieved to have a reason to leave.

  “All right,” Shelby said with reluctance. “I’m sure we’ll catch up later at your parents’ party tomorrow anyhow. Mom’s fit to be tied with trying to keep this secret from your mom. They never were very good at keeping secrets from each other.”

  Quinn nodded, her smile still pinned painfully in place. “I look forward to it.”

  Sure she did.

  “That was…interesting,” James said after they departed. “Shelby certainly seemed to have a lot to say. Something tells me there was some history there that I don’t know.”

  Quinn shrugged. “She used to be my best friend.”

  Her best friend and her ex? “What the hell happened?”

  “Nothing. Other than Shelby made the unilateral decision that friends should share everything when she went and screwed my boyfriend in the boy’s locker room. During our senior prom. If that wasn’t hard enough, little Sawyer came along nine months later.”

  “Ouch.” He didn’t know much more to say.

  She studied her empty plate. “You know, I think I could use some fresh air. Want to take a walk?”

  “Sure.” He helped grab their plates and dropped them in a garbage can and followed her out. “What about Sabrina?”

  “Oh, we’ll catch her at Crawley’s.”

  For once, he was grateful for the poufy warmth of the parka as he pulled it around him, the high top of the lumberjack boots that kept his feet dry and steady—unlike his loafers. He glanced at Quinn to see how she was doing, but if she was cold, she covered it well as she took long strides on the sidewalk, her face tucked into the light purple scarf wrapped around her neck.

  He waited until they’d crossed the street and were on a path that led around the lake to say anything. “I’m sorry.”

  That caught her attention. She looked over at him. “For what?”

  “Sorry that you were put through that drama in high school. I can only imagine how that must have made you feel.”