All the Right Places (RILEY O'BRIEN & CO #1)

by Jenna Sutton

  Now that she was an adult, Amelia had a better understanding of Chuck’s decision. He’d been a roughneck, and his work on offshore oil wells had taken him away from home for months at a time.

  As little girls, Amelia and Ava Grace had been linked by poverty and neglect. Hungry for love and attention, they’d become each other’s family. They had tackled life as if it were the two of them against the world, and they’d lived together since Ava Grace’s grandmother had died just days after Ava Grace’s fifteenth birthday.

  By God’s grace, June had owned the house she and Ava Grace shared, so Ava Grace hadn’t been homeless. Knowing the horror of Amelia’s own living situation, her best friend had demanded that she move in with her. They’d managed to stay in school and had kept themselves afloat by working nights, Amelia serving greasy food at a twenty-four-hour diner and Ava Grace pressing clothes for the local dry cleaner.

  Amelia heard the crunch of gravel as a car drove into the driveway, and she quickly tidied up her worktable. She met Ava Grace as the tall blonde stepped out of her car, a flashy red Camaro she’d splurged on when her song “I’m Not Your Anything” had hit number one.

  Ava Grace’s short black dress showed off her long, tan legs, and her hot pink cropped jacket matched her cowboy boots. Her platinum-colored hair was in a long braid down her back, and long silver earrings dangled from her lobes. If Amelia didn’t love her so much, she would have hated her for being so beautiful.

  “Hey, girl,” Ava Grace said, pushing the door to her Camaro shut with her hip since her hands were filled with her big purse and a white paper sack. “I figured you hadn’t had lunch yet, so I brought us some soup and sandwiches from Main Street Deli.”

  “Yum,” she replied, just now realizing how hungry she was.

  Ava Grace hummed her agreement. “And I had Beth toss in a couple of caramel brownies,” she added, chuckling as Amelia licked her lips hungrily. “They’re a bribe for you to tell me all about your trip.”

  “Why would you think I’d need a bribe to talk about it?” she prevaricated.

  “Because Teagan left me a voicemail that you planned to do all your design work here, and that Quinn acted weird when she asked him about it. She also told me they want you to stay in the company-owned penthouse while you’re there.”

  Amelia ground her teeth together. “Why didn’t she just pass you a note during homeroom?”

  Ava Grace ignored her, and they made their way toward the big front porch that wrapped around the farmhouse. She placed the sack of food on the metal bistro table near the front door before heading inside.

  Reaching into the bag, Amelia pulled out two sandwiches wrapped in deli paper, along with two cups of soup. She dug around the bottom and uncovered some plastic spoons and napkins, but no brownies.

  The screen door slammed shut, signaling Ava Grace’s return to the porch. She carried two glasses of iced tea, and she’d taken off her jackets and boots.

  Frowning, Amelia put her hands on her hips. “Where are the brownies?”

  “I hid them inside the house. You can have one after you’ve answered my questions.”

  Amelia growled. “You’re such a brat sometimes. No one would buy your music if they knew.”

  Ava Grace rolled her eyes before placing the glasses on the table and taking her seat. “I got chicken salad for you,” she said, reaching for her own sandwich.

  Amelia dropped into her chair. It was hard to be mad at Ava Grace when she’d been thoughtful enough to get her favorite sandwich, a creamy mixture of diced chicken, pecans, and red grapes on a buttery croissant.

  After they’d enjoyed several mouthfuls, Ava Grace turned her hazel eyes to Amelia. “I Googled Quinn O’Brien before you went to San Francisco. I trust Teagan, but I wanted to know more about him and what you were getting into.”

  She wasn’t surprised by Ava Grace’s admission. Her best friend was fiercely protective of her, despite the fact that Amelia had been taking care of herself for most of her life.

  Ava Grace leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs, the glittery blue polish on her toenails sparkling in the afternoon sunlight. “From what I read, he’s pretty impressive. But you and I both know very few people live up to the hype,” she said cynically. “All hat and no cattle.”

  Amelia nodded, agreeing with Ava Grace’s assessment. They had realized that truth soon after Ava Grace had won American Star. Suddenly the two of them had socialized with famous people they’d only read about, and more often than not, they’d been disappointed by the reality.

  “So what was he like in the flesh?”

  At the thought of Quinn’s flesh, Amelia choked on the iced tea she’d swallowed. Ava Grace thumped her on the back before tossing her a knowing look.

  “What’s got you all choked up?” When Amelia didn’t answer, Ava Grace sighed and picked up her spoon. “Are you going to take them up on the offer to stay in the penthouse?”

  “Yes. I think it’s nice of them to let me use it.”

  “Very nice.” She pointed her spoon at Amelia. “And since you’ll have a comfy, safe place to lay your head, I want you to tell me why you’re not going to stay in California until the project is complete.”

  She sighed. This was a situation in which Ava Grace’s bossy nature was decidedly not charming.

  “Because I’m worried Quinn will distract me, and I won’t be able to do what needs to be done.”

  As much as she hated to admit it, she had serious concerns about the sparks that flew when she and Quinn were in the same room. She didn’t want to be unprofessional, and she definitely did not want to mix business and pleasure.

  Even if Teagan’s redesign project wasn’t successful, this partnership for the accessories line was important. It was a crucial step in achieving her career goals.

  “I’m not sure I understand,” Ava Grace replied after a moment. “You think he’s going to be all up in your business, asking questions and pushing his opinion on you?”

  She shook her head. “No. He told me he doesn’t micromanage his people.”

  Ava Grace’s eyebrows rose. “Then what do you mean when you say ‘distract’?”

  “Distract as in I can’t think about anything else but stripping him naked and pulling him down on top of me,” she admitted.

  After a beat of shocked silence, Ava Grace hooted with laughter. “Oh, really?” she teased. “Is he that hot?”

  She considered Ava Grace’s question. “Yes, he’s that hot. But it’s more than that . . .” She struggled to find the right words. When she couldn’t, she shrugged her shoulders. “He appeals to me,” she explained lamely.

  Without question, Quinn was physically tempting. But she liked him, too. She had enjoyed their meeting more than she had anticipated, and she admired his obvious dedication to Riley O’Brien & Co., even if he had a blind spot when it came to the women’s division.

  “Did he give you any idea he might be interested in you, too?”

  “I don’t want him to be interested in me,” she replied emphatically.

  Heaven help her if Quinn actually turned the full strength of his hotness her way. She’d never be able to resist the temptation.

  At that alarming yet enticing thought, she broke down and told Ava Grace about the face-in-the-cleavage debacle, causing the gorgeous blonde to almost fall off the chair in hysterics. When Ava Grace’s laughter subsided, Amelia kicked her best friend’s shin with the tip of her worn ballet-style flats.

  “Give me my brownie.”

  Ava Grace grinned slyly. “I’ll give you both brownies if you tell me how you felt when his face was this close to your ta-tas.”

  Chapter 7

  Amelia evaluated herself in the full-body mirror in the penthouse’s bathroom. She’d chosen a chocolate-brown shirtdress for her first official day at Riley O’Brien & Co.

  It w
as one of her favorites and never failed to give her a boost of confidence. She definitely needed that boost today.

  Smoothing her hands down the front of the dress, she fiddled with the buttons that ran from collar to hem. She couldn’t decide if she was more excited or nervous. Either way, she decided some positive self-talk might be in order.

  You can do this. You will do this. You’re going to kick butt and take names, and the whole world will want to buy your designs.

  She wanted to show off some of her best pieces while she was here, but doing so would be a challenge since most of them looked best with jeans. She knew she couldn’t walk around in a pair made by the competition without inciting Quinn’s displeasure, but she refused to wear Rileys in public, at least until she’d redesigned them.

  As a result, dresses and skirts made up the bulk of the clothes she’d brought to San Francisco. She’d made sure they would look good with her designs, and the shirtdress was the best of the bunch.

  Made of crisp yet soft cotton piqué, the dress had a subtle texture and a dressy sheen. It conformed to her petite figure so the skirt wasn’t too full and the bodice wasn’t too tight. As Goldilocks had said in The Three Bears, it was just right.

  She’d replaced the matching brown belt with one of her own designs. Constructed from caramel-colored leather and accented with dark brown leather stitching, the three-inch-wide belt was held together in the front by a narrower strip of the same leather and a delicate gold buckle.

  Turning sideways in the mirror, she debated which shoes to wear. She definitely didn’t want to go overboard and wear boots every day, so she eventually decided on a pair of nude peep-toes.

  The light color made her legs look longer, which was important because she was kind of stubby, and the four-inch stacked heel gave her some much-needed height. By the end of the day, her feet would ache, but the pain might be worth the gain, for today at least.

  As she dug through her bag of jewelry to find the right necklace and earrings, she went over her agenda for the day. When she had arrived at Riley Plaza late last night, the security guard on duty had given her a thick packet of information that included a map of the headquarters, her schedule for the next several days, the name and location of her assigned work area, and the key code to the penthouse.

  This morning she would meet her liaison and receive an orientation of sorts to review the company’s history and corporate structure. After lunch with Teagan, she would be introduced to the CFO and the head of the women’s division.

  She finally found the pieces she wanted—a long, chunky gold chain with a big amber pendant and matching drop earrings. She put them on before heading to the kitchen to grab her bag. She didn’t want to be late and make a bad impression.

  As she made her way to the elevators to head downstairs, she wondered if Quinn would participate in today’s meetings. Since he had indicated he had little or no interest in this project, she doubted she would see much of him. That suited her just fine. The more time she spent with him, the greater the likelihood she’d end up doing something stupid.

  The elevator dinged to let her know she had arrived on the second floor. Stepping out, she ran headlong into a hard male body, one that stood way too close to the entrance. She scowled, annoyed by rude people who crowded elevators and refused to let other passengers disgorge before they pushed their way in.

  She teetered on her heels, and one of them got stuck in the crack between the elevator and the floor. Strong hands grabbed her upper arms to keep her from windmilling backward.

  “Whoa, careful.”

  The deep voice sounded so much like Quinn’s rich baritone she knew immediately she’d just run into Callum O’Brien. She righted herself, and he dropped his hands and stepped back so she could move away from the elevator.

  “You must be Amelia.”

  She looked up, way up. She was surprised to see Callum was even taller than Quinn, although not by much. He was also leaner than his older brother, although he was by no means skinny.

  “You must be Callum.”

  He nodded. “You can call me Cal.”

  She noticed he and Quinn looked enough alike it would be obvious to strangers they were brothers. But Cal’s jaw wasn’t quite as defined as Quinn’s, and his lips weren’t nearly as full.

  The biggest difference between the two men was their eyes. While Quinn’s eyes were a dark, deep blue, almost navy, Cal’s eyes were light blue, like fresh water under a layer of ice, with a darker ring of blue around the edge of the irises.

  The combination of his dark hair and icy blue eyes was arresting, and she caught herself staring. The O’Brien siblings were definitely blessed when it came to looks.

  “I’ve heard a lot about you,” they said in union and then laughed awkwardly.

  “Let’s try that again,” Cal said, tossing her a smile that would give most women heatstroke. She had the fleeting thought that Quinn’s smile was much more attractive.

  “Teagan has raved about you for months now.”

  Amelia knew Teagan was a fan of her work because she was vocal with her praise. “She thinks I can shake things up,” she teased since Teagan had advised her that Cal was far more enthusiastic than Quinn regarding the new line of accessories.

  He laughed. “I hope we can handle it,” he said. “Do you need any help with directions? I can walk with you.”

  “I’m waiting to meet my liaison,” she replied, and a second later she heard the sound of her name from behind her.

  “Amelia Winger. I’ve been waiting ages to meet you.”

  She turned to greet the body attached to such a strong drawl and was taken aback to see a black man about her age with a head full of dreadlocks. Based on the accent, which she had identified as Deep South elite, she had expected an older white man.

  “Aldridge Davis?”

  He held out his hand for a quick handshake. “Yes, ma’am, although everybody calls me Deda,” he said, pronouncing his nickname as “Deed-uh.”

  He smiled, the contrast between his smooth, dark skin and white teeth striking. “I’ll be your liaison while you’re here.”

  Deda turned to Cal, and they bumped fists like teenage boys. “Yo, Cal, thanks for keeping Miz Winger company while she waited for me.”

  Cal smiled. “It was definitely my pleasure.” He pointed toward Deda. “This guy will take good care of you,” he said, winking at her. “I’ll see you later.”

  Amelia turned back toward Deda. Someone clearly thought she needed a babysitter, and poor Deda had drawn the short straw.

  “I’m sorry I’m taking you away from your daily responsibilities,” she began, but Deda cut her off.

  “Honey, I am abso-freakin-lutely delighted to hang with you,” he said, patting her shoulder. “Don’t worry about it.”

  Stepping back, he ran his eyes up and down her body, his gaze assessing rather than lecherous. “Oh, I just adore your style. I was so excited when I heard about the new line of accessories. Finally, we’re going to have something new to talk about.”

  He pushed back the paisley-patterned cuff of his lavender dress shirt to peer at his watch. “We should probably get started so we can finish in time for lunch with Teagan.” He held out his arm to her as if they were a bridesmaid and groomsman. “Shall we go?”

  As they made the short trip from the reception area to the third-floor collaboration area, she questioned him about what his liaison duties entailed. “Basically, I’m here to make sure you meet everyone you need to know and that you have everything you need including all the background information on the company.”

  They reached their destination before she could quiz him about what he did when he wasn’t babysitting her. “Collaboration area,” she realized, was just a fancy phrase for “conference room.”

  Regardless of what it was called, it was empty. Deda explained they’d ha
ve the room to themselves until this afternoon when the CFO and division vice president joined them.

  “Both of them have been with the company for more than twenty years. Between you and me, I think they’re having a hard time adjusting to Quinn being in charge.”

  If Deda meant to arouse her curiosity with his statement, he definitely succeeded. But before she delved into the discord that existed between Quinn and two key employees, she was eager to learn more about Deda.

  “What do you do when you’re not hanging out with me?”

  “I have a very impressive title.” He winked at her. “Executive vice president of business development.”

  “That is a very impressive title,” she said gravely, but her smile gave her away. “And what does an executive vice president of business development do?”

  He took a few moments to outline his main responsibilities. He and his team were in charge of building new relationships for Riley O’Brien & Co., and those relationships included a wide range of potential business partners, from investors and suppliers to distributors and vendors.

  “On a typical day, I talk with new retailers about carrying our products, track down companies that can supply our raw materials like denim and zippers, and vet trucking companies to join our logistics network, among other things.”

  The complexity of his job awed her. “Aren’t you a little young to have so much responsibility?”

  He stared at her. “Just how old do you think I am?”

  “Maybe I’m not a good judge, but I thought you were my age,” she admitted.

  He guffawed, slapping his palms on the conference table. “Oh, honey, you just made my day! I can’t wait to tell Harris.”

  “Who’s Harris?”