by Jenna Sutton
Quinn’s deep voice startled her, and she let out a little scream of surprise. She spun around with her hands on her heart to find him leaning against the breakfast bar. Even though he wore a faded USC T-shirt and a pair of plaid flannel pajama bottoms, he looked gorgeous.
He smiled slowly, his dark blue eyes glinting with amusement. “Good morning.”
Dropping her hands, she smiled weakly. “Hi.”
He straightened and walked over to her. He smoothed a hand over her hair before putting his finger under her chin and tilting up her head. He placed a gentle kiss on her lips.
“How are you feeling, Juice?” he asked softly, staring into her eyes. “I worked you over pretty good last night.”
She suddenly felt shy, and she dropped her gaze. Unfortunately, she now had a much better understanding of how awkward the morning after could be, and she had a hard time untangling her tongue.
“Fine,” she finally mumbled.
He laughed softly before kissing her again, a deep caress that made her insides liquid. “I hope you’re better than fine, sweetheart.”
Clearing her throat, she managed to squeeze out another word. “Yes.”
“Good. Because I thought we could play tourists today and visit Alcatraz. We can drop by the penthouse so you can change.”
“Haven’t you had enough of my company yet?”
“I haven’t had enough of you.” He tapped her on the tip of her nose. “Not even close.”
• • •
Sighing in exasperation, Amelia leaned her elbows on the kitchen counter. “Just try it. It’s not going to kill you.”
Quinn eyed the juice she’d given him. “What’s in it?”
“Stuff that’s good for you.”
Frowning, he picked up the glass and sniffed it. He looked longingly at the cup of coffee sitting on the bar nearby.
On the drive from his house to Riley Plaza, she had agreed to make a late breakfast at the penthouse. He had asked if she had any coffee, and when she’d said no, he’d cut off another car to dart into the Starbucks drive-thru.
She’d already mixed together the ingredients for an egg white and vegetable frittata, and while it cooked in the oven, she had made some juice for both of them. She didn’t really expect him to drink it, but it was fun to tease him.
He shifted on the barstool. “I guess I should be relieved it’s purple instead of green.”
“The beets make it purple.”
He looked up, disgust filling his handsome face. “Seriously?”
She laughed. He obviously hadn’t been paying attention when she made the juice.
“No. It’s just blueberries, you big baby.”
She turned to pull the frittata from the oven, and when she glanced back, his glass of juice was empty. Her glass, however, nearly overflowed. He was sneaky, no doubt about it.
“Did you just pour your juice into my glass?”
“Why would you think that?”
“Because my glass was nearly empty and now it’s full.”
He widened his eyes in an effort to look innocent. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She gave him a look of mock outrage, and he winked at her. She pushed down a smile, knowing it would only encourage him, and turned her attention to their brunch. She sprinkled a mix of white and yellow cheddar on top of the frittata, pleased with the way it had turned out. The spinach, red peppers, and mushrooms were a colorful, tasty combination.
Plating the frittata, she added a couple of orange slices and strawberries before delivering the plates to the dining room table. He grabbed his coffee and her juice and followed her.
He pulled out a chair for her, and when she sat down, he kissed the top of her head. He was so affectionate, and she wasn’t used to being touched.
She hadn’t been with her other lovers long enough to experience the casual affection most couples shared. She hadn’t wanted it from them, but she was afraid she could become addicted to Quinn’s attention.
Amelia had grown up with little or no affection. Her mother certainly hadn’t paid any attention to her, so she hadn’t exactly been showered with hugs and kisses.
Ava Grace’s grandmother had been the only other person in her young life, and she had been more of the “spare the rod and spoil the child” mentality. In fact, Amelia couldn’t remember receiving a hug of comfort from anyone other than Ava Grace.
Amelia was physically and emotionally reserved with everyone except her best friend. She had no doubt Ava Grace would rather die than hurt her so she didn’t need to protect herself.
Somehow Quinn had slipped through her protective outer shell, though. Sometimes she forgot to be careful and cautious with him, and she’d relax enough to laugh and tease . . . to be herself. She was more vulnerable with him than she wanted to be, and it scared her.
She and Quinn didn’t have a chance at a real relationship until she stopped lying to him, and once she told him the truth, she doubted he’d want anything to do with her. Her chest ached at the thought of how he would respond when he knew about her project with Teagan.
His low moan distracted her from her depressing thoughts. The man really loved his food.
“Whatever this is, it’s delicious,” he said, pointing to his plate before taking another bite. “Thank you for cooking for me.”
His praise gave her a warm glow. She didn’t like to fail, and she didn’t like to do things if she couldn’t do them well. That was why she’d been willing to give up the gig with Riley O’Brien when she thought Cherry hated her designs.
“You’re welcome. But you have to do the dishes.”
“That seems fair.”
While they enjoyed the frittata, she and Quinn talked about Ava Grace’s recent nomination for two awards from the American Association of Country Music. It was a big deal to win one of the awards, which were called Aces. This was the first year Ava Grace had been nominated, and she also had been asked to perform at the awards show, which was scheduled for early November.
“Have you heard Ava Grace’s newest song?”
Quinn nodded. “Yes. I like it a lot.”
“So you’re a fan?”
He shrugged. “I’m a fan of all music. I can find something to like about every song and every singer.”
“So you’re not one of those guys who constantly changes stations?”
He laughed. “No. I’m good with anything you want to listen to.”
She studied him across the dining room table. He was a lot more complicated than he seemed. He masked his intensity with banter and laughter, but she wasn’t fooled. She had witnessed it up close and personal. She’d felt it against her skin and inside her body.
They finished their meals, and she decided to help him with the dishes. They worked side by side without speaking until he abruptly broke the silence.
“You don’t have to worry, Juice.”
His words came out of the blue, and she eyed him intently. “What are you talking about?”
“Whatever we do in private won’t affect our professional relationship.” His voice was quiet, but the sincerity was evident. “I promise you it won’t.”
She looked down, staring at the damp dishcloth in her hands. If she were concerned solely about her lack of professionalism, his words would have gone a long way toward soothing her.
“Do you really think that’s possible?”
“Yes, I do.”
“I don’t.”
She had been very stupid to think she could have sex with Quinn without it impacting every other part of her life.
“Amelia, we can keep things just between us. No one has to know if you don’t want them to. Not Teagan. Not Cal. No one.”
His efforts to reassure her spoke volumes about the innate decency she had recognized in him, and she felt even
worse about her deception. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to ignore the voice in her head. It reminded her that she didn’t have to lie to Quinn if she was willing to give up the redesign and turn down Teagan’s offer to fund her boutiques.
“I know you believe what you’re saying. I just hope you’re right.” She tossed the dishtowel on the counter. “I’m going to take a shower and change.”
As she turned to walk out of the kitchen, Quinn hooked his fingers in her waistband to stop her. “How would you feel about some company?”
She shivered at the thought of some sudsy sex with him. It was a fantasy she’d had for a few weeks now, and she just didn’t have the willpower to turn him down.
“What about Alcatraz?” she asked.
“Alcatraz has been standing for more than one hundred years, and I’m pretty sure it will still be standing no matter what time we get there.”
Moving behind her, he pulled her to him. She could feel his erection, and her knees trembled a little.
“I hope you’ve got plenty of soap,” he said, pressing his hard length against her, “because I’m feeling really dirty.”
Chapter 24
Quinn sat down on a stool next to Deda and braced his elbows on the restaurant’s long bar. He’d asked the other man to join him for a drink after work because he wanted to talk with someone who knew Riley O’Brien & Co. inside and out but wasn’t part of the family.
As soon as he finished up with Deda, he planned to head back to Riley Plaza to see Amelia. When he’d dropped her off at the penthouse after their outing to Alcatraz two days ago, he had reiterated his promise that their personal activities wouldn’t interfere with their professional relationship.
He was doing his best to keep that promise, too, even though he wanted to call her to his office, throw her on the sofa, and shove his face between her legs. When he’d stopped by her workshop yesterday, he hadn’t talked about anything other than business. And today when he’d swung by to say hello, he’d managed to keep his hands to himself despite her figure-hugging dress.
Forcing himself to stop thinking about Amelia, he turned his attention back to Deda. “Thanks for meeting me.”
Deda gave him an assessing glance, and he quickly picked up on Quinn’s mood. “What’s going on, Quinn?”
He had a moment to collect his thoughts when the bartender approached and asked for his order. He ordered a Fat Tire for himself, and Deda requested a vodka tonic.
“You think you’re going to need hard liquor for this conversation?” he asked, not entirely in jest.
Deda chuckled. “Maybe.”
Quinn trusted Deda implicitly because the older man always had the company’s best interests at heart. And right now, he needed to talk with someone unbiased. He knew Deda would tell him the truth, even if it wasn’t pretty.
“My dad’s not coming back to work.”
Deda silently absorbed Quinn’s bombshell for a few moments. “I had doubts he would.”
“He plans to make the official announcement in December. He’s going to name me as his successor at the same time.”
Deda nodded. “He’s making the right decision.”
Deda’s loyalty made Quinn smile. “I’ve done my best to run the company as he would have if he hadn’t been sick. I’ve been careful not to make any big changes.”
“I know you’ve been dancing to your dad’s beat.”
In James’s mind, Rileys were practical and comfortable, not a fashion statement. He was more concerned about quality than style, and for most of his life, he had focused on making Rileys better. He had improved the quality and craftsmanship of the jeans.
And he had led the charge in the apparel industry to embrace sustainable manufacturing and farming. In fact, Riley O’Brien & Co. had been the first company to introduce jeans made from organic cotton.
His dad was innovative in his own way, but he wasn’t going to suddenly change the way he thought about the fashion industry. He’d never wanted to be part of it. But once his dad turned the company over to him, Quinn would be able to implement any changes he wanted.
“Deda, once Dad hands over the company to me, I’m not going to hold back any longer.”
The bartender delivered their drinks, and Deda took a big swallow before speaking. “What do you have in mind?”
Quinn shook his head. “I’m not sure yet. But I need you to give me some information.”
“I will if I can.”
“Have you noticed there are fewer retailers interested in partnering with us? Are you seeing fewer requests from boutiques interested in carrying our jeans?”
“Yes.” Deda’s answer was pithy but powerful.
Quinn exhaled roughly. “Explain.”
“Boutiques that sell apparel exclusively for women are choosing other designers and manufacturers.” Deda swirled his vodka tonic around in its glass. “The ones that target men are more interested in upscale clothing: suits, business casual attire, and apparel of that nature.”
“And what about the regional retailers?”
“They want to stock what sells, and women aren’t buying Rileys. The retailers don’t want to manage too many vendor relationships, and they prefer brands that appeal to both men and women.” Deda swiveled on his stool toward Quinn. “Am I telling you anything that you didn’t already know?”
“Not really,” he answered, shaking his head. “If we don’t have products that sell, smart retailers aren’t going to waste space on them.”
“That’s right.”
“Do you think we can change their minds? Get them on our side again?”
Deda shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. Definitely not if things stay the same.” He paused. “Amelia has a good handle on what needs to change.”
He cocked his head. “Amelia?”
“Yes. She’s not some empty-headed fashionista, you know.”
Deda was fierce in his defense of Amelia, and Quinn was secretly pleased the other man liked her so much. God knew, Quinn liked her.
A lot.
He held up his hands, palms out. “Whoa, man. I never said she was.”
Deda gave him a long look. “She has some really good ideas, Quinn.”
“Like what?”
Deda tapped his fingers against the bar without answering, and Quinn resisted the urge to slam his hand down on top of them. “What ideas, Deda?”
Draining the remainder of his vodka tonic in one big swallow, Deda returned the glass to the bar. “You should ask her,” he suggested before standing. “I need to get home.”
Deda pulled a twenty-dollar bill from his wallet, but Quinn stopped him by holding up a hand. “I’ve got it. Thanks again for meeting me.”
“Quinn, you know the company needs to make some big changes. But just in case you didn’t know this: I am behind you one hundred percent.” Deda patted him on the back. “See you tomorrow, boss.”
• • •
On his walk back to Riley Plaza, Quinn mulled over the conversation with Deda. Riley O’Brien & Co. had to maintain a strong network of retailers. Period. If Rileys weren’t available in the stores where people shopped, they’d just buy something else.
He wondered if Amelia’s designs would attract any new retail partners given their interest in designers that appealed to both men and women. Deda’s mysterious comments about Amelia and her ideas had made him curious about her plans for the new accessories.
She had promised to have the first set of designs available for review in mid-November. He made a mental note to check in with her to see if she felt good about her progress so far.
He also needed to talk with her about their upcoming trip to the manufacturing facility that would be retrofitted to produce her accessories. The visit was important because he wanted her to understand the investment Riley O’Brien & Co. had to make to take her desig
ns from concept to reality.
They were scheduled to fly to Georgia this Thursday to tour the facility, and she was supposed to head back to Nashville afterward. But he was going to suggest they postpone the trip until next week. He wanted her to meet his parents before she returned home. And yeah, maybe he was looking for a reason to keep her in San Francisco for a little longer.
Turning right at the corner, he increased his pace. He was eager to see Amelia. He wanted to hear about her day and tell her about his. And he wanted to kiss her pink lips, touch her soft skin, and sink into her snug body.
His cock twitched, and he shoved his hands into his front pockets to ease the pressure behind his fly. He had been sure that once he’d ended his dry spell with Amelia, his desire for her would decrease to more manageable levels . . . that he wouldn’t be so crazy. But he was worried he wanted her even more than before. And he’d been pretty desperate before he had spent hours inside her.
It had been impossible to keep his hands off her at the chocolate festival, and when she’d suggested that he take her home, he’d employed every bit of self-control he possessed to prevent himself from pouncing on her in his car.
Once they’d gotten to his place, though, her obvious nervousness had made him hesitate. Although he wanted Amelia, he also wanted her to feel good about being with him. When she had said she wanted to see his bedroom, he’d almost fallen to his knees in thanks.
He hadn’t been able to get enough of her luscious body, and he’d been more than a little greedy. After he had pinned her to the wall in the penthouse shower and kept her there until the hot water ran out, he’d promised himself that he would give her some time to recover.
The visit to Alcatraz had been fun, but his hyperawareness of Amelia had increased rather than decreased. He’d wanted to touch her constantly, even if it was only his hand on her lower back or his arm around her shoulders.
Quinn reached Riley Plaza, and he used his keycard to let himself into the skyscraper. As he rode the escalator to the company’s reception area, his heart began to thud heavily. By the time he arrived on the penthouse floor, his palms were sweating and his heart was racing. He shook his head in irritation.
