The Everywhere Man

by Victoria Gordon

  He paused thoughtfully, and Alix noticed for the first time consciously that he, too, was dressed in drab overalls and heavy field boots.

  ‘Back to Brisbane already? But you just got here this morning.’ Quinn looked at his visitor with an expression that could have been either amusement or exasperation. Alix didn’t dare examine it too closely.

  The man shrugged. ‘You know how it is. There are some decisions you just can’t delegate.’ Then he grinned at Alix and it was such an open, genuine smile that she couldn’t help returning it. ‘Don’t let him roust on you too much, miss,’ the man said. ‘It was a mistake anybody could make, and from the look of things I should be thanking you for it, because otherwise we’d be totally out of touch at a time I’m just as glad they were able to reach me,’

  ‘I have no intention of rousting on Miss McLean,’ Quinn retorted. He had moved around to the front of Alix’s drafting table as they had been talking, and now turned to face her with the almost completed latch sketch in his hand.

  ‘I presume this is your work.’ And she nodded. Quinn looked at the sketch again, then flung it down on the table in a gesture Alix couldn’t quite comprehend. ‘Will you have finished it by this afternoon?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, I ... I think so, unless ...’

  ‘Right,’ he interrupted, turning away to his shooting friend. ‘Come and I’ll buy you a decent lunch to make up for the shooting we’ve missed. Than I’ll pour you on the plane and we’ll hope for better luck next time.’

  He turned back to Alix just before they went through the doorway. ‘Don’t worry about the padlock problem now, since it can obviously wait until you get home tonight. But I really would like to see that design finished this afternoon.’ It was a message both for Alix and for Mr Jennings, who had picked up the design and was looking at it curiously.

  But all he said was ‘very interesting,’ before he replaced the paper and scurried after the other two men, closing the door quietly behind him.

  The snick of it closing was a signal for Alix to slump into her chair, sighing with the relief that coursed through her. She felt exhausted, both physically and mentally, by the incredible occurrences of the morning. How could she possibly have locked Anna up instead of Nick? Even in retrospect it didn’t seem possible, but obviously she had done exactly that.

  And to find that Quinn Tennant was the ‘big boss’ — that was a revelation Alix could have done without. And why should he show such interest in her doodling? Surely even Quinn Tennant must realise she’d only been passing the time, but now ...

  She spent the remainder of the morning on the drawing, broke for a light lunch at the small restaurant in the nearby Sugarland shopping centre, and finished her final drawing and perspective of the latch just before three o’clock. It was, she thought, rather a good example of her work, but what significance it could have to Quinn Tennant she couldn’t imagine. Personally she would have preferred to work on something relevant to his own company and its work.

  She was forced to approach Mr Jennings during afternoon tea-break, both to announce that she had finished the drawing as ordered by Mr Tennant, and to seek something else to work on for the balance of the afternoon.

  Fortunately, he had several perspectives that required work, but Alix had barely begun when a tall, slender woman of about forty-five entered the room to announce that she was Mr Tennant’s secretary and that he would see Miss McLean immediately.

  It was a command, not an invitation, and Alix hastened to follow the other woman through the maze of corridors to the executive suite. And awaiting her was a far different Quinn Tennant from the one who had been so angry with her earlier that day.

  This Quinn was dressed tidily in a light brown, pin-striped business suit with a sparkling white shirt and relatively subdued tie and pocket handkerchief. Heavy gold cufflinks set off the expanse of cuff that showed from beneath the suit coat sleeves, and his casual, loafer-style shoes were both shiny and expensive.

  He had risen from behind an enormous desk to greet her, looming above her as he approached and gestured for her to be seated.

  ‘Not there,’ he rasped as she was about to take a seat directly across the desk from his executive armchair. Instead, he directed her towards the snug trio of less formal furniture in one corner of the large office, and Alix noticed as she took the proffered seat that her drawings were displayed on the small coffee table before the studio chair on which Quinn reclined.

  In growing bewilderment she refused his offer of coffee, and again when he switched to tea. She couldn’t even reply when he suggested a drink, then. What kind of boss went around offering a new employee alcohol in the middle of the afternoon? It was obvious he was trying to allay her growing nervousness, but it seemed so unusual a treatment that Alix only grew more and more uncomfortable.

  ‘For God’s sake, settle down. I’m not going to bite you,’ he snarled after his secretary had brought his coffee and departed with a querying look at Alix. ‘Quite the opposite, in fact. You are a most surprising young lady, Alix.’

  What could she say to that? Fortunately he didn’t give her time to worry about replying. He had picked up her final drawing of the gate latch as she thought it could be reworked to avoid the problem of accidental opening and was studying it intently.

  ‘You worked this out since our ... confrontation last night?’

  This morning, actually,’ she replied.

  ‘Why?’ The question was brusque, yet his tone of voice showed a definite interest.

  ‘Well ... oh, I don’t know,’ she replied lamely. ‘I had nothing else to do, and after last night ...’

  ‘Oh, stop being all modest and shy and ... stupid’ he snapped. ‘Nobody expects you to have worked your feet off on the first day here and I know very well it isn’t your fault you had nothing else to do. What I want to know is why this?’

  ‘I just thought that style of latch could be improved, that s all,’ she replied, wondering just what he was getting at. All she’d done was slightly alter two aspects of the mechanism; it wasn’t as if she’d designed something unique.

  ‘And you just reckoned you could improve on a design that’s patented world-wide, and that’s been tried and proven over a number of years?’ There was something in his voice now, but Alix couldn’t read it accurately. Anger? No, but a sort of probing intensity. She thought about her drawings and wondered if she had made some utterly stupid mistake, then decided that no, she definitely had not.

  ‘I think I did improve it, yes,’ she replied then, very quietly and not entirely sure of herself.

  ‘And you don’t think you might have been been just a little presumptuous?’

  Presumptuous? After all the problems the stupid thing had caused her? The total misunderstandings, the blame? ‘No, she replied adamantly, ‘I don’t think it was in the least presumptuous. If the thing had been designed right in the first place then Nick couldn’t have opened it, could he? As it is, a child could open that gate just by leaning on it the right way.’

  Quinn’s eyes seemed to harden slightly, and Alix’s newfound confidence flowed away from her. ‘Besides,’ she muttered almost under her breath, ‘I don’t think it makes any difference. It’s only a stupid gate latch.’

  ‘Stupid?’ His voice rose as he looked at her with apparent astonishment she thought bordered on contempt.

  ‘Oh, look, I’m sorry,’ Alix replied wearily. ‘But I honestly just don’t know what you’re on about, I had nothing else to do and I was bored and I drew some improvements I thought would make it better. I was only doodling, and I just don’t see why you think it’s so important.’

  And to her surprise, Quinn Tennant smiled at her — a broad, genuine, warm smile that seemed to light up his entire face. It was almost disconcerting to see such an abrupt transition.

  ‘No, it’s I who should be apologising,’ he said then. ‘And I do, because I should have realised you couldn’t possibly understand.’ He chuckled, a soft, generous sou
nd that somehow made him almost entirely human but no less easy to understand. ‘Stand up, please. Miss McLean.’

  Alix did, casting him an apprehensive look as she rose gracefully. Quinn also reared up from his seat and stepped round to stand facing her directly and very, very close. Too close.

  ‘Close your eyes,’ he said softly, and Alix complied despite an inner voice screaming out cautions to her. Quinn was putting one hand into his suit coat pocket as she did so, and Alix wondered what could possibly be going on. She got her answer, or part of it, an instant later, when his lips brushed against hers in a gesture so incredibly chaste and gentle and non-sexual that she didn’t even have a chance to recoil before it was ended.

  ‘That was only to say thank you, Alix. It had nothing to do with my rain check,’ he said with a grin, ‘And this is also to say thank you.’

  Alix stared at the paper he had handed her, her mind refusing to accept what she saw. A cheque, in her name, and for an amount she simply couldn’t comprehend.

  ‘Actually, I think you’ve made some sort of industrial history,’ Quinn was saying. ‘Earning a healthy bonus before your first day at work was over, it must be some kind of a record.’

  ‘A bonus? But ... I’m sorry, I just don’t understand,’ Alix stammered. She stared from the cheque to his amused grin and back again. ‘I can’t have earned any bonus; I haven’t done anything. And in any event, this is ... too much.’

  She thrust the cheque at him, only to have him recoil in a gesture that would have been funny under other circumstances. ‘Hell, no!’ he said vehemently. ‘It might even turn out that it isn’t enough. You’ve improved that latch design more than you realise, my girl, and as soon as we’ve altered our patents it could turn out to be a world-class seller.’

  ‘Your patents? You mean that you ...?’

  ‘It was one of my first,’ he replied without undue modesty. ‘And my only excuse for not making it better is that last night’s incident was the first — at least to my knowledge — to reveal the particular weakness you’ve so admirably corrected.’

  He stepped back and looked down at her with an expression of amused contentment. ‘Well, don’t just stand there looking at it; you’re supposed to say ‘Thank you, Quinn" and tuck it away to buy a new dress with.’

  ‘Before I spent this much on a dress I’d want my head examined,’ Alix mused half to herself. ‘Look, I can’t take this. I just can’t. I mean, I really haven’t earned it or anything; I was only doodling ...’

  ‘Well then, I’d hate to see you when you’re working hard,’ he replied with a grim smile. ‘You’d break me. And stop being silly about this, because doodling or not, you have earned it. Now come on, give in graciously. All you have to do is smile and say thank you, very nicely.’

  ‘You’re sure?’ Alix really didn’t know whether he was being serious or not. The cheque was for an inordinate amount, and she was beginning to have the feeling he was only toying with her.

  ‘Of course I’m sure. And it’s no joke and the cheque won’t bounce either,’ he replied with a grin. ‘And tomorrow you can go buy a new dress during your lunch break, and tomorrow night I’ll take you to dinner so you can show it off.’

  ‘Oh, but ...’

  ‘Oh, but ... nothing! You will consider it in the nature of an order. Miss McLean. Now say thank you, Quinn, like a good little girl. Come on ...’

  And Alix did, whereupon he immediately dismissed her and returned to his own work, leaving Alix totally unable to concentrate during the short time left in her first, quite unbelievable day of work at her new job.

  Nor did Quinn Tennant show up during Alix’s hurried removal of the offending padlock that evening, which should have made her happy but somehow didn’t quite manage it.

  Her second day at the job couldn’t have been more different from the first. She got up in plenty of time for her shower and a light breakfast, gave Nick a brief training session on the back lawn, and arrived at the office to find sufficient drafting work to keep her abundantly busy.

  She managed to meet the various office staff once again, and apart from one or two catty remarks about her bonus, which seemed to be common knowledge, found them all to be agreeable and pleasant people. If Quinn Tennant handed out bonuses like that as a regular thing, Alix considered, it was no wonder his staff appeared happy, energetic and enthusiastic.

  She drove to the Sugarland shopping centre at lunch and bypassed food in favour of the search for a dress that would suit both herself and the boss’s orders. She had no intention of spending even the majority of the bonus on a single dress, and was mightily pleased to come up with a medium-length jersey creation that suited her to perfection. It was a simple dress, using the clinging habit of the material to achieve a style that was revealing without being gaudy. Best of all, the pale honey-green matched her eyes and her favourite pair of evening shoes, which meant she could save on accessories.

  The rest of the money from her bonus cheque stayed in her new bank account, which was now more healthy than It had ever been in her working life. And there it would stay, Alix vowed. She wasn’t totally certain she would be able to cope with Quinn Tennant as both boss and landlord, and a road stake might be a wise idea.

  Except that isn’t really the reason at all, she told herself honestly while applying make-up early that evening. You fancy him a lot, and it’s going to be that which causes the trouble, not any nonsense about landlords.

  ‘Not so,’ she said aloud to her mirror. ‘And even if it were, where’s the sense in it? He’s already quite well occupied with that Michelle woman, and she’s not one to give up easily.’

  The silent and not-so-silent dialogue continued as Alix finished her preparations, but it resolved nothing at all except to make her just a shade wary of allowing Quinn Tennant to get too close to her mind during dinner.

  He had picked her up right on time and took her on a leisurely tour of the district’s sole scenic highlight, an extinct volcano called the Hummock. It was a few kilometres east of Bundaberg, rising from the flat coastal plain in an approved cone shape. But there was no sign of volcanic activity, which was fair enough considering the volcano had long since died before European settlement in Australia.

  What remained was a hillock that provided a site for some of the city’s most prestigious homes and a lookout on the very crest that allowed a magnificent scenic panorama — especially at night during cane-firing season,

  Quinn had said very little on the drive to the crest of the Hummock, and when they left the Citroen to stroll across the small grassy park, he kept his silence but took Alix’s arm to keep her from stumbling in her high heels. Far to the south-west, a field fired earlier that evening glowed like the remains of an enormous square campfire, while some distance to the west another field was grudgingly giving up its fiery fury.

  ‘Look there,’ Quinn said suddenly, and Alix looked to see what appeared like tiny fireflies in the soft darkness. But as she watched, they sprang to life in a flickering pattern of brilliance as the edges of another field flared, and within seconds, it seemed, was consumed by the flames. The fire roared skyward, chasing the cloud of dark smoke that blotted out the stars before being dissipated by the onshore breezes.

  Another flared up, and yet another, until from the high vantage point of the Hummock it seemed as if the world was exploding into flame. Each separate field twinkled, flared into brilliance and then faded to dull coals and then renewed darkness, and it seemed as if Alix and Quinn were alone on the edge of a world gone mad. She shivered, then suddenly became aware of his arm around her shoulders and turned to face him.

  His strong features were even stronger in the questionable light, and his eyes burned into hers with an intensity that was amplified by the reaching, flickering flames around them.

  He was going to kiss her; and Alix knew she wasn’t going to object, or even speak. When his lips moved down to claim her own with an unexpected softness, she felt herself moulding to meet him,
her arms rising to clasp around his neck as his fingers closed along the lower curve of her spine.

  Quinn’s jacket was open, and through the thin softness of his silken shirt, the heat of his body encompassed her breasts, teasing the nipples to a rigid throbbing. His fingers pressed more firmly at her back, drawing her closer against the strength of his thighs as her own softly divided against the hardness of him.

  Alix twined her fingers into the curls at the nape of his neck, not thinking, hardly breathing as the desire surged up within her body. She was dimly aware of his fingers exploring her back, her shoulders, and then sliding with skilled direction into the closure of her gown, reaching down to draw forth her breasts to meet his searching lips.

  It was madness, but such a stirring, flaming madness that she could not resist it. His lips formed around her breasts, breathing into her a surge of desire such as she had never before experienced. His hands were everywhere, stroking, rousing, caressing, and she found his lips, finally, as they came to part her mouth in what could only be surrender.

  Surrender! She recoiled then in a gesture so flimsy and futile it was almost silly. But it was enough to lay the magic of the spell Quinn had cast upon her, and her next movement was more decisive. His fingers released her grudgingly, but he made no solid attempt to halt her as she stepped away from him, reaching up with fingers that trembled almost beyond control to try and straighten her clothing.

  Not a word was said, but by the time she had finished he was reaching out with a fresh-lit cigarette, and Alix took it because she didn’t know what else to do. The first inhalation almost choked her, so ragged was her breathing, and her fingers were so unsteady she could barely hold the thing.

  ‘You’ll want to straighten up,’ he said then with a strange, subdued calmness, almost cool as the wind that now surged up the sides of the Hummock. Alix looked up to meet his eyes, but she couldn’t read them and didn’t dare take the time to try. She threw down the cigarette and fled to the interior of the big car, fumbling into her handbag for make-up and applying it with shaking fingers while the man who had caused the disrepair stood silently smoking and gazing seaward.