Crazy for the Boss (Crazy in Love Book 1) (7 page)

* * *

Q
uinn took
a moment at the door of the restaurant to watch as Kimberly approached James, fawning over him as Quinn had come to expect. James smiled like he always did and sipped his drink while she talked. She knew that he was just being polite, not wanting to hurt her feelings, preferring his women a little older and more worldly. Which didn’t really help the strange feeling in the pit of her stomach that had been becoming more and more regular.

A small sigh pulled at the back of her throat.

Wait. Where’d that come from?

Before James could spot her spying from the front door, Quinn turned and raced out of the restaurant. Had she really been considering, for a minute, putting off her meeting so she could share dessert with James?

It was one thing these past few weeks to have suddenly found herself wanting to look her best—or at least less like a prude and more like the young semi-attractive woman she knew she could be—and another thing to consider blowing off work to put herself under the spell of James Thornhill any more than she had to.

James was her boss.

Quinn would never date her boss under any circumstance, least of all when she was now only three months away from having the medical bills paid in full. Not to mention that said boss was a womanizing philanderer allergic to any romantic commitment that lasted longer than a common cold.

And then there was the fact that he would never in a million years find anyone as ordinary as her as dating material.

But knowing all of this didn’t seem to help her ease the conflict she was struggling with of late.

Quinn waved to James’s driver but kept walking, needing the few blocks to the office to clear her head. Fortunately, it was a warmer-than-average afternoon in San Francisco for January, and she had her jacket to ward off any chill.

What she’d told James, about feeling like she’d become his Girl Friday of late, had been absolutely true. In fact, maybe it was this codependency that was the reason she couldn’t go an hour—awake or asleep—without some passing thought that involved the guy.

After all, they’d spent nearly fifteen hours a day almost six days a week together since she’d started. She was bound to become delusional, what with the lack of regular interaction with any other man—or person, for that matter.

Her roommates already had been hinting that she spent more time with James than either of them in the previous year. Which was precisely why this break, this mini-vacation back home, was so needed.

She had to get away from his influence. Had to see that she could exist outside of James Thornhill’s sphere, something that seemed almost unthinkable the more time she spent with the man.

Which was ridiculous. She’d always prided herself on being an intelligent and independent woman.

It was best she had time to herself to remember that.

“
T
his is insane
,” Quinn said, pacing James’s office another month later.

She stared at the most recent amendment to the agreement with Blossom Brew that was supposed to have been finalized that morning. Unbelievable.

“Why do they keep bringing up these ridiculous points?” She stared at the clock before smacking her head with her palm. “My flight leaves in an hour. There’s no way I’m going to make it.”

“Relax, Quinn. It’s going to work out. You’ll see,” James said, throwing the tennis ball against the wall and catching it, as he’d been doing for the past ten minutes. “I’m supposed to be heading to Cabo San Lucas this very minute, and you don’t see me getting my knickers in a twist.”

“Easy for you to say. You don’t have a mile-long list of things to get done before seventy-five people are scheduled to arrive at the Elks Building in downtown Eureka in two days’ time while you’re still stuck nine hundred miles away.”

Then there was the fact that, in that thin dark cashmere sweater the same color as his eyes, Quinn was finding it hard not to just sink into their blue depths.

She really needed to get away. STAT.

“Why, again, are you insisting that I give the final approval on these contracts? Isn’t this what you have Dennis for?”

He gave her a look of disbelief. “You know why. You’re more aware than anyone how Dennis would sooner see the company implode than see this deal succeed.”

James was right, which meant that she was going to be royally screwed when it came to honoring her promise, once again, to her sister.

There was a knock on the door a second before Jeannie came in, carrying the information Quinn had asked for. Quinn read through the document, trying to concentrate on the numbers as James threw the ball…again and again and again until, unable to take the torture, she went over and caught the ball midair.

Quinn glared at him when he started to object before she returned to Jeannie’s side. A moment later, with assurances she was scanning everything and faxing the signatures again to their investors, Jeannie hurried out.

Quinn’s phone buzzed and she glanced down. Four missed text messages. Two from her sister, Sabrina, and one each from her roommates wishing her a safe flight.

At this rate, there wouldn’t be a flight.

James noticed her staring at her phone. “The parents checking to see if you’re on your way?”

“Hardly,” she said and dropped the phone back down before collapsing on the small settee under the windows of James’s office. “They don’t actually know I’m arriving. It’s supposed to be part of the surprise. Surprise arrival, surprise anniversary party. But I suppose if Mom and Dad don’t know I’m coming, they won’t be disappointed when I never arrive. My sister, however, is another story.”

He chuckled and leaned forward and tapped something on his keyboard. Quinn looked over to find that, while she was gnashing her teeth and going nearly bald to get everything finalized, the CEO and supposed head engineer of the whole deal was posting something witty on his Facebook wall.

She bolted upright, her nerves stretched to the breaking point. “I don’t get you, James. On one hand, you present this image of a man who wants to bring the company that his grandfather started into the twenty-first century. A man who wants to work hard to see the company succeed and grow, hold a commanding presence to the board members and convince them that things are really going to get better. Then at other times you’re still acting like a rich, spoiled, aimless player who would rather be teeing off or flying to a getaway in Cabo instead of commanding the ship. Like you can’t decide who you want to be. In the meantime, I’m killing myself to get everything done.” She caught her breath, surprised she’d had so much to say.

“You’re that worried about catching this flight then?” he asked, nonplussed by her speech.

She threw her hands up. “Of course I am. Haven’t you been listening? I have to catch a flight to Seattle and then Spokane, where I’ll rent a car and drive more than seventy-five miles to Eureka, a drive that I vastly prefer to do when there’s daylight and the skies are clear—not after ten at night with a winter storm watch for the area.”

“You do realize, of course, that I have access to a small, private aircraft that can take you anywhere you need to go? I’m sure that if I talk it over with my pilot, Chris, we could arrange a slight detour on our way to Mexico, drop you off in…Idaho, is it?”

She counted to ten before responding. “It’s one thing for you to just up and take a flight to wherever you want and claim a tax write-off for whatever reason—”

“Mental health check.”

“—but it’s another thing entirely for me let you abuse your corporate write-offs on my account. Further, I could never accept such a generous offer. It would be highly inappropriate.”

“Why not? You’re missing your current flight because you’re trying to complete this business deal. Getting you to your appointment while ensuring the deal is finalized is a reasonable and valid business expense. Besides, you’re doing me a favor by pitching in here on this deal; it would just be returning the favor. Come on, I know you want to say yes. I know you enjoy being able to have unlimited Coke Zero and those little peanut butter M&M’s you like next to you in that crystal bowl.”

She looked side-eyed at him. He was more observant than she sometimes gave him credit for. “We’ll see.”

Only, at five fifty-four, the time her flight to Seattle was scheduled to take off, she was on her fourth soda, waiting for the final word that Ken had signed on the dotted line and things were a go while searching any available flights for tomorrow morning.

“Are you going to be doing that much longer?” James asked from his position on the leather chair across from her. She followed his gaze to her hand, where she’d been whipping the pencil against the seat of the couch in a frenzied pace. “If I were anything like you, I’d have flown across the room by now and ripped the pencil from your hand,” he said, referencing her stealing his tennis ball earlier.

“I don’t understand the holdup. What’s taking so long?” she asked for the millionth time.

James picked up his phone and typed another text, one of several he’d been sending and receiving for the past hour. “You know how the Blossom Brew group is. They’re probably waiting for their eight attorneys to read everything backward and forward before translating it into Aramaic and back to English before they officially sign. It might be hours before it’s back to us to review. Maybe even tomorrow morning, just cutting shy of our deadline with the bank. They certainly have a flair for the dramatics.”

“Unlike others…” she said under her breath and tapped her pencil again as she calculated the time it would take her to get into Eureka if she caught a ten a.m. flight to Seattle.

His phone chirped from another incoming text. “Hmmm,” he said, studying it.

“What? Was it from Blossom? The bank?”

He met her gaze. “Actually, it’s from my pilot. Wanted me to know that he’s readied a flight plan that would entail leaving San Francisco tomorrow morning at eight and arriving at 10:12 a.m. at a”—he paused to read from his text—“Hartford Airport, fifteen miles outside Eureka, Idaho, where a private car could be waiting to take you home. This way, even if the contract isn’t signed by tonight, they could fax it to us on the flight.”

It was tempting. Oh so tempting. Hartford was just minutes from Eureka, compared to the hour-long drive she’d be taking from Spokane. “But what about your trip to Cabo?”

“Still on. I’d just be arriving closer to six tomorrow night.”

She bit into her thumbnail, gnawing at it as she considered her options. Catch an early-morning flight to Seattle along with a hundred other passengers before deboarding and waiting another hour for the flight to Spokane, where she’d then have to still drive through possibly treacherous roads to Eureka, or…

Take a private plane.

No layovers, no crowded, germ-ridden cabin, no long, arduous drive through snowy mountain passes to get home to her parents. A quick two-hour flight and she’d be home.

She closed her eyes. “Fine. Let’s do it. But only because you can write this off as a business expense as I’m doing
you
a favor—not the other way around.”

“Of course. So should I tell Chris to file the IFR—our flight plan?”

She was weak. So weak. She just had to remind herself that the end result—getting away from the alluring influence of a certain CEO—would be worth it.

“I guess so.”

* * *

“
A
ll good
?” James asked Quinn the next morning, only half an hour from their destination of northern Idaho.

“It’s all good,” Quinn said, looking at the contract another few seconds before returning it to James to sign. He’d just started to date it when the plane jerked suddenly to the right.

Although she didn’t say anything, James saw her hand clench. It appeared that, thanks to a winter storm moving across the Pacific Northwest, their turbulence had steadily increased the farther north they went. Something he was somewhat used to but, judging by the death grip Quinn had on the armrest, she was still adjusting to.

He finished signing the date to the contract that had only arrived half an hour ago—more than sixteen hours past when promised. With this signature, they were in the final stage before the deal would be done.

“I think this calls for a celebration.” He unbuckled his seat belt and headed over to the minibar, where he pulled out a chilled bottle of champagne.

“You certainly come prepared,” she muttered, watching him uncork the bottle and bring it over along with two tumblers. “You do realize it’s barely nine thirty in the morning.”

“I thought it would be a nice touch to celebrate this new path the company is taking, and to act as a sort of start to each of our vacations. Come on. Just help me toast to the new deal.”

She nodded reluctantly, and he poured them each a glass, pausing as the bubbles reached the top. “To new endeavors.”

She clinked her glass against his before they each took a drink. The plane shifted again, and James barely managed to miss spilling on the newly signed contract as he set the glass on the table next to him.

“Here,” she said and stood up. “I’d better get this faxed off before we have to start all over again.”

He picked up his drink and watched Quinn walk a little unsteadily across to the fax machine.

It had been a bit of a pleasant surprise when his town car pulled up to the place Quinn lived with her friends and she’d appeared in the doorway wearing a pair of faded blue jeans that fit snugly over long legs and slim hips, a white tee shirt with a wide vee, and a fitted blazer. Nothing fancy but there was something infinitely sexy in its casual simplicity.

Then there’d been her eyes, clear and bright, something that was hard to miss in the chilly February morning, especially since, for the first time since he’d met her, she wasn’t hiding behind those monstrous glasses. It gave him a chance to finally see the delicate features of her face, the nose that turned up the slightest bit at the end, the cheekbones he’d never noticed, and long, thick lashes that framed those dark eyes to perfection.

She hopped down the stairs, her low ponytail bouncing jauntily, dragging her carry-on behind her, and he was struck with how fresh and carefree she seemed.

And he’d realized in that singular moment how much he was going to miss seeing her face for the next few days.

Something that even now he was trying not to think about as they drew closer to her destination.

Which was why he’d decided that he’d take his own trip so as not to notice her absence. He’d made connections with some of the old gang, arranging to meet up in sunny Cabo for some downtime. It had been months since he’d hung out with any of his old friends or really done the whole party scene. And even though the prospect didn’t sound as appealing as it once would have, he was looking forward to the distraction.

Besides, it wasn’t like Cyrus Thornhill would be calling to join him in any celebratory drinks, since it seemed his grandfather was still in the wait-and-see phase of this experiment…waiting to see if this deal would blow up in James’s face as several of his past endeavors had—even if it had been a long time since James had failed at anything. But James didn’t expect anything less. It’s just the way it was.

A minute later, the fax machine began pulling the pages through it. Before she could make it back across to her seat, however, the plane dipped a good two or three feet, and she fell forward. He jumped up, helping to steady her and guide her to her seat.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Are we about to die?” She forced a laugh, but he could see that the humor didn’t extend to her eyes, which held a trace of fear.

Sherry, their flight attendant, peeped her head from the cockpit, where she had been chatting up Chris and the copilot. Probably hiding from Quinn. “It looks like we’re going to be experiencing a rough ride for this last leg, so you two better buckle up and sit tight.”