Gray Quinn's Baby (12 page)

‘Would you care to begin?' he said. His eyes reflected nothing more than professional interest.

She had to ignore the ache of disappointment inside her and do her job. ‘Nancy?' she prompted. ‘Would you like to begin by explaining what we have here on the easels?'

Magenta had never wanted to hog the limelight, and couldn't help but be thrilled by the audible gasp of surprise from the men when Nancy revealed the team's first idea. Vivid, graphic imagery and clever text was a winning combination—no one could deny it, not even the men around the table. The general theme was irony, suggesting men must be catered for and even spoiled a little so that women were free to do their own thing.

‘You're suggesting we should be pampered and cosseted so we work harder and stay out of your way?' one of the men queried, glancing at Quinn—who had remained carefully neutral up to now—to see his reaction.

‘With more women in the work place year on year, I'm sure that's a message that resonates with everyone,' Magenta said, defending her team's premise good-humouredly.

‘I think we can see that Magenta's group is coming up with some sound ideas,' Quinn observed. ‘Not all of them will fly,' he added, ‘but I'm sure we can tailor them to suit our purposes. They will enrich the project—and we shouldn't close our minds to a new approach,' he added when there were murmurs of discontent from the men around the table.

What did Quinn mean? Magenta wondered. She didn't want to rain on her team's parade—the women were all excited that at last they were being taken seriously—but having their ideas ‘tailored' to fit in with those of the men didn't sound like the end result Magenta had been aiming for.

M
AGENTA'S
worst fears were soon confirmed.

‘Jackson, you take the graphics and work on them,' Quinn instructed. ‘And Michael, you handle the fashion side of things. You're more in touch with your feminine side than the rest of us.'

As if a dam had burst, the tension between the men at the table relaxed and they all burst out laughing; it wasn't kind laughter. It was laughter directed at the women in their midst, as if to be a woman was somehow contrary to the laws of business.

Or at least business under Quinn, Magenta thought, feeling betrayed. She could only watch in impotent horror as one by one the ideas her team had worked so hard on were handed over to a member of Quinn's team to progress. The good of the business had to be her only concern if everyone was going to keep their job, but how was she going to explain this to the women who had trusted her? She could feel their shock as well as their disappointment. They would become resigned soon and she couldn't wait around for that to happen. ‘May I have a word with you—in private?' she asked Quinn when he brought the meeting to a close.

‘About business?'

‘What else?' Her gaze drilled into him, telling him in pretty blunt language what she thought of both his question and his manner.

‘Won't you sit down?' he said when the last man had left the room.

‘I prefer to remain standing, thank you.'

‘As you wish.'

Getting up from his chair, Quinn went to stand beside the window, staring out. It had started snowing, Magenta noticed, but that was nothing to the sheet of ice that had closed around her heart. ‘I thought we had an agreement.'

Quinn turned to face her. ‘And as far as I'm aware,' he said, ‘I have fulfilled my obligation to you.'

‘I don't understand what you're doing,' Magenta admitted.

‘It's clear enough to me.'

‘Well, not to me. My ideas and those of my team—I thought you were prepared to consider them, to incorporate them. I never imagined for one moment that you, of all people, would steal them.'

‘Steal them?' Quinn demanded. ‘What are you suggesting?' His eyes turned black.

Her job, her future—everything hung in the balance, Magenta realized. But this was a battle that had to be fought. ‘You took ideas the women have been working hard to perfect and handed them over to the men when all the hard work has been done. I wouldn't mind, but those men don't have an original idea between them. Why should they claim credit for work that isn't theirs?'

‘We all work for the same company.'

‘Well, of course we do,' Magenta agreed, trying to remain calm. ‘But why do you trust the men here more than the women? What makes you assume they have more ability? Quinn, I don't know what's happened to you!' she exclaimed finally, as exasperation got the better of her.

The expression in Quinn's eyes gave her no hope at all.

‘Don't ever make the mistake of thinking that what hap
pens between us in our off-duty moments is a green light in the office.'

‘I haven't,' Magenta protested. ‘I wouldn't—'

‘But that's exactly what you're doing,' Quinn cut in. ‘Since last night, you have had expectations that go far beyond the bedroom. Well?' he demanded harshly. ‘Don't you, Magenta?'

‘I thought I could trust you, yes.'

‘You can trust me. You can trust me to keep a consistent line. You can't walk in here hours after your promotion and think you can order this business to your liking. New systems have to be tried and proven first. I don't operate a business on a whim—not even my own whim, and especially not yours.'

As each hammer blow landed on her heart, Magenta wished one of them would be violent enough to wake her up. How could anyone share what she'd shared with Quinn last night and feel nothing? How could he switch off from her like this? And, as for the green light, the only light she was aware of was flashing in her brain, telling her she'd made a fool of herself. And their ‘off-duty moments'? Quinn made their love-making sound like a useful alternative to counting sheep.

She'd let her team down, and wouldn't make things right by handing in her resignation. And, even if she waited for this nightmare to pass, what if it didn't pass? What if this was her life now?

She had to stay and fight. It didn't matter whether this was a dream or her reality now, her internal dial would remain tuned to the same setting it was always on, which was survival and the determination to defend those she cared about.

 

She couldn't have felt worse when she called the girls together. ‘You're far more supportive than I deserve,' she told them, feeling dreadful when she noticed the small bunch of flowers someone had arranged in a vase on her desk. ‘I've let you down, misled you. I can't apologise enough for what
happened at the meeting. I had no idea Quinn would take that line. I really thought he was going to involve all of you in the steering group for the campaign. But this isn't the end,' she promised. ‘I won't allow your ideas to be squandered or diluted by anyone—and we're not going to sulk or cause a problem,' she added decisively. ‘We're going to win this battle by being the very best we can and by selling direct to the customer.'

‘Quinn,' Nancy supplied.

‘Yes, that's right, Nancy—Quinn,' Magenta agreed. ‘Quinn is the only person we have to convince.' She exclaimed with shock as a familiar hand took hold of her arm and firmly moved her aside.

‘I was trying to warn you,' Nancy explained discreetly as Quinn went into his office and shut the door.

Could the girls hear her heart hammering? Magenta hoped not. It was crucial that they still believed in her or those typing-pool partitions would soon be up again. ‘I'm going in to see him now, to convince him he's made a mistake and needs us on board. I had a word with him after the meeting, but I was too angry to think straight, and so of course Quinn took advantage.'

‘That's not such a bad thing, is it?' Nancy said, injecting some much-needed humour into the tense mix. ‘We've all seen the way Quinn looks at you.' Nancy glanced around the other girls for confirmation.

‘Please stop.' This was absolutely the last thing Magenta wanted to hear. ‘I can assure you there is nothing going on between Quinn and me.' Not any longer there wasn't—nor was there ever likely to be again. ‘We're as different as two people could be.'

‘We all saw the way he touched you just now,' Nancy argued. ‘And you never know when a hand on your arm leads to a night on your back,' she added, which made the other girls laugh.

Magenta blushed furiously as the girls continued to tease her, but she was glad they were laughing again. ‘Quinn's probably watching us,' she warned. ‘We'd better get back to work. We don't want to give him any reason for complaint. Just pick up where you left off,' she said, exchanging meaningful looks with the girls. ‘We're not going to give up on this.'

Playing by Quinn's rules, Magenta took him his morning coffee and remained calm as she shut the door. But the moment he looked up at her all her protective instincts for the girls rose up and poured out. ‘You've made a mistake cutting the girls out of the equation.'

‘Well, thank you for your opinion, Magenta, but I've made the right decision—and you've just proved it.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘There's no place for emotion at the office, and if I encourage women to seek promotion it would open the floodgates.'

‘To feelings?' Whatever she said now would influence every woman's future at the company. ‘Isn't that exactly why my team's ideas are more likely to connect with the public than yours? Or do you really think the market deserves another macho ad-campaign dreamed up by men?'

‘There's nothing wrong with passion.'

‘But no to emotion? How does that work, Quinn?'

‘Magenta.' He sighed. ‘I have work to do.'

‘Allow the girls to work on their projects without consulting the men at every turn and they'll work faster,' she pleaded with him. ‘Let them do that, and then you judge which campaign you prefer. Or is that too big a risk for your male ego to take?'

There was a glint in Quinn's eyes as he leaned back to stare at her.

‘This is all about you running a successful business, isn't it?' Magenta continued. ‘Or did I miss something? And there is one question I would like you to answer.'

‘Which is?' Quinn's eyes turned hard.

‘What difference does gender make to a successful team?'

He relaxed, making her wonder if Quinn had expected her to attack him on the personal front. ‘That's for you to prove and for all of us to find out,' he said.

‘We still get our chance?' She kept the pressure on. She had no intention of walking away from this and making things easy for him.

‘Don't push me, Magenta.'

‘So, that's a yes?'

‘That's a maybe,' he corrected her.

She counted it as a victory—however small—and, knowing she'd pushed things as far as she could, she turned to the subject of the end-of-year party. How many more of these cold-blooded meetings with Quinn could she take? It was better to get through as much as she could now, Magenta reasoned.

Quinn was looking at her as if assessing how much she could take on. ‘It will be held at the end of this week, well before Christmas,' he said. ‘Not much time for you to arrange things, but that suits my schedule better. Well? Don't you have work to do?'

Magenta's head was reeling with all the things she had to do. Quinn had just brought the party forward with no warning at all. She could throw up her hands and admit defeat, or…

‘If you can't handle it,' he said, ‘just let me know.'

‘I can handle it,' she assured him.

‘Do you have a theme?'

Did she have a theme?

‘If it's good enough, it might buy your team a second hearing.'

In that case, she definitely had the theme. ‘I've got the theme.'

Well, she would have in a minute.

‘I'm listening.'

‘The theme is…' She had to come up with something mildly original or go to the bottom of the class, risking the girls' opportunity to advance in the business in the process. ‘Back to the future,' she said as inspiration struck. Okay, it was not so original, but Quinn wouldn't know that. ‘It can be interpreted any way people like—but, as we've had the first man in space, and the race is on to land a man on the moon…' Ideas were tumbling over each other in her brain.

‘Could be different,' Quinn admitted.

‘Could be fun.'

‘Could be.'

‘I'm interested to see how you interpret it. And Magenta?'

‘So…?'

She turned at the door.

‘I'm going to trial some of your ideas.'

‘You are?' All her personal battles with Quinn were put on hold. She felt like hugging him. Fortunately, after what had happened, she had more sense.

‘Tell your team to get back to work on the ad campaign right away.'

‘They never
stopped
working on it,' she said quietly.

‘W
HAT
are you complaining about?' Magenta heard one of the men, who she'd heard others address as John, taunting Nancy in the main office as she closed Quinn's door. ‘You've still got a job, haven't you?'

The men hadn't waited long to resume their bullying tactics, Magenta reflected angrily. It was vital the girls won this battle or there would always be conflict between the sexes in the office. But at least Quinn had agreed to give them a chance. She had even persuaded him to let them use the old boardroom as their temporary campaign-headquarters, and she'd planned to call an emergency meeting there now. But overhearing the exchange between Nancy and their male colleague reminded Magenta how far they had to go—that and the fact that she could wake up at any moment, leaving her new team in the lurch.

‘It's tradition,' John was saying. ‘You women are supposed to make all the homey, holiday preparations. Just because you have a few letters to type, that's no excuse. We need our mince pies and treats while we handle the real work around here.'

If any useful work was going to get done, they all had to calm down. ‘I'm afraid the girls won't be free to run errands for you,' Magenta explained, shooting a warning glance at Nancy.

‘Oh?' John demanded. Glancing at his cronies, he sat back, staring at Magenta as if he were a headmaster forced
to deal with a child he considered very much his intellectual inferior.

‘We're all going to be busy, because we're all back in the race,' Magenta explained. ‘Quinn is going to judge both campaigns and choose the one he prefers.'

‘But we've got all your ideas,' John said with a laugh in his voice as he traded smug glances with his friends.

‘It's what you do with what you've got that makes the difference,' Magenta argued, stealing a glance at Quinn through the office window. ‘Girls, follow me to our new headquarters.'

 

They worked until the end of the day on finessing their campaign, and then the girls insisted on staying behind to help Magenta plan the Christmas party.

‘Quinn had a few stipulations to make. Beyond that, we're free to interpret the theme any way we choose.'

‘Within a tight budget?' Nancy guessed shrewdly.

‘This is hardly the best time to go overboard,' Magenta agreed. ‘But I'm happy to cover any shortfall.' Though quite how far her office manager's wage packet would stretch…

‘Am I right in thinking you have come up with an idea?' Nancy prompted.

‘I have,' Magenta confirmed, revealing her theme for the party.

‘But no space-food,' Nancy insisted. ‘The only thing I'm prepared to drink through a straw is a cocktail.'

‘You don't have to follow a space theme at all,' Magenta explained. ‘All I'm suggesting is that each of us interprets the future as we see it.'

‘No long hair, caftans, beads or beards!' Nancy exclaimed with relief.

‘Not if you remember to shave,' one her friends added with a laugh.

‘But the food stays how we like it,' another member of the team insisted. ‘All the usual, with my favourite, cheese-and-
pineapple on sticks. I'll even volunteer to cover the cabbage with foil.'

‘Hang on,' Magenta protested. ‘I'm good with cheese and pineapple, but since when do we eat cabbage at a party unless it's in a bowl of coleslaw?'

‘We don't eat it,' Tess said, giving Magenta a sideways look. ‘We cover the cabbage in foil and stab sticks loaded with the cheese and pineapple into it. Surely you've seen a finished hedgehog before?'

‘A hedgehog?'

‘Oh, never mind. You'd better handle the cocktails.'

‘My pleasure,' Magenta agreed, mentally wiping her brow. Her knowledge of sixties food-fads was non-existent.

‘It's just a pity the men are going to be there,' Nancy observed as the girls started working out who was going to be involved in dressing the office and who would arrange the music.

‘I'm glad they'll be there,' Magenta argued. ‘I want this year's party to bring everyone together. We need something to stop this silly bickering. We have to land this colour-magazine job, and to do that we have to work as one.'

‘That'll be the day,' Nancy snorted.

‘Well, at least let's give it a try.'

‘I suppose there could be worse things than spending the night with a crowd of randy ad men,' Nancy agreed thoughtfully.

‘Can we put sex to one side for a minute and concentrate on planning?' Magenta suggested.

‘If we put sex aside for as long as that, it will all be over.'

‘Give those poor men a chance, Nancy!' Magenta exclaimed, choking back a laugh.

She caught Quinn glancing at them through the window as he walked past. Their eyes might only have clashed briefly, but it was enough to tell Magenta that there was still a live spark between them. Interesting. According to some market
research she'd been working on, fifty-nine per cent of men rated women who stood up to them as having the ideal qualities they looked for in a mate. Excellent.
En garde
, Gray Quinn…

Tamping down the rush of heat inside her, she called the meeting to order. ‘Can we get back to work, please? There's very little time to do this and we have the campaign to work on during the day—which, by the way, is more important. We're going to give those men a real run for their money when we submit our final ideas to Quinn.'

‘And we're going to have the best Christmas party ever,' Nancy added.

Magenta smiled back. ‘This is one party that is definitely going down in history.'

 

How she missed the computer! She never thought she'd say that, Magenta realised, checking the mock-up of the party invitation she had designed. But finally the invitation was ready to go to the printer's and the Back To The Future party was on its way.

‘Still here?' Quinn commented, peering round the door.

I could say the same about you
, Magenta thought. They were both workaholics.

As Quinn came into the room, her skin began to tingle with anticipation. It was no use pretending she could somehow make herself immune to Quinn. There was a connection between them and she wasn't prepared to let go of it yet. The air had changed—she had changed. She was like an animal scenting her mate. Every breath she took was drenched in Quinn's energy and his clean, distinctive scent. All the more reason to get out of here, her inner alarm advised her. ‘I was just leaving, actually.'

‘Can I buy you a drink?'

Was he joking? ‘It's been a long day.' She kept her back turned so Quinn couldn't see her cheeks flushing with the
memory of humiliation. His idea of free love wasn't hers. She was better off without him.

‘Are you sure?'

‘I'm quite sure, thank you.'

She hadn't realised Quinn was right behind her and bumped into him when she turned around. He showed no sign of moving. She could only get past him by brushing up against him—something which no doubt would give Quinn great amusement. ‘Excuse me, please…'

She didn't want this; she didn't want to feel Quinn's heat warming her, or the power in his body reminding her of what they'd shared. She certainly didn't want him towering over her, or his hard, muscular frame awakening memories better left undisturbed.

She exhaled with relief when Quinn stood back. ‘I would prefer it if we could keep everything between us on a professional level,' she said, staring into eyes that were nowhere near convinced.

‘Suits me.' A faint smile played around the corner of Quinn's mouth.

‘We'll have the presentation ready for you very soon. My girls are ready.'

‘And you, Magenta?'

‘I'm ready too,' she assured him.

The crease in Quinn's cheek deepened. ‘Any chance you might have lightened up by the time the party comes around?'

‘I'll be on the cocktail bar,' she said. ‘And I'll mix you anything you like.'

Quinn hummed. ‘I take it you have something appropriate to wear?'

‘An apron?'

‘I was thinking of something a touch more glamorous than that.'

‘Something you'd approve of?'

‘Pleasing me would be a first.'

Short memory
, she thought. ‘I won't be trying to please anyone—I'll be wearing one of the products your team is eager to push in the campaign.'

‘Now you've got me worried. Are you going to give me a clue?'

‘Paper?' She kept her face admirably straight.

‘Paper?' Quinn frowned, but then his eyes began to dance with laughter. ‘You're going to wear a paper dress?'

‘Apparently they're going to be the next big thing.'

‘Is that right?' Quinn said. He even held the door for her, and was still smiling when she left the room.

 

The day of the presentation dawned bright and clear. Quinn kept everything close to his chest. He hadn't been in the previous day, and Magenta had missed the electricity between them as well as Quinn's ironic glances and challenging stares. The office had ticked over while Quinn had been away, but had lacked some essential spark. Now he was back.

Magenta's heart rate soared when Quinn strode into the office, and she wasn't the only one to be affected. He had changed the mood in an instant from diligent to enthused—and no wonder; Quinn looked like a film star with his tan, his build and bearing.

Magenta was pleased she had gone the extra mile with her appearance for the all-important meeting. Jackie Kennedy had set the pace for the elegant woman of the sixties, with the clean lines of her Oleg Cassini fashions, and this morning Magenta was wearing a copy of one of the beautifully tailored suits the girls were keen to feature in the ad campaign. A better bet than paper, Magenta thought wryly. The men didn't stand a chance if they were pushing things like that. She had made sure the girls had the first choice from the rail of stylish garments which the photographer had left in the staff room, but
she couldn't have been more delighted with the soft red suit Nancy had kept to one side for her.

‘Nice,' Quinn said briefly, looking Magenta up and down. ‘Call everyone in, will you?'

Would he ever change?

Never
, Magenta concluded.

Would he ever pause to take breath? Rarely, she thought, remembering the non-stop action in his bed—which was the only encouragement her cheeks needed to fire up to the same shade as her jacket.

 

Oh yes, it was a triumph, Magenta agreed with the other girls later. Quinn had chosen their ideas hands down. ‘But no crowing,' she insisted. ‘Especially not if there's someone in the office you like. Remember, no man likes to be put down.'

‘Like we've been for years?' Nancy countered, still glowing from her promotion to assistant account-executive.

‘Men are more fragile,' Magenta said thoughtfully. ‘We have to protect their egos if we want the best out of them.'

‘Just as they have to treat us as equals if they want the best out of us,' Nancy put in.

‘You're right,' Magenta agreed. ‘Respect has to be earned on both sides.'

‘And you have to lighten up.'

Magenta huffed wryly at Nancy's comment. ‘Someone else said that.'

‘Let me guess…' Nancy murmured, sucking her cheek.

‘Never mind who said it. We're fighting for equality, and that's a serious business.'

‘So is partying,' Nancy insisted. ‘So we're going to put our concerns about the men's ability to contribute anything remotely useful to an ad campaign to one side for now and give them chance to schmooze us. But if we're going to party you have to, too. And you have to be nice to Quinn, Magenta.
He's given us this chance, so now you have to give him a chance.'

Now everyone started teasing her. ‘All right, I give in!' she exclaimed. ‘I will give him a chance—a tiny, miniscule chance.'

‘Yeah, right,' Nancy said to a chorus of disbelieving jeers.