Gray Quinn's Baby(22)

'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.





CHAPTER FIFTEEN




THE night of the party turned out better than Magenta had dared to  expect. Her colleagues forgot their differences and started to mingle  and get to know each other. Friendships were forged across the sexes,  which was exactly what she had hoped would happen-and some of those  friendships were heating up, which couldn't hurt. But when Quinn called  her into his office she soon realised that not everything was going to  plan.

She should have thought this through, she realised as Quinn gave her outfit a scorching review. 'That dress is shapeless.'

And thin. And she was only wearing paper knickers beneath her paper  dress, while Quinn-alarmingly, surprisingly, incredibly-was dressed  exactly as she would expect a sexy guy to dress for an evening out in  the twenty-first century. He wore a crisp, white shirt with the sleeves  rolled back to reveal his muscular, hair-shaded forearms, sharp jeans  with an understated belt and the cleanest black shoes Magenta had ever  seen. This, together with the craziest-coloured socks, she noticed now  as he crossed his legs at the desk to lean back and stare at her-red,  fuchsia-pink and black stripes-quirky, sexy, different. 'Let me  explain.'