“Of course it doesn’t. But I find it hard to believe that, fresh out of law school, you hadn’t set your sights on something a little more…prestigious. Like working for a judge or some governmental agency.”
She picked up her mug and finished off the last drink, buying a moment’s time. “Well, I did actually. I had a job at this big, fancy law firm. Spencer Hautner. You might have heard of them.” He nodded. Of course he had. “I clerked there after my second year of law school and was one of the few selected in their new associates program upon graduation.”
“Now that makes sense,” he said, nodding. “So…what happened?”
Quinn took in a breath and slowly exhaled, trying to slow her rapidly beating heart. There was no shame, to her or her family, in what had happened. She knew that. But she did have a moment’s qualm about sharing her mom’s personal story like this.
But…it was James. And she realized how much she wanted him to know. To understand.
“About three months after I started, my mom got into a pretty severe car accident. She fractured a couple of vertebrae, broke her left leg, had lacerations all over her face. It was bad. Her recovery took every single hour of her FMLA, not to mention, she was forced to exhaust her paid sick and vacation leave to cover her time off. But her back and her leg healed, the stitches and bruises disappeared, and for a time, we thought everything was going to be okay. She returned to work at the school, hopefully to get back into her regular routine. Only…she started having these panic attacks. At first it was just about getting behind the wheel, something we could understand, and my dad was able to drop her off in the morning, and Sabrina usually picked her up. But then they occurred more frequently, for no reason, at night eating dinner, in the middle of the day grading papers sitting in her classroom…until one day she found herself sitting in a bathroom stall, shaking, trying to tell herself there was nothing to worry about. It got pretty bad up until she…she was admitted to the hospital. It was there she was finally diagnosed with PTSD.”
“PTSD?” His brows furrowed. “Isn’t that like what soldiers who’ve been in war often suffer?”
She nodded. “They do, but anyone who’s suffered a significant trauma can experience it, too. In my mom’s case, she had a history of anxiety and depression, so they think she was just more prone to experiencing it after her accident. I say think because, like all these illnesses, there’s no absolute clear diagnosis. But their assessment and resulting treatment seemed to help her get her symptoms and her anxiety under control. Unfortunately, when she returned to work at the school this time, the district and superintendent weren’t as sympathetic. In fact, they were paranoid that one little thing might set her off and make her a danger to her students.”
Something caught in her voice at this and she stopped.
Her sweet, kind mother was considered a risk, someone to be afraid of by people who’d known her for years. She’d had to ask her treating doctor to write a detailed letter assuring them that she wasn’t a risk to anyone—that had been the most humiliating and infuriating moment.
“It crushed my mom especially when every tiny infraction with a student was scrutinized from the viewpoint that maybe she’d been somehow to blame. It got to be too much for her. She finally took an early retirement last year.”
“That’s ridiculous. Your mom has got to be the most genuine and kindest person I’ve met.” James shook his head, looking nearly as angry as she’d felt when it happened. “That’s horrible. And so you…you quit your job then? Is that what happened? To take care of her?”
This was where things got a little more…real.
“Not really. After the accident, my parents were hit with astronomical medical bills. Not just for the car accident but for her psychiatric admission later. The only reason Sabrina and I knew about it was because she caught my dad on the phone talking to someone about their options, including taking a second mortgage on the house or declaring bankruptcy.” Something that, as her parents were facing their retirement years, when they shouldn’t be dealing with this kind of financial stress, had further infuriated her. “So Sabrina and I talked about it and came up with our own plan. I approached my dad and told him I had this massive sign-on bonus at my job, not to mention a triple-digit salary, and I talked him into letting me pay for everything. As I told him, it was the least I could do for them after everything they’ve done for me, helping me when they could during college. Of course, as a first-year associate, I had no such thing. But I took out a loan and Sabrina started writing her novels, and we were able to get by.”
His brows furrowed as he processed that. “That explains the reason you needed the job so badly. Your mom’s medical bills.”
“Yes, not to mention the monstrous student loan payments that came due around the same time. Which actually is what brings me to why I left Spencer Hautner.” She tightened the blanket around her shoulders, seeking their warmth from the sudden chill. “Like I said, my mom had a family history of depression and anxiety that had been undiagnosed. And as I discovered, as the stress mounted from my own bills and the apparent stress about my mom’s health…I seemed to share some of the same predisposition. Don’t worry, it never got as bad as with my mom or anything where I needed to be hospitalized. But I was finding that at the rate I was going, working eighty-hour workweeks just to keep up with the minimum billable hours expected, was taking its toll. I found this woman. A therapist who I started seeing, and I started on some antidepressants. They helped to a degree. But with my therapist’s guidance, I was able to see that my work at the law firm was overwhelming me and I was miserable. I knew I needed to make a change. So I quit. I saw that Meiers and Rooney were hiring an associate to help with their load of cases—which included employment discrimination cases much like my mom’s. And although the financial stress didn’t ease—especially since the healthcare package wasn’t quite as generous as at Spencer Hautner—my happiness, my job satisfaction, was immeasurable.”
She’d done it; it was all out there now, even if she couldn’t yet meet James’s gaze. She repositioned the blanket around her, trying to battle the new chill seeping into her bones.
“So there you have it,” she said, forcing a smile. “Why cases like Lauralee’s have a special interest to me. Why I want to help those employees, make sure they’re provided the rights and accommodations they’re legally entitled to.”
“And your work at Thornhill…are you finding it rewarding? Is it making you happy?” His voice was low, almost hoarse, and she risked a glance his way, terrified to see if he looked disgusted or, worse…fearful.
His eyes weren’t gleaming in laughter, and his face, usually open in a smile or grin, was stoic and grim. But not disgusted.
She considered his question. There were times when she thought she was working against a broken system, one where managers had worked for so many years with the company they felt entitled to do whatever they wanted, no matter whether it was legal or right or moral.
But she knew that, by being there, she was able to slowly make some changes. Starting with the manager training sessions she’d started, the updates to the manual, and her autonomy on the discrimination complaints that were directed to her.
“Yeah. I think so. I mean, there are days when a face-off with a guy like Paul leaves me drained and wondering why I bother, and other days when I am able to provide tips that will help accommodate a pregnant server so she can continue to work. I guess it’s about balance.” She took in another shaky breath, deciding to try for humor to break the gravity that had settled over them. “I promise, I’m not going to go postal on you.”
“Of course you’re not.”
He still appeared pensive, studying her with such intensity that the chill from before was gone, and she found herself definitely a few degrees warmer. Everywhere.
James rose from his spot on the couch and came to kneel in front of her, taking the laptop from her and setting it behind her before he rested his hand over hers and
met her gaze.
“If I haven’t said this before, let me be clear now. You are one of the most driven and bright and passionate people I know. The fact that you take antidepressants to combat your condition is no different to me than someone who takes insulin for diabetes or statins to combat high cholesterol or any other kind of medicine people take to ensure their health. It’s not who you are, it’s just something you have. You shouldn’t feel ashamed. If anything, you should be proud of yourself, for doing what you knew was right in helping your folks, for stepping away from a high-paying prestigious job—which couldn’t have been easy for anyone—because you knew it was the right choice for you and the people you want to help. People like your mom and Lauralee. I have only the utmost admiration and respect for you.”
She swallowed at the sincerity in his eyes, the warm, secure feeling of his hand over hers. It was an intimacy that, in the grand scheme of things, was so small but between them felt like everything. Touched by his words, she hated the heat in her eyes as a hot tear slipped down.
“Damn.” She wouldn’t cry. Crying was a weakness, and if you were going to cry, you sure as hell didn’t cry in front of your boss.
She was strong and he needed to know that.
She wiped the tear away but another replaced it. Pathetic. And she tried to cover her face with her hands to avoid his scrutiny.
But he stopped her, as he reached out, using his thumb to brush away the wetness from her cheek. His touch, so soft and deliberate, sent a shiver down her back.
He was so close, too close, she realized, as she finally gazed into those deep blue eyes, dark now with something other than humor. Something that seemed to send an entirely different type of fire burning low in her belly. Something that looked an awful lot like…desire.
Especially the way he was staring at her lips now, lips that she nervously licked as whatever decision he’d been wrestling with seemed to be made, and he slowly leaned forward.
Chapter 19
It happened so naturally, the way his lips pressed to hers, so featherlight, almost like a caress that sent a tingling sensation over her skin, and Quinn didn’t have time to consider whether this was the rational thing to be doing.
She’d just caught her breath when his lips returned again, the pressure harder, and she closed her eyes against the heady sensation of his warm lips and his hand that now cupped the back of her head, drawing her in so that his tongue was able to taste her more fully. His beard was soft but also bristly against her mouth, especially when he deepened the kiss. She caressed her tongue against his, aware of a sighing noise that slipped from the back of her throat.
Then he was kissing her chin and the crevice of her neck, his beard feeling almost rough now against the tender skin but, when combined with the sensual kissing and sucking, felt exquisite, and she held him tight against her, pressing herself closer, wanting to feel more…of everything.
The blanket, she realized, had fallen away from her, and as James leaned forward, sinking with her against the couch, she instinctively wrapped her legs around him. He was so warm and strong and like everything she ever could have wanted as she clung to him, even as she was aware of his own growing need, pressing against her.
He wanted her.
A feeling of joy and relief and excitement soared through her. This man, this amazing man, wanted her, despite what she’d told him about herself. It was the only thing she cared about at that moment, as she pushed any other doubts or worries away and just lost herself in this moment.
This kiss.
His hand was under her sweater now, moving across her belly and stopping when he reached the swell of her breast. She moaned softly as his fingers caressed her.
The rattling sound of someone trying to open the front door was like a bucket of cold water dumped on them both as they bolted upright. James jumped to his feet, grabbing his coffee mug, as Quinn yanked her sweater back down and tried to smooth her hair. But something still felt off…
Only as the door swung open to reveal Sabrina standing there looking entirely too smug did Quinn realize that somehow James had managed to unclasp the back of her bra.
How had he done that so quickly?
“Sorry to interrupt, but it’s almost two, and we were supposed to be at the hall in five minutes to help with the decorations.”
Quinn tried to smile easily, even as the skin around her mouth still tingled and she had some suspicions as to its redness caused by James’s kisses. “No problem. James and I were just putting the finishing touches on the playlist for the DJ tonight.”
“Oh, really? How did that go?” Sabrina asked in a tone that suggested some doubt in her sister’s story.
“We think your parents will find the selection pretty inspired,” James added from the kitchenette, where he’d gone to rinse out his cup. “Nice place you got here.”
“I like it. In fact, with the isolation, the wood-burning fire, the dim lighting, it’s pretty inspiring for writing sexy love stories.”
Quinn ignored her sister’s comment and slipped her feet back into her boots and stood, tucking her laptop under her arm. “I’m all set. Maxine should have the flowers already delivered, the caterers should also be there getting things set up, and the cake will be there by four.”
“Did you want to tag along, James? Maybe give us a hand with the preparations?”
“No!” Quinn said a little too sharply before taking a steadying breath. She needed some space and some time away from James to try and figure out what had just happened and what it might mean. “I mean, James was just mentioning how, if he was sticking around for the party tonight, he needed something other than plaid or flannel. Wasn’t that right?” She didn’t give him a chance to answer as she continued, giving him an earnest look that warned him not to argue. “So…why don’t you take old Bessie when you’re ready to head back into town. Sabrina and I will take the parentals’ Jeep. We can meet up later.”
James smiled lazily back at her, not appearing the least alarmed by what had just happened between them. In fact, quite the contrary. “Sure, no problem. I have some calls to make anyhow. We’ll catch up tonight.”
There was a definite gleam in his eyes as he studied her, and she wondered what he must think of her. Of what they’d done.
Fricking-A. What the heck had just come over them? Over her? They’d kissed. No…they’d freaking made out like a couple of teenagers.
Her boss had felt her up.
Fresh horror and embarrassment flooded her face, and she kept her gaze down as she met Sabrina at the door.
“Should we stop at the house and make up some excuse for Mom and Dad?” Sabrina asked.
“Not unless you want a repeat of Easter 2009.”
“Hmm. Must be something genetic.”
Quinn looked sharply at her sister, who only smiled angelically while staring pointedly down at Quinn’s chest where the soft cups of her bra had bunched up, making it pretty clear it was no longer clasped.
“See you later, James,” Sabrina added more brightly.
“Looking forward to it.”
Only it sounded more like a promise, and despite the new anxiety gripping her, Quinn shivered in anticipation.
Almost on autopilot, James pulled Bessie into the open parking spot in front of the outfitter store and put the truck in park as the refrain that had been echoing in his mind for the past ten minutes continued.
He’d kissed her.
He, James Thornhill, had kissed Quinn Taylor.
Not just any kiss. But one that was so hot and so intense that it kept playing over again in his mind. Her warm, sweet mouth that had tasted like coffee and honey, the way her dark, silky hair had felt in his fingers, the feeling of her body responding so wholeheartedly and unexpectedly to his, the way she moaned so slightly and almost drove him insane with desire.
James ran a tremulous hand over his face, stopping to splay in the soft hair of his beard, something that he seemed to notice Quinn had liked as
well.
Damn it. How was he going to get out of this truck without embarrassing himself with thoughts like this?
Actually, what he should be thinking about right now wasn’t what it would be like to undress that soft but lean body of hers and see how she liked the brush of his mouth everywhere…he should be thinking about crisis management and how the hell was he going to fix this potential crisis?
He was the CEO of the company where Quinn worked. There were lines drawn by decency—and his own code—about what should or should not happen between him and an employee. Lines he’d never crossed before.
What he’d done with Quinn—no, what he still wanted to do with Quinn—made things infinitely more complicated.
But…
Did he regret it? Did he wish he could walk back to that moment when he’d leaned forward and expressed to her as clearly as he knew how just how beautiful he thought she was? That contrary to her belief that she might have disgusted or alarmed him with her revelation, he’d been overwhelmed and humbled that she’d trusted him with this information and that she seemed, if anything, even stronger and more incredible?
Hell no. He didn’t regret it for a minute. The only regret he had was the existing circumstances, of how it would play into their continuing professional relationship.
Because one thing was certain, he wasn’t going to forget this kiss, nor did he want to.
In fact, more than anything, he wanted to continue this thing with Quinn, to see what it would be like to take her out on a date, to be able to reach out and brush the hair from her face or place his hand on the small of her back, or to pull her into him and kiss her anytime he wanted.
He wanted to show her what it felt like to be adored.
It was just going to be…complicated. And he had a strong suspicion that the biggest complication of all would be in convincing Quinn not to say no.
From the seat next to him, his cell phone started shaking and beeping as incoming calls and texts and voice mails finally pushed through, thanks to the signal he must have found here in town.
Crazy for the Boss (Crazy in Love Book 1) Page 15