by Jenna Sutton
When she didn’t respond to his bombshell, Gary continued. “Cherry decided not to do the cover for Allure because she’ll be showing by the time it comes out, and her label wants to postpone her tour. They’re afraid ticket sales will be way down.”
“For what it’s worth, I think she made a smart decision about Allure. And I’m sure the label is just thinking about money, but being on tour has to be stressful. It can’t be good for a pregnant woman.”
“That’s the only smart decision she’s made lately because she wasn’t smart enough to use birth control,” he snarked, and she chose not to comment on that inflammatory statement. “How am I supposed to manage the situation when she won’t tell me who the father is? Maybe she doesn’t even know.”
Gary’s voice had thickened, almost like he was crying. He’d been Cherry’s manager since she was thirteen years old, and he probably saw himself as both a protector and surrogate father figure since her father had died well before she’d become a celebrity.
“I’m sorry, Gary,” Amelia said.
She felt bad for him and for Cherry. A baby might not wreck the singer’s career, but it would definitely put a dent in it.
He cleared his throat. “You’ve been great to work with. Maybe you can do some new designs for Cherry once the baby’s born and things are back to normal.”
She could tell he had doubts things would ever return to “normal,” but she assured him she’d love to work with him and Cherry anytime they wanted. They discussed how much Amelia should be paid for her work, and she named an amount she thought would be fair.
He let out a rough chuckle. “Cherry may be an unwed mother, but she’s a rich one, Amelia. I think you deserve more than that.” She heard him shuffling paper in the background. “Where should I send the check? I heard you’re in San Francisco doing a big design project. Do you want me to send it there?”
She wasn’t sure where Gary should send the check. Before she’d talked to him, she had been dead set on resigning the Riley O’Brien gig.
Maybe she had been too hasty in thinking she couldn’t handle the accessories line and redesign for the women’s division. Her shaky self-confidence had received a big boost when Gary had said Cherry had loved her designs. Not only was Cherry a known fashionista; she was also part of a younger demographic segment that Riley O’Brien & Co. wanted to target. Moreover, Gary had been sincere when he said she had been great to work with.
“Send the check to San Francisco,” she directed Gary. “Let me give you the address.”
• • •
Quinn stared at the numbers neatly presented in Sam Sullivan’s report. He’d stopped by the older man’s office to continue their discussion about new real estate opportunities, and for what seemed like the first time in days, he was focused on business instead of Amelia.
After he’d left her in the workshop earlier in the week, he had made sure he wouldn’t run into her. He’d worked from home that afternoon, and during the rest of the week, he hadn’t ventured any higher than the second floor of Riley Plaza. For added security, he had come in late and left early so he wouldn’t chance an accidental meeting in the elevator.
He knew his avoidance tactics were slightly ridiculous. But he still hadn’t recovered from Amelia’s crushing rejection.
He had replayed the scene in the workshop over and over, and he didn’t know where he’d gone wrong. How had they gone from Amelia’s orgasm, which he was pretty confident she’d enjoyed if her moans were anything to go by, to him raging out of the room, physically unsatisfied and emotionally raw?
He cringed inwardly at the memory. He had almost begged Amelia to be with him.
What the hell is wrong with me?
He’d never begged a woman for anything in his life. Well . . . that wasn’t entirely true. He begged his mom to make his favorite meal of beef stroganoff and lemon meringue pie whenever he visited. But other than that . . . no begging.
He had no reason to beg, damn it! There were three and a half billion females on the planet. Surely he could find one who fired him up like Amelia Winger. He didn’t want to think about the fact that he’d been with plenty of women, and not one of them had managed to make him feel the way she did.
Between his college girlfriend and Luna, he’d had a few short-term relationships, but nothing serious. When he had first come back to San Francisco, he had been focused on carving out a place for himself within the company, and when he returned to school to work on his MBA, his personal life suffered greatly. There was no way he could have juggled graduate school and a serious relationship. He didn’t know how people with families handled it.
He had always put Riley O’Brien & Co. ahead of his personal life, even when he was with Luna. She hadn’t been his priority, and she’d known it because he never pretended otherwise.
Lately, though, Quinn had started to think that spending every waking moment of his life worrying about the company was not healthy. Actually, it was kind of pathetic.
Cal had Saika and Valerie, for now at least, and Teagan had . . . well, he didn’t know about Teagan. His sister was downright secretive about her private life. He used to joke with Teagan about her mysterious love life, but she had mastered the art of the deep freeze and employed it at will. She’d been employing it a lot lately. In fact, she had been frosty with him for a few months now.
Her teasing, always razor-edged, was even sharper and had an underlying anger that confused him. He’d asked Cal about it, and she treated his younger brother the same way.
Her attitude bothered him. A lot. There was no one he loved more than his little sister, and he didn’t want her to be unhappy.
“What do you think?” Sam asked.
Quinn scowled when he realized he’d gotten distracted—again. Running his hand through his hair, he rubbed the top of his head in frustration. He gave the report a quick look, noting the list of expansion opportunities was pathetically short.
“Sully, this list isn’t complete, is it? Please tell me it’s not.”
With a laugh, Sam leaned back in his chair, making the abused office furniture squeak in protest. He linked his hands behind his head, the movement forcing his blue dress shirt to stretch over his small Buddha-like belly.
“Sorry, son, but it is.”
Quinn eyed Sam for a moment. He was not a body language expert, of course, but even he knew Sam’s position indicated a high level of confidence and a feeling of power.
It made sense Sam might subconsciously feel authority over Quinn since the older man had known him all his life. In fact, he couldn’t remember a time when Sam hadn’t been around. Sam was one of his dad’s oldest and closest friends, and for most of Quinn’s life, he had called him Uncle Sully.
“So what are we looking at? A maximum of five new department stores for the entire U.S.?”
“That’s right.”
Riley O’Brien & Co. generated the majority of its revenue from jeans sold in department stores. The stores were almost always located in regional malls, although some department stores now had stand-alone locations.
The company had distribution agreements with the big department store operators, allowing them to sell Rileys and receive a percentage of the sale. In most instances, Rileys had their own sections, a space of the store dedicated exclusively to Rileys. The company leased the dedicated space, paying rent to the department stores.
“We’ve relied on department stores to provide expansion opportunities for years. I don’t think that strategy is going to work anymore, Sully.”
Although the average consumer would never know it, only a couple of new malls were under development in the entire country. Each mall usually housed three to four department stores, and Riley O’Brien & Co.’s expansion opportunities were limited by the number of new department stores.
In addition to department stores, the company had distribu
tion agreements with select boutiques across the nation. Although it had an entire department dedicated to vetting boutiques for possible distribution deals, boutiques were secondary to department stores and did not generate a large portion of revenue for the company.
In general, Quinn was not a fan of selling Rileys in boutiques, and in this instance, he and his dad disagreed. He thought it was too hard to police all the boutiques to make sure they were the kinds of places that would enhance the brand rather than damage it. His dad was of the opinion that it didn’t matter where Rileys were sold, as long as they sold.
Sam sighed loudly. “If you’re talking about opening up more company-operated stores, you know your dad would be against that idea.”
Along with department stores and boutiques, Riley O’Brien & Co. also leased space in malls, open-air centers, and urban retail locations for its own company-operated stores. Quinn’s dad wasn’t a fan of selling Rileys through this channel because of the expense and management supervision involved. As a result, there were fewer than seventy-five company-operated stores across the U.S.
Quinn rubbed the back of his neck, trying to get rid of the kinks. “I know, but we have to keep expanding. We can’t continue to grow our revenues by relying only on our existing stores.”
Removing his hands from his head, Sam grabbed the arms of his chair to push himself to a standing position. “Let’s postpone any decisions until your dad comes back and things get back to normal,” he suggested, moving around the desk to Quinn.
Normal? Quinn didn’t even know what that meant anymore.
He hadn’t felt “normal” in a long time, since before his dad had gotten sick. And he definitely didn’t feel normal with Amelia around. She made him off-balance, like he was standing in an open room during an earthquake. He didn’t know how to regain his equilibrium.
Sam patted him on the shoulder. “Get on out of here, boy. I need to make a phone call.”
Quinn stood. Sam’s jovial, familiar manner had started to grate on him, and he no longer found it comforting so much as condescending. He doubted the older man would ever adapt to answering to someone who’d played doctor with his daughters.
Something was going to have to change. But he didn’t know what or when.
Chapter 20
Quinn checked his phone again to make sure he hadn’t missed a text from Teagan. She was running late, which was understandable given the crowd of people who had come out this Saturday to enjoy the annual chocolate festival in Ghirardelli Square.
His sister had stopped by his office yesterday after his unsatisfying meeting with Sam Sullivan. Although he’d been in a bad mood, he had said yes when she asked him to attend the festival with her.
He moved closer to the stop sign so he wouldn’t block the pedestrian traffic. Looking up and down the street, he tried to spot Teagan’s dark head.
A black four-door sedan pulled up to the curb, catching his attention. The driver came around to open the door, and Quinn immediately recognized the red head that poked out of the car, along with the curvy body that followed.
He let out a low groan, although he couldn’t say whether it was one of pleasure or dismay. Had Teagan invited Amelia to join them?
He watched intently for his sister to emerge from the car, but once Amelia was safely on the sidewalk, the driver closed the door and handed a business card to her.
Although Quinn and Amelia hadn’t parted on good terms, he was happy to see her. A jolt shot through his body, almost as if he’d gulped a double espresso.
He couldn’t help but smile at the sight she made as she stood on her tiptoes looking for someone. She was just so damn cute. She’d clearly dressed for comfort rather than style, and she looked like a tourist.
She had pulled her curly hair back into a messy ponytail, and she wore a pair of khaki cargo pants that hugged her round ass and red Converse tennis shoes. Her leather backpack pulled her navy blue T-shirt tight across her chest, emphasizing the curves of her breasts.
Amelia had yet to spot him. She continued her scan, and he tensed as her gaze brushed past him. He knew the exact moment her brain communicated with her eyes because her head jerked back to him, and her eyes widened.
He raised his hand in a casual wave, and she slowly walked toward him. Stopping right in front of him, she looked up. They stared at each other for a few moments before she spoke.
“Hi,” Amelia finally said, her voice low.
“Juice,” he acknowledged.
Her eyes narrowed. “I’m surprised to see you. I was supposed to meet Teagan here.”
Her voice was faintly accusing, and it pissed him off. He didn’t have to trick women into spending time with him.
“I’m surprised to see you, too,” he replied in an unfriendly tone. “She asked me to meet her here, too.”
His phone chimed to let him know he had a text message, and he heard Amelia’s phone vibrate at the same time. His message was from Teagan. It read: “Change of plans. Not coming. Make sure Amelia has fun. You’re welcome.”
What a manipulator! He didn’t know whether he wanted to hug his conniving little sister or shake her until her teeth rattled.
He looked at Amelia, who had pulled her phone out of her pocket to read her own message. As she reviewed it, her plump lips turned down in a frown. He was pretty sure he had an idea what her message said. They’d been duped by a master.
“Bad news?” he asked innocently.
She raised her eyes to his. “Teagan’s not coming.”
“I know. I just got the same message.”
She immediately pulled out the card the driver had given her, clearly intending to ask him to come and get her. He placed his hand on her forearm to stop her.
“Wait a second.”
She jerked away from him. “What?” she asked rudely.
“Stay. Spend the day with me.”
Shaking her head, she opened her mouth. He rushed to speak before she could say no.
“I promise to keep my hands to myself.”
Her russet eyebrows shot up. “What about your mouth?”
Her question shocked a laugh out of him. “That, too. You don’t need to worry. My mouth will be too busy eating chocolate to bother you.”
She harrumphed, the sound making him smile. After several seconds, she tucked her phone and the driver’s card back into her pocket.
“Okay.”
He gave an internal sigh of relief. She was his, for a few hours, at least.
“This way,” he said, tilting his head toward Ghirardelli Square.
He put his hand on the small of her back to usher her forward only to jerk it away when she tensed. He tucked his hands in his pockets to keep them under control.
“Teagan told me Riley O’Brien & Co. sponsors the event,” Amelia said.
“We’re one of the sponsors. It’s part of our philanthropic efforts since the proceeds from the festival go to a local nonprofit. We’ve been a sponsor for a long time.”
“Do you have any other charitable programs?”
“Yes. We have quite a few. The most successful is our annual special-edition jeans. We donate the sales proceeds to a different charity every year. My mom came up with the idea when Teagan was a baby, and my dad signed off on it.”
His dad was hard as nails when it came to business. But he was a marshmallow when it came to his wife and his kids. And Teagan had taken advantage of it when she’d lobbied for the new line of accessories.
“How long have your parents been married?”
“They’re going to celebrate their thirty-sixth anniversary this December. They got married on New Year’s Eve. My dad said they chose that date because he never again wanted to kiss anyone else at the stroke of midnight.”
Amelia sighed. “That’s romantic,” she said. “Are they still happy together?”
She glanced at him quizzically, and he tried to think of the best way to explain his parents’ marriage. As a kid, he hadn’t realized how unique their relationship was, but as an adult, he recognized how rare it was to find the kind of love they had.
“They’re absorbed with each other. When they’re in the same room together, it’s like they breathe in concert.”
A big group of people passed by, and Quinn moved to shield Amelia from any possible jostles. When they were alone on the sidewalk again, he resumed their conversation.
“My parents have a very intense, passionate relationship. My dad never has to wonder if he’s done something wrong because my mom yells loudly enough that you can hear it in every room.”
Amelia laughed. “Is she only like that with him, or is she that way with everyone?”
“Now that you mention it, she’s only like that with him. She says he makes her crazy.”
She sucked in a breath, and he realized he’d said the same thing to her when they had been in the workshop. He didn’t want to consider the possibility there were any similarities between his parents’ relationship and the way he felt about Amelia.
He cleared his throat. “Let me tell you about the festival.”
He explained that attendees purchased tasting cards, which served as currency to purchase treats from the vendors. “One of the perks of being a sponsor is free cards, so we won’t have to purchase any.” He patted the front pockets of his Rileys. “I have a few right here. You can have anything and everything you want.”
When she didn’t reply, a disturbing thought crossed Quinn’s mind. “Shit. Is chocolate one of your don’ts? Like coffee and alcohol?” His horror was evident in his voice.
“Are you kidding?” she asked, laughing incredulously. “In my world, chocolate is one of the major food groups.”