by Jenna Sutton
She swallowed. “Fine. I needed a little time to work through some things.”
He tilted his head. “What things?”
“It had nothing to do with you or Riley O’Brien.”
“So I’m not allowed to interfere in your life, but you can stick your nose into mine? That doesn’t seem fair,” he said, his mild tone hiding the anger that swirled through him.
Her eyes narrowed. “If you’re talking about the women’s division, I have a right to stick my nose in.”
“Does that include lying to me and stabbing me in the back?” he shot back. “Does it include manipulating my feelings for Amelia to get your way?”
“Your feelings? You wanted to get in her pants, and you did. You should be happy.”
Cal groaned, muttering something under his breath. They both ignored him.
“Well, I’m not happy. In fact, I’m pretty damn miserable.”
She sprang to her feet. “Miserable? Aren’t you being a little dramatic?”
Cal dropped his feet to the floor and sat up. “You should probably know that Quinn is in love with Amelia,” he said, directing his gaze toward Teagan.
She snorted. “Yeah, right.”
When neither Quinn nor Cal responded to her sarcastic comment, her mouth dropped open. “Are you serious?” she asked, looking back and forth between them. “I knew you liked her, but I never expected you would . . .”
“Fall in love,” Cal chimed in.
Quinn eyed his sister. “What did you expect? Actually, I think I know the answer to that question. You expected me to lead with my dick and go along with everything Amelia suggested. Am I right?”
She flushed guiltily but didn’t answer his question. Rage stung his veins, but he managed to control it.
“You knew she was lying to me the whole time she was fucking me . . . that she was using me to get your money. Do you know how stupid I feel? I was going to ask her to marry me.”
She gasped. “Oh, Quinn, I’m so sorry.”
Her sympathy shattered his control. “Shut up!” he roared.
She flinched. As they stared at each other, Cal stood and left the room.
After several moments of tense silence, Teagan said, “I am sorry about what happened with Amelia. I was only concerned with what I wanted, and I didn’t think about whether it would hurt you or her. You were right. I thought it would be easier to get your buy-in on the redesign if the two of you were involved.”
Turning away from Teagan, he paced around the room. She watched him with wary eyes, obviously worried she had pushed him too far.
“Did she . . .” He swallowed to ease the dryness in his throat. “Was that Amelia’s plan, too?”
She shook her head. “No, I don’t think so.”
He let out the breath he’d held. Amelia might not love him, but at least their time together hadn’t been a complete farce. That made him feel slightly better.
“In fact, I don’t think she had any intention of getting involved with you, although I could tell she was attracted to you. She tried to hide it, but it was pretty obvious, and I . . .”
He raised his eyebrows. “What?”
“I made sure you spent some time together.”
“You’re not very subtle if the chocolate festival was an example of your matchmaking skills.”
Her lips twitched. “Yes, I am. You’re just not very perceptive.”
He cocked his head. “What do you mean?”
“Your first meeting. Lunch on her first day of work. The launch party.”
He digested what she’d said and then snorted in disgust. “You are the most conniving woman I’ve ever met.”
“I know. It’s a bad habit,” she said unapologetically, and he couldn’t help but laugh.
“Quinn, you need to know that Amelia wanted to tell you about the redesign, but I told her that I’d find someone else to work on the accessories and the redesign if she breathed a word of it to you.”
He sucked in a breath, struggling to control his temper. “In other words, you bullied her into keeping quiet.”
She nodded, not an ounce of guilt on her face.
“When did that happen?” he asked.
“At the launch party. You were upset, and she thought telling you about the redesign might make you feel better. But I had no doubt you would have shut her down.”
He frowned. He didn’t know how he would have reacted. His thoughts about the women’s division had changed a lot since that night.
“Amelia said you planned to go to the board if I didn’t put her designs into production. Would you really have done that?”
Teagan didn’t answer for a long time. Finally, she said, “I don’t know. I was so tired of you ignoring me, and one day I’d just had enough. Enough of you ignoring my ideas and my opinions. So I decided to do something about it.”
He eyed her. “That doesn’t sound like an apology.”
“Why should I apologize for doing something that would help Riley O’Brien?”
“How do you know a redesign would help the company instead of hurt it?”
She blinked, obviously surprised by his question. “Well, things can’t get much worse for the women’s division.”
“Probably not,” he agreed. “But they can get a lot worse for the company overall. Bigger companies, stronger companies, have been brought down by one bad decision.”
“Revamping the women’s division isn’t a bad decision,” she shot back.
“Why are you so sure you’re right? Why do you think you know better than everyone else, especially me? Do you really think I’ve done such a bad job running the company in Dad’s absence?”
She frowned. “You’re just too stubborn to see what’s right in front of you.”
“And you’re not stubborn?” he asked dryly, shaking his head in frustration.
She flipped her long ponytail over her shoulder. “I did this to help Riley O’Brien. It was the right thing to do.”
He took a deep breath to defuse his anger. “It wasn’t the right thing to do, Teagan. This isn’t just about the company. You did something that hurt me.”
Tears suddenly filled her blue eyes—the same eyes he saw when he looked in the mirror. “Quinn . . .” She swallowed audibly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I love you.”
And that was exactly what he needed to hear.
“I love you, too. But I want you to understand something: if anyone else had gone behind my back like you did”—he clapped his hands together and then held them up like a blackjack dealer clearing the table—“it would be over.”
Her shoulders slumped and all the bravado and defiance left her. She looked like a flower deprived of water and sunlight—wilted and lifeless.
“I know,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “I really am sorry for hurting you.”
He dropped into the chair Cal had vacated. “I’m responsible for everything that happens at Riley O’Brien & Co.—good or bad. I just want to make sure I’m doing the smart thing for the company. Haven’t you ever been afraid of making the wrong decision? Afraid to take a chance because the risk seems greater than the reward?”
She stared at him, an arrested expression on her face. “Is that how you feel, Quinn?”
“That’s how I felt for a long time, but not anymore.”
She sat down on the sofa and kicked off her boots. “What changed?” she asked, pulling up her legs and resting her head on her knees.
“I met Amelia.”
Teagan cocked her head. “And?”
“When I’m with her, I feel stronger . . . like I’m capable of handling whatever life throws at me.” He met her gaze, aware that he had surprised her. “Have you ever felt that way about anyone, T?”
Pain shadowed her eyes. “Yes.” She shoo
k her head a little. “I mean, no, I haven’t.”
Damn. His mom was right. Teagan was in love, and she was hurting.
“Does Amelia know how you feel about her?” Teagan asked, putting the focus back on him.
Before Quinn could answer, he heard the clink of crystal nearby. Turning toward the noise, he saw Cal holding three crystal flutes in one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other.
He raised his eyebrows. “What’s this?”
Cal smiled and handed him a flute. “Now that Teagan’s back, we need to celebrate the next phase of Riley O’Brien & Co.”
Teagan frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“Didn’t Quinn tell you?” Cal asked as he passed a glass to her.
“Tell me what?” she asked, dropping her feet to the floor.
After placing his flute on the end table, Cal began to untwist the wire around the cork. “He wants to expand the women’s division. We’ve engaged Shelby’s research firm to help us figure out the best strategy for product development and distribution.”
She gasped, her eyes darting to Quinn’s face. “Really?”
Quinn watched as Cal popped the cork. Champagne bubbled over his brother’s fingers, and he held out his glass so Cal could fill it. He took a sip before answering her.
“Really.”
Chapter 43
“Do you have a minute?” Quinn asked Sam Sullivan, standing in the doorway of the older man’s office.
Sam looked up from his computer monitor with a smile. He gestured for Quinn to come in.
“How are you, son?”
“Fine,” Quinn replied, struggling to keep his face impassive.
He didn’t expect this meeting to go well, which explained why he was here in Sam’s office bright and early. He didn’t want to put off this conversation any longer than he already had, and the office was closing at noon today in advance of the Thanksgiving holiday.
Closing the door behind him, he took a seat in one of the chairs in front of Sam’s desk. He got a strong sense of déjà vu when the older man leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head.
“What can I do for you?”
“I’ve been thinking about the situation with the department stores, and it’s time for us to move forward with other expansion opportunities.”
Sam sighed. “Quinn, we’ve already had this conversation. James doesn’t like company-operated stores.”
“I hear you, Sully. But I think company-operated stores are our best bet. I’d like for you to get in touch with our outside real estate firm to investigate potential locations for company-operated stores.”
Sam’s dark eyes narrowed. “That’s a waste of my time, and it’s a waste of the company’s resources,” he said flatly.
Quinn took a deep breath. “I disagree,” he replied, pleased to hear that his voice was even, betraying no anger even though he seethed inside. “And it’s not a request, Sully. By year-end I want to see recommendations for at least one hundred new stores.”
Sam dropped his arms to his desk and leaned forward as Quinn continued to talk. “We need to evaluate whether we should expand in markets where we already have stores or if we want to go into new areas. You’ll also need to work with the logistics group to determine if we would have to add distribution warehouses if we go into new markets.”
Sam’s nostrils flared. He opened his mouth to speak, and Quinn held up his hand.
“It’s not a request,” he repeated, holding Sam’s gaze until the other man looked away. “I also want to evaluate an entirely new channel.” He paused to make sure that Sam paid attention. “Outlet centers.”
“Outlet centers,” Sam repeated.
“Yes.”
“That’s ridiculous! What are we going to sell in outlet stores?”
“Amelia Winger’s accessories will be sold at different price points, some of which will be suitable for outlet stores. Also, once we expand the women’s division, we’ll have more products to stock the outlet stores.”
Sam’s eyes widened. “What are you talking about?”
“The women’s division is getting a makeover.”
“What does James have to say about this?”
“He trusts me to do what’s best for the company.”
Sam laughed incredulously. “None of your ideas will be implemented once he comes back.”
“Dad has decided to retire, and I’m officially going to take over the company next month.”
Sam rolled his lips inward, clearly upset by the news. Quinn stood up.
“Let me know if you run into any problems,” he said as he made his way to the door. “Thanks for your time.”
“Are you ready to take the blame when your bad decisions damage this company?”
He tensed with his hand on the doorknob, but he didn’t turn around. “Yes,” he answered as he opened the door. “But I think it’s more likely I’ll be given the credit when my good decisions make it stronger.”
Quinn left Sam’s office, surprised to find he was energized by the conversation. He’d expected to be wiped out, but he felt more alive than he had since he’d abruptly left Nashville.
The fear that had paralyzed him over the past several months had vanished. He still recognized the challenges, but they no longer seemed insurmountable. He was excited by the opportunity to change things for the better.
He knew Amelia was responsible for his changed attitude. He was a different man today than he had been before he met her.
On the way back to his office, he stopped by the executive lounge to grab some coffee. As he filled a mug with the dark brew, he admitted to himself that he didn’t want things to be over with Amelia.
He just didn’t know how to fix things. He wondered if there was anything he could do.
Last night after Teagan and Cal had left his house, he’d realized one very important fact—something he had overlooked in his anger and disappointment: Amelia could have continued to lie, but she hadn’t. When he had discovered the jeans and told her that he wanted her to head up the women’s division, he’d given her the perfect excuse to maintain her deception, but she had come clean.
She’d had no reason to tell him that she loved him—no reason except that it was the truth, and she was done lying. And, at this point, he really didn’t care that she had lied about everything else as long as she’d told the truth about loving him. He loved her enough to forgive her.
Making the trek back to his office, Quinn mulled over possible solutions to his relationship woes. He stopped to pick up a stack of mail from his assistant’s desk on the way, and with his hands full of envelopes and his coffee, he kicked the door to his office shut.
As he did so, he bobbled the mug, splashing hot liquid over his hand and onto the cuff of his shirt. “Shit!” he exclaimed, lunging toward his desk, where he quickly dumped his mug and the mail.
He shook the excess coffee from his fingers before wiping them on his Rileys. He hissed a little as the rough denim rubbed over his scalded flesh. Holding out his hand, he assessed the damage.
“Did you burn yourself?”
He jerked his head up to see Amelia standing next to his denim sofa. He blinked, wondering if his subconscious had conjured her.
No, she’s really here.
They stared at each other without speaking, and his heart gave a contented sigh as it soaked in her presence. Her dark eyes, her brown-sugar freckles, her rosy lips . . . He could look at her face for the rest of his life and never grow tired of it.
He ran his gaze down her short, curvy body. Her brown sweater was so dark it matched her eyes, and her dark-washed jeans hugged her luscious hips.
His eyes lingered on her jeans, and she turned, showing him her backside. The Rileys logo was prominently displayed on one pocket, along with the telltale black tag. The jea
ns cupped her ass beautifully, the seam between her cheeks perfectly straight.
As she walked across the room, he tracked the movement of her round ass, her curly hair swinging above it. She looked over her shoulder, russet eyebrows raised.
“You told me to never again wear a piece of denim that didn’t have your name on it.” She licked her lips nervously. “So what do you think?”
I think I’m a lucky man.
He cleared his throat, hoping his voice would work. “They look good. Did you make them?”
“I did. I call them Plain Jane because they don’t have any embellishment.”
He smiled a little. The jeans might not be all tricked out, but there was nothing plain about the way she looked in them. They were tight in all the right places.
Amelia walked toward him, stopping just a few inches in front of him. He could smell the sweet scent of her hair, and he pulled in a deep breath, the first one he’d taken in several weeks. She looked up at him, meeting his eyes.
“Quinn, I’m sorry for so many things. I’m sorry I went behind your back. I’m sorry I didn’t have the guts to tell you the truth even when I wanted to. And I’m sorry you thought I used you.”
He didn’t know what to say because he wished those things hadn’t happened, too. When he didn’t respond, she sighed and stepped closer, her chest brushing the front of his shirt.
“If someone had asked me a few months ago what I wanted most, I would have said success. My answer would be different now.” She swallowed. “Please ask me what I want most.”
He stared down into her eyes. They were shiny and wet with tears. She might think she lacked guts, but the fact that she was here, standing in his office, proved otherwise.
“What do you want most, Amelia?”
Holding his breath, he waited for her answer. He hoped she wanted the same thing he did.
“You,” she answered. “I want you.”
• • •
Amelia gazed into Quinn’s dark blue eyes. It was all she could do to keep from throwing herself at him.
She’d missed him so much, a physical ache that had never seemed to go away. Now that she was here, close enough to touch him, that ache had vanished.