‘Let me,’ he said when she took out her key.
He opened the door, stood back to allow her to precede him and then followed, shutting the door behind them.
This wasn’t supposed to happen, Magenta thought as Quinn shucked her coat off in one sweeping move. She wasn’t supposed to tear his jacket from his shoulders and rip at his shirt buttons like a loved-crazed hussy. And Quinn wasn’t supposed to kiss her as if they’d known each other longer than for ever and had been apart for far too long. They grappled with each other as if no amount of kissing or embracing would ever be enough for them and as if any future parting, however short that parting might be, was unthinkable.
‘Bed,’ she managed to gasp, glancing up the stairs.
‘We’ll never make it.’
Fighting with Quinn’s belt buckle, she was tempted to agree. She’d taken quite a journey in that dream from sexual ingénue to sensualist, and she wouldn’t be denied now.
Finally, she managed to wrest the belt from Quinn’s belt loops and tossed it aside. He kissed her again tenderly, cupping her face in his hands in a way that brought the dreams back full force. She always felt so cherished when Quinn kissed her this way.
But Quinn had never kissed her before—not even close.
So why this heat, this passion? Why was this so familiar?
Then hunger overcame them and she didn’t want to work it out. Their clothes lay scattered on the floor, and they found a new use for the stairs: pressing her down on one step, Quinn moved over her.
Adding to her almost unbearable arousal, she now discovered she could see everything they were doing in the hall mirror. Quinn, muscular, male and completely naked without a single imperfection—and Magenta Steele with plenty, but Quinn didn’t seem to notice. He was staring deep into her eyes, showing her things that went back a lot longer than a dream.
But right now it was the present that mattered. She had seen the heat in Quinn’s eyes and now his hand had found her.
‘Tell me what you want, Magenta.’
‘All of you.’
‘Like this?’
‘Yes,’ she gasped as Quinn sank deep inside her. Yes and yes again. Nothing in the dream had been half as good as this. Lying back against the thickly carpeted staircase, she dug her fingers into his buttocks, driving him hard, while Quinn thrust deeply into her to a rhythm that was both exciting and new, yet wholly familiar.
Release was violent and simultaneous. Quinn roared something hoarsely as Magenta cried out his name. Their grip on each other was ferocious as they bucked and moaned in a paroxysm of pleasure, and when Quinn finally loosened his grip on her she lay against his chest, panting helplessly.
‘Was that good for you?’ he murmured dryly.
From somewhere she managed to find the strength to ball up one hand into a fist and tap it weakly against his chest.
‘I take it that’s a yes?’
Raising her head, Magenta stared into Quinn’s eyes. Her own eyes would barely focus, but she managed a single word.
‘More?’ Quinn echoed. ‘Bed this time, I think.’ Swinging her into his arms, he took the stairs two at a time.
‘Front room—big bed—’
Quinn was inside her before her head touched the pillow. It felt so right, so good; rather than abating, her hunger had grown. ‘The more you make love to me, the more I want you.’ This revelation was no more than the truth. Gripping Quinn’s shoulders, she urged him on while Quinn worked steadily and confidently towards the inevitable conclusion.
‘My turn,’ she told him while she was still gasping for breath.
‘Greedy.’
‘Who made me that way?’ Tracing the line of Quinn’s sexy mouth with her fingertip, she straddled him and, taking him deep, she rocked while Quinn worked magic with his hands.
They made love through the night, with no time to dream. Quinn had the energy of a Titan, and, starved of love for so long, she matched him every step of the way. They finally fell asleep in a tangle of exhausted limbs.
When dawn woke them, Magenta’s first thought was Quinn. She slumped back on the pillow with relief to find him watching her. This was definitely better than a dream.
And things got better still when Quinn was in no hurry to get away—he didn’t mention work once.
‘I didn’t want to wake you,’ he said, stroking her hair. ‘You looked so peaceful. Were you dreaming?’
Their faces were close enough on the pillows for Magenta to see the slightest flicker of thought cross Quinn’s eyes. ‘I didn’t need to.’ Turning her head, she kissed his hand as he caressed her. ‘Did you?’
‘I can’t remember sleeping so well for quite some time.’
Now she was in his arms again and any discussion about Quinn’s dreams would have to wait.
‘You look perky,’ Tess commented when Magenta arrived in the office on the day of the party.
So much for trying to hide things from your best friend, Magenta thought wryly as Tess narrowed her eyes to scan her face. ‘Good sex? No—don’t tell me. I might have to hate you.’
‘We could never hate each other, Tess.’
‘You’re definitely pushing it,’ Tess warned. ‘Do I take it things are going well for you and the Mighty Quinn?’
‘You know I never discuss my private life.’
‘Only because you don’t have one—or didn’t used to,’ Tess amended, glancing towards the window where they could see Quinn telling the DJ where to set up.
‘Don’t you think we should concentrate on getting the right mix for the fruit punch rather than the wrong end of the stick? We don’t want everyone falling over after the first drink.’
‘Why not?’ Tess demanded. ‘Last man standing’s mine.’
The sixties-style gym suit, which was the outfit Magenta had chosen to wear for the party, was like a navy-blue shirt and bloomers all in one. There was a neat little collar, a breast pocket, buttons down the front and a coloured belt. Highly flattering, it was not.
What had she been thinking? Magenta wondered, turning to look at her rear view in the rest-room mirror. No need to ask if her bum looked big in this—it did. And, having seen what some of the other girls were wearing, she could only imagine Quinn’s reaction when he compared her to the young girls in their tight-fitting hot-pants and micro-minis. But she’d bought the kit and now she’d play the game.
She’d been a little late getting ready, as they’d just learned Steele Design had won a major contract to promote a new colour magazine for a national newspaper, so the party was already underway by the time she was ready to join in. She refused to think of the coveted contract as a coincidence. Had she been asked to promote Shiver Shiver Pink lipstick or Almost underwear? No.
Magenta gasped as some new arrivals, girls she knew, ran past her straight off the street complaining about shivering without their thermal underwear.
Was that a coincidence? Was she going to see a twist of fate behind every door?
‘Oh, hi, Quinn.’
‘Hi, yourself,’ he said, grinning down at her as he held the door. ‘You look… For once I’m lost for words,’ Quinn admitted, scanning Magenta’s fancy-dress outfit with a bemused expression on his face.
‘You don’t like it?’
‘Is that what you’re planning to wear for the party?’
‘Well, these aren’t my new work clothes, if that’s what you mean.’ She could have predicted Quinn’s outfit right down to the red, fuchsia-pink and black-striped socks—and rather wished she couldn’t. It made her head reel. ‘You don’t think this outfit is right, do you?’
‘I think you look cute—but maybe cute is wrong tonight? You just landed the biggest contract in Steele Design’s history, so maybe elegant-sexy would be better. You can still be cute,’ Quinn added hastily, tongue firmly lodged in his cheek.
‘That’s good to know,’ Magenta said dryly. ‘I’ll go and change.’
‘But first.’ Drawing her into the shadows, Quinn teased
her lips apart and then he kissed her.
Each time Quinn drew her into his arms and she inhaled, touched, experienced him, it was like the first time all over again—and the first time had been more than magic. ‘Hmm. I don’t feel quite so bad now,’ Magenta admitted when Quinn finally released her.
‘And you’re going to feel even better when you see what I’ve got for you.’
‘Quinn!’ Magenta exclaimed, pressing her hand to her chest in pretended outrage.
‘A small gift.’
‘Small? If it’s something small, I can relax.’
‘You can,’ Quinn confirmed, drawing her with him into his office. ‘Well? What do you think?’ he said, standing back.
Magenta stared at the dress hanging on a padded hanger from a hook. She had to say something. It was expected of her. Good manners demanded she must say something. ‘Thank you,’ she stuttered, wondering if the world and everyone in it had gone mad.
‘There’s a pair of shoes I thought you might like too—and some opaque-black tights to finish off the outfit.’
She was the one who was about to be finished off, as her heart banged wildly in her chest. Did she believe in second sight? No. Could dreams predict the future? No again. So, how to explain the figure-flattering dress in navy-blue silk and the pair of red-soled shoes? ‘Quinn, these are fabulous—and exactly what I would have chosen myself.’ Given a huge hike in salary, Magenta thought, giving herself a moment to salivate over the fabulous shoes. ‘How did you know what I’d like?’
‘An informed guess,’ he explained, thumbing his stubble.
But there was something else, something she couldn’t read behind Quinn’s steady gaze. ‘And you’re sure you don’t dream at night?’ she said.
CHAPTER TWENTY
THEY were both lost in their own thoughts on the drive home from the office. The party had been a huge success, with no time for further revelations from Quinn or opportunity for Magenta to dig for clues.
Which was probably just as well, Magenta reflected as she stroked the delicate panels of her new silk dress. Tonight belonged to their colleagues, and their cheers still rang in her ears. She would never have been able to join in the celebrations if she and Quinn had got any deeper into a discussion about dreams. But there was nothing to stop her doing a little probing now. ‘What made you buy the dress for me?’
He glanced across. ‘Intuition told me it might come in useful.’
And, as his lips curved in a grin, she pressed, ‘Intuition? Do you often get presentiments about the future?’
‘I get hunches,’ he admitted. ‘Am I psychic? I wouldn’t have taken so long to get where I am today if I were.’
‘Thirty-two is rather ancient,’ Magenta agreed wryly.
‘Your place or mine?’
A bolt of arousal hit her. Quinn as always had come right to the point. Reluctantly, she put her sensible head on. ‘Wherever we can talk.’ Quinn wasn’t getting off the hook so easily this time.
‘Mine’s closer.’
‘Sounds good to me.’
This time when they went inside she made the coffee and laid her cards out on the table right away. ‘Quinn—discussion first.’
‘Hmm, this sounds serious.’ He reached past her for the mugs and, while her guard was down, he swung his arm around her waist. ‘I’ll issue any timetables we have around here.’ Quinn stared her in the eyes, leaving Magenta in no doubt as to his agenda.
The click of the coffee machine was Quinn’s cue to release her. ‘Boy, do I need this,’ he said, pouring them both a generous slug.
While he was distracted she led the way into his orangerie where they could see the stars as they talked. She trembled with awareness when Quinn came up behind her. She put her hands over his and rested back against his chest as she gazed up at the waxing moon. ‘So, Quinn, do you dream?’
Quinn took the coffee mug out of her hands and put it on a small glass-topped table. ‘Maybe,’ he admitted. ‘I’m usually asleep, so I can’t be sure.’
‘Quinn.’ She turned to face him. ‘I’m being serious.’
‘Oh, really?’ His faint smile was softly mocking. ‘How can that be, when all you want is for me to admit that we meet up in our dreams? Crazy woman,’ he murmured, drawing her close.
Quinn’s eyes were warm and amused and his lips were close. It would be the easiest thing in the world to sink into his embrace and to forget about everything, but she was determined to discover the truth. ‘I’m not asking you to believe in magic—and, I can assure you, I’m not crazy.’
Quinn held his gaze. ‘What do you want me to say, Magenta?’
‘I just want you to admit that there’s more to life than what we can see and touch, hear and feel.’
Now he was grinning. ‘Do you want me to lose my hard-ass reputation altogether?’
‘I didn’t think it bothered you what people thought.’
‘It does if it impacts on the business.’
For a moment she had a flashback, and that flashback included a baby…
‘Magenta?’ Seeing the wistfulness in her face, Quinn drew her with him to a chair and sat her down on his knee. ‘What’s happened?’ he murmured, drawing her close. ‘Never mind all your questions, don’t you think it’s time you came clean with me?’
She rested still for a moment, knowing she had to tell him. She had to.
‘How bad can it be?’ Quinn prompted.
The dream? Apart from the baby—if it were possible to leave that aside, which it wasn’t—the dream was not bad at all, especially with some careful editing.
So she told him, leaving nothing out—other than the fact that Quinn had told her that he loved her. She concentrated more on the fascinating detail of the sixties, including Quinn’s appalling behaviour at the start.
‘But you won me round in the end, apparently,’ he said wryly.
‘I tamed you and trained you.’
‘Proves it was a dream.’
‘You’re impossible.’
‘You’re repeating yourself.’
Now she was smiling. Quinn’s humour did it for her every time. Plus, he was intuitive and compassionate—not forgetting hot. She still shook her head at him as if he were an impossible case, before going on to recount all the incredible events from the dream. But when she came to the part about the baby she couldn’t go on.
‘There’s no need to put yourself through this, Magenta. You want a baby—that’s not so unusual.’
‘But it felt so real.’ She dashed tears from her eyes. ‘And now I feel like I’ve lost it.’
‘That’s an anxiety dream,’ Quinn told her, bringing her close to drop a kiss on the top of her head. ‘You haven’t lost your baby, because you haven’t been pregnant—not yet.’
‘Not yet?’ Magenta shook her head at Quinn. ‘You are definitely impossible.’
Quinn’s answer was to throw her a sexy smile. ‘Who knows what the future holds?’
She tried to pull away. The pang of loss and longing was still too strong to make a joke of it.
‘Don’t stop me getting close,’ Quinn said, pulling her back onto his knee again. ‘Don’t shut everyone out so the only way you have to experience the things you wish for is in your dreams. Don’t do that, Magenta, you’ll miss out on so much—too much.’
‘Says the expert.’
‘My hopes and dreams have all been centred around the business—who knows what I dream about at night? I can only hope it isn’t balance sheets.’ He grinned.
‘How do you explain my dream?’
‘Maybe you worry you can’t have children—or maybe you think you won’t meet someone you’d like to have a baby with.’ Quinn’s beautiful eyes narrowed consideringly. ‘Whatever. It’s common knowledge you have the best imagination in the business, Magenta Steele—so am I surprised you have colourful dreams?’ Quinn’s lips pressed down. ‘What do you think?’
Magenta wrapped her arms around her waist and remained silent.
‘I’m going to tell you what I think,’ he said, making her look at him. ‘I think we should get to know each other outside the bedroom.’ That caught her attention. ‘Starting tomorrow night with a proper date.’
And, when for once she didn’t argue, he added, ‘I know this really cool jazz club…’
Life could be even better than a dream you could manipulate, Magenta had discovered, thanks to Quinn. She had no time for daydreaming in the weeks and months that followed; he took up all her time. Winter juddered reluctantly into spring, and then another year passed. With the first warm days of that new year the bulbs began to flower, carpeting the London parks with drifts of sunny, yellow daffodils and spikes of vivid purple, white and yellow crocuses. They took time off from work—lunch hours, coffee breaks—whenever the weather permitted. Muffled up in scarves and heavy jackets, they walked hand in hand, fingers intertwined as they talked business and pleasure, finishing each other’s sentences and sparking ideas off each other—whether those ideas related to some new advertising campaign, or to the colour of the sitting room in their new apartment. Magenta always won when it came to colour schemes, though she had to fight Quinn tooth and nail over business—just the way she liked it.
But today was a special day. Today was a day for skimming pebbles across a pool.
‘I have something to tell you,’ she said, drawing to a halt in front of a familiar bench.
Quinn grimaced. ‘Just so long as it has nothing to do with a dream.’
‘No, this is real enough.’ Picking up the flattest stone she could find, she angled her wrist and sent it skimming across the water.
‘One…two…three…four!’ Quinn was behind her with his arms looped loosely around her waist, counting the times the stone flipped up in the air as it travelled over the surface of the water. His breath warmed the top of her head.
‘Does that mean we’re expecting quadruplets?’
‘Quinn?’ Magenta swung round to face him.
‘How did I guess? I can’t live with you every day and fill my eyes with you without noticing those secret smiles you’ve been smiling, and the excitement you’ve been trying so hard to hide. Also, since we’re pretty close,’ he added wryly, ‘I’ve noticed that you’re late. So, Magenta Steele, I believe you have something to tell me?’
Ruthless Boss, Dream Baby Page 16