Dream Lover

by Peterson, Nicola

  The following day Quinn obeyed his orders and went along to be fitted out for her trip to London. Monique was an elegant attractive woman in her mid-forties, ‘I have been expecting you, Mr Cordell has already been in touch,’ she explained when Quinn introduced herself.

  Quinn saw this as the perfect opportunity to find out if he did insist on buying clothes for his p.a. ‘Oh yes, you will be mixing with some very influential people,’ she explained using the same term he had. ‘Mr Cordell is very generous with his allowance.’ Monique looked her over assessing her size and what style would suit her best. ‘I have a number of outfits which will be suitable, if you go through to the changing room I will bring them in for you to try on.’

  Monique chose four dresses in all, two for day wear with matching jackets and two for evening. When Quinn saw the bill it was hard to keep her eyes from falling from her head and when she questioned Monique she told her it was well within the budget.

  Quinn returned from her shopping trip and had only been back at her desk about twenty minutes when all hell let loose; one of the junior typists had been entrusted with a report to type for the Chairman. Unfortunately the girl had spelt his name wrong not once but twice.

  ‘Quinn!’ Maxwell yelled through the open door.

  She sighed didn’t the man understand how to use the telephone or the intercom system she wondered, ‘Coming Mr Cordell,’ she murmured as she picked up her pen and pad. She refused to rush, even though he had told her on more than one occasion to lengthen her step, ‘you’ve got long legs use them,’ he had instructed her. She had almost told him to stop looking at her legs but quickly thought better of it.

  ‘Find out who….’ he sorted through the papers scattered across his desk, ‘find out who BS is in the typing pool, send her to personnel she is to be dismissed.’

  Quinn arched one perfectly shaped brow, ‘I think its Beth Simons, why has she done something wrong?’ she asked, thinking some dreadful misdemeanour had been committed.

  Maxwell picked up two sheets of paper, ‘my name is mentioned twice in this report, that stupid girl has spelt it wrong both times,’ he complained while pointing at the offending mistake on the paper. Quinn tried without success to hide her smile, ‘Some thing amusing you Quinn?’ he asked testily.

  ‘No, nothing, but don’t you think it’s a little over the top to sack her because she spelt your name wrong?’ She asked unable to keep the look of disbelief from her face.

  ‘Don’t you dare question me about what I do, or you’ll be going on the same trip!’ he snapped. ‘Now go and find her,’ he demanded throwing the sheets of paper across the desk, ‘and get that report retyped.’

  Unable to hold her tongue Quinn rounded on him, ‘Don’t you want to have her publicly flogged first?’ she snapped pushing the papers back on the desk as they threatened to spill onto the floor. ‘We could assemble the masses…’

  Maxwell Cordell shot from his seat and around his desk before she could even think of moving, ‘Just who the hell do you think you are talking too?’ he demanded, closing one large hand tightly around the top her arm and shaking her vigorously.

  ‘I think I’m talking to someone who is over reacting to a junior spelling his name wrong,’ she shook her arm free of his grasp, ‘and someone who is going to be without a p.a. if he ever manhandles me again!’ She told him glaring up in to his angry face.

  Blue eyes clashed dangerously with golden eyes, both pairs of eyes flashed with temper.

  ‘There are plenty of other personal assistants who could do the job just as well as you,’ he snapped, while trying and failing not to notice how soft the skin on her wrist was. Soft warm silk was all he could think of.

  Quinn gave a short harsh laugh, ‘No one else will work for you, I drew the short straw,’ she lied, not caring if she lost her job or not, the man was a bully.

  For just one split second he looked taken aback but then quickly composed himself, ‘Get that report redone and stay out of my sight.’

  ‘Pleasure,’ she said turning on her heel and walking slowly away from him, she never made it through her door before he caught up with her; he didn’t touch her this time but stood blocking the doorway with his body.

  ‘Meaning?’ he asked crossing his arms over his broad chest, his eyes flashed a dangerous glint, a warning of not to push him any further than she already had.

  She looked straight up into his eyes, ‘You asked me to get the report retyped, and I replied, pleasure, meaning just that. What did you think I meant?’ she asked her eyes not flickering from his for a moment.

  For an instant a hint of amusement flashed across his eyes and his firm mouth twitched. Uncrossing his arms he stood aside, ‘Get on with it,’ he muttered something more under his breath as he walked away but she couldn’t hear and didn’t question him, although it did cross her mind to.

  Quinn walked slowly to her desk a smile tugging at her generous mouth, she really did enjoy winding Maxwell Cordell up and she had too, and he looked fit to burst a blood vessel.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Later that afternoon Paul rang Quinn from his hospital bed, ‘How are you and Maxwell getting along?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh like oil and water,’ she told him with a laugh, ‘do you know he wanted to sack one of the junior typists because she spelt his name wrong?’

  Paul laughed, ‘That sounds about right, just tell him it’s been done he never checks up, but for God’s sake don’t argue with him,’ he fell silent for a moment, ‘you didn’t did you?’

  ‘Someone has to stand up to him,’ she explained, ‘I don’t know how you work for him, he’s a bully,’ she added with feeling.

  ‘He’s okay really; you just have to know how to handle him. He really is a good boss to work for and has a very good sense of humour.’

  Quinn laughed loudly, ‘You must be joking, he wouldn’t laugh if he saw chairs walk, just get well soon will you so I can go back to my own job,’ she pleaded.

  After speaking to Quinn for a while longer Paul then asked to be put through to Maxwell. When she heard Maxwell laughing she was surprised, she couldn’t imagine him sharing a joke with anyone, no matter what Paul said about him having a good sense of humour. She would have been even more surprised to learn that she was the reason for his laughter.

  Later that night her friend Sophie rang the two laughed women hysterically as she repeated the incident back to her. ‘You should have seen his face I thought he was going to have a heart attack.’

  ‘So what is he like?’ Sophie wanted to know.

  ‘What besides being a slave driver?’ She laughed before telling her, ‘too handsome for words, very tall and broad, with dark hair…beautiful blue eyes, nice firm jaw line’ she paused a moment, ‘oh yes and bad mannered, rude…what?’ she asked when Sophie started to laugh.

  ‘So you haven’t really looked at him then,’ Sophie laughed; she couldn’t remember the last time she had heard her friend comment on a man.

  ‘Well just because I noticed he is good looking doesn’t mean I like him,’ she retorted, surprising herself she described him in so much detail.

  ‘Is he single?’

  Quinn had no idea if he was or not, ‘Haven’t a clue,’ she responded, all too quickly.

  Life was never going to be easy working for Maxwell Cordell; he was a perfectionist, working himself and everyone around him into the ground in his strife for excellence. But Quinn was not put off by hard work, nor was she easily intimidated.

  ‘We’ll be working late,’ Maxwell informed her as the clock approached five thirty, without giving her a chance to object he went on to say. ‘Organise something to eat for everyone, pizza, sandwiches whatever they want,’ he thought for a moment. ‘I’ll have roast chicken sandwiches, no I’ll have pizza,’ he shook his head, ‘get me both, I missed lunch,’ he told her striding away.

  Quinn turned and watched him walk away resisting the urge to shout after him ‘didn’t your mother teach you to say please?’ Picki
ng up her pad she wrote down his order, he had an enormous appetite, always eating twice as much as everyone else. Of course she knew he didn’t have a pick of fat on him, he didn’t sit still long enough for fat to settle. Quickly pushing the vision of him in his shorts to the very back of her mind she entered the boardroom and took the orders from the dozen people seated around the huge table.

  ‘Do everyone a favour and lace his with sleeping pills will you,’ Jason Philips one of the managers asked hopefully, ‘he had us here until midnight last month!’

  ‘Yes and he didn’t even have the grace to look in the slightest bit tired,’ complained Peter Thompson, ‘I don’t think he’s human, I’ll have pizza please Quinn,’ he smiled. ‘Do you think there may be a chance of a beer with that? No, thought not,’ he answered his own question when she raised her eyebrows at him.

  Quinn telephoned the order through to the local caterer who promised the food would be delivered within the hour, when she finished that call she picked up the phone again and rang her mother.

  ‘Hi it’s me, I’m really sorry mum but I won’t be able to make it for dinner after all,’ she could barely hold back a sigh, ‘no the ‘slave driver’ has us all working late again,’ she finished with a laugh. ‘I’ll be fine he’s ordered food in for everyone,’ she told her when she fussed over her missing her evening meal. ‘I’ll have to go, see you at the week-end, bye,’ she cut the connection and looked up to find Maxwell Cordell was standing in the doorway.

  ‘Why didn’t you say you had made arrangements?’

  ‘You didn’t really give me much chance,’ she told him evenly, concerned, but only for a moment just how much of the conversation he had heard. To hell with him, he was a slave driver, if he didn’t know before he does now she thought.

  After studying her for a moment or two longer he turned away, calling over his shoulder as he went, ‘Bring some cans of beer in with you when the food arrives.’

  It was turned ten before the meeting finished, Quinn hid a yawn behind her hand as she picked up her bag. If she hurried she would just be in time for the last bus, as she stepped through the door Maxwell called her back much to her annoyance.

  ‘How are you getting home?’ he asked reaching for his bulging brief case.

  ‘Bus, if I hurry,’ while thinking ‘so don’t delay me please.’

  ‘I’ll drop you off,’ he said taking her by surprise.

  ‘There’s no need if I hurry…’ she started to say again.

  He snapped off the lights and pushed her through the door, ‘I said I’ll drop you off, I don’t want you using public transport late at night,’ he went on evenly.

  ‘Well if you’re sure,’ she conceded travelling on the bus late at night was not top of her favourite things to do list, plus she had just remembered there had been a football match earlier that night. ‘Thank you,’ really quite relieved not to have to share the bus with hoards of drunken football supporters.

  ‘Pleasure,’ he drawled pushing the button for the lift.

  For just one second she could have sworn he was laughing at her, but he turned his face away hiding his expression from her enquiring eyes.

  While they travelled down from the tenth floor to the car-park located in the basement, Quinn spent her time studying the carpet until she became aware of Maxwell studying her reflection in the mirror; looking up through her lashes she caught him off guard for the moment.

  Leaning back against the interior wall of the lift he was scrutinising her hair, his blue eyes were moving slowly down from the back of her head, resting for a moment on the length of her hair before continuing down. Even though her suit jackets all looked a size too big he guessed she had a full figure, the boxy jacket she was wearing finished half way over her backside but he could still tell it was shapely; her legs were long and nicely shaped. What he often wondered was how did she manage to walk around all day on the killer heels she wore all day? Today they were black patient leather, at a rough guess he reckoned the heels were at least three inches high and she was still walking as gracefully on them as she had been at nine that morning.

  Maxwell was deep in thought and was stroking his chin between finger and thumb when the lift gave a small jolt and they both looked up at the same time, for a long moment their eyes met in the mirror until he looked slowly away.

  Quinn pushed the expression in his eyes and the way it made her feel to find him watching her as far out of her mind as she could. She was so deep in thought trying not to think about him, she hadn’t realised the lift had stopped or that he was waiting for her to alight from it.

  ‘Do you intend to stand there for the rest of the night Quinn?’ he asked with a touch of amusement in his voice.

  ‘Sorry, I’m very tired I was miles away,’ she told him barely lifting her eyes to his, in truth she was alarmed by her reaction to him watching her.

  ‘Yes it’s been a long day,’ he agreed.

  Quinn glanced at him briefly and gave a soft snort; he didn’t look in the least bit tired in fact he looked every bit as fresh and alert as he had at eight thirty that morning!

  Holding the door for her he waited while she settled herself into his luxurious Mercedes before closing it with a reassuring clunk. Suddenly she didn’t feel so relaxed; somehow sitting in his car was more intimate and for the first few minutes sat chewing her lip.

  ‘Do you drive?’ he asked when she nodded he then asked, ‘Do you have a car?’

  ‘No…I did have but it was a waste of money so I sold it a while ago, it cost almost as much to park for one day as it does to use public transport for a whole week,’ she shrugged her shoulders. ‘I don’t really have anywhere to drive to so I don’t miss it and besides my friends and family live close,’ she explained. ‘This is a nice car, it’s very comfortable,’ she added after a small silence.

  ‘Thank you, I haven’t had it long,’ he ran his long fingers around the leather steering wheel while he spoke.

  With a great deal of effort she dragged her eyes away from the way his fingers caressed the leather and focused her eyes on the road ahead, without really seeing where she was. For some reason which eluded her she could visualise him stroking her skin and running his fingers through her hair.

  ‘We’re here Quinn,’ he said pulling the car to a halt.

  Quinn looked up as she realised they were outside of her flat, ‘Thank you very much,’ grateful that the flush which crept over her cheeks could not be seen in the soft light of the car, ‘good night Mr Cordell see you tomorrow,’ she said while stepping from the car. Without replying he pulled the car away from the curb and disappeared into the darkness.

  Two days later they were due to leave for the first of their trips, an overnight stay in London. One important piece of information Quinn had omitted to tell her boss was that she was terrified of flying. This was going to be a problem because they would be flying to each of their planned destinations.

  ‘My driver Jason will pick you up at seven in the morning. Be ready,’ he warned her as she left the office for the evening.

  Quinn still didn’t feel comfortable calling him Maxwell so told him, ‘Yes Mr Cordell,’ always keeping her conversations with him polite and never over friendly. Unless of course they were arguing then she let rip.

  There was no chance of her being late the next morning because she could hardly sleep at all; between the fear of oversleeping and the fear of flying she sprang from her bed when the alarm sounded the next morning.

  By six forty she was ready, her stomach tied in knots she sat quietly taking deep calming breaths, while chanting over and over that flying was safe. When she pulled back her curtain she was surprised to find the car already waiting for her. Taking a deep breath she made her way out praying she could make the short flight without disgracing herself.

  Until then she had never seen Maxwell really relaxed, but at that moment he was sharing a joke with his driver, one long arm resting across the back seat of the car, his dark head thrown bac
k as he laughed heartily. The two men turned as she walked down the path toward them, immediately the driver jumped from the car and took her case.

  ‘You must be Miss Quinn,’ he smiled holding out his hand to her, for a moment his strong fingers closed around hers as he introduced himself to her. ‘I’m Jay,’ he told her as he stowed her case in the vast boot.

  ‘Nice to meet you Jay, it’s just Quinn,’ she smiled as he opened the door for her, ‘if we’re going to be formal it’s Miss Morgan,’ she smiled again, ‘I prefer Quinn.’

  Jay retuned her smile, ‘Okay Quinn it is, nice to meet you,’ he opened the car door and waited for her to settle inside before closing it once again.

  ‘Good morning Quinn,’ Maxwell gave her a hard glare as she settled into her seat.

  ‘Good morning Mr Cordell,’ she did not look at him but focused her attention on fastening her seat belt, which took twice as long as it should have because her fingers trembled.

  Most of the short journey to the airport past in silence, giving Quinn plenty of time to work herself into frenzy about the coming flight, once or twice during the journey she caught Jay watching her in the mirror. It wasn’t until they stopped he spoke to her.

  ‘Nervous?’ he asked as he secured her case onto a flight trolley.

  ‘Terrified,’ she admitted stealing a quick look in Maxwell’s direction ensuring he was not listening.

  ‘What of him,’ he nodded toward their employer, ‘or flying?’

  ‘Flying,’ she told him candidly, ‘he won’t fall out of the sky and kill me!’

  Jay threw back his head and laughed loudly drawing Maxwell’s attention to them.

  ‘What’s this Quinn telling jokes again?’ he drawled, ‘care to share?’ he asked looking from driver to p.a.

  ‘No Sir,’ Jay told him with a smile, winking at Quinn he slid back into the drivers’ seat, ‘I’ll see you both tomorrow evening about eight o’clock,’ he called as the sleek black car drew away from the curb.