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‘Because it’s during working hours or because you still think the whole thing is a great big joke? I’m not falling behind with my work, am I?’
The thought had never crossed his mind. Thanks to Clare, his working life ran like a well-oiled machine. Not that he hadn’t managed to get things done before, but with her around everything was definitely less stressful than it had been before. There’d once been a time when he’d thrived on the adrenaline of being under pressure, but he’d outgrown those days. And, frankly, the matchmaking thing was starting to grate on him.
‘I’d have thought you of all people would understand the danger of matching starry-eyed people with someone who might break their heart.’
It was a sucker punch, considering her history. But he knew Clare pretty well. If dozens of people came back to cry on her shoulder in a few months’ time she’d feel responsible, and she’d silently tear herself up about it. She was digging her own grave. Quinn simply felt it was his responsibility to take the shovel out of her hand.
‘C’mon, if they’re so desperate they can’t find a date without your help, then—’
Disbelief formed in her eyes. ‘Is it so very difficult for you to believe that some people might simply be sick to death of trawling the usual singles scene? Not everyone has the—’ she made speech marks with crooked fingers ‘—success you have with women…’
Quinn ignored the jibe. ‘I s’pose that means I should expect to find long lines of Ugly Bettys and guys who still live with their mothers arriving in here every five minutes from here on in?’
If she thought for a single second he was going to be happy about that she could think again. He hadn’t batted an eyelid when she’d matched up friends of mutual friends outside of work, but the line had to be drawn somewhere. And he was about to tell her as much when she pushed the chair back from her desk and walked to the filing cabinets.
‘Don’t worry, Quinn. If word keeps spreading as fast as it has these last few months, then pretty soon I’ll be making enough money to be able to afford my own office. And then it won’t be your problem any more, will it?’
‘You’re quitting on me now?’
The thought of the endurance test involved with breaking in another PA made him frown harder. Prior to Clare he’d gone through six in almost as many months.
‘If you needed a raise all you had to do was say so…’
Clare continued searching the drawer. ‘It’s got nothing to do with getting a raise. It’s a chance to build something on my own. And if I can help make a few people happy along the way, then all the better.’
Okay, so he could understand her feeling the need to stand on her own two feet. That part he got. But he’d been pretty sure the arrangement they had had been working for both of them. Why rock the boat?
Stepping over to the desk, he turned on his heel and sat down on the exact same spot Clare had, schooling his features and deliberately keeping his voice nonchalant.
‘You’ve obviously been thinking about this for a while. So how come I’m only hearing about it now?’
‘Maybe because you’ve never asked…’
‘I’m asking now.’
It couldn’t possibly be taking so long to find whatever it was she was looking for. Not with her hyperefficient filing system. Half the time he only had to think about information he needed and the next thing he knew, it was in front of him. She was avoiding looking at him, wasn’t she?
‘O’Connor—’
‘You know, if you’d bothered reading the schedule I just gave you you’d see you have a meeting in less than twenty minutes…’
Nice try. Setting the schedule down, Quinn pushed upright and took the two strides necessary to bring him close enough to place his hands on her slight shoulders, firmly turning her to face him. When her long lashes lifted, her eyes searching each of his in turn, he did the same back before smiling lazily.
‘Working for me proved too tough in the end, did it? If you recall, I warned you at the start I was no walk in the park.’
Clare’s full mouth quirked at the edges—they both knew she dealt with him just fine, even on the days every other person on the planet would have avoided him.
‘Well, I won’t say there aren’t days I have to bite my tongue pretty hard. But it’s got nothing to do with the work—it’s something I need to do for me. If I can make it here, I can make it anywhere.’ Her smile grew. ‘That’s how the song goes, right?’
Quinn fought off another frown. ‘So how much notice are you giving me?’
‘Oh, I’m not handing in my notice just yet.’
But it was coming, wasn’t it? She was serious. And her job had long since exceeded the usual remit of personal assistant. She was his girl Friday—co-ordinating the Clubs, making sure staffing levels were sufficient, putting together promotions, booking live acts, filling in when someone was sick even if it meant working for fifteen hours straight…
Everyone who worked for him had even taken to calling her ‘Friday’, and she always smiled when they did, so Quinn had assumed she was happy in the role she’d taken on. The thought that she wasn’t happy irritated him no end. He should have known if she wasn’t.
And how exactly was he supposed to list all she did for him in a Help Wanted ad if she did quit?
Realising his hands had slid downwards, his thumbs smoothing up and down on her upper arms while he thought, Quinn released her and stepped back. ‘You’d miss all the craziness here, you know.’
Her voice softened. ‘I will. I’ve loved it here.’
Despite the fact she’d just allayed one fear, it was the fact she hadn’t used ‘I would’ or ‘I might’ but ‘I will’, that got to him most.
But he hid behind humour. ‘I’d better think about making a trip to Tiffany’s on my own to get one of those blue boxes for you, then, hadn’t I?’
The smile lit up her face, making the room immediately brighter than it already was, with the summer sun filtering in between the Manhattan high-rises to stream through the large windows lining one wall.
‘You should probably know I have a wish list…’
‘And I’ll just bet there’s a diamond or two on it.’
She nodded firmly. ‘Diamonds are a girl’s best friend, they say. But don’t go overboard.’ She patted his upper arm. ‘I haven’t had to suffer my way through the usual broken heart required to get a blue box from you.’
Files in hand, she walked back to her desk, silently dismissing him even before she lifted an arm to check her wristwatch. ‘Twelve minutes now—and counting.’
He stepped over to retrieve the schedule, and his gaze fell on the bright daisies she had in a vase on her desk. Like a trail of breadcrumbs, they were everywhere she spent any time—the simple flowers almost a reflection of her bright personality. Anywhere he saw daisies they reminded him of Clare.
When he didn’t move she looked up at him with an amused smile. ‘What now?’
‘I can’t stand in my own reception area for five minutes if I feel like it?’
‘No—you can’t. I have work to do. And my boss will give me hell if it isn’t done.’
Another frown appeared on his face while he went into his office to retrieve the jacket he’d left lying over a chair, remaining in place until he stopped at the glass doors etched with his company’s name.
‘We’re still going to Giovanni’s later, right?’
Clare’s head lifted and there was a brief moment of hesitation while she studied his face, confusion crossing her luminous eyes.
‘Of course we are. Why?’
‘Want me to come back for you?’
‘No-o. I think I can manage to make it back to Brooklyn on my own—always have before.’ She dropped her head towards one shoulder, still examining his face. ‘Did you get out of some poor woman’s bed on the wrong side this morning? You’re being weird.’
‘That’s what I get for trying to be thoughtful? No wonder I don’t do it that often…’
Clare lifted her arms and tapped the face of her watch with her forefinger, silently mouthing the words, Ten minutes…
‘You see, now—that I won’t miss when you’re gone.’
She smiled a smile that lifted the frown off his face. ‘I’m not leaving the country, Quinn. You’ll still see me. And we’ll always have Giovanni’s on a Wednesday night—it’s set in stone now.’
When he stayed in the open doorway for another thirty seconds she laughed softly, the shake of her head dislodging a strand of bright auburn hair from the loose knot tied at the nape of her neck. ‘Would you go away? I have just as much to do as you do. And I’ll have even more to do if I have to answer phone calls all day from people wondering why you’re late—which you already are cos there’s no way you’re making it to that meeting in eight minutes.’
‘Wanna bet?’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Five bucks says you don’t.’
‘Aw, c’mon—it’s hardly worth my while stepping through this door for five measly bucks.’
‘If you don’t step through that door it’ll cost you that much in cab fare to the nearest hospital.’
He fought off a chuckle of laughter at the empty threat. ‘Loser picks up the tab for dinner.’
‘You’re on. Now, go away. Shoo.’ She waved the back of her hand at him.
Reaching for his cellphone as he headed for the elevators, Quinn realized he’d miss their daily wagers. He liked things the way they were. Why did he have to have his life knocked off balance again? Hadn’t he spent half of it on an uneven enough keel already? And it wasn’t that he didn’t understand her need to build something, but the dumb matchmaking thing wasn’t the way to go. Not for Clare. Not in his opinion.
‘Mitch—Quinn Cassidy—I’m on a tight schedule today, can you meet me halfway?’
See—sometimes in order to win a bet a guy had to bend the rules a little—play dirty if necessary. Occasionally he even had to get creative. And Quinn liked to think he was a fairly creative kind of guy when the need arose. Plenty of women had benefited from that creativity and none of them had ever complained…
He’d find a way to make Clare see sense about the matchmaking—he just needed the right opening, and it was for her own good after all. She’d thank him in the long run.
What were friends for?
CHAPTER TWO
‘YOU KNOW, I THINK I’LL have dessert.’ Quinn patted his washboard-flat stomach as he came back to the table, smiling wickedly in Clare’s direction.
‘You cheated.’
‘You said I’d be late—I wasn’t—I won.’
Clare couldn’t hold back the laughter that had been brewing inside her all evening, thanks to his ridiculous level of gloating. But then he’d always been able to draw laughter out of her, even when he was being so completely shameless.
‘I need someone else to hang out with twelve hours a day.’ She glanced around to see if any of their friends, seated round the table, would take up her offer. ‘Anyone?’
‘Nah, I’m irreplaceable.’ Turning his chair with one large hand, he sat down, forearms resting on the carved wooden back while he dangled the neck of his beer bottle between long fingers with his palm facing upwards.
‘She tell you she quit her job today?’ The bottle swayed back and forth while startlingly blue eyes examined each of their faces in turn; a smile flirting with the corners of his mouth.
‘Don’t listen to him.’
Erin smiled. ‘Oh, honey, we never do.’
There was group laughter before Quinn continued in the rumbling, husky-edged voice that made most women smile dumbly at him. ‘Yup, she’s dumping me to go help the sad and the lonely.’
‘Leaving you sad and lonely?’
Clare laughed softly when Evan took her side with his usual deadpan expression. ‘He’d never admit it out loud but he’d miss me, you know…’
‘Rob and Casey got engaged.’ Madison smiled an impishly dimpled smile when Clare’s face lit up. ‘That’s three now, isn’t it?’
‘Four.’ Clare almost sighed with the deep sense of satisfaction it gave her. ‘And I’ve had ten referrals in as many days.’
‘You’re charging the new fee you talked about?’
She nodded. ‘And I talked to a website designer yesterday. He reckons we can have a site put together in a month or so—soon as I’m ready.’
‘Make sure there’s a disclaimer somewhere.’ Quinn rumbled in a flat tone.
Clare scowled at him. ‘Just because you don’t believe in love in the twenty-first century doesn’t mean other people don’t.’
His dark brows quirked just the once, his gaze absent-mindedly sweeping the room. ‘Never said I don’t believe in it.’
Clare snorted in disbelief. ‘Since when?’
Attention slid back to her and he held her questioning gaze with a silent intensity that sent an unfamiliar shiver up her spine.
‘So if I’m not married by thirty-four it automatically means I don’t believe in it, does it?’
‘You only believe in it for other people…’
And, come on, he couldn’t even say the word out loud, could he? Not that she doubted he felt it for family and friends, but when it came to Quinn and women…well…they probably cited him in the dictionary under ‘love ’em and leave ’em’.
Without breaking his gaze, he lifted a hand to signal a waitress—as if he had some kind of inner radar that told him where she was without him having to look. Or more likely because he knew waitresses in restaurants had a habit of watching him wherever he went. They were women after all,
‘I could throw that one right back at you.’
It was just as well he was sitting out of smacking distance, because he knew why she wasn’t as starry-eyed about love as she’d once been. Not that she didn’t believe she might love again one day. She’d just be more sensible about it next time. It was why the method she used for matchmaking made such sense to her. Didn’t mean his words didn’t sting, though…
And now he was putting her back up. ‘If you believe in it, then how come you have such a problem with me doing what I do?’
Quinn broke the visual deadlock to order dessert with a smile that made the young waitress blush, and then attempted to drum up support. ‘C’mon, guys—tell her I’m right. People will blame her when they don’t end up riding off into the sunset on a white horse.’
Clare dipped her head towards one shoulder, a strand of hair whispering against her cheek while she blinked innocently. ‘Aren’t you always right? I thought that was the general impression you liked people to have.’
There was chuckling around the table, but Quinn’s expression remained calm, inky-black lashes brushing lazily against his tanned skin. ‘I’m right about this.’
‘You’re a cynic.’
‘I’m a realist.’
‘You don’t have a romantic bone in your body.’
