All the Right Places (RILEY O'BRIEN & CO #1) (22 page)

“I told you to leave me alone,” Teagan continued, her voice climbing in volume and intensity. “No! Don’t touch me!”

Amelia stomped her foot, making a loud cracking noise on the tile floor. Nick jerked back from Teagan, dropping his hands from her head, and they turned to seek out the source of the noise.

She swallowed when she saw their faces. Obviously, something had gone terribly wrong between the two of them. Teagan’s eyes were bright with tears, and Nick’s visage was etched with such misery she had to avert her gaze.

In her peripheral vision, she saw Teagan push Nick away and rush toward Amelia. Tears had escaped Teagan’s eyes, and they rolled down her cheeks, leaving shiny tracks on her smooth skin.

“Please, please, don’t tell anyone about this,” she begged, grabbing Amelia’s hand.

Amelia had no idea what “this” was, exactly, but she made a soothing noise to calm the other woman. “I won’t, Teagan. I promise.”

Swiping her fingers under her eyes, Teagan tossed one
last glance toward Nick before hurrying away, leaving him and Amelia alone in the secluded hallway. He leaned back against the wall and tilted his head to look up at the ceiling. Sighing loudly, he ran his hands over his face before turning his head to look at her.

She debated what to do. Should she just walk away? Offer him a shoulder to cry on?

“What’s going on, Nick?”

Shaking his head, he straightened to his full height and walked toward her. He stopped when he reached her side, looming over her.

He patted her shoulder awkwardly. “Not your problem,” he said gruffly.

“But it is a problem?” she persisted.

He stared at her, his light green eyes glowing against his tan skin and his wheat-colored hair gleaming under the overhead lights. All that gorgeousness took a backseat to his obvious emotional distress.

He nodded curtly before he strode away, leaving Amelia in the hallway, lost in more ways than one.

“Do you own this plane?”

Quinn leaned back in the aircraft’s leather seat and propped his foot on his knee. Amelia sat across from him, belted in and ready for takeoff.

“Me personally? Just how rich do you think I am?” he teased, enjoying the color that surged into her face.

He loved to make Amelia blush, and he’d already figured out the easiest path to cherry-red cheeks. All he had to do was tell her exactly what he planned to do with his body and hers the next time they were naked. It worked every time.

Shifting in his seat, he gave his overstimulated body a mental directive to calm down. If he wasn’t inside Amelia’s lush body, he was thinking about how soon he could get there. It was ridiculous how much he wanted her.

“I doubt your bank balance could be any bigger than your sense of self-importance,” she responded. Her tone was mild, but her eyes shot sparks at him.

He laughed but decided to answer her question before she kicked him with her pointy-toed boots. “I don’t own the plane, and neither does Riley O’Brien & Co. It’s kind of complicated. We lease the jet for a defined number of flying
hours and share it with other people and companies that do the same thing.”

She nodded. “Like a timeshare in Florida.”

“Yes, but we’re guaranteed access to the plane anytime we need it.”

“That explains why you don’t fly coach.”

“Hell, I’d rather walk than fly coach,” he said, not entirely joking.

In his opinion, “coach” was another word for “torture.” He didn’t even like to fly first class on a commercial flight.

Amelia blew a coppery curl away from her mouth. “You are so
spoiled
. You know that, right?”

He shrugged. She was right, but he wasn’t going to apologize for who he was.

He knew he had been blessed in so many ways, and he was grateful. He also was smart enough to take advantage of the things that made life easier, and a private jet was one of them.

He arched an eyebrow. “If you want, you can get off this plane and fly coach to Georgia. I’ll just meet you there.”

She rolled her lips inward, and he could tell she was trying not to laugh. She waved her hand around the cabin.

“Since I’m already here, and you have plenty of room, I’ll keep you company during the long, boring flight. I’m sure we can find something to occupy us.”

He glanced at her alertly. That sounded like a sexual innuendo to him, and his cock twitched with eagerness. His thoughts must have been obvious on his face because she snickered.

“We can talk,” she clarified.

He gave an exaggerated groan as if talking with her for five hours would be painful. But privately, he was happy to have her to himself with no interruptions.

In fact, talking with Amelia now ranked as his favorite thing to do, even more than getting her naked. Every conversation with her started out with her being reserved and standoffish. But after a while, she stopped holding back.

He had realized she was a lot like his mom’s convection oven. She took some time to heat up, but once she did, it was worth it because she warmed from the inside out. He loved
the moment when she finally gave him what he wanted: the real Amelia.

The one who was both sweet and tart and just a little bit quirky.

He used to roll his eyes when other couples claimed that they never ran out of things to talk about, but now he knew what they meant. He and Amelia always found something to discuss, and whether the conversation was silly or serious, he liked her more with every word that came out of her mouth.

She stimulated his brain as much as she stimulated his body. The two of them came from very different backgrounds, and her way of looking at things intrigued him so much that he found himself wanting to ask her opinion on a variety of subjects.

His thoughts were interrupted when the flight attendant delivered their drinks and told them the plane would take off in a couple of minutes. Nodding his thanks, he returned his attention to Amelia.

“What do you want to talk about, Juice?” he asked as the plane jerked and started to move forward.

“Once we’re in the air, I want to show you the designs I’ve worked up for the new accessories.”

He nodded his agreement as the plane sped down the runway and lifted into the sunny sky. Once they achieved cruising altitude, Amelia unbuckled her seat belt and leaned down to grab her big leather bag, which she had placed under her seat.

The position gave him a great view of her breasts. They were accentuated by her blue V-neck sweater, and he couldn’t pull his eyes away from her creamy cleavage. He thought about sucking her sweet pink nipples, and his lips tingled.

Amelia cleared her throat, and he jerked his gaze back to her face. Her expression indicated that she knew exactly what he’d been thinking. He flushed when she gave his crotch a pointed look.

“Feeling a little overheated?” she asked archly.

He smiled slowly. “Are you sure you want to go down this path? Because I have no trouble telling you exactly what I’m feeling.”

She shook her head in exasperation. “You’re a terrible influence on me, Quinn O’Brien.”

“That’s the best thing I’ve heard all day. Except for when you screamed my name this morning when you came.”

He had expected that statement to get him a kick in the shin. Instead, Amelia’s plump lips tilted up, and her eyes turned dark and liquid.

“Which time?”

Her response shocked a laugh out of him. Maybe he
was
a terrible influence on her.

She stood and pulled a leather-covered folio out of her bag. Crossing the narrow aisle, she sat down next to him. She started to flip open the folio, but he placed his hand on hers.

“Seat belt, Juice.”

“There’s no turbulence,” she pointed out with a frown.

He wasn’t a nervous flyer, but something unexpected could happen while they were thirty-five thousand feet above the ground, and he didn’t want to take a chance with her safety. She was too important.

“I know. But just in case.”

With a shrug, she handed him the folio. While she buckled her seat belt, he opened the leather cover, flipped past the cover page, and examined the colorful sketch covering the next page.

His first thought was,
Wow
. The second was that Amelia was obviously very organized because she had included fabric and leather samples with the sketch so he could get an idea of texture and color.

“What do you call this kind of bag?”

She leaned closer to him, and her hair brushed his shoulder. He got a whiff of the almond oil she used, and he barely controlled the desire to bury his nose in her curls.

“It’s a tote bag,” she explained. “I’ve used light-colored cotton twill for the body of the bag, and the polka dots are leather. The straps are also leather.”

He took a closer look at the sketch. The tote was embellished with four large, randomly placed polka dots, and each dot was a different color.

“I’m guessing all these colors have fancy, girly names.”

She laughed softly, making him break out in goose bumps. “Not so fancy. Turquoise, tangerine, tomato red, and tan.”

“I like this,” he said, pointing to the way the straps affixed to the tote’s exterior with large metal studs.

“It provides some visual interest in addition to the colors.” She indicated the adjacent page. “I’ve also designed a matching wallet. You could sell them as a set or separately.”

He ran his fingers over the swatches. “How expensive are the materials?”

“Rachelle and I worked together to make sure the materials would be cost-effective but still decent quality. The profit margin for every piece should be high double digits.”

“What kind of price point are we looking at?” he asked.

“I have a spreadsheet with my recommendations for prices. It also outlines material costs for each piece. I went ahead and chose substitute materials that would be less expensive if you think the material costs are too high with my original choices.”

He nodded and turned to look into her eyes. They were just inches from his, glinting with intelligence and warmth.

“Are you always so detail-oriented?”

She tilted her head in consideration. “Hmm . . . I do tend to prefer order over chaos.”

“The mess in my bedroom must really bother you.”

She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and quickly released it, leaving her lips shiny and wet. Reaching up, he put his thumb in the middle of her lower lip.

“Stop doing that,” he ordered.

Amelia stilled. “Doing what?”

“I’m having a hard time concentrating with you sitting right next to me, and you’re making it worse by biting and licking your lips.”

Her eyes widened. “I’m anxious! I want you to like my designs.” Her voice rose. “I’ve worked really hard on them, and my lips are all you can think about?”

He knew he was in deep shit when she jerked the folio from his hands and reached for her seat belt. They’d spent a lot of time together, and he had seen her irritated and annoyed, but never truly angry.

And, oh, man, she was angry now. She was almost breathing fire.

“Amelia . . .” he began in a placating voice, but she cut him off.

“I knew it would be a mistake to sleep with you,” she said fiercely. “
I knew it.
It’s impossible to keep things professional.” She sucked in a deep breath. “You don’t even respect my work. You only care about . . . about what’s between my legs.”

Anger and alarm rushed through him. “That’s
bullshit
! I’m excited to see your designs, and I’m impressed you’ve already done all the work to cost out the materials and suggest alternatives.”

He grabbed the folio, and for a few moments, they fought over it like kids playing tug-of-war. She abruptly let go, and it ricocheted into his face, slapping against his nose and lips with force.

“Oww,” he mumbled, rubbing his nose.

Jumping out of her seat, Amelia knelt in front of him. “
Quinn!
I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for it to hit you.”

She put her hand on his cheek, turning his face sideways to inspect it for damage. Even though he was fine, he let her do it, enjoying the feel of her palm against his skin.

Once she was satisfied the folio hadn’t harmed him, she dropped her hands and sat back on her heels. He moved the folio to the side and bent forward to look into her eyes.

“I know this partnership is important to you, Amelia, and I know you want to do a good job for us.” Wrapping his hand around her neck, he pulled her closer. “I promise I will devote one hundred percent of my attention to every single page in that folio.”

He gave her a quick peck on her freckled cheek. “
We
are not a mistake,” he added emphatically, holding out his hand to help her to her feet. “Now sit back down so we can review the rest of your designs.”

She stood, but she didn’t immediately take a seat. He couldn’t tell if his apology had soothed her anger, but he hoped it had. He had meant every word.

Regardless of how much he had pissed her off, he didn’t think she would walk away from her commitment to Riley O’Brien & Co. And if she did . . . well, there were other designers out there. They might not be as talented or have as much name recognition, but someone else could design accessories for the women’s division.

When it came right down to it, Amelia was replaceable . . . to the company. But she wasn’t replaceable to him.

Panic built in his chest. He didn’t want to lose her. Had he messed up so badly she was going to break things off?

He swallowed, trying to get rid of the tightness in his throat. What could he say to neutralize the situation?

Before he could build a reasonable argument in his head, she reclaimed the seat next to him. He fell back against the leather cushion, relief making him a little breathless. She shot him a quizzical glance, and he hastily picked up the folio and settled it across his lap. He was determined to be all business even if it killed him.

Flipping through the pages, he found the sketch following the tote bag. “Tell me about this one,” he said.

She didn’t answer for several moments, but then she sighed loudly. “Okay.” She ran her nail across the page, tracing the bag. “The shape is a modified tote called a shopper bag. See how it’s wider at the top and narrower at the bottom?”

He nodded, and she continued her explanation. “I chose coated cotton canvas for this one. It’s durable, and the coating makes it less vulnerable to stains.”

“I know my fashion sense is questionable, but I like these prints together,” he said, tracing his fingers over the swatches that showed a bright combination of hot pink, white, turquoise, and navy.

She smiled. “They’re fun, aren’t they? I thought the hand-drawn floral pattern worked well for the body of the bag, and I mixed in the gingham print for a nice contrast on the sides.”

He nodded his agreement. “I could see this appealing to teenagers and younger women.”

Her eyes lit up. “Exactly. That demographic group wears jeans more often, so I designed most of these pieces with them in mind.”

He flipped to the next page, and they repeated the process. It took them nearly three hours to review the rest of her designs. She had included a mix of bags, wallets, and belts, about forty pieces in total.

When they were finished, she took a deep breath. “So what do you think?”

He paused to gather his thoughts before shifting in the
seat to meet her eyes. He wanted to make sure she knew he was being completely honest.

“I think they’re great,” he answered sincerely. “And I mean for this to be a compliment when I say it. I’m surprised by how talented you are. Some of the designs were better than great. They were awesome.”

A huge smile blossomed on Amelia’s face. “Really?” she asked, her voice a little higher-pitched than normal.

He nodded. “I would be proud to put the Riley O’Brien logo on every single one of the designs I saw here today. I’d be proud to put
my
name on them.”