All the Right Places (RILEY O'BRIEN & CO #1) (23 page)

There had been very few instances in Amelia’s life when the reality had been better than anything her imagination had conjured up. But Quinn’s response to her designs had far exceeded her wildest fantasies, and she was surfing a wave of euphoria.

She had hoped he would like her sketches, but she had prepared herself for a lukewarm response. Disappointment was her old friend, and even though she hadn’t hung out with him in a while, he was always around and often dropped by unannounced.

Amelia had no doubt Quinn truly liked her designs. He didn’t pull punches when it came to business, and even though they were sleeping together, she knew he wouldn’t lie to her about something so important.

He took his responsibilities seriously, and his comment that he would be proud to put the Riley O’Brien logo on her designs had sent a rush of pleasure through her. His obvious appreciation for her work meant a lot to her because she knew he was protective of his family name and the jeans that bore it.

In some of her more fanciful moments, she thought Quinn was like a pair of Rileys. At first glance, the comparison
might seem unflattering, but the same attributes that made Rileys so special were also the same elements that made him such an amazing man.

The jeans were marketed as “genuine” Rileys, and she thought “genuine” was a great word to describe Quinn. Rileys also were known for their quality, and again, that word fit Quinn perfectly. With the exception of Ava Grace, he was the best person she knew.

Ava Grace had a word for men like Quinn: “solid.”

In her best friend’s mind, solid wasn’t a physical attribute; it was a personality trait. Men who were solid did what they said they were going to do and took care of the people they loved.

Solid guys were few and far between. And before Quinn, Amelia had never really known one.

While she held herself back, he was open. He expected the best from people and was disappointed when he didn’t get it. She, on the other hand, expected the worst and felt validated when she got it.

And, having witnessed Quinn with his parents and siblings, she knew their differences were even more fundamental. He wasn’t afraid to love. He gave it expansively and generously.

For Amelia, love wasn’t so simple. She hadn’t had an abundance of it in her life, and she hoarded it like a miser. Loving someone was even more difficult because she always worried the recipient would take more from her than she could give.

“Where did you get your inspiration for these designs?” Quinn asked.

“All kinds of places.”

He cocked his head. “Like where?”

“Pick a sketch, and I’ll tell you how I came up with the idea.”

He flipped back to the first page, the one with the sketch of the polka-dot tote. “This is my favorite.”

She smiled. “There’s a reason why it’s on the first page.”

He returned her smile. “So it’s your favorite, too?”

She nodded. “I got the idea from Teagan’s dress. The one she wore last week. Do you remember it?”

Quinn frowned. “How could I remember? She wears a dress
every
day, damn it.”

Amelia laughed at his chagrin. “The top was red with black polka dots, and the bottom was black with red polka dots.”

He nodded. “Okay, yeah, I remember it.”

“I thought it was gorgeous, and I was jealous that I could never wear anything like it. My consolation was designing a purse with polka dots. That’s where I got the original idea.”

Quinn glanced at her quizzically. “Why couldn’t you wear anything like it?”

Teagan’s dress had been vintage, and it had featured a corset bodice, tight waist, and wide, full skirt. It would have overwhelmed Amelia’s short, pear-shaped frame, making her look stocky.

“I’m too short to wear that kind of dress,” she explained.

His eyes darkened to a smoky blue, and he tugged on a curl that had fallen into her face. “I don’t think you’re too short, Juice. You’re the perfect height for some of my favorite activities.”

Her nipples hardened. It just so happened that his favorite activities were also her favorite activities.

He smiled slowly. “Can I stop being professional now and kiss you?”

She stared at him. No wonder she had given into temptation. A nun would raise her habit for Quinn O’Brien and his sexy smile.

“Yes.”

Leaning forward, he caught her mouth with his, a somewhat chaste kiss given the look he’d had in his eyes. He pulled back and stroked her bottom lip with the tip of his finger.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” he said.

His apology flooded Amelia with guilt. She was the one doing something wrong.

“It’s okay,” she choked out, hating herself for continuing to keep Teagan’s project a secret. Hating herself for being too much of a coward to tell the truth.

At first she had stayed quiet because she hadn’t wanted to risk the accessories partnership. Of course, she hadn’t wanted to ruin her chance to finally open her boutiques, either.

Now she was more concerned about how Quinn would react to the knowledge that she had been working behind his back
while
they were together. Her deception was a personal betrayal, not just professional.

Earlier in the week, she had stopped by Teagan’s office. She had wanted to talk to her about what happened with Nick Priest at the football game. But Teagan had deflected her questions, and somehow Amelia ended up in the hot seat.

Teagan had wanted to know exactly what was going on between Amelia and Quinn. Despite the other woman’s skillful interrogation, she had managed to remain silent. But that hadn’t stopped Teagan from making sure Amelia realized how beneficial the relationship could be for the redesign.

“If you’re sleeping with him, he’s more likely to listen to you,” Teagan had said. “He’s like every other guy who thinks with his penis. He’ll go along with whatever you want to do.”

Amelia had been horrified by Teagan’s comment. What kind of sister thought it was okay that someone used her brother to get ahead?

Would Quinn think she had slept with him because she was trying to curry favor for the redesign? Would he feel she had manipulated him with her body, just like Amelia’s mother had done with so many random men?

It had never occurred to her that Quinn might think she was using him to further her career. She tried to work through the mess she had created. Was there anything she could do now to stop the train that already chugged down the tracks?

Quinn’s deep voice interrupted her internal debate. “Why didn’t you design any footwear?”

The change of subject threw her for a moment, and she struggled to focus on his question. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”

He frowned. “Why not?”

“If you want to produce boots and shoes that won’t fall apart, they’re going to be fairly expensive. More expensive than a pair of Rileys.”

“But you think there’s a market for them?”

She thought about how to answer his question. This conversation was turning into a minefield.

“Yes, there’s a market. But you heard Shelby’s presentation,
Quinn. Rileys are known for being casual. They’re not an upscale brand, and the footwear I would design would require upscale branding. We’re talking about price points well above three hundred dollars for boots, maybe closer to five hundred.”

Closing the folio, he tapped his fingers against the leather cover. “So you don’t think women would associate Rileys with high-end footwear?”

She hesitated before answering, and Quinn turned toward her. He leveled a probing look at her.

“No.” She took a deep breath. “But they might if Rileys produced a line of designer denim. Or jeans that were more stylish and flattering.”

With a loud sigh, he leaned his head back against the leather seat. “So, you feel the same way Teagan does. You don’t like Rileys. That’s why I’ve never seen you wear a pair.”

His voice wasn’t angry. It was strangely flat, almost unemotional.

She saw his lack of anger as a good sign so she pushed forward. “Have you thought about getting rid of your existing styles and starting over? Producing several different designs and sizes, along with different price points?” She paused. “Maybe even expanding your product line to include shirts and skirts?”

He rubbed his hands over his face but didn’t answer. She decided she’d come too far to turn back now.

“Do you remember that day in the workshop?” she asked.

He dropped his hands to his thighs and glanced at her alertly. He obviously didn’t need her to explain which day she referred to because his eyes darkened.

“Yes,” he answered warily. “What about it?”

“I was wearing a denim skirt, and you got upset because your name wasn’t on it.”

His face flushed. “Yeah, I was a little upset,” he admitted.

She nodded. “More than a little.”

His face tightened. “What’s your point, Amelia?” he asked harshly. “Why are we rehashing my crazy behavior?”

Reaching over, she stroked the top of his hand. “I explained that Riley skirts didn’t even exist. Did that sink in?”

He stared at her. “No.”

“Is it sinking in now?”

He frowned. “So you think we’re losing customers for two reasons: they don’t like our jeans, and we’re not giving them other kinds of apparel.”

“Exactly,” she answered with a nod. “If I want to wear a denim skirt, it’s not going to be Rileys.”

He pulled his hand from hers before unbuckling his seat belt. He sprang from his seat and began to pace the small cabin area.

“You have no idea how difficult it would be to implement the changes you described, or how expensive it would be.” He made a deep sound in his throat, turning to spear her with his dark blue gaze. “We’re talking about tens of millions of dollars, maybe hundreds of millions. It’s a huge risk. No, it’s more than a risk.”

He thrust his hands through his hair, making the dark strands stick up in several places. He looked away from her.

“It would be suicide if it failed.”

She studied Quinn. His shoulders were stiff, and his hands were clenched into fists. It was obviously a bad time to tell him about Teagan’s project, and she turned a deaf ear to her conscience.

She’d tell him later. She
would
.

A rustic sign made of wood shingles marked the entrance to the resort’s driveway, and Quinn turned the rental car to follow the winding path. He and Amelia had landed in Georgia about an hour ago and had been on the road ever since. The long flight, coupled with the time change, meant it was early evening already.

He eyed Amelia. She had been quiet for most of the ride, and he couldn’t tell if she was just tired or if something was wrong. Their conversation during the latter part of the flight had not been lighthearted, and although he had apologized for acting like an ass, he didn’t know if that had smoothed things over.

Maybe she had picked up on his tension. He was worried she might not go along with his plans for the weekend. He rolled his shoulders, trying to ease his tight muscles. They were getting stiffer by the second.

He had asked his assistant to book two rooms at Reynolds Plantation, a luxury resort on Lake Oconee. He normally favored a hotel that catered to business travelers, but the resort was about the same distance to the manufacturing facility, so it was just as convenient. The big difference was its lakeside locale.

He’d never stayed at the resort, but he had heard a lot of good things about it, most notably that it was perfect for couples. He really wanted to have a romantic getaway with Amelia before he had to say good-bye to her in Nashville.

He sighed loudly at the thought, and she looked at him sharply. He tried to smile, but the idea of not being able to see her every day and sleep with her at night made him feel like shit.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

Hell, no.
Everything was
not
okay
.
He grunted and let her draw her own conclusion from the sound.

Large magnolia trees shaded the path, along with a few weeping willows. Their long, thin leaves gracefully swept the ground.

As they rounded the turn, the resort came into view. It was an impressive sight, even for Quinn, who had stayed in some of the most luxurious hotels in the world. The architect obviously had drawn inspiration from the grand plantation houses of the Old South, although the resort was designed on a much larger scale.

Amelia gasped in admiration. “Wow.” She slanted a look toward him. “Is this where you normally stay?”

“No,” he replied but didn’t elaborate because that would require him to share his plans.

They rode in silence until they reached the resort’s entrance, identifiable by its white porte cochere. He brought the car to a stop, and the valet attendants rushed to help them.

In a matter of moments, the bellman had taken care of their luggage, and they made their way inside the resort. He suggested that Amelia take a seat on one of the plump sofas scattered around while he took care of the rooms.

She nodded her acceptance, and he headed to the check-in desk, where an older woman waited to help. He felt a little guilty about his sneakiness, but hopefully it would be worth it.

He made sure to keep his voice down as he confirmed his reservation extended until Sunday and that the hotel staff had taken care of his special request. He also checked into the room his assistant had booked for Amelia.

Quinn wanted her to stay with him, but he didn’t want her to feel any pressure. If she preferred to stay in her own room,
he’d just have to accept it. More important, he didn’t want anyone in the company to wonder why only one room showed up on the expense report.

With both hotel keys in hand, he beckoned Amelia to the bank of elevators. He pressed the button for the fourth floor, where her room was located. His suite was on the top floor of the six-story resort.

They didn’t talk during the short ride, and once they had exited the elevator, they headed to her room. Using the electronic key card, he unlocked the door and held it open so she could enter first.

He followed, closing the door behind him, and she turned in a slow circle to take in the room. It was beyond luxurious. If this was a regular room, he couldn’t wait to see what his suite looked like. He hoped he’d be able to enjoy it with her.

“This is your room,” he said, shoving his hands into the front pockets of his Rileys.

She nodded slowly. “Okay.”

He took a deep breath. “I don’t want you to stay here.”

“What?” She cocked her head to the side. “You want to stay somewhere else?”

He shook his head, frustrated that he wasn’t explaining things well. “Sorry. What I mean is that I want you to stay with me, in my suite on the sixth floor.” He paused. “I booked it through Sunday. I hoped we could spend the weekend together.”

She gazed at him, her brown eyes so dark he almost forgot what he wanted to accomplish. When she didn’t answer immediately, he began formulating his argument to get her to say yes.

Moving closer to him, Amelia placed her hands on his chest, her palms heating him through his sweater. He pulled his hands from his pockets and wrapped his arms around her curvy body.

“You’ve been plotting,” she said, her voice softly accusing.

He stared down into her face. He didn’t think he’d ever get tired of seeing her brown-sugar freckles.

“Yes,” he admitted.

She glanced at him quizzically. “Why did you get two rooms if you wanted me to stay with you?”

“Because you want to keep our relationship private, and sharing a room would make it pretty obvious we’re more than business partners.” He squeezed her against him. “Come on, Juice. Say yes.”

She smiled, and that was all the “yes” he needed for relief to flood through him. Three more days with her.

And three more nights.

“What else have you been plotting?” she asked with a teasing lilt to her voice.

He rubbed his face against her hair, loving the way the springy curls felt. Most of his plans involved her naked with him deep inside her warm, welcoming body, but he didn’t share that information with her.

“I’ve made reservations for dinner tonight. The restaurant here in the resort is supposed to be really good.”

She nodded. “What time?”

He looked at his watch. “In a little over an hour.”

She gave him a naughty look that sent blood rushing to his cock. Reaching between their bodies, she deftly unbuckled his belt.

“I’m not sure that’s enough time for what I have in mind,” she said huskily before unbuttoning his jeans. She slid her hand into his boxer briefs, palming his cock.

His heart surged into a pounding rhythm. She rarely instigated sex. He was the one who usually attacked her like a starving man at an all-you-can-eat buffet. Her obvious interest was a huge turn-on, and a tingle ran up and down his spine before settling in his groin.

She gave his cock a little squeeze, brushing her thumb over the tip and forcing a moan from his throat. Gripping her upper arms, he tried to gain a little control over himself and her busy hands.

She stretched up to kiss his chin, the closest she could get to his lips without him bending down. “Quinn, would you be very disappointed if we missed our reservation?”

•   •   •

Amelia could hear the deep rumble of Quinn’s voice through the bathroom door. He’d been on the phone with Deda for nearly an hour discussing some kind of problem
with a new denim supplier. They’d missed their dinner reservation, but not for the reason she had anticipated.

Stretching her leg toward the faucet, she used her toes to turn on the one marked with a big H. Her bathwater had cooled, and she needed to warm it up since she wasn’t ready to get out yet.

She and Quinn had been in the elevator headed to his suite when he had received the call from Deda. He rarely ignored the other man’s calls, so it hadn’t been a surprise when he’d given her an apologetic glance before answering the phone.

She had been disappointed, and if the erection pressing against his fly was any indication, he’d felt the same way. But she understood he had a lot of responsibility resting on his broad shoulders, and she also realized she wasn’t the most important thing in his life.

They should have stayed in her room and indulged in a quickie, but he had been insistent they go to his suite before they got naked. When he had unlocked the door, she’d understood why.

He obviously had asked the resort to set the scene for seduction. A huge bouquet of white orchids occupied a place of honor on the entryway table, votive candles were scattered around the room, and a bottle of sparkling apple juice had been chilling instead of the typical champagne. He always made sure she had something nonalcoholic to drink.

When she had shot him a surprised glance, he had smiled and cupped his hand over the phone. “So much for my grand plans,” he’d said wryly. “I’m sorry. This is going to take a while. I’ll make it up to you later.”

Then he’d given her a hard kiss and patted her butt. “Why don’t you check out the spa tub,” he had suggested before turning his attention back to Deda and the denim drama.

She had taken his advice, and now she had firsthand knowledge that the tub was quite comfortable. In fact, the whole suite was downright sumptuous. She was thrilled he had booked it for the weekend. She looked forward to spending time with him, all alone.

They had only a handful of days together before he returned to San Francisco while she stayed in Nashville. She
tried not to think about the thousands of miles that would separate them.

This romantic weekend would likely be the last time she would experience his lovemaking. She had little doubt what would happen once she finished with Teagan’s project and Quinn found out about her involvement.

In an effort to distract herself, she grabbed the bubble bath provided by the resort and poured it into the running water. Almost immediately, citrus-scented steam enveloped the room, and she swore her hair kinked into tighter curls.

She probably looked like little orphan Annie. It didn’t matter, though, because Quinn never seemed to notice the things she disliked most about her appearance: her big booty, her crazy hair, and the wide gap between her front teeth.

He obviously had questionable taste because he seemed to like all her imperfections.

A draft of cool air washed over her as the bathroom door opened. Quinn poked his head around the door and met her eyes.

He smiled slowly, and she looked down to see how much of her body was exposed to his gaze. Unsurprisingly, the bubbles weren’t doing a very good job covering all the important parts.

“Enjoying yourself?”

She nodded. “I don’t usually take baths. This is a nice treat.”

He entered the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. “I was thinking we could order room service and just hang out here in the suite.”

She smiled. “I’m all for eating dinner in my pajamas.”

“Me, too,” he replied, laughing softly. “It’s been a long day.”

Grabbing the stool from under the vanity, he sat down on it gingerly as if he were afraid it would collapse under his weight. It was way too small for him, and he should have looked ridiculous, perched on it like an elephant balanced on a beach ball. Instead, he somehow looked more masculine.

He leaned forward to settle his elbows on his thighs, dangling his hands between his knees. The position drew her attention to his broad shoulders and muscular arms, which were outlined by his red sweater. The bright color made his hair look darker and his eyes more intense.

Quinn was so gorgeous. And he was all hers.

Until the weekend is over.

She didn’t know what would happen once he dropped her off in Nashville. He hadn’t mentioned anything about continuing their relationship long-distance, and she hadn’t either.

Redirecting her mind from that depressing thought, she asked, “Everything all settled with Deda?”

“Hopefully.”

With a loud sigh, he ran his hand through his hair. He looked tired, and she had an overwhelming urge to comfort him. To do something that would remove the burdens weighing so heavily on him.

“Is there anything I can do?” She laughed a little self-consciously at the idea she could accomplish something he couldn’t. “I mean, I’m sure there’s not, but I’m here if you need me.”

Quinn straightened from his half slouch and ran his gaze over her face before meeting her eyes. He pulled in a deep breath.

“I do need you,” he replied finally. “I’m . . .”

They stared at each other, the air in the bathroom suddenly charged with emotion. She froze, anxious to hear what he had to say. Clearing his throat, he dropped his eyes. He stood and rushed to the door.

“I’ll bring the room service menu in here so you don’t have to get out until the food comes,” he said, reaching for the doorknob. “I’m sure they can make anything, though. Do you have an idea of what you might want?”

She swallowed, trying to ease the tightness in her throat. She knew exactly what she wanted.

But she was never going to get it.