All the Right Places (RILEY O'BRIEN & CO #1) (31 page)

As Quinn drove up to his Victorian, he noticed Cal’s old Caddy parked on the street in front of his house. He and his brother were living proof of the old adage that misery loves company.

Shortly after Quinn had returned from Nashville, Cal and Saika had broken up. His brother had refused to discuss it, but he had the feeling Cal was responsible for the split rather than Saika. Given their previous conversation, he was baffled by his brother’s actions.

For the past three weeks, they’d spent almost every evening together, eating takeout, drinking beer, and watching sports. No doubt about it, the two of them were serious sad sacks, another of his dad’s favorite sayings.

He parked his Audi in the garage. Leaning his head back against the headrest, he sat in the SUV for several minutes, recalling the day of the football game when he had pulled Amelia onto his lap and fucked her senseless.

He sighed, pressing his fingers against his forehead where a headache had settled. He couldn’t go on like this. He was useless at work, unable to focus because he thought about Amelia constantly.

He rubbed a hand across his chest. He knew it had to be
his imagination, but an ache had settled near his heart, and any thought of Amelia made it worse. It was probably just a serious case of acid reflux from all the beer and pizza he’d consumed with Cal.

He’d had plenty of time to think about what Amelia and his sister had done. He understood why Amelia had agreed to the project, but he still didn’t understand how Teagan could have gone behind his back. In his mind, there were just some things you didn’t do to people you loved, and lying was one of them.

With every day that had passed, his anger toward his sister had burned brighter and more intense until suddenly it had faded like a supernova. Now there was a black hole where the anger had been, a hole filled with grief and disappointment.

Quinn shook off his melancholy, grabbed his bag from the passenger seat, and exited the SUV. He let himself into his house and found Teagan and Cal sitting in the living room.

Dumping his bag on an empty chair, he faced them. Amelia had obviously given Teagan a heads-up that he knew about their secret project because his sister was perched tensely on the edge of the sofa. Her eyes were dark behind her glasses, her face stamped with guilt.

Cal, meanwhile, slouched in the club chair, looking as if he might fall asleep at any moment. His long legs were propped on the ottoman, his long feet covered in a pair of burnt-orange socks patterned with turkeys. They must have been a gift from Saika’s daughter.

Quinn turned his attention back to Teagan. “I wondered when you’d show up.”

Her shoulders stiffened under her cream-colored sweater. “I said I would be back before Thanksgiving, and I am. Thanksgiving is the day after tomorrow.”

“And how was your trip?” he asked casually.

She swallowed. “Fine. I needed a little time to work through some things.”

He tilted his head. “What things?”

“It had nothing to do with you or Riley O’Brien.”

“So I’m not allowed to interfere in your life, but you can stick your nose into mine? That doesn’t seem fair,” he said, his mild tone hiding the anger that swirled through him.

Her eyes narrowed. “If you’re talking about the women’s division, I have a right to
stick my nose in
.”

“Does that include lying to me and stabbing me in the back?” he shot back. “Does it include manipulating my feelings for Amelia to get your way?”

“Your
feelings
? You wanted to get in her pants, and you did. You should be happy.”

Cal groaned, muttering something under his breath. They both ignored him.

“Well, I’m not happy. In fact, I’m pretty damn miserable.”

She sprang to her feet. “Miserable? Aren’t you being a little dramatic?”

Cal dropped his feet to the floor and sat up. “You should probably know that Quinn is in love with Amelia,” he said, directing his gaze toward Teagan.

She snorted. “Yeah, right.”

When neither Quinn nor Cal responded to her sarcastic comment, her mouth dropped open. “Are you serious?” she asked, looking back and forth between them. “I knew you liked her, but I never expected you would . . .”

“Fall in love,” Cal chimed in.

Quinn eyed his sister. “What did you expect? Actually, I think I know the answer to that question. You expected me to lead with my dick and go along with everything Amelia suggested. Am I right?”

She flushed guiltily but didn’t answer his question. Rage stung his veins, but he managed to control it.

“You knew she was lying to me the whole time she was fucking me . . . that she was using
me
to get
your
money. Do you know how stupid I feel? I was going to ask her to marry me.”

She gasped. “Oh, Quinn, I’m so sorry.”

Her sympathy shattered his control. “Shut up!” he roared.

She flinched. As they stared at each other, Cal stood and left the room.

After several moments of tense silence, Teagan said, “I
am
sorry about what happened with Amelia. I was only concerned with what I wanted, and I didn’t think about whether it would hurt you or her. You were right. I thought it would
be easier to get your buy-in on the redesign if the two of you were involved.”

Turning away from Teagan, he paced around the room. She watched him with wary eyes, obviously worried she had pushed him too far.

“Did she . . .” He swallowed to ease the dryness in his throat. “Was that Amelia’s plan, too?”

She shook her head. “No, I don’t think so.”

He let out the breath he’d held. Amelia might not love him, but at least their time together hadn’t been a complete farce. That made him feel slightly better.

“In fact, I don’t think she had any intention of getting involved with you, although I could tell she was attracted to you. She tried to hide it, but it was pretty obvious, and I . . .”

He raised his eyebrows. “What?”

“I made sure you spent some time together.”

“You’re not very subtle if the chocolate festival was an example of your matchmaking skills.”

Her lips twitched. “Yes, I am. You’re just not very perceptive.”

He cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

“Your first meeting. Lunch on her first day of work. The launch party.”

He digested what she’d said and then snorted in disgust. “You are the most conniving woman I’ve ever met.”

“I know. It’s a bad habit,” she said unapologetically, and he couldn’t help but laugh.

“Quinn, you need to know that Amelia wanted to tell you about the redesign, but I told her that I’d find someone else to work on the accessories and the redesign if she breathed a word of it to you.”

He sucked in a breath, struggling to control his temper. “In other words, you bullied her into keeping quiet.”

She nodded, not an ounce of guilt on her face.

“When did that happen?” he asked.

“At the launch party. You were upset, and she thought telling you about the redesign might make you feel better. But I had no doubt you would have shut her down.”

He frowned. He didn’t know how he would have reacted.
His thoughts about the women’s division had changed a lot since that night.

“Amelia said you planned to go to the board if I didn’t put her designs into production. Would you really have done that?”

Teagan didn’t answer for a long time. Finally, she said, “I don’t know. I was so tired of you ignoring me, and one day I’d just had enough. Enough of you ignoring my ideas and my opinions. So I decided to do something about it.”

He eyed her. “That doesn’t sound like an apology.”

“Why should I apologize for doing something that would help Riley O’Brien?”

“How do you know a redesign would help the company instead of hurt it?”

She blinked, obviously surprised by his question. “Well, things can’t get much worse for the women’s division.”

“Probably not,” he agreed. “But they can get a lot worse for the company overall. Bigger companies, stronger companies, have been brought down by one bad decision.”

“Revamping the women’s division isn’t a bad decision,” she shot back.

“Why are you so sure you’re right? Why do you think you know better than everyone else, especially me? Do you really think I’ve done such a bad job running the company in Dad’s absence?”

She frowned. “You’re just too stubborn to see what’s right in front of you.”

“And you’re not stubborn?” he asked dryly, shaking his head in frustration.

She flipped her long ponytail over her shoulder. “I did this to help Riley O’Brien. It was the right thing to do.”

He took a deep breath to defuse his anger. “It wasn’t the right thing to do, Teagan. This isn’t just about the company. You did something that hurt
me
.”

Tears suddenly filled her blue eyes—the same eyes he saw when he looked in the mirror. “Quinn . . .” She swallowed audibly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I love you.”

And that was exactly what he needed to hear.

“I love you, too. But I want you to understand something: if anyone else had gone behind my back like you did”—he
clapped his hands together and then held them up like a blackjack dealer clearing the table—“it would be over.”

Her shoulders slumped and all the bravado and defiance left her. She looked like a flower deprived of water and sunlight—wilted and lifeless.

“I know,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “I really am sorry for hurting you.”

He dropped into the chair Cal had vacated. “I’m responsible for everything that happens at Riley O’Brien & Co.—good or bad. I just want to make sure I’m doing the smart thing for the company. Haven’t you ever been afraid of making the wrong decision? Afraid to take a chance because the risk seems greater than the reward?”

She stared at him, an arrested expression on her face. “Is that how you feel, Quinn?”

“That’s how I felt for a long time, but not anymore.”

She sat down on the sofa and kicked off her boots. “What changed?” she asked, pulling up her legs and resting her head on her knees.

“I met Amelia.”

Teagan cocked her head. “And?”

“When I’m with her, I feel stronger . . . like I’m capable of handling whatever life throws at me.” He met her gaze, aware that he had surprised her. “Have you ever felt that way about anyone, T?”

Pain shadowed her eyes. “Yes.” She shook her head a little. “I mean, no, I haven’t.”

Damn.
His mom was right. Teagan was in love, and she was hurting.

“Does Amelia know how you feel about her?” Teagan asked, putting the focus back on him.

Before Quinn could answer, he heard the clink of crystal nearby. Turning toward the noise, he saw Cal holding three crystal flutes in one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other.

He raised his eyebrows. “What’s this?”

Cal smiled and handed him a flute. “Now that Teagan’s back, we need to celebrate the next phase of Riley O’Brien & Co.”

Teagan frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“Didn’t Quinn tell you?” Cal asked as he passed a glass to her.

“Tell me what?” she asked, dropping her feet to the floor.

After placing his flute on the end table, Cal began to untwist the wire around the cork. “He wants to expand the women’s division. We’ve engaged Shelby’s research firm to help us figure out the best strategy for product development and distribution.”

She gasped, her eyes darting to Quinn’s face. “Really?”

Quinn watched as Cal popped the cork. Champagne bubbled over his brother’s fingers, and he held out his glass so Cal could fill it. He took a sip before answering her.

“Really.”

“Do you have a minute?” Quinn asked Sam Sullivan, standing in the doorway of the older man’s office.

Sam looked up from his computer monitor with a smile. He gestured for Quinn to come in.

“How are you, son?”

“Fine,” Quinn replied, struggling to keep his face impassive.

He didn’t expect this meeting to go well, which explained why he was here in Sam’s office bright and early. He didn’t want to put off this conversation any longer than he already had, and the office was closing at noon today in advance of the Thanksgiving holiday.

Closing the door behind him, he took a seat in one of the chairs in front of Sam’s desk. He got a strong sense of déjà vu when the older man leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head.

“What can I do for you?”

“I’ve been thinking about the situation with the department stores, and it’s time for us to move forward with other expansion opportunities.”

Sam sighed. “Quinn, we’ve already had this conversation. James doesn’t like company-operated stores.”

“I hear you, Sully. But I think company-operated stores
are our best bet. I’d like for you to get in touch with our outside real estate firm to investigate potential locations for company-operated stores.”

Sam’s dark eyes narrowed. “That’s a waste of my time, and it’s a waste of the company’s resources,” he said flatly.

Quinn took a deep breath. “I disagree,” he replied, pleased to hear that his voice was even, betraying no anger even though he seethed inside. “And it’s not a request, Sully. By year-end I want to see recommendations for at least one hundred new stores.”

Sam dropped his arms to his desk and leaned forward as Quinn continued to talk. “We need to evaluate whether we should expand in markets where we already have stores or if we want to go into new areas. You’ll also need to work with the logistics group to determine if we would have to add distribution warehouses if we go into new markets.”

Sam’s nostrils flared. He opened his mouth to speak, and Quinn held up his hand.

“It’s not a request,” he repeated, holding Sam’s gaze until the other man looked away. “I also want to evaluate an entirely new channel.” He paused to make sure that Sam paid attention. “Outlet centers.”

“Outlet centers,” Sam repeated.

“Yes.”

“That’s
ridiculous
! What are we going to sell in outlet stores?”

“Amelia Winger’s accessories will be sold at different price points, some of which will be suitable for outlet stores. Also, once we expand the women’s division, we’ll have more products to stock the outlet stores.”

Sam’s eyes widened. “What are you talking about?”

“The women’s division is getting a makeover.”

“What does James have to say about this?”

“He trusts me to do what’s best for the company.”

Sam laughed incredulously. “None of your ideas will be implemented once he comes back.”

“Dad has decided to retire, and I’m officially going to take over the company next month.”

Sam rolled his lips inward, clearly upset by the news. Quinn stood up.

“Let me know if you run into any problems,” he said as he made his way to the door. “Thanks for your time.”

“Are you ready to take the blame when your bad decisions damage this company?”

He tensed with his hand on the doorknob, but he didn’t turn around. “Yes,” he answered as he opened the door. “But I think it’s more likely I’ll be given the credit when my good decisions make it stronger.”

Quinn left Sam’s office, surprised to find he was energized by the conversation. He’d expected to be wiped out, but he felt more alive than he had since he’d abruptly left Nashville.

The fear that had paralyzed him over the past several months had vanished. He still recognized the challenges, but they no longer seemed insurmountable. He was excited by the opportunity to change things for the better.

He knew Amelia was responsible for his changed attitude. He was a different man today than he had been before he met her.

On the way back to his office, he stopped by the executive lounge to grab some coffee. As he filled a mug with the dark brew, he admitted to himself that he didn’t want things to be over with Amelia.

He just didn’t know how to fix things. He wondered if there was anything he
could
do.

Last night after Teagan and Cal had left his house, he’d realized one very important fact—something he had overlooked in his anger and disappointment: Amelia could have continued to lie, but she hadn’t. When he had discovered the jeans and told her that he wanted her to head up the women’s division, he’d given her the perfect excuse to maintain her deception, but she had come clean.

She’d had no reason to tell him that she loved him—no reason except that it was the truth, and she was done lying. And, at this point, he really didn’t care that she had lied about everything else as long as she’d told the truth about loving him. He loved her enough to forgive her.

Making the trek back to his office, Quinn mulled over possible solutions to his relationship woes. He stopped to pick up a stack of mail from his assistant’s desk on the way,
and with his hands full of envelopes and his coffee, he kicked the door to his office shut.

As he did so, he bobbled the mug, splashing hot liquid over his hand and onto the cuff of his shirt. “Shit!” he exclaimed, lunging toward his desk, where he quickly dumped his mug and the mail.

He shook the excess coffee from his fingers before wiping them on his Rileys. He hissed a little as the rough denim rubbed over his scalded flesh. Holding out his hand, he assessed the damage.

“Did you burn yourself?”

He jerked his head up to see Amelia standing next to his denim sofa. He blinked, wondering if his subconscious had conjured her.

No, she’s really here.

They stared at each other without speaking, and his heart gave a contented sigh as it soaked in her presence. Her dark eyes, her brown-sugar freckles, her rosy lips . . . He could look at her face for the rest of his life and never grow tired of it.

He ran his gaze down her short, curvy body. Her brown sweater was so dark it matched her eyes, and her dark-washed jeans hugged her luscious hips.

His eyes lingered on her jeans, and she turned, showing him her backside. The Rileys logo was prominently displayed on one pocket, along with the telltale black tag. The jeans cupped her ass beautifully, the seam between her cheeks perfectly straight.

As she walked across the room, he tracked the movement of her round ass, her curly hair swinging above it. She looked over her shoulder, russet eyebrows raised.

“You told me to never again wear a piece of denim that didn’t have your name on it.” She licked her lips nervously. “So what do you think?”

I think I’m a lucky man.

He cleared his throat, hoping his voice would work. “They look good. Did you make them?”

“I did. I call them Plain Jane because they don’t have any embellishment.”

He smiled a little. The jeans might not be all tricked out,
but there was nothing plain about the way she looked in them. They were tight in all the right places.

Amelia walked toward him, stopping just a few inches in front of him. He could smell the sweet scent of her hair, and he pulled in a deep breath, the first one he’d taken in several weeks. She looked up at him, meeting his eyes.

“Quinn, I’m sorry for so many things. I’m sorry I went behind your back. I’m sorry I didn’t have the guts to tell you the truth even when I wanted to. And I’m sorry you thought I used you.”

He didn’t know what to say because he wished those things hadn’t happened, too. When he didn’t respond, she sighed and stepped closer, her chest brushing the front of his shirt.

“If someone had asked me a few months ago what I wanted most, I would have said success. My answer would be different now.” She swallowed. “Please ask me what I want most.”

He stared down into her eyes. They were shiny and wet with tears. She might think she lacked guts, but the fact that she was here, standing in his office, proved otherwise.

“What do you want most, Amelia?”

Holding his breath, he waited for her answer. He hoped she wanted the same thing he did.

“You,” she answered. “I want you.”

•   •   •

Amelia gazed into Quinn’s dark blue eyes. It was all she could do to keep from throwing herself at him.

She’d missed him so much, a physical ache that had never seemed to go away. Now that she was here, close enough to touch him, that ache had vanished.

He looked so good . . . the best thing she’d seen in her entire life, even though his hair was a little too long and there were dark circles under his eyes. She was selfish enough to hope he’d been as miserable and lonely as she had.

He cupped his hands around her face, smoothing his warm fingers against her cheeks before edging them into her hair. She closed her eyes, her whole body sighing in relief at his touch. As he leaned down, his breath fluttered against her lips. Opening her eyes, she met his gaze.

“I want you, too.”

She exhaled in relief. She’d been so scared he wouldn’t give her another chance . . . that he wouldn’t want her anymore.

“I’m
so
sorry,” she repeated because she thought he had let her off too easily. “I understand why you didn’t believe me when I said that I loved you.”

He smoothed his thumb across her bottom lip. “Tell me again. I promise my response will be different this time.”

She gulped, trying to hold back her tears but failing. They began to trickle from her eyes.

“I love you, Quinn. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone.”

He smiled slowly. “I believe you.” He brushed away the tears that trailed down her cheeks. “And I love you, too.”

“You do?” she asked, her voice shaded with wonder.

He laughed softly. “Why are you so surprised, sweetheart?”

“Because I wanted it too much. I wanted you too much. I wanted everything.”

“That’s an interesting statement,” he said, cocking his head. “What’s everything? Me and your boutiques?”

She frowned, worried her answer might freak him out. He smoothed the lines between her eyes with the tip of his finger.

“What’s everything?” he repeated, dropping his hands to her waist and squeezing lightly.

She bit her lip, trying to figure out what to say. She’d been too afraid to be honest with him in the past, and that was a mistake she wouldn’t make again.

“I’m not talking about my career.”

His eyes darkened before he pressed his lips against hers. She let her lips fall open, inviting him in, but he pulled back.

“Okay,” he said, his lips tilting up at the corners. “Then what’s everything?”

She took a deep breath. “Everything is marriage, children, ’til death do us part.”

His eyes widened, and his mouth fell open. She’d obviously shocked him, and she felt compelled to backpedal a little bit.

“That’s just my definition. It’s okay if it means something different to you.”

She fell silent. Several seconds passed before he spoke.

“It does mean something different to me.”

Some of her happiness drained away. But then she reminded herself that she should be ecstatic he was even talking to her after what she’d done.

“In fact, I think my definition of ‘everything’ is a lot more expansive than yours, Juice.” He smiled, his eyes so intensely blue they looked like the inside of a flame. “It means marriage, children, ’til death do us part . . . but it also means I’m going to give you so much love you’re going to feel like you’re drowning in it. It means I’ll find a way to give you whatever you want, no matter what it takes. And it means you’ll have a family, our family, and you’ll never have to wonder where you belong because you’ll belong with me.”

She was sure all the blood in her body had turned into bubbly champagne. She was effervescent, almost weightless. She grinned, and he cupped his hands around her hips, pulling her closer. A lock of dark hair had fallen over his forehead, and she brushed it back.

“What do you think about my definition?” he asked.

“I like it a lot better than mine.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” he said before leaning down to kiss her lightly.

She gasped as heat zinged through her. “Now that we’ve clarified the definition of ‘everything,’ I think I should add another don’t to my list.”

His hands roamed lower. “Am I going to like this don’t, Juice?” he asked as he gently squeezed her butt cheeks.

“I think so,” she answered with a nod. “I don’t live in Nashville.”

“That’s a good one,” he said, his lips quirking in a sexy smile. “And since you’re modifying the list, I’d like to add a couple.”

She drew back. “What do you have in mind?” she asked warily.

“Let’s start with this: I don’t wear bacon-and-egg-printed pajamas to bed, or anywhere else, for that matter.”

She’d had no idea he didn’t like her pajamas. That was really too bad because they were very cozy.

“You know, those are my favorite pajamas. Ava Grace bought them for me.”

His eyes widened. “She has
really
bad taste in sleepwear.” After a moment of consideration, he shrugged. “We’ll have to negotiate that don’t. And in the meantime, I’ll just strip you out of them whenever you put them on.”

He kissed her again, this time a little longer and a little deeper. When he finally raised his head, his erection pressed into her stomach and her knees trembled.

“I have one more don’t for you,” he said as he backed her toward his blue-jean sofa. “And it’s definitely nonnegotiable . . .”

“What is it?” she asked, more than a little breathless.

“I don’t argue with my future husband about the length of our engagement.”