Dream Lover (8 page)

The following morning Quinn deliberately went into work early hoping to get the opportunity to check Maxwell’s diary before he arrived. To her disappointment he was all ready sat at his desk when she entered his office.

As she moved slowly toward his desk he looked up then lifted his cuff and checked his watch, ‘You’re early Quinn, no cars broken down in the bus lane this morning?’ he commented with out the slightest trace of humour in his deep voice.

She smiled thinly to him, while sweeping her eyes across his desk for his diary then tutting to herself when she realised he was resting his hands across it. ‘No not today, could I have your diary please?’ she asked stretching out her hand toward the book.

For a split second their eyes met, ‘I’m using it just now, I’ll let you have it when I’m finished,’ he paused for a moment while he covered the book with his arm, ‘was there something particular you were looking for?’

She shook her head, ‘No I just wanted to make sure we both had the same appointments logged, that’s all. I can wait.’

Quinn was almost at the door when he spoke again, ‘Sorry if I spoilt your plans last night, I had quite forgotten about this dinner I had promised to speak at,’ he didn’t look or sound the slightest bit sorry.

Quinn smiled sweetly, ‘No problem there are lots of other nights,’ she told him with another smile.

If she had not turned so quickly she would have read the expression on his face that said ‘
not if I can help it
!’

Two days later Quinn was sat at her desk with her head in her hands, so engrossed in self-pity she hadn’t heard Maxwell enter her office.

‘Quinn, I’ve been shouting for… what’s wrong?’ he asked as she lifted her pale face to his. She looked fragile, her eyes bigger than ever in her pale face.

‘I feel sick, no correction I’ve been sick,’ she reached one slightly shaky hand toward the glass of water on her desk.

‘Sick… how sick, I mean what sort of sick?’ he asked, reaching for the glass and handing it to her.

Despite her still sickly stomach she managed a half laugh, ‘Throwing up sick… I really don’t want to talk about it,’ she sipped the water and waited to see if her stomach was about to reject it. Maxwell’s concern touched her and for a few moments she thought he wasn’t all that bad after all.

‘Have you been to see the doctor?’ he asked resting his backside on the edge of her desk, ‘where you sick yesterday?’ he demanded to know.

She waved an impatient hand at him ‘Please stop going on, no it only started this morning.’

‘This morning?’ he started to stand only to slump back onto the desk, ‘as soon as you feel up to it I’ll run you home,’ he informed her. ‘Do you want anything else for now?’

Quinn stood up, ‘I don’t need to go home, I’ll be fine please just let me sit quietly for a few moments...’

‘I’ll get the company doctor to examine you;’ he insisted, ‘then I’ll run you home.’

Quinn stood up intending to return to the restrooms, ‘Please Mr Cordell stop fussing, you’re making me feel worse,’ she had reached the doorway only to have it blocked by her concerned employer. ‘Please let me pass,’ she insisted, he did not move as much as an inch, ‘unless you want me to be sick on your suit I suggest...’ She did not get any further with her threat before he pushed the door open, then as she went to pass he took hold of her arm and hurried her toward the ladies restroom.

Quinn was splashing her face with cool water when Sue Brown, secretary to the finance director came to join her at the row of washbasins.

‘Maxwell Cordell is outside,’ she looked toward the door then back to Quinn, ‘he said I was to ask if you were okay. You do look a little pale,’ she ventured.

‘I’ve been sick and the man is fussing over me like mother hen. Heaven only knows why,’ Quinn replied while patting her face with a handful of paper towels.

Sue looked relieved, ‘I thought maybe you had been fighting,’ her friend wouldn’t have been the first female to be found in the ladies crying after being berated by the Chairman of the company.

Shaking her head Quinn managed a half laugh, ‘No, not today anyway, we haven’t had the chance I’ve been too busy being sick!’

They did argue later, he wanted her to go home and see her doctor, she insisted on staying. ‘I have a stomach bug it will pass, I feel better already,’ she informed him.

‘I’d still be happier if you went to see the doctor,’ he persisted. By the end of the day she was more than a little puzzled at his concern for her well being, he even insisted he drove her home. ‘If you don’t feel well in the morning go and see your doctor immediately,’ he instructed as he held the door open for her.

‘Yes, I promise,’ she replied unable to keep the exasperated tone from her voice.

The next morning just as she expected she felt fine, no sign of sickness at all. Not that it stopped Maxwell fussing around her for the first hour, she was sure he would have carried on for the rest of the day only he had a board meeting to attend. To her puzzlement he enquired as to how she felt each morning as she walked through the door.

On the following Monday he called her into his office. ‘I know you said you don’t want to accompany me on any more trips, but would you reconsider travelling with me to Paris?’ before she could reply he carried on, ‘I really need you with me and what happened last time won’t happen again.’

Even though they argued quite heatedly they also worked well together, he would often ask her to sit in on meetings when she asked did he want her to take notes he would say, ‘No, I just want you there, just watch and listen tell me what you think.’

‘How long for?’ she asked.

‘Three nights, that’s all.’

‘Definitely no Giles Rothwell’s on this trip?’

He shook his head, ‘None I promise, plus you can have the last day to yourself,’ he added casually, ‘you could go sightseeing.’

Quinn thought for a moment, there were a few cities on her list she would love to visit and Paris was at the top, and if he kept to his promise she would have at least one day to explore. ‘When would you want to leave?’

‘Tomorrow,’ he said not quite meeting her eyes.

‘I’ll have to ring my neighbour and see if she will look after my cat, if she will I’ll go with you,’ Quinn stood up and walked toward her office, quite unaware her boss watched her every step. Quinn had just reached the door when he called out to her once more.

‘Have you been sick again?’ when she shook her head he looked relieved and smiled.

The following morning at six thirty he knocked on her door, she was surprised when she opened it to find him standing on her step and realised why when she saw he had driven himself.

‘How are you?’ he asked looking obscenely fresh and wide-awake for such an early hour in the day.

‘Tired,’ she replied looking soft and sleepy.

Fighting the urge to pull her into his arms he asked her, ‘No sickness today?’ as they walked toward his car, when she told him no he looked pleased. ‘You can have a nap on the plane if you’re very tired,’ he told her while treating her to one of his rare smiles.

‘Oh yes, are you going to knock me out or get me drunk?’ she laughed knowing she would never relax enough to sleep.

But once on the plane he kept her occupied for the whole of the flight, when she gripped the armrest he covered her hand with his own and smiled reassuringly.

Their hotel was situated on the banks of the River Seine. It was discreetly extravagant and breathtakingly romantic not at all the type of hotel she would have imagined him booking into for a business meeting. Her brow creased as she wondered why he had chosen this particular hotel, he had been quite adamant about which one it should be when she had been booking it although at the time she had no idea it was so impressive.

This time they had adjoining rooms; hers was cream and gold, with a lace canopy above her bed, the cream coloured carpet was so thick she almost lost her feet in it. She had just finished unpacking when Maxwell knocked at the adjoining door.

‘Is everything alright?’ he asked peering over her shoulder.

‘I’ll say, this is a lovely room, something less splendid would have been fine.’

He shook his head, ‘All of the rooms here are the same standard,’ he explained, ‘I’m off to my meeting, it finishes at five,’ he paused for a moment. ‘I was wondering if you would join me for dinner. There is nothing arranged for this evening so it would just be the two of us,’ he added quickly.

No was the word that formed in her head, ‘Yes, okay that would be nice,’ was what she told him.

‘If I knock at seven will you be ready?’ when she agreed he nodded before striding back into his own room.

There was not much work for her to do until later so after double checking the information Maxwell would need for the following days meeting she went down to the hotel beauty salon and had her hair washed and dried.

When he called for her at seven she was dressed in a short sleeved cream dress. Quinn thought she looked more formal than casual and she had asked the hairdresser to secure her hair back with a bow the same colour as the dress. She had been going to leave her hair loose but thought it made her look a little too un-business like, she didn’t want him to think she was thinking of their dinning out together as a ‘
date,
’ because it definitely was not and the last thing she wanted was to give him the wrong idea.

Maxwell was dressed in a casual deep blue silk shirt and while the colour brought out the blue of his eyes the soft material showed off the contours of his chest and muscles in his arms when he moved, and if it were possible he looked even more handsome than ever.

They both looked each other over for a moment until he gave a short laugh, ‘What?’ he asked, while thinking she was the most beautiful woman he had met.

‘You, you look different. I’ve only seen you in a suit,’ she smiled.

He looked down at her through half closed lids, ‘And naked,’ he drawled with a devastatingly lazy smile.

‘You had your shorts on,’ she had started to turn away only to be stopped by his warm hand on her arm.

‘And you’re quite sure about that?’ he asked looking straight into her golden eyes.

‘Yes quite sure, they were blue,’ she told him without hesitating.

She could remember the colour of the shorts he was wearing the day she walked into his office yet she didn’t remember seeing him naked. He knew then without a doubt she didn’t remember him making love to her, how could she forget? A sudden feeling of disappointment washed over him, she certainly acted as though she was enjoying his love making, and he had certainly enjoyed making love to her. For the first time since he was an awkward teenager he was not sure how to handle the situation.

‘Quinn,’ she looked up into his eyes again, ‘would you do me one, no two small favours, leave your hair loose and call me Max.’ He slid the bow from her hair and dropped it onto the dresser then wrapping his arm around her shoulders he pulled her from the room.

‘Call me Max
,’ he asked, no one dared call him, ‘
Max
.’ She didn’t trust herself to look at him as they walked through the hotel and out into the warm Paris evening.

Quinn remembered vividly the last person who dared to call him Max. They had been at a conference when a slightly overbearing director from one of the other companies attending called him Max as they sat down to dinner. He was quickly put right. ‘My name is Maxwell or Mr Cordell, I’d prefer you call me Mr Cordell,’ he informed the other man without as much as batting an eyelid.

Strolling along with him now she wondered just how she had moved so quickly from calling him ‘mister’ to Max in one smooth step.

For the first few minutes Quinn’s head was in a spin, she could still feel the pressure of his hand against her shoulder, feel his fingers running through her hair, and she suddenly realised she was seeing a different side to Maxwell Cordell.

Maxwell was pointing out different landmarks to her, if he noticed she didn’t respond any further than to nod he didn’t comment. Eventually he asked if she would like to go into a bar which overlooked the River for a drink.

‘Yes I could do with a coffee,’ she replied while thinking she could do with something stronger.

Maxwell stood aside for her to enter ahead of him, but instead of ordering coffee he ordered two glasses of white wine.

At first Quinn had been about to refuse but after one sip of the deliciously cold liquid she was pleased she hadn’t.

Eventually Quinn relaxed and soon found she was drawn in to an easy friendly conversation with her boss, nothing too personal at first about his company then about travelling and holidays. And before too long they were chatting and laughing as easily as though they were friends, lovers even, certainly not the tyrannical employer and his over worked employee.

When they finished their wine they continued on their stroll, the evening was warm with just the gentlest of breezes.

‘There is a really nice restaurant not far along, the food is excellent,’ Maxwell looked down at her while he spoke, then reached out with one hand and gently brushed away a strand of hair as the breeze blew it across her cheek.