Magenta knows having a new employer might be tricky.
But she isn’t expecting the old-fashioned ruthlessness of
Gray Quinn! However, plucky Magenta is up for the challenge, and
tries to play the distractingly gorgeous Quinn at his own game…
Quinn is no New Man: he wants temptingly innocent Magenta in his
bedroom, not the boardroom. But he can make her no promises. He’ll
give her the night of her life, but he might not be there when she
wakes up… And he definitely doesn’t want her taking
Magenta yelped with alarm as a scuffed biker’s boot slammed
onto the ground within inches of her feet “What the hell
do you think you’re doing?” she exploded, frantically
gathering up the armful of documents threatening to spill from
Taking off his helmet the man shook out a mop of inky—black
hair. He was exactly the type of man you didn’t want to
see when you’d had the day from hell and looked like you’d
been dragged through a hedge backwards — young, cool, and
commanding he had danger flashing round him like neon lights.
“Well?” Magenta demanded furiously. “Do you
always ride a motorcycle like a maniac?”
“Always,” he drawled.
“I should report you — “
Eyes the colour of a storm—tossed ocean laughed back at
And she would report him, Magenta determined, just as soon as
she sorted out the flat on her car, along with a million and one
other things –
Like her father deciding to retire and sell his shares to some
stranger without a word to her — Like saving her colleagues
jobs from this unknown predator – Like wanting to get back
to her team and their fast—moving retro ad’ campaign
set in Magenta’s favourite era, the sixties.
“Do you mind?” she said, trying to skirt around the
man’s monstrous throbbing machine. “Some of us have
work to do — “
“Is that why you’re leaving the office early?”
“Since when are my working hours your concern?”
The biker shrugged.
Magenta’s glance swept the car park. Where was the security
guard when you needed him? She had been loading up the car with
things she intended to finish over the weekend in her own time
– not that she was about to explain that to this guy, who
looked like he spent his weekends in bed. And not alone.
“You’re leaving me?” he demanded, drawing her
attention to his sexy mouth.
“Somehow I’m managing to drag myself away —
What was he doing in the car park of Steele Design anyway? Was
he a courier? “Do you have a package?”
His grin made her cheeks blaze red. She’d had to watch
her words in future, Magenta concluded. They were about the same
age – maybe he was a year or two older, but his eyes held
infinitely more experience. “If you don’t have anything
to deliver, this is private property and you should leave —
He raised a brow.
Oh, good. He was really impressed by her command of the situation.
The biker’s self—confidence was making her edgy –
that and his manner, which was cool when she was steaming. Some
men were just comfortable in every situation and this man was
one of them.
A sharp flurry of snow kept her hurrying along but the man’s
laugh was warm and sexy on her back. “What’s so urgent
you can’t spare a moment to chat?” he called.
She stopped and turned to confront him. “Not that it’s
any business of yours, but I am going inside to put on the clothes
I wear in the gym so I can change the tyre on my car — “
“Can I help you?”
Perhaps she should at least have thanked him for the offer?
So now she felt guilty?
Settling the helmet on his head again, he revved the engine.
“So you’re going?” she said, perversely wanting
him to stay.
Powerful shoulders eased in a careless shrug.
Why exactly was she driving him away, when he was the most interesting
thing to have happened in a long time? Because she had more sense
than to prolong the encounter, Magenta reasoned, crunching snow
underfoot as she started on her way again. But instead of riding
off the man kept pace with her, scuffing his boots on the surface
of the road as he kept the engine purring along in neutral. “Haven’t
you gone yet?” she demanded.
“I'm waiting to see you in gym clothes —”