fantasies and forget about work for a while. Her team had really been infected by the sixties bug, with quite a few of them trialling the fashions of the time. The sixties styling really suited Tess, Magenta noticed now, with her smoky eyes, long, curving fringe and high ponytail, Tess looked fabulous.
‘I still can’t believe you’re not going to be here when the new boss arrives,’ Tess said, seeing she had Magenta’s attention.
‘I’ll leave that pleasure to you. All right, go on,’ Magenta said, seeing Tess was bursting to tell her something. ‘You’ve heard some gossip about him,’ she guessed. ‘What is it?’
‘Girls!’ Tess exclaimed dramatically as she turned to face the room. ‘Will you enlighten this poor innocent about our new owner, or shall I? ‘
No one was going to deny Tess that pleasure, Magenta suspected.
She was right. Raising a carefully drawn eyebrow, Tess explained, ‘They call him the Mighty Quinn because according to the gossip mags—’ and here she paused ‘—Gray Quinn isn’t just a giant in business, if you take my meaning.’
Magenta pretended to be shocked. ‘But no one knows him, no one’s seen him. How do they know? ‘
‘Oh, come on,’ Tess protested. ‘Don’t tell me you don’t like a little mystery in your life? And if he’s built—’
‘Tess, this is a professional environment.’ But Magenta had started to laugh. ‘Okay, so maybe we have to get him into some tight-fitting flares to find out.’
‘There, I knew you wouldn’t leave us,’ Tess declared. ‘You have to stay and see him now. You can’t resist.’
Magenta felt a frisson of alarm. She wasn’t an experienced girl-about-town like Tess. Business was her comfort zone; it would be far better if she wasn’t here if Quinn was some sort of lady-killer. She felt confident behind a desk—writing, dreaming, imagining how other people might react to an advertisement, to life—but when it came to herself.
‘Look at this,’ Tess said, pushing a magazine across the table. ‘And then tell me you’re going to stay away from the office while Quinn settles in.’
‘There’s not much to see,’ Magenta complained, though her body reacted strangely to what was little more than a shot of a man’s back. What was so arousing about that? For some weird reason, her body disagreed.
Quinn was obviously in a hurry to get wherever he’d been going, Magenta registered, studying the grainy print to try and fathom out her reaction to it. And then she got a bolt of something totally inappropriate for a woman who by her own admission was hardly sexually experienced. Quinn’s height, the imposing width of his shoulders, the way he held himself—everything appealed to her. Quinn was different from most men in that he was taut, powerful and exuded confidence, as if he were ready for anything. He looked like the type of man who inspired confidence in others, too.
He wouldn’t even look at her, Magenta reassured herself, releasing a long, shivering breath. There were so many pretty girls in the world, quite a few of whom worked here at Steele Design. Why would a man like Quinn look at an old maid like her?
Theirs would be a match made in hell, she convinced herself, pushing the magazine back to Tess. Imagine adding a man like that to her workload!
‘What do you know about Quinn, Magenta? ‘ one of the younger girls asked her. ‘We know you did lots of research on him when you started to prepare this project to entice him to invest in Steele Design.’
‘I did,’ Magenta admitted. ‘But I was never able to find any proper photographs. I’m surprised Tess found this.’ She glanced again at the magazine. ‘I gather Quinn’s celebrity-averse. And no wonder, judging by the gossip you’ve heard about him. A man like that must prize his privacy above everything else. I do know he was orphaned at an early age, and that he dragged himself up by his bootstraps, but that’s about it. Oh, and he doesn’t suffer fools gladly.’
‘At all,’ Tess amended, shooting a warning glance around the circle of suddenly concerned faces.
‘Which is why you have to be on your mettle whether I’m here or not,’ Magenta stressed. Smoothing back her long, dark hair, she wound it into the casual chignon she customarily wore at the office, securing it with a silver clip. ‘And don’t forget that, unless Quinn sacks me, I’ll be back in the New Year when we’ll make our final presentation to him as a team.’
‘Sacks you?’ Tess pulled a face. ‘I haven’t read that he’s crazy.’
‘But he may not want a member of the old guard working for him, as my father calls us. Here are some documents I drew up—where we are with each campaign et cetera. Make sure he gets them, will you, Tess?’
‘Of course I will…’ But Tess still looked worried. ‘Do you have to go?’
‘I can’t risk screwing up Dad’s deal.’
‘Well, at least you don’t have to worry about the documents. I’ll see Quinn gets them.’
‘Thank you.’ Magenta turned to go. But she should have known Tess hadn’t finished with her yet.
‘And if you change your mind about the party…’
‘I only wish I could.’ The end-of-year party was important, but nowhere near as important as keeping Magenta’s team in work. The last thing she wanted was to alienate Quinn, or have him think she was trying to split the team’s loyalty. She hoped she had made a persuasive case for keeping all her colleagues on in the documents she’d given Tess. To add a little weight to that hope, she had drafted an outline for the next campaign, centred on products she knew Quinn wanted to push and which she hoped would keep his interest in the company going forward.
‘You can’t leave us,’ Tess stressed discreetly as Magenta prepared to go. ‘You’re the heart of the team.’
‘You’ll do just fine without me—and, anyway, I haven’t gone yet. Let’s see how it goes. Quinn isn’t a fool. Just keep doing what you’re doing, and he won’t be able to let any of you go.’
But Magenta started fretting before she left the room. The promise to her father counted highly with her, but it went against the grain to walk out on her friends. Her father had his money now and wanted nothing more to do with the company, whereas her colleagues were all desperate to keep their jobs. Maybe Tess was right; maybe she wouldn’t be able to stay away.
When Magenta got down to the car park it was full of recovery vehicles with red lights flashing and men in high-vis jackets.
Why was nothing ever straightforward? Magenta wondered, urging herself to remain calm as the mechanics explained to her that, as hers was a vintage car, they couldn’t repair it now but would have to order a tyre. They were going to recover the vehicle and keep it in the garage over Christmas and she could collect it some time in the New Year. No, they couldn’t be more specific than that, the mechanic in charge told her, scratching his head.
Pulling up her collar against a sudden squall of icy wind, Magenta thanked the men for turning out in such diabolical weather and insisted on giving each of them a crisp new note. Why shouldn’t someone enjoy their day?
Wrapping her arms around her body to keep warm, she watched as her car
