what his intentions are towards my favourite employee…’
‘So you get to vet all my boyfriends now, do you?’
Quinn folded his arms across his chest, allowing the corner of the sheet of paper to swing casually between his thumb and forefinger. ‘You said he wasn’t your boyfriend.’
Another shrug. ‘He’s not.’
She lifted her delicate chin and rose off the desk to walk round to her swivel chair, swinging forwards before informing him ‘He’s a client.’
Quinn knew what she was getting at, even if it apparently meant her part-time hobby had morphed into something bigger when he wasn’t looking. ‘This matchmaking game of yours is a business now, is it?’
‘Maybe.’ She drummed her neat fingernails on the sheaf of papers in front of her. ‘Problem?’
Two could play at that game—she should know that by now—and her poker face wasn’t worth squat, so Quinn continued looking her straight in the eye. ‘Maybe.’
‘Because it’s during working hours or because you still think the whole thing is a great big joke? I’m not falling behind with my work, am I?’
The thought had never crossed his mind. Thanks to Clare, his working life ran like a well-oiled machine. Not that he hadn’t managed to get things done before, but with her around everything was definitely less stressful than it had been before. There’d once been a time when he’d thrived on the adrenaline of being under pressure, but he’d outgrown those days. And, frankly, the matchmaking thing was starting to grate on him.
‘I’d have thought you of all people would understand the danger of matching starry-eyed people with someone who might break their heart.’
It was a sucker punch, considering her history. But he knew Clare pretty well. If dozens of people came back to cry on her shoulder in a few months’ time she’d feel responsible, and she’d silently tear herself up about it. She was digging her own grave. Quinn simply felt it was his responsibility to take the shovel out of her hand.
‘C’mon, if they’re so desperate they can’t find a date without your help, then—’
Disbelief formed in her eyes. ‘Is it so very difficult for you to believe that some people might simply be sick to death of trawling the usual singles scene? Not everyone has the—’ she made speech marks with crooked fingers ‘—success you have with women…’
Quinn ignored the jibe. ‘I s’pose that means I should expect to find long lines of Ugly Bettys and guys who still live with their mothers arriving in here every five minutes from here on in?’
If she thought for a single second he was going to be happy about that she could think again. He hadn’t batted an eyelid when she’d matched up friends of mutual friends outside of work, but the line had to be drawn somewhere. And he was about to tell her as much when she pushed the chair back from her desk and walked to the filing cabinets.
‘Don’t worry, Quinn. If word keeps spreading as fast as it has these last few months, then pretty soon I’ll be making enough money to be able to afford my own office. And then it won’t be your problem any more, will it?’
‘You’re quitting on me now?’
The thought of the endurance test involved with breaking in another PA made him frown harder. Prior to Clare he’d gone through six in almost as many months.
‘If you needed a raise all you had to do was say so…’
Clare continued searching the drawer. ‘It’s got nothing to do with getting a raise. It’s a chance to build something on my own. And if I can help make a few people happy along the way, then all the better.’
Okay, so he could understand her feeling the need to stand on her own two feet. That part he got. But he’d been pretty sure the arrangement they had had been working for both of them. Why rock the boat?
Stepping over to the desk, he turned on his heel and sat down on the exact same spot Clare had, schooling his features and deliberately keeping his voice nonchalant.
‘You’ve obviously been thinking about this for a while. So how come I’m only hearing about it now?’
‘Maybe because you’ve never asked…’
‘I’m asking now.’
It couldn’t possibly be taking so long to find whatever it was she was looking for. Not with her hyperefficient filing system. Half the time he only had to think about information he needed and the next thing he knew, it was in front of him. She was avoiding looking at him, wasn’t she?
‘O’Connor—’
‘You know, if you’d bothered reading the schedule I just gave you you’d see you have a meeting in less than twenty minutes…’
Nice try. Setting the schedule down, Quinn pushed upright and took the two strides necessary to bring him close enough to place his hands on her slight shoulders, firmly turning her to face him. When her long lashes lifted, her eyes searching each of his in turn, he did the same back before smiling lazily.
‘Working for me proved too tough in the end, did it? If you recall, I warned you at the start I was no walk in the park.’
Clare’s full mouth quirked at the edges—they both knew she dealt with him just fine, even on the days every other person on the planet would have avoided him.
‘Well, I won’t say there aren’t days I have to bite my tongue pretty hard. But it’s got nothing to do with the work—it’s something I need to do for me. If I can make it here, I can make it anywhere.’ Her smile grew. ‘That’s how the song goes, right?’
Quinn fought off another frown. ‘So how much notice are you giving me?’
‘Oh, I’m not handing in my notice just yet.’
But it was coming, wasn’t it? She was serious. And her job had long since exceeded the usual remit of personal assistant. She was his girl Friday—co-ordinating the Clubs, making sure staffing levels were sufficient, putting together promotions, booking live acts, filling in when someone was sick even if it meant working for fifteen hours straight…
Everyone who worked for him had even taken to calling her ‘Friday’, and she always smiled when they did, so Quinn had assumed she was happy in the role she’d taken on. The thought that she wasn’t happy irritated him no end. He should have known if she wasn’t.
And how exactly was he supposed to list all she did for him in a Help Wanted ad if she did quit?
Realising his hands had slid downwards, his thumbs smoothing up and down on her upper arms while he thought, Quinn released her and stepped back. ‘You’d miss all the craziness here, you know.’
Her voice softened. ‘I will. I’ve loved it here.’
Despite the fact she’d just allayed one fear, it was the fact she hadn’t used ‘I would’ or ‘I might’ but ‘I will’, that got to him most.
But he hid behind humour.
