Crazy for the Boss (Crazy in Love Book 1) (11 page)

She returned to the mike. “Afraid? Uh, I hardly think so. It’s just a matter of not really being prepared for a match. Maybe next year.”

Her answer was met with less enthusiasm from the crowd, a few of whom booed their disapproval.

“You hear that, folks? I think the Ter-Quinn-A-Tor’s afraid that she’s lost her edge. And maybe she has. I mean, we all know that she’s a lawyer now, right?” The guy said
lawyer
like it was some sort of disease. “The only things she’s good at chasing now are ambulances.”

James didn’t even bother to hide his grin as he watched his usually prim employee trying to tactfully find a way out of her current predicament.

Hell, there was nothing he wanted more now than to see her kick those boots off and pull on a set of roller skates, and, feeling devilish as he did so, he started up the chant, “Ter-Quinn-A-Tor. Ter-Quinn-A-Tor.”

Her sister chortled and her mom stifled a laugh. Quinn zeroed in on him immediately, her brows raised in annoyance. The crowd quickly responded with the same chant, “Ter-Quinn-A-Tor. Ter-Quinn-A-Tor.”

Casting a final glare his way, Quinn threw her hands up in resignation and slunk off to the locker rooms with the chorus of cheers following her.

James leaned over. “Do you think she’ll notice if I record it with my phone?”

“Don’t worry,” Sabrina said. “I already have someone taping it.”

Whatever James had been anticipating, however, hadn’t prepared him for the reality when, five minutes later, Quinn reappeared.

A-mazing.

Like the other girls, her red T-shirt had the word
Hellhounds
emblazoned across the chest, only instead of tucking it into her minuscule black flouncy skirt, she’d tied it at the waist, showing a bit of skin both in the cleavage area and also across her midriff. Her long, toned thighs were shown to perfection in the knee-high red socks that even the boxier kneepads couldn’t de-sexify. Quite the opposite actually.

And then there was her hair.

His usually conservative bun-wearing attorney had it down and in two side pigtails to allow the sturdy black helmet to fit over her head.

Genuine pigtails.

He couldn’t take his eyes off of her, especially as she skated forward, smooth and sleek, a sexy little bombshell. She couldn’t possibly have any idea the effect she was having on him.

Who was this woman?

Especially when, as the whistle blew, the women all crowded together in a formation he was hard-pressed to understand. But Quinn was strong and determined, and it didn’t take her long to break through, even knocking a couple women out of her way with her hips before she practically flew around the rink.

“Have you ever watched a bout?” Sabrina asked, leaning over.

James shook his head, still in wonderment at seeing Quinn’s transformation down on the rink. Sabrina gave him a brief explanation, describing how Quinn’s job as the jammer was to get through the blockers and earn points for her team. The women were ruthless as they knocked into each other, occasionally sending someone to the ground, where they immediately got right back up and joined the rest.

But it was Quinn who shined. Taking each shove and hit and holding her own.

He’d always known she was a fighter, but usually on a more metaphysical level.

Here, she was all-out fighter. And he couldn’t be prouder.

Or, as he cast a nervous glance to her sister and mother seated next to him, undeniably turned on.

“
Y
ou still have it
,” Sabrina said as Quinn left the locker room later than night in her street clothes, her Derby gear packed away in a bag over her shoulder.

“You were wonderful out there, sweetie,” her mom said.

But it was James’s eyes she was having a hard time meeting, despite the fact he looked like a giant green cream puff in the parka that he’d put back on, likely for her mom’s sake.

What must he be thinking of her?

After spending so much time perfecting this image of polished, hardworking, and no-nonsense attorney, to have put herself in a position that might shed her in a different light, she was…nervous.

But James didn’t seem similarly embarrassed. In fact, the glint in those blue eyes was unnerving. “All I can say is, after that rousing match, Thornhill Management is definitely not worthy of the great Quinn the Ter-Quinn-A-Tor. Actually, it’s got me thinking…about what we might play at our next company Christmas party. I can see it, can’t you? Paul and Dennis whizzing by on roller skates. Skirts optional, of course.”

Whatever anxiousness she might have felt dissolved as she laughed. “Only if you’re out there, too.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“I’m going to be heading home to have dinner with your dad,” her mom said, reminding her they had an audience.

Her dad wasn’t much for crowds, so his absence didn’t surprise her at all. He was probably home already starting dinner since, of the two parents, her dad was the only one with any real talent for cooking—not that they’d ever admit this to their mom.

“Are you girls still planning on dinner in town then?” her mom asked.

Her sister was watching her a little expectantly. Quinn had planned on hanging out with her sister and a few friends tonight, eating dinner at the beer hall and then heading to Crawley’s—a dive bar that was usually the most interesting place to be on a weekend night—or any night—in Eureka.

But having James in tow made things a little less certain. And then there was the whole throwing Quinn under the bus thing tonight. Ambushing her with no warning.

Quinn smiled, reluctantly. “Yeah, Sabrina’s going with us.”

“Okay, then. You all be careful. Don’t stay out too late,” her mom warned before rushing off.

“You’re really okay with me tagging along?” Sabrina asked as they headed to the doors.

“I think we’ll be able to squeeze you into old Bessie. We’ve squeezed five of us in the cab before, back in high school.”

“Really?” James sounded far too intrigued. “That’s something I would have loved to see. You unguarded and carefree and, more importantly, not worried about whether there was a safety belt for everyone.”

Quinn merely rolled her eyes, not bothering to reply. Especially since, as she recalled, the thought
had
entered her mind. Even back then.

They reached the exit doors and pushed them open, the air even more impossibly bitter and cold as the sun had disappeared, giving way to evening and the fat snowflakes that were falling from dark gray skies above.

She loved it when it was like this.

“So, James, has my sister let you take old Bessie out for a spin yet?”

Quinn snorted.

“Why is that so humorous?” he asked.

“Do you even know how to drive, James? I mean, in the time I’ve known you, you’ve been chauffeured everywhere.”

“I’ll have you know, I’m actually a pretty good driver.”

“Really? Then here.” Quinn held the keys out to him. “Prove it.”

“Bessie is it? Well, navigating stubborn women is something of my expertise,” he said, accepting the keys. His eyes, though, held a certain challenge that told her he definitely wasn’t just talking about cars.

Sabrina opened the door and held her hand out for Quinn to go first. Quinn looked inside, where James was already buckling up, and tried to steady her pulse that was now beating too erratically before she slid across the seat. She was all too aware of his heat on the other side of her—not helped by the fact that the column on the floor had her legs straddling each side so her left leg was pressed close against his.

The interior temperature of the cab shot from icebox to furnace in three seconds.

James turned the key, the truck revving to life, before he grabbed the gear stick that was resting between her legs.

“Sorry,” he said, grinning without any hint of apology. He moved the gear into reverse before putting his arm on the seat behind her—another step into her personal space that was making her all sorts of crazy—and looked back as he pulled out.

The light scent of his cologne that hinted of leather and something dark like incense surrounded her, and it was hard not to shiver as his breath practically whispered against her neck. She closed her eyes.

Deep breath in. Out.

What the heck was wrong with her? This was precisely why she’d needed time and space away from James Thornhill. To rid herself of these thoughts once and for all.

And yet, here she was, entertaining them once again, if not with more lurid images running through her mind. The allure to lean into him was making her crazy.

In an attempt at distraction and to escape the nook he’d created for her against his body, she flipped on the radio.

“James seems to know how to handle old Bessie better than you thought, Quinn,” Sabrina said from her other side.

“It’s not much different than an old Ford my grandfather bought me one summer, right after I’d tangled my new Porsche around a mailbox.”

“The Porsche I can totally see,” Quinn said, relieved to hear something so reckless, so like the James she needed him to be for her own sanity. “The Ford truck? Not so much.”

“Yeah, well, he decided that I had clearly not appreciated the Porsche and, instead of buying a replacement, chose the truck, something that he said was more fitting for a humble line cook. To tell you the truth, I kind of enjoyed it the short time I had it. So where exactly am I going?” he asked as they came to a four-way stop.

“Left.”

A few minutes later, they were back on Main Street, where James pulled the truck expertly into one of the parking spots that lined the river walkway, and the three of them crossed the street. It wasn’t hard to figure out where they were going as half the town was already heading to the beer hall on the corner—one of the few places that could handle the dozens of booths that the various restaurants and town vendors needed.

Quinn breathed in the sharp night air, taking a second to steal a glance at her boss. How was it possible that even outside his usual polished surroundings, transplanted here in the near wilds of northern Idaho, he still seemed to just…fit? And looked damn fine doing it?

Fortunately, neither James nor Sabrina had an inkling of her thoughts as they stopped to pay the entrance fee. The place was packed as they stepped inside, and the cold night air was forgotten as warm, savory aromas filled the air.

Good Lord. She was going to need a bucket to hold everything she was going to eat. At least James was well aware of her eating habits and she wouldn’t have to pretend she ate like a bird. Unless it was Big Bird.

She scanned the room, getting the lay of the place that hadn’t changed much in all the time the town had hosted this event. The food booths were all placed around the perimeter of the room with tables and chairs in the middle. At the end of the hall was a stage and podium, where the talent show competition would take place—something she hoped to avoid at all costs as memories of mimes and twelve-year-old girls who danced too provocatively in previous years came to mind.

“So what do you recommend?” James asked them.

Quinn met her sister’s gaze. “Everything,” they both said at the same time.

“Sabrina!” It was Bridget over at the falafel booth, waving like mad at her sister.

“I’ll catch up with you guys later,” Sabrina said before bouncing off to join her best friend.

Leaving her alone with James. Something that was usually par for the course, the two of them often working alone and late at night over the past few months. But there was something entirely different about being left alone with him now.

There was a new type of synergy in the air—and between them. Unspoken, of course, but undeniable. And she didn’t know exactly why. She just knew that the attraction she’d had for him that had been building in the past few weeks had turned from a low flame to a bonfire over the course of the day, making her wish she was anyone other than Quinn Taylor, dignified employment attorney. Someone who didn’t take risks with her life, always staying the course, understanding her responsibilities.

How she wished she could be someone else sometimes. Someone who, when James had watched her with that wicked gleam in his eyes back at the Derby, would have marched—or rolled—right over to him and planted a bone-melting kiss on that succulent mouth until he cried for mercy.

Who would have pounced on him back at her parents’ house in that moment when they’d been tucking the sheets on the bed and he’d looked all kinds of crazy sexy despite the scrapbook and sewing crap that surrounded him in that room.

Someone who, when his leg had pressed against hers in the truck like it had, would have rested her hand on his thigh and whispered a few dirty things in his ear like she was some heroine from one of her sister’s books.

Instead, though, Quinn cleared her throat, willing herself to be natural. “We like to start on the end, there. Make our way around. There’s no skipping and you have to try everything at least once.”

He glanced around the hall, his eyes settling on the plates of food. “You can actually eat that much?”

“You might be surprised.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

He did it again. Grinned and gave her that look. Like she was something…wonderful.

Holy Hannah. Get it together, Quinn.

“Okay. Well, let’s get started,” she said and led the way, hoping he hadn’t noticed the way her face had flushed under his intense gaze.

Just remember, Quinn. He’s out of here tomorrow
.
Partying with any number of beautiful women in Cabo, not giving you or this night a second thought.

Don’t do anything you might regret
.

J
ames stared
in wonder as Quinn not only finished the last bite of the bratwurst but also downed it with a half pint of beer from the town’s microbrewery. He had no idea where she was putting everything, considering the fact that, before she’d consumed the brat, she’d also had half of a steak shish-ka-bob, a small rack of baby-back ribs, cheese fries, a fried glob of dough she called a scone (he’d been to London, so he begged to differ), an egg roll, a taquito, and a cup of clam chowder.

She leaned back and put her hand over her slim stomach. “Okay. Maybe that last bite was a bad call.”

“Yes, since, according to your rules, you still have the falafel and custard stops to go.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “Oh. Don’t say falafel.”

He bit off a laugh just as an older couple in their fifties stopped by. “Why, hello, Quinn. So good to see you.”

It seemed like she knew everyone in the town if the number of people who’d stopped by to say hello was any indication.

“Tell me, is there anyone here you don’t know?” James asked when the couple wandered off. He took a drink of a pilsner from the town microbrewery that was actually quite good.

“It’s part of that small-town charm. For better or worse,” she said and winced slightly. “It’s like living in a fishbowl.”

He considered that. “You seem to have survived pretty well. Not that I could imagine the great Quinn Taylor ever doing anything that would warrant censure.”

She stared down at her empty glass.

“What’s this? Don’t tell me that Quinn Taylor was anything less than class valedictorian, president of the debate team, and all-around all-star.”

She smiled slightly. “Well, you have most of that correct. But let’s just say that having that reputation can also make things harder. Not wanting to let people down, living up to their expectations.”

“Yes. I imagine that would have been difficult.” He studied the prim attorney who was always doing the right thing, making the right choices, being the golden girl everyone could be proud of. It could be tiring, he supposed. As compared to him, who no one really expected anything from but failure.

Quinn suddenly went still, her gaze on something happening by the front doors. He turned around but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, just more people, including a couple towing three kids.

“Anyone you know?” he asked.

She put her hands to her hair and smoothed it down before tucking it behind her shoulders. “You could say that. Crap. They’ve seen us.”

Now he was insanely curious. “Who’s seen us?”

“My ex-boyfriend. Just smile and nod. Pretend that we’re having a good time.”

“I thought we were having a good time.”

“Well, try to have a better time.” She smiled a little wildly at him, reaching over to take his pilsner and helping herself since she’d finished hers back with the bratwurst.

“Quinn? Quinn Taylor, I thought that was you,” the blonde female half of the couple said as she reached them, pushing a baby stroller in front of her.

“Shelby, hi. How are you?” Quinn asked through a face-cracking smile.

“I’m six months pregnant, with three little ones under foot, so as good as anyone can be expected to be,” the blonde said and laughed. “How are you doing? Still trying to save the world out there in California?” There was a definite note of derision as she said this last bit.

“I do what I can. Hi, Dan,” she said to the dark-haired guy holding a toddler under one arm. A third kid somewhere around nine was hitting the back of the guy, trying to get his attention.

“Hi, Quinn,” he said, managing to ignore the butt-swatting tike. “I heard you were in town.” He glanced over at James, telling them with a derisive look that he’d also heard she was in town with James
.
“I’m Dan and this is my wife Shelby and our three kids. I didn’t catch your name,” he said and held his free hand out.

“James Thornhill,” he answered, shaking hands.

This wasn’t awkward at all.

“How’s the insurance business?” Quinn asked as James studied the guy. Slim and with that overly earnest expression on his face like he wanted to please people. Yeah, he totally looked like insurance.

“It’s doing great—” Dan started.

“Everyone in town has been talking about the fact the two of you arrived in a private airplane—a Gulfstream, was it?” Shelby asked, not apparently caring that she’d cut off her husband mid-speech. “That’s so fancy. Heck, I haven’t even been on any airplane, let alone my own private one. But no surprise. Quinn always knew that what we had in this little old town wasn’t going to be good enough. I guess working for some millionaire has some benefits,” she added slyly.

The toddler who’d been squirming in his dad’s arms started to wallop loudly, demanding to be put down. “Well, we didn’t mean to intrude,” Dan said. “We’ll let you two get back to your dinner. It was good seeing you, Quinn.” The guy, James noticed, barely could meet Quinn’s eyes and appeared almost relieved to have a reason to leave.

“All right,” Shelby said with reluctance. “I’m sure we’ll catch up later at your parents’ party tomorrow anyhow. Mom’s fit to be tied with trying to keep this secret from your mom. They never were very good at keeping secrets from each other.”

Quinn nodded, her smile still pinned painfully in place. “I look forward to it.”

Sure she did.

“That was…interesting,” James said after they departed. “Shelby certainly seemed to have a lot to say. Something tells me there was some history there that I don’t know.”

Quinn shrugged. “She used to be my best friend.”

Her best friend and her ex? “What the hell happened?”

“Nothing. Other than Shelby made the unilateral decision that friends should share everything when she went and screwed my boyfriend in the boy’s locker room. During our senior prom. If that wasn’t hard enough, little Sawyer came along nine months later.”

“Ouch.” He didn’t know much more to say.

She studied her empty plate. “You know, I think I could use some fresh air. Want to take a walk?”

“Sure.” He helped grab their plates and dropped them in a garbage can and followed her out. “What about Sabrina?”

“Oh, we’ll catch her at Crawley’s.”

For once, he was grateful for the poufy warmth of the parka as he pulled it around him, the high top of the lumberjack boots that kept his feet dry and steady—unlike his loafers. He glanced at Quinn to see how she was doing, but if she was cold, she covered it well as she took long strides on the sidewalk, her face tucked into the light purple scarf wrapped around her neck.

He waited until they’d crossed the street and were on a path that led around the lake to say anything. “I’m sorry.”

That caught her attention. She looked over at him. “For what?”

“Sorry that you were put through that drama in high school. I can only imagine how that must have made you feel.”

“Oh. I was over that a long time ago. Really. I made no secret of the fact that I was going to leave Eureka and go away to college. I knew that Dan was sticking around. We were on borrowed time anyway.”

“Yes, maybe. But every minute of that time with you should have been cherished and appreciated. Not wasted on someone like Shelby.” Because as much as Quinn was “fine” now, back in high school, when everything was more dramatic and scrutinized, having your best friend and boyfriend hooking up behind your back could not have been easy. “You’re way too good for him. For both of them.”

She seemed surprised at his comment before her lips twisted into a smile. “Thank you.” She considered something for a minute, and he waited, the grinding sound of their feet over salted concrete filling the air. “I guess I also shouldn’t have been too surprised. I mean, back then, when Shelby and I walked into the room, it was usually Shelby who drew people’s attention with her open, assertive manner. She was the fun one. I was more…cautious. Reserved. I suppose I should be glad that at least Dan didn’t throw it all away on some one-night stand. That they actually seemed to be a better fit than I ever envisioned.”

“If you mean a better fit in that they’re two of the phoniest people I’ve met—and that says a lot, for me—then I suppose you’re right.”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” She kept walking, quiet again.

It bothered him knowing that some faithless dipshit like Dan had been able to hurt someone as strong and resilient and loyal like Quinn. It made him wonder if that guy was to blame for the fact that Quinn seemed almost afraid to give her heart to anyone since then.

“I mean it,” he repeated. “You could do better than Dan. You have a lot to offer someone, Quinn. Any guy would be lucky to have your love.”

She laughed suddenly, shaking her head. “Things must have looked worse than I thought if I’m getting a pep talk from you.”

He grinned and turned his attention toward the lake, where a low, thick mist hung over the water, making it impossible to see the other end.

“What about you?” she asked. “I mean, sure, you’ve dated a lot of women—and I use the word ‘women’ loosely since I’m sure a couple of them were barely legal—but has there ever been anyone you’ve been serious about? Who you thought just might be the one?”

“The one? As in, anyone I could see spending the rest of my life with?” He pretended to consider that. “I’m afraid not. Why have one when the whole world is out there for the taking?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m serious, James. There’s never been anyone?”

“I’m afraid that finding someone, putting down roots, is something that would only please my grandfather. And that’s the last thing I’d ever want to do.”

“So you don’t ever want to get married, maybe have a family?” She didn’t sound shocked or outraged, however. Just curious.

He shrugged. “To tell you the truth, the thought of just one person, the whole now-and-forever thing, has had zero appeal for me.”

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those jaded self-important people who thinks there’s no such thing as love and marriage and happily ever after.”

“Not at all. I’m a big believer that there can be forever and happily ever after…for the right people. I just have never been one of those people. I’ve always liked my freedom, my independence.”

At least…until recently. James couldn’t deny that there was a certain appeal to finding someone—someone who challenged him as much as made him smile—to make a go of things. Someone who, up till now, he had never thought existed.

Quinn laughed. “Marriage, love, commitment…they’re not exactly a death sentence.”

Time to turn the spotlight to someone else, as right now, he wasn’t ready to analyze his sudden change in heart. “So are you saying that you would like to get married? Because if so, you might actually have to go out on a date every once in a while.”

“I’ve dated.”

“Yes, Chuck, as we’ve well established. And Dan, and I imagine a few other boring guys in between there. But how about someone who, when you’re around him, makes your hands sweat and your heart race and any coherent thought flies out the window? Who smiles at you and your whole world seems to tilt and you’re left trying to catch your bearing? Who you wake up thinking about and go to bed thinking about, not just because you want to kiss him and touch him and see his face alight with desire and happiness and pleasure but because you want to hear every thought that goes on his mind? Every opinion and feeling?”

Hell. Where the hell had that come from? He sounded like Emily freaking Dickinson.

It also seemed to be hitting home for him.

Quinn glanced at him with a funny expression before tilting her head back so the streetlights shone dimly across her face. “You know, I’m already feeling better. Why don’t we head over to Crawley’s? I know I could certainly use a drink or two. You game?”

“I’m game for anything.” And a few drinks that would help him forget the ridiculous comments he’d just made.

And the lovely face that had appeared in his mind as he recited them.