All the Right Places (RILEY O'BRIEN & CO #1) (12 page)

Amelia grabbed the remote and increased the volume on the big-screen TV in the penthouse’s living area. The weather segment was coming on next, and she wanted to see if it would be a good day to fly.

After Quinn had left the penthouse last night, she’d decided to go home for the weekend. Her schedule was fairly empty because she had wanted to spend some time today on the first draft of designs for the new line of accessories.

She had planned to stay in San Francisco through the weekend, but she really needed to get away from here. To be more accurate, she needed to get away from Quinn, a.k.a. her biggest almost-mistake.

She was running, and she wasn’t ashamed to admit it. No, she was ashamed about something else—the fact that she’d been half-naked and moaning on the kitchen island.

If she hadn’t been so appalled by her behavior, she might have been quite in awe of herself. She’d never had an adventurous sex life. In fact, calling her brief and meaningless carnal experiences a sex life was grossly inaccurate, and it was kind of nice to know she could lose herself to passion.

But losing herself to passion with
Quinn
was unacceptable. Not only did he have too much influence over her
career; she lied to him every time she looked at him or spoke to him.

She knew a lot of people had sexual relationships with coworkers, colleagues, and other assorted business partners. She had never wanted to go down that path, and she didn’t know if she admired or pitied the people who were willing to risk their professional lives for a little nookie, no matter how good it was.

She wanted her relationships to be free of conflict and lacking in drama. She’d had too much of that as a child, and the word “boring” didn’t mean the same thing to her as it meant to other people.

More important, entering into a personal relationship with Quinn while she worked behind his back was abhorrent to her. It was something her mother would have done, and she didn’t want to commit that kind of character suicide.

Plopping down on the leather sofa, she tucked her feet under her as she stared at the TV screen. Why was the news anchor talking about penguins? Who cared about penguins? Where was the weather?

She pulled one of the decorative pillows to her chest, her nipples peaking when its softness brushed against them. “Dwight David Eisenhower,” she muttered.

Her body had yet to recover from the extreme arousal Quinn had ignited last night. Even though she knew it was stupid and selfish, she wished he’d finished the job before the coconut water had fallen to the ground.

She knew Quinn was just as shaken as she was by what had happened on the kitchen island. He’d said only one thing before he had skedaddled from the penthouse: “Coconut water is really sticky.” To which she had replied: “It has more potassium than a banana.”

She was
so
glad they’d tackled that awkward conversation. Uh-huh.

Finally the weather came on, distracting her from thoughts of Quinn. The forecast was clear so there was no reason to dillydally.

Rising from the sofa, she made her way to the kitchen to grab some juice. As usual, she had made it first thing when
she’d woken up. She liked for it to chill in the fridge while she answered her emails, showered, and dressed for the day.

Today, however, she was still in her favorite pajamas, which were printed with bacon and eggs. Ava Grace had bought them for her, a gift of whimsy from one pragmatist to another.

She had just poured herself a glass of juice when she heard a hard knock on the door. It was still early, just a few minutes after eight o’clock, and she froze, worried it might be Quinn.

She had no intention of letting him inside this penthouse ever again. In fact, she preferred to limit their interactions to locales where it was unlikely she’d end up topless.

A quick look through the peephole revealed Teagan on the other side of the door. Relieved, she opened the door, greeting her with a smile.

“Want to come in? I was just about to have some juice, and I’m willing to share.”

Teagan wrinkled her nose. “It depends on what kind of juice. Ava Grace told me that you drink beets, and if that’s what you have on tap this morning, then, heck no, I don’t want any. If you’re talking about normal juice, then, yes, thank you, I’d love some.”

She laughed. “No beets, I promise.”

Teagan followed Amelia to the kitchen before hopping on one of the barstools. She looked expectantly toward Amelia.

“Hit me,” she said, slapping the bar like she was in an Old West saloon.

Amelia poured another glass of juice and slid it along the countertop to Teagan. Her blue eyes, which were so much like Quinn’s, widened as she took a tentative sip.

“This is really good,” she praised before taking a larger swallow.

“You shouldn’t have doubted me.”

Teagan frowned. “You made this? How?”

She pointed to the juicer in answer. She had placed it next to the sink so she could admire its sleek lines.

Teagan stared at the stainless steel appliance. “Where did that come from?” Her eyebrows rose. “Did you bring that thing all the way from Nashville?”

“Of course not.”

Amelia was hesitant to tell Teagan where the juicer had come from. Surely she would wonder why Quinn had given her a gift.

Left with no other choice, Amelia disclosed the source of her newfound joy. “Quinn gave it to me.”

“My brother?”

She sighed in exasperation. “Yes, your brother. Is there another Quinn lurking nearby?”

Teagan frowned. “How did he know you’re a juicing fanatic?”

“We talked about it.”

Teagan’s face cleared. “Oh, I get it. His assistant usually orders the welcome gifts for our guests, and Quinn probably told him to get you a juicer instead of the usual wine basket. Jeff always signs Quinn’s name on the card.”

Her pleasure in the juicer diminished. But her spirits rebounded when she remembered Quinn had mentioned talking with a woman at Williams-Sonoma.

“Quinn picked it out, not his assistant,” she blurted without thinking. “And he gave the juicer to me in person.”

She had a naughty image of what else he’d given to her
in per
son
.

Teagan’s mouth fell open in shock. “He picked it out,” she repeated. “I find that hard to believe. Quinn wouldn’t know a juicer from a food processor. Cal’s the chef in our family.” Her eyes narrowed. “He gave it to you in person? When?”

Amelia wanted to kick herself for inviting more questions, but she had no choice but to answer. “Last night. He dropped by the penthouse.”

Her face burned as she recalled what she and Quinn had done amid all the fruit and vegetables. She had no doubt a mediocre comedian could make all kind of jokes out of that scenario, starting with “What happens when you mix fruit and sex? A fruit cock-tail. Get it?”

Too bad she wasn’t laughing.

“Did you have juice for dinner?”

“No, Quinn invited me out, and we went to a pizza place a couple of blocks away,” Amelia admitted.

It wasn’t a secret that she and Quinn had shared dinner. Plus, Teagan would have found out anyway.

Teagan studied her for a moment. “Why are you still wearing your pajamas? You’ve been at work every day this week before eight.”

She looked down at the granite countertop. “I’ve decided to fly home for a few days.”

When Teagan didn’t reply, Amelia looked up. “I’m coming back,” she reassured her. “I’ll be back in the office on Tuesday. Wednesday at the latest.”

Teagan had a speculative look on her face that she found slightly alarming. “I thought you planned to stay here with no breaks.”

Amelia could feel her face turning red. Could she look any guiltier?

“Yes, but I changed my mind.”

“Does Quinn know you’re flying back to Nashville?”

“No. I didn’t even think to ask him if it was okay.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll understand.”

Amelia could have sworn she saw a tiny smile on Teagan’s glossy lips before the brunette jumped down from the barstool.

“I need to run. Thanks for the juice.”

And she was gone before Amelia could reply.

•   •   •

“You’re here early.”

Quinn looked up from his monitor to see Teagan standing in his doorway. “So are you.”

Entering his office, she took a seat in front of his desk. She crossed her legs, giving him a glimpse of her thigh through the slit on her dress.

He quickly averted his eyes. It was too early in the morning for an accidental flashing from his younger sister. He might go blind.

“How long have you been here?”

He checked the clock on his computer screen. “A couple of hours.”

“Me, too. We must have come in about the same time.”

Despite the early hour, she looked bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, as his dad liked to say. Her dress, which was the color of a ripe apricot, was the perfect foil for her dark hair. It brought
to mind Amelia’s claim that she didn’t wear orange or any color in the orange family. He figured apricot fell into that category.

He knew he looked like shit. Or, to quote his dad again, he looked like bear shit after a long hibernation. Last night he’d stuck around the penthouse long enough to help Amelia clean up the mess before making a quick exit.

He couldn’t even remember what he’d said to her. And if she stood in front of him right now, he didn’t know if he would ask for forgiveness or demand a kiss.

He hadn’t made it home until nearly midnight, and he’d been way too hyped up to sleep, so he had watched ESPN for an hour. When that hadn’t worked, he had gone for a punishing run, finally stumbling up the stairs to his Victorian around two in the morning.

Unfortunately, the long run hadn’t cleared his head. Nor had it exhausted him enough to prevent an erection as soon as he slid into bed and his mind drifted to Amelia. He’d finally given in, wrapping his hand around his cock and moaning her name when he came.

At the memory, he rubbed both his hands over his face. Propping his elbows on his desk, he rested his head in his hands.

Amelia had done something to him. He didn’t know what, exactly, and he didn’t know where to go from here.

Teagan stared at him, a speculative expression on her face. “Are you okay, Quinn?”

He sighed. “I only got three hours of sleep. I’m tired.”

She made a sympathetic sound. “You have a big job. And it’s going to get even bigger now that Daddy has decided not to come back to work.”

“I know.”

He wished his dad had made a different decision, but he understood why he hadn’t. Even though his cancer was in remission, James still tired easily. More important, his dad no longer had the same passion for his work.

No one outside of the family knew James had decided to retire. Quinn wasn’t sure when his dad would make the official announcement.

“Do you ever worry you devote so much time and energy to this company you’ll never find someone special?” Her
eyes were locked on his. “I think about it a lot. I don’t want to be a party of one anymore.”

An image of Amelia popped into his head, and he scowled. “What’s with the introspection, T? Isn’t it a little early in the day to talk about our life goals?”

“I heard you and Amelia went out to dinner.”

It took him a moment to catch up with the new direction of the conversation. One of Teagan’s best negotiating skills was her ability to change the subject abruptly, catching people off guard.

“Where did you hear that?”

“Amelia. I stopped by earlier this morning to check in with her before the day got too crazy.” She smoothed the skirt of her dress. “She shared some of the freshly squeezed juice she made with the juicer you bought her.”

He tried to think of something to say that wouldn’t incriminate him. “That was nice of her.”

“It was nice of
you
to give Amelia something she’d like instead of the generic welcome basket. In fact, it was a really thoughtful gift. It’s something I would never have imagined you’d do.”

Quinn was offended by her assessment of him.
“I’m thoughtful,” he countered, raising his hand and ticking off examples of his largesse. “I remember your birthday. I’ve never forgotten Mother’s Day, and I always bring Cal truffles whenever I’m close to his favorite chocolatier.”

“We’re your family, and you love us. Plus, you know Daddy would beat you within an inch of your life if you forgot Mother’s Day.” She leaned forward, her manner changing. “Since when do you buy a juicer for a woman?” Her tone was both accusing and incredulous. “Isn’t that in the bachelor rulebook—thou shalt not buy household appliances—for fear of sending the wrong message?”

His mood, which hadn’t been all that great to start with, soured. He wasn’t going to suffer through a lecture from his younger sister because he’d done something
nice
.

“You’ve got one more minute before I kick your ass out of here,” he warned.

She held up her hands. “I just thought you might want to know Amelia’s flying home to Nashville today.”

Blood rushed from his head, and he heard a roaring sound in his ears. He thought it might be his pulse.

“What?”

He was obviously having trouble with comprehension. He could have sworn his sister had said Amelia was leaving.

“She’s leaving,” Teagan said, enunciating each word.

“No, you’re wrong. She’s supposed to be here for two more weeks.”

“Well, she changed her mind.”

When he realized what Teagan had actually said, he vaulted out of his seat. If he had to, he’d tie Amelia to a chair in the penthouse to keep her from leaving him.

Wait, what?
She wasn’t leaving
him.
She was just going back home, where she belonged.

“Amelia said she’d be back on Tuesday.”

His pulse returned to normal when Teagan disclosed that important detail. He was so relieved he was a little lightheaded, and he grabbed the back of his chair. He’d almost forgotten Teagan was still in his office until she spoke.

“Quinn, it’s obvious something is going on between you and Amelia.”

With an intent expression, she waited for him to respond. Unfortunately for her, he had nothing to say.