QUINN, his lean body clad in supple motor-cycle leathers, strode into the swish foyer of the world-famous magazine Chic.
The glass swing doors closed behind him and, green eyes narrowed, he paused for a moment to get his bearings. Nothing in his attitude hinted at the fact that he knew that had the person he sought known he was there he would undoubtedly have found himself chucked out on his ear!
By nature Quinn was a confident individualâin his experience assurance was far more likely to open doors than an apologetic mannerâbut he considered this situation called for a extra degree of audacity. The meek might well be going to inherit the earth but Quinn couldnât wait that longâhe was a man with a mission!
At any time Quinn had the sort of face that made people look, and then look again, their eyes admiringly drawn to the pleasing arrangement of strong bones and intriguing manly hollows that made his irregular features stand out from the crowd. At that moment his expressionâa fairly accurate reflection of his one overriding emotion, determinationâdrew more second glances than usual.
His steely purpose extended beyond the tight-jawed, edgy expression on his saturnine features, his entire lean, loose-limbed body was tense with resolve; even his soft-footed tread had something uncompromising about it. In fact Quinn oozed danger, and human natureâor at least female natureâbeing what it was, this was the fatal ingredient that had every woman in the place instantly riveted.
In the normal run of things Quinn wasnât much bothered about the impression he made on people, except when, as part of his professional role, he needed to put them at their ease. His present enterprise was purely personal, and he had other, more urgent, things on his mind than racing pulses! He was going to see Rowena, and if that involved an unseemly contretemps with a security guard, chaining himself to an immovable object or just generally making a spectacle of himself, so be it!
Dignity had its placeâhell, he was great at dignity, he oozed the stuff morning till nightâbut now wasnât the occasion to display restraint. Heâd been displaying it for the past couple of months and where had it got himâ¦? Fobbed off, ignored and generally given the run around, that was where!
His chiselled jaw tightened another notch as he contemplated the abysmal way Rowena Parrish, his long-time friend and recent lover, had been treating him since that memorable night in New York.
No, the time had arrived for a little bit of positive action. Quinn wasnât a man accustomed to dealing with rejection or failure, and he was damned if he was going to accept it now without some sort of explanation. It would have to be an extremely good one too if it was going to satisfy him!
âIâm here to see Msââ he began firmly as he approached the nearest of the receptionists arranged around a big half-moon-shaped desk.
âOh, and sheâll definitely be glad to see you.â There was a fervent nod of agreement that slid like a Mexican wave down the line of pretty faces.
It wasnât that the other applicants hadnât been good-looking. Like this one theyâd all been sheathed in sexy black leather, and unlike this clean-shaven specimen theyâd had the air of dissipated ruggedness that went with a sprinkling of designer stubble. Despite this advantage none had even come close to matching the indefinable something extra that this guy had by the bucketful!
The receptionist and her companions had all been watching his approach, mouths slightly ajar. His every physical attributeâthese included legs that were longer than long, narrow hips, a washboard-flat belly and wide, powerful shouldersâhad been digested, drooled over and stored for future dreamy reference.
Quinn, ready to do battle, was a little taken aback by this response. He cleared his throat and frowned suspiciouslyâwas this some new devious ploy of Rowenaâs to get him out of her hair?
âRight, then, Iâll just go toâ¦?â
âIf youâll give me your name Iâll let them know youâre on your way up.â
âQuinn Tyler.â There was no instant start of recognitionâgood, Rowena hadnât left any instructions to have him thrown out if he showed up as she had done at her apartment building.
After a lot of judicious eyelash fluttering the young woman consulted the screen in front of her. âWe havenât actually got you downâ¦it must be some sort of mistake.â There were fervent nods of agreement. âNo problem, Iâll just add your name here,â she told him cheerfully.
It was slowly dawning on Quinn that there was some sort of mistaken identity thing going on here, but as this seemed to be working in his favour he didnât see much point setting the record straight. If it got him closer to the inner sanctum and Rowena he was quite happy to play along, though that might be easier if he knew what role he was meant to be playing.