All the Right Places (RILEY O'BRIEN & CO #1) Read online

  “My partner.”

  He looked closely at her as he disclosed this information, as if he weren’t sure how she’d respond to the knowledge of his homosexuality. She knew a lot of people weren’t okay with it, but she didn’t care one way or the other.

  “Well, you can tell Harris that I think you look much younger than your . . . You never told me how old you are,” she reminded him.

  “Forty-two.”

  “Wow. Now I don’t feel like such a loser because I’ve got some time to ascend to your level,” she joked.

  Some of her self-doubt and insecurity must have bled through her levity because Deda gave her an appraising glance. Before he could say anything, she posed a question to him.

  “How many people do you manage?”

  “Right now, we have fifteen people in the biz-dev group. Under normal circumstances, you would have worked with my team to get the ball rolling with Riley O’Brien, but Teagan spied you first.” He smiled broadly. “That girl is something else. She doesn’t let anything stand in the way of what she wants.”

  She laughed. “I’m torn between fearing her and admiring her.”

  Deda nodded in agreement. “She runs circles around her brothers, that’s a fact. And if she wanted to run this company, she would. But she doesn’t, and neither does Cal.” He paused. “This company is in their blood, and they want to see it thrive, but it’s not in their hearts.”

  Amelia was intrigued by his comments. “And what about Quinn?” She longed to gain a deeper understanding of what motivated him, and Deda seemed like a veritable font of information.

  He considered her question for a moment. “A lot of people wondered why Quinn was the heir apparent, but I was never one of them,” he said, putting his hand to his chest as if he were swearing on a Bible. “Quinn’s heart and soul is tangled up in this company so tightly it’s hard to tell where he ends and it begins. I can guarantee that for every decision he makes, and for every move he makes, he’s thought about the impact on this company.”

  “So you’ve never seen him put his own desires above the well-being of Riley O’Brien & Co.?”

  Deda drummed his fingers against the table. “No,” he said emphatically. “And frankly, I can’t imagine any circumstance where he would.”

  After a moment, he stood up and headed toward the audio-visual controls at the front of the room. “If it’s okay with you, I want to show you the presentation my team gives to all potential partners.”

  He put the presentation on the projector screen and turned off the light so she could see it better. It started out with the history of Riley O’Brien & Co., and she was familiar with the major milestones.

  During the hardscrabble years of settling and building the nation, Americans had worked in Rileys. The men had fought wars in them when they were shipped to Europe and Japan, and the women had worn them to build bombs and airplanes at home.

  When the men had come home, they donned Rileys to do yard work, and the women had made them an essential part of their children’s school wardrobe. Eventually, the jeans had become a staple in every closet, appropriate for all occasions, from first dates to job interviews.

  The next section provided an overview of the company’s products. She was shocked to find out there were only four styles for men and two for women.

  He moved on to more interesting topics including a flowchart that explained Riley O’Brien & Co.’s executive leadership and the company’s organizational structure. She hadn’t been clear on how Quinn and his siblings worked together, and the charts were very enlightening.

  This version of the presentation still had James O’Brien listed as the president and CEO. As chief operating officer, Quinn was listed just below his dad, and Teagan and Cal reported to him. She wondered when Quinn would officially take over his dad’s title since it seemed that he’d already assumed most of his dad’s responsibilities.

  She interrupted Deda. “How long has Quinn been leading the company?”

  “Since Mr. O’Brien got sick, which was more than three years ago.” She couldn’t see Deda’s face very well in the dark, but he sounded sad.

  Teagan had told Amelia that her dad had been very sick, but she hadn’t offered any specifics, and none of the articles Amelia had read as part of her research had alluded to any particular type of illness.

  “Has he recovered?”

  Deda was silent for a long time. “I don’t really know anything beyond what Quinn has told us at company-wide meetings. At our last meeting in July, he said Mr. O’Brien’s health had improved significantly and the cancer treatment was working. But he didn’t indicate when or if his dad was coming back. That’s made the environment here a little tense because no one likes uncertainty.”

  As a rule, Amelia tried not to be nosy (Ava Grace was nosy enough for both of them), but she really wanted to know what kind of cancer, so she posed the question to Deda.

  “I don’t know,” he answered. “They’ve kept that information private. But it was bad, and we could tell all the kids were torn up by it. Especially Quinn.”

  Chapter 8

  Quinn gave a sharp knock before opening the conference room door and stepping in. The room was dark, but he could see Deda’s outline against the glow of the projector screen.

  “We just finished,” Deda said. “You can turn on the light.”

  Flipping the switch, he got his first look at the woman he’d thought about way too much over the past two weeks. On his way to the conference room, he had wondered if he had exaggerated her sex appeal in his mind, but now that he was in the same room with her again, he knew he’d underestimated it.

  “Hey there,” he said, encompassing both Deda and Amelia in his greeting.

  Deda came around the table. “I was expecting Teagan, not your troublemaking self,” he said in his Tupelo honey drawl.

  Quinn chuckled. “Troublemaking? I had no idea you thought so highly of me, Deda.”

  Grinning, he slapped the older man on the back. Deda was one of his favorite employees. Hell, he was one of his favorite people outside of his family. That’s why he’d asked Deda to shadow Amelia while she was here. He wanted her to feel comfortable, and he knew Deda would take good care of her.

  He focused his attention on Amelia, who had remained seated at the table. She smiled tentatively.

  “Hi, Quinn.”

  “Amelia, I know this is going to disappoint you, but Teagan can’t go to lunch with you today. She got held up with some type of contract negotiation with one of our vendors, and she asked me to take her place.” He spread his arms out to his sides, palms up. “So here I am.”

  Her smile faltered. “Oh, you don’t have to do that. I can have lunch on my own. Or maybe Deda can keep me company?” She shot a beseeching look toward Deda, who looked toward Quinn for direction.

  Quinn clenched his jaw. She obviously didn’t want to spend time with him, and that pissed him off. They were business partners, after all, and she could be a professional and damn well eat a simple meal with him.

  He shot Deda a look that said, “She’s coming with me.” He didn’t want to think about why he was so determined to have lunch with her when she acted like it would be torture. Deda, smart man that he was, gave him a salute and started toward the door.

  “Deda’s got some things to take care of here, so I guess you’re just going to have to suffer my company.”

  Amelia’s cheeks pinked at his response, and he flashed a smile, perversely pleased by her unease.

  “It’s very nice of you to take time out of your day to take me to lunch,” she said finally.

  “I know. I’m a busy and important guy who has much better things to do.” When she stared at him with an appalled expression, he burst out laughing. “I’m kidding, Amelia. I really want to take you to lunch, so grab your bag and let’s go.”

  As
she rose from the table, his laughter died in his throat, and he barely suppressed a groan. Jesus, the woman had curves that just wouldn’t quit, and her brown dress accentuated every single one of them.

  Maybe going to lunch with Amelia wasn’t such a good idea. The best way to resist temptation was to avoid it. If he were a compulsive gambler, he wouldn’t hang out at the track, would he? No, he wouldn’t.

  Amelia met him near the door, and he almost swallowed his tongue when he got a look at her sexy shoes. They showed off her shapely legs and gave him a peek of her raspberry-painted toenails. He reached up and casually rubbed a hand across his mouth, afraid he might be drooling.

  There was no maybe about it. Going to lunch with Amelia definitely wasn’t a good idea . . . especially since he wanted to nibble on her instead of a club sandwich.

  She stopped beside him, and he was reminded of how short she was. Even in those sky-high heels, he still had more than half a foot on her.

  “Where are we going?”

  “If you like seafood, I’d like to take you to the restaurant that Cal’s girlfriend owns. It’s right on the bay, and the views are stunning this time of year.”

  “That sounds great. I haven’t really had the chance to see it up close.”

  He pointed to her shoes. “Looks like we might need to drive.”

  Smiling apologetically, she nodded. “They look good, but they aren’t good for walking.”

  He stared down into her big brown eyes. She was right. Her shoes looked good.

  Too good.

  • • •

  As Quinn drove up to the restaurant, the lone valet attendant sprinted around the SUV to open his door. He glanced at Amelia.

  “Wait a second, and I’ll get your door.”

  His mother had instilled good manners in all her children, even if he and Cal forgot to use them when they were together. Opening the door for a woman was one he adhered to at all times.

  Pulling open the passenger door, he extended his hand to help Amelia out of the vehicle. It was a little high off the ground for her, even with those heels.

  As she grabbed hold of his fingers and turned in the seat to step down, her dress inched up. The small slit near the hem widened, giving him a glimpse of her upper thigh. Like her face, it was dotted with freckles, and he couldn’t find the strength to look away.

  His mouth watered at the thought of tasting that smooth white skin and those tiny brown-sugar dots. He wanted to trace them with his tongue before moving higher. . . .

  The valet’s voice pulled him from his fantasy, and he made sure Amelia was safely on the ground before he took the ticket. Placing his hand on the small of her back, he ushered her into the restaurant.

  Inside, Cal’s girlfriend, Saika, chatted with the hostess. When she saw him, she smiled and greeted him with a hug.

  “Quinn! Why didn’t you tell me you were coming by today? I would have set aside a table for you so you didn’t have to wait.” She turned toward Amelia, and her smile widened. “You’re the new designer, right? Cal mentioned you would be here this week.”

  Quinn quickly introduced the two women, and as he did so, he noted that Saika and Amelia were a study in contrasts. Saika was nearly six feet tall with a willowy figure like a runway model.

  She was half Japanese, and her shiny black hair was cut close to her head, drawing attention to her dark, almond-shaped eyes and her high cheekbones. Her smooth skin was a light olive color, her lips pale pink.

  Quinn had always considered Saika a beautiful woman. He never missed a chance to tell Cal that she was way too good-looking to be with him. But with Amelia standing next to her, Saika was a black-and-white drawing compared to Amelia’s saturated color photo.

  “Amelia, do you want to eat inside or outside?” he asked.

  “Oh, I’d love to sit outside.”

  She looked thrilled at the prospect, and he asked Saika if she could arrange a table on the waterfront deck. Within just a few minutes, they had been seated and had already placed their lunch orders.

  “I’m starving,” she admitted. “I didn’t have anything for breakfast.”

  “If I recall correctly, you usually have liquefied spinach for breakfast.” It was something he really didn’t want to remember because it made him want to gag.

  “I don’t have a juicer here.”

  He felt like slapping his forehead. Of course the penthouse didn’t have a juicer. He wasn’t even sure it had a coffeemaker.

  “I guess a carton of OJ just isn’t the same,” he joked.

  Amelia laughed before gazing across the bay. Her eyes sparkled in the sunlight, and the light breeze tossed a couple of coppery corkscrews over one eye. He wondered if they were as springy and soft as they looked.

  “So what do you think? Is the view worth putting up with my company for an hour or so?”

  “It’s a great view, but who knows how I’ll feel when lunch is over.”

  He smiled at her tart rejoinder. He could see why she and Teagan got along so well.

  “How did your morning go?”

  During the short ride to the restaurant, he had made sure she liked the penthouse and that she was settled in. They hadn’t had an opportunity to discuss her first few hours in the office.

  “Well, I ran into your brother as I came out of the elevator. Literally ran into him.”

  He chuckled, understanding exactly what she meant. “It’s one of his more annoying habits. He never thinks about the people who need to get off the elevator.”

  Her answering laugh was almost a giggle. The light, happy noise filled his chest, making him feel as if he had bubbles inside him.

  “Did you and Cal have a chance to talk?”

  She shook her head. “We introduced ourselves, but I was waiting on Deda, and I think Cal had somewhere to be.”

  “How do you like Deda?”

  Amelia took a sip of her iced tea before answering, almost like she was stalling. Concerned, he cocked his head toward her.

  “Most people really like him. That’s why I asked him to be your liaison.”

  Looking down, she traced the rim of her glass with her fingertip. “He’s great.”

  He could hear a “but” in there, and it wasn’t long in coming.

  “But I don’t understand why you assigned me a liaison. Did you think I’d need a babysitter? Someone to keep me on task?”

  He was shocked by her assumption. “No.” She looked at him skeptically, and he repeated his answer more emphatically. “No. Of course not. I know you’re a professional.”

  “Then why did you ask Deda to ignore his job, which sounds very important, by the way, to babysit me?”

  He ran a hand through his hair. He had been trying to help her, and he’d ended up offending her instead.

  Shit.

  “Deda’s not a babysitter, Amelia. He’s one of the most important people in this company, and one of the most knowledgeable. You should think of him as your guide through a foreign and dangerous country.”

  She stared at him for several seconds before her shoulders very obviously relaxed. He realized she had been quite upset about the idea of having a “babysitter.” She smiled, a teasing tilt of her tempting lips.

  “Are you comparing Riley O’Brien & Co. to Somalia? Or maybe Libya?” She raised her eyebrows, and he felt a little foolish at his description. “I wish someone would have told me that I was risking life and limb by taking on this project. Should I arm myself?”

  He gazed at her across the table. She had plenty of weapons at her disposal, starting with her sweet face and luscious body. But her most powerful weapon was her smart mouth, and she wielded it with skill.

  “I’d say you’re already well-armed.”

  She shot him a suspicious glance, clearly not sure if she should be offended by his comment. “It’s a
compliment,” he clarified.

  “Should I feel compelled to give you one in return?”

  He feigned hurt feelings. “You can’t think of one nice thing to say about me?”

  She tapped her lip with her fingers, pretending to think hard. “Hmmm. Not really.” The sparkle in her eyes told him she was joking.

  “Now that’s a real shame because I can think of plenty of nice things to say about you.”

  • • •

  Amelia evaluated her almost empty plate. She had worried she might be too nervous to eat, but sharing lunch with Quinn had been thought-provoking rather than nerve-wracking. She had relaxed once he had made it clear that having Deda as a liaison was an honor.

  They’d discussed business for a while, but when Quinn found out Amelia knew almost nothing about San Francisco’s history, he had shared his firsthand knowledge of his hometown. The O’Brien family had lived in the Bay Area for more than 170 years, maybe longer, and Quinn had been full of fun facts and interesting trivia.

  They had finished their meals, and she expected Quinn to immediately ask for the check. Instead, he leaned back in his chair and propped his leg on his knee as if he were settling in for a long chat. His blue plaid shirt stretched across his chest, outlining his pectoral muscles, and she wondered what he did to maintain his impressive physique.

  Anyone with eyes could see O’Brien men, past to present, were blessed with studly DNA. But even with such lucky genetics, surely it wasn’t possible for him to look so good without having to work at it.

  She shuddered to think how she would look if she didn’t put some effort into keeping in shape. Like her mother, she had a pear-shaped body, and she had to work hard to keep her bottom half under control.

  Before she could start to obsess about the size of her butt, he asked if she had any questions about the presentation Deda had given earlier this morning. Since the older man’s comments about the O’Briens had really stirred her interest, she decided to take this opportunity to talk with Quinn about taking on the president and CEO job.

  “Deda told me that you took over the company when your dad got sick. That must have been hard, dealing with a new job and his illness all at the same time.”