Manhattan Boss, Diamond Proposal. Trish Wylie
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on a single one. Why?’
Clare shrugged, risking another look at him. ‘There was some stuff I didn’t know, that’s all.’
The familiar lazy smile crept across his mouth, and his voice dropped again. ‘Ahh, I see. Surprised you, did I?’
‘Maybe a little…’ She felt the beginnings of an answering smile twitching the edges of her mouth.
‘I did say we were still pretty new to this friendship thing.’
‘Yes, you did, but I really thought I knew you better. Now I feel like I wasn’t paying enough attention.’ When the confession slipped free of its own accord, her heart twisted a little in her chest, and her voice was lower as she followed the old adage of ‘in for a penny’. ‘And I’m sorry about that, Quinn—I really am. I should have been a better friend. You helped me out when I needed help most, when I was broke and jobless and about to become homeless. If you hadn’t been there…’
Quinn’s reply was equally low, and so gentle it made her heart ache. ‘Don’t do that.’
‘But—’
‘But nothing.’ She heard him take a breath. ‘I needed a PA; you needed a job. I had an empty apartment; you needed a place to live. It was good timing. And you were right to stay when you did. Don’t second-guess that—it took guts to stay.’
Great, now she had a lump in her throat. She even had to look away long enough to blink her vision back into focus. What was with her tonight? She hadn’t felt so vulnerable in a long, long while.
‘Do you miss home, O’Connor?’
‘I am home.’ Clare frowned down at her knees when she realized how the statement could be misconstrued. After all, she couldn’t keep living in Quinn’s basement for ever any more than she could keep relying on the job he’d given her. It was well past the point where she should have been able to step out from underneath his protective wing.
‘New York is home now.’ She made an attempt at lightening the mood. ‘And when I have lots of successful matchmaking nights at your clubs and half the door I can afford an apartment of my own, can’t I?’
The teasing smile she shot his way was met with one of his patented unreadable expressions. ‘Can’t get away from me fast enough, can you?’
‘I’m not trying to get away from you.’
‘Looks that way…’ He twisted the stem of the wine glass between his thumb and forefinger, dropping his gaze to study the contents. ‘You need to be careful there, O’Connor. You might hurt my feelings…’
He threw her a grin, but Clare’s heart twisted at the very thought of hurting him even the littlest bit. Not that she thought she ever could. It took a lot to get through Quinn’s outer shell—ninety-nine point nine percent of things were water off a duck’s back.
Without thinking, she swung her legs out over the edge of the sofa, looking straight into the dark pools of his eyes so he knew she was sincere—because she was
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