Men Like This. Roxanne Smith
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smile. It ruined everything he had going for his face. “Surprise.”
The champagne arrived. He handed her a dainty flute. “Drink this.” The sweet condescension in his voice nearly undid the frail threads holding Quinn’s temper in check, but she kept her grip on the reins—until she glanced at her glass.
It practically brimmed over with the sparkly wine. A sudden burst of insight hit her. “You’re trying to get me drunk.”
“Now, Quinn—”
“You used my sister to lure me here knowing I’d never come willingly. Real classy.” Quinn came out of her seat, disgusted and angry. She growled at the sharp jabs of pain shooting through the soles of her feet.
Richard must’ve taken the growl as meant for him. “Quinn, calm down, please. Yes, I’m attracted to you. Yes, I thought this was the only way I’d ever get a date with you.”
“This is not a date!” Despite her pain, she stamped her foot. The small click of her heel failed to make the desired impact.
Richard placed a hand on her arm. “Obviously.”
Her fingernails dug into her palms as her hands formed angry little fists at her sides.
Richard didn’t notice. His primary concern seemed to have shifted from her to their audience. “You’re causing a scene. You asked for an explanation, now allow me to give one before you get us kicked out.”
Quinn seethed but didn’t interrupt this time. A lift of her brow invited him to continue.
He cleared his throat and straightened his black silk bowtie. Since they’d come from the prestigious city fund-raiser, he was in a tuxedo jacket and slacks.
They’d been a striking pair. Quinn wore a black strapless gown and styled her long blond hair into an elegant chignon that displayed the diamond drops in her lobes. They matched the cluster pinned to the front of her gown.
In this casual setting, they looked like a bad joke. Overdressed and ill behaved. “You have to understand, Quinn. We work together closely. We talk every day. It’s not strange I’m attracted to you. Asking you out seemed unprofessional.”
Quinn nearly choked on her unspoken reply. This wasn’t unprofessional? Her jaw practically unhinged at Richard’s startling lack of self-awareness.
“I figured if we went out casually and had a few drinks, things might take their natural course.”
A shrug accompanied the statement to show how big of a deal it wasn’t, but Quinn saw red. She jabbed at his shoulder with an accusing finger. “I’m not stupid, Richard. You celebrate with a glass of champagne. There are completely different motives at play when you order an entire bottle. You weren’t hoping for slightly tipsy. You were going for totally sloshed. Then what? You’d take me back to your place and pretend it got out of hand?”
“No, I’d never—”
Quinn turned away. She braced her hands against the bar in an effort to stay on her bruised feet and tried to breathe. “You sure as hell would. After what Blake did, there’s nothing I’d put past a man.”
He had the audacity to scoff. “Blake is an idiot.”
The comment acted like flame to tinder—instant ignition.
She whirled on him. He was no better. He was probably no worse, but at the least, he and Blake were exactly the same. “Oh, and you’re some genius? Do you even realize what you’ve done? I should fire you.” She shook her head to dislodge some of her anger, but it wasn’t going anywhere. She trembled. “Get away from me. Leave, now.”
“Leave?” He repeated the word slowly. “I’m not going anywhere. I brought you here. I’m responsible for you.”
Quinn pinned him with every ounce of fire in her green eyes. They flashed when she was angry. They must be crackling like hot coals now. “Do you really expect me to get back in your car? I’ll take a cab home. I don’t need your protection. What I need is for someone to protect me from you.”
He looked like he might refuse again.
She hit him with the final blow. “Our contract is riding on how fast you can get away from me. I mean it, Richard.”
Their surroundings seemed to come back to them simultaneously. Everyone stared at Richard as they waited in dead silence for his reaction. Even the bartender watched their exchange with rapt attention. Richard’s face flushed a dull red. He stood in a deliberate fashion as if it were his idea to leave. “This is foolish.”
His clenched jaw and piercing glare labeled him furious, but Quinn had her own store of ire to draw from. She slipped into the most condescending tone she possessed. “You need to go home and think about what you’ve done.”
He recoiled like she’d slapped him, but she’d wager his reaction was nothing more than embarrassment at getting dressed down in a room full of strangers. Maybe now he’d understand how she felt—mortified and belittled. He’d tricked her into coming here and attempted to ply her with drink for the sake of getting her in bed. She couldn’t have done anything more insulting than that.
Richard stormed toward the exit. She hoped the staring eyes of the audience, hers included, burned holes in his back as he went.
Her shoulders fell the moment he disappeared from sight. Her rage fled. She wasn’t built for dramatics. She frowned at the two untouched glass flutes on the bar. One sat empty while the other comically full. She’d never much cared for champagne hangovers.
Quinn wiggled her fingers in a girlish wave at the bartender still watching her with round eyes. “Can I get a beer?”
Quinn waited until she almost finished her first drink to call Angie, her best friend, the same demon responsible for her miserable, dejected feet. She plucked her cell phone from the hidden pocket inside the bodice of her gown. She wasn’t totally stupid. She’d have never let Richard leave without a backup plan up her sleeve.
Or down her dress, as it were.
Angie answered on the first ring. She sounded unfazed, like she’d expected Quinn’s late-night call. “How did the fund-raiser go?”
Oh, that’s right. She’d done something fun tonight. “I had a great time. In fact, I wish we were still there.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll have others.” Angie sounded slightly distracted. Quinn imagined her painting her toenails or watching television. “What time did you get home?”
Quinn cleared her throat. It wasn’t her fault. She shouldn’t feel stupid, but for whatever reason she did. Must be some kind of male superpower. “Would it be weird if Richard wanted to sleep with me?”
“Of course not. It’d be weird if he didn’t.” Angie didn’t seem distracted anymore. “Did something happen? Oh my God, did you go home with him?” Her voice dropped to a dramatic whisper. “Did you guys do it? Are you calling in secret from the bathroom? Was he good?”
Richard had inspired an intense lack of charitable feelings, but leave it to Angie to smooth Quinn’s angry wrinkles mere seconds into the conversation. “No, nothing like that, but he did bring me to a Hollywood nightclub. Shows a little spark, doesn’t it?”
“Hollywood? Does he know you?” The disdain in her best friend’s voice was welcome commiseration. “Where are you?”
“A place called Sabini’s.” Quinn appraised the room once more. Large round bulbs suspended from the ceiling hung low and cast their warm glow over the bar, thus creating quite the snug little atmosphere. “I’m pained to admit it, but the private bar is sort of nice. It’s the mosh pit of sweaty, spastic idiots in the dance room next door who frighten me. I can’t believe that passes for dancing these days. I thought the first guy I saw was having a seizure. He’s lucky I didn’t shove my brooch in his mouth to stop