One Night with Her Brooding Boss: Ruthless Boss, Dream Baby / Her Impossible Boss / The Secretary’s Bossman Bargain

‘This type of work is usually undertaken by a team.’ As his eyes narrowed she could tell she’d gone too far. ‘What I mean to say is, with your approval, I would like to canvas opinion in the typing corral.’

‘The typing corral? ‘

Why was she staring at his lips? ‘I mean the women who type,’ she said carefully. It wouldn’t do to put his back up. Not yet. ‘They’re closed off from the rest of the office as if they’re in a corral.’

‘And? ‘ Quinn queried.

‘We’re losing out on their opinions. I just thought that maybe their thoughts on the various products you’re promoting could be useful to you.’ She spoke mildly but felt like a tigress defending her cubs.

‘Perhaps…’ Quinn thumbed his sharp black stubble.

‘And I have another idea for you.’

‘Why aren’t I surprised?’

Was Quinn trying to overwhelm her with that incredible stare? ‘I realise I’m only the office manager, but I thought if you would allow me to build a team—in my own time, of course—perhaps we could test our ideas, one team against the other? ‘

‘Men against women?’ Quinn looked immeasurably smug, as if the end result were a foregone conclusion. ‘You’re serious about this?’

‘Never more so.’ She held Quinn’s stare, feeling her body’s response to him like a flame of heat that brought her blood to boiling point. But she had to ignore those glorious eyes and focus on her goal. ‘I’ve heard that slots for advertising in the new colour supplement are so sought-after they are going to be decided by a team of style-setters.’

‘I’ve heard that too. We have to be at the top of our game.’

‘Which is why I thought if everyone was involved you could cherry-pick the best ideas to produce the final, winning scheme.’

‘You don’t give up, do you?’

She knew better than to respond to that.

‘I hope you don’t make me regret this.’

‘So you agree?’ Holding Quinn’s gaze was dangerous, but she was fast becoming an adrenalin junkie.

‘If this is a wind-up, Magenta…’

‘I promise you, it isn’t. I just know that some of those girls are going to want to be involved, and that some of them are bound to be good.’

‘You like a challenge,’ he said.

‘Doesn’t everyone? ‘

‘No. Most people like to play it safe, but not you. You seem to thrive on living dangerously—which is good,’ he added when she was about to say something, ‘because I have plans for you.’

Magenta’s heart leapt for all sorts of reasons, any of which she’d settle for.

‘I’m going to give you the chance you’ve asked for. I’ve got nothing to lose,’ Quinn pointed out with a shrug. ‘I’m going to give you the running of the year-end party too. That’s coming up fast—do you think you can handle the pressure?’

‘I’ll handle it.’ Here in the sixties it was some way to Christmas, so she had plenty of time.

‘And don’t bring me any old ideas. Think outside the box, Magenta.’

Which was exactly what Magenta and her twenty-first-century counterparts were renowned for. Now she just had to adapt that flair to a different era.

‘Well, don’t just stand there—go work on your ideas. We’ll have another chat in the morning.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Magenta was thrilled to think Quinn might let the girls have a chance. But had she taken on too much? She would have to get a credible team together as fast as she could and be ready to present to a judging panel of one.

‘Those trials you mentioned? ‘ Quinn said, turning at the door.

‘Yes?’

‘Warn the girls I’ll be looking for their opinion on a selection of new products.’

‘I will.’ This wasn’t a victory—not even close—but it was a great improvement on how she had felt when she’d first fallen down the rabbit hole.

The following morning Magenta put her plan to the girls. She’d fully expected them to look at her as if she were mad. What she couldn’t have expected was that they would warm to her ideas quite so quickly. She guessed that had everything to do with her explanation that it would mean going head to head with the men.

‘But Quinn has the final word,’ Nancy observed. ‘How does that work?’

Magenta slipped down from her perch on top of the table in the ladies’ room, which was where they had assembled to be sure of being out of earshot of the unfair sex. ‘If there’s one thing I know about Quinn it’s that he’s first and foremost a businessman.’

‘A warrior with the eyes of a lover,’ one of the girls argued, shivering deliciously as the others murmured their agreement.

Why was she so jealous, suddenly? Magenta wondered, quickly smothering that thought. ‘He’ll certainly fight for the company.’ She had to believe that. ‘And he wants that contract. You’re wrong to be concerned, Nancy. Quinn might be tough, but he’s fair.’

She was sticking up for Genghis Khan now! But the girls were agreeing with her, so she’d stick with that line for now.

‘Is it going to be a fair fight, or is this just a ploy by Quinn to keep us quiet?’ Nancy demanded.

‘It’s a genuine competition—just as the competition for inclusion in the new journal is genuine. I wouldn’t waste your time otherwise. Put a challenge in front of Quinn and he can’t resist it—neither can I, neither can you. And I’m as sure as I can be he’ll play fair.’

‘But would he ever go for our ideas over those of the men?’

‘Why not if they’re better ideas, Nancy? And what do we have to lose? This is a fight to better our jobs.’

‘And smash the men! ‘ Nancy’s cheeks were already glowing at the thought.

‘Don’t forget the pleasure it will give us,’ Magenta reminded her.

‘When we bury those worker bees? ‘ a girl with sweeping glasses suggested to agreement from her friends. ‘We’re with you, Magenta.’

‘There’s just one more thing.’

‘Which is? ‘ Nancy said suspiciously.

‘We have to do something first to help Quinn, to demonstrate how cooperative we can be.’