Carly rolled her eyes. “I need to get tougher.”
“Well, you’ll have a chance to practice if that’s of any use.”
“What do you mean?”
Tina lowered her voice. “There’s been a development.”
Carly watched Tina grit her teeth together and part her lips. She looked like a pug baring its canines. “What’s up?”
Tina’s brows snapped together. “Grace called.”
“Oh, God, is she all right? She isn’t in the hospital, is she?”
“No, nothing like that, but this isn’t good.”
“Spill it, Clark, before I have a coronary.”
“Well, it seems
your boyfriend
called Grace and fired her from the winery design project.”
Carly blinked. She knew she blinked because it was one of those long, disbelieving blinks that seemed to take about half an hour. “Quint fired Grace??”
“About an hour ago.”
“Was she in tears?”
“You know Grace. She would never cry over something so trivial though I think she was in shock. She just wanted to talk to you and since I tend to know things, I explained what Harry Blooker was up to, the big Napa investor deal and all.” She tapped her chin with her forefinger and frowned. “You know, maybe I was mistaken about him.”
“Ya think?”
“Well, what are you going to do?”
Carly shook her head. “I don’t know, but right now a rocket launcher is looking pretty good.”
Quint’s high-handedness made her stomach roll on so many levels she couldn’t think straight. He’d already told her he meant to get the furnishings underway, but why would he think it was okay to call her friend up out-of-the-blue and terminate her services? And why hadn’t it occurred to him to discuss the matter with her first?
Her hands balled into fists. She growled. “The arrogance of that man. If he were here, I’d punch his lights out.”
“If he were here, we could do it together. I’d kick his shins until they bled.”
“And you said you liked him.”
“I still do but I never said he didn’t need a little punching and kicking. Remember those rough edges? Time to start grinding away.”
Carly laughed at her petite friend then worked at calming herself down since a German group walked in and started hunting through the gift shop.
“Well, I’d better call Grace,” she muttered. “I’ll be in my office.”
By the time she reached her desk, however, she knew how she wanted to handle the situation. She checked the clock. It was almost three-thirty so there was a good chance Quint had already arrived at his hotel. She called Sheila and requested his room number. She wrote it down on a pad since she was still too mad to trust her recall ability. She hung up then called Grace to set up an appointment with her.
She left her suede hat and gloves on the desk. After brushing the red dust out of her hair and off her clothes she applied a thin layer of gloss to her lips then headed out the door. She hopped in her Acura and sped out of the parking lot.
A few minutes later, she walked on a quick step to Quint’s suite. When he answered the door, a smile suffused his way-too-handsome features. “Well, isn’t this a surprise,” he purred in his big-cat voice. “I meant to come to you at your office but here you are.”
Carly could have slugged him for his confident smug manner.
Instead, she grabbed the front of his shirt. “Come on,” she said. She pulled him forward in such a way that he lost his balance and lurched over the threshold. “We have business to take care of.”
He gained his footing, though, caught her arm then drew her to a quick halt. He laughed. “Wouldn’t my room be more comfortable for
taking care of business
?”
“Don’t do that,” she cried. “Don’t be cute when I’m so mad at you I could bite your head off, clean off with one snap of my jaws right now.”
He narrowed his gaze. “Would this have anything to do with Grace Hartley?”
“You damn well know it does.”
“Carly, listen—“
“Don’t you dare take that patronizing, I-know-best attitude with me. You fired her and you’re going to meet with her then explain to both of us why. If you don’t, I’ll end this leasing agreement with you in the blink of an eye and if you think those are just words because I signed a contract, just try me bucko.”
“Bucko?” He took a small step back and lifted his hands in surrender. “All right. We’ll do this your way but I didn’t think I’d be stepping on your toes since I’m the one who will be furnishing the house.”
“Step on my toes? You didn’t
step
on my toes, Quint. You crushed them with a hard grind of your heel. Now let’s go.”
“I’m driving,” he stated.
“Oh, as if I give a rat’s furry behind about that.”
He retrieved his keys and a few minutes later, the fine-tuned sports car flew in the direction of Grace’s house.
* * * * * * * * *
Quint shouldn’t have felt quite so exhilarated, but his head spun in a circle right now. Carly wore her Jeep-driving uniform, all snug jeans, belt and conforming shirt. The woman had spirit, so much in fact, that she may have been all worked up with her righteous anger, but the moment she’d grabbed his shirt, as though to command him, his groin had tightened, his stomach muscles had forged thick bands and no surprise, he was hard for her.
Goddam she knew how to work him. But the sexy thing was, she didn’t do it on purpose.
His spirits soared. This was going to be one helluva ride in Sedona.
She gave him directions to the designer’s house, which wasn’t that far from his hotel, but then everything in Sedona
wasn’t
that
far. The moment he pulled up to the house and saw the ramp leading to the front door, however, his euphoria vanished.
“She’s disabled,” he said. His fingers tightened on the steering wheel.
“I suggest you keep that thought to yourself. If you offer even the smallest hint of pity in her direction, you’ll see what real fury looks like.”
“All right but if this isn’t some kind of ‘pity exercise’, then why did you bring me here?”
She got out of the car and gave the door a brisk, hard slam. She planted her hands on her hips and worked her back molars with slides of her jaw. She didn’t answer right away not until she’d calmed down.
Finally, she closed the distance between them and said, “Because I want you to know what you’ve done and where I hope you’ll see you’re responsible. I’m giving you a slight benefit of the doubt that because you didn’t have all the facts—even though you should have—you barged in and made a mess of this. Got it?”
“Well, if you’d just let me explain—“
“You know, you and I need to come to an understanding, that’s all. And I thought maybe the best way to do that was for you to meet Grace and to see her work. Okay? Can you stick with me right now?”
At that, he settled his hackles. She needed to have her way on this and since he wanted to have his way with her, he relented. “Yes. I can.”
But he caught a whiff of her ancient seas and exotic flowers and his body tightened. He was so tempted to grab her up in his arms but he knew he risked a knee to the groin—she was that mad.
“Good.” She whipped around and marched to the front door. She didn’t knock. She just grabbed the handle, turned, gave a shove then called out, “We’re here, Grace.”
“Come on back,” that melodic voice returned.
Quint saw the widened doorways, the smooth tiled floors, both reminders of Grace’s situation. He almost missed the deep plum of the walls, the gold-flecked wallpaper, the intricate sculptures and unique contemporary paintings. He nodded in appreciation. He kept each of his businesses in prime condition, which often meant the work of expert designers and contractors. He saw that level of expertise here.
No ducks, bunnies or lace.
Carly turned to the right into an expansive room, also with ramps to various levels of the house, a step up to a formal dining area, another to the kitchen, a ramp down to a lush courtyard. Plum and gold themed the room, the careful thought of an artistic hand.
Grace Hartley sat at a small square mahogany table. She had chin-length red hair and eyes that glittered with humor. The table overlooked the courtyard full of potted trees and plants. The sound of a fountain rippled through the screen door. Her wheelchair was an arm’s length away.
“You must be Mr. Barron,” she said. If she had any ill feelings, they didn’t show.
“Please call me Quint.”
She extended her hand. He took it and liked her firm grip. In fact, he liked everything about her, the rich red of her hair, her light blue eyes, her elegant features and long sloping neck, and the glow of her complexion as though a light shone through her skin.
“You know you didn’t have to come here,” she said. “I understand this is just a business decision. Believe me, it happens quite often, part of the hazard of the trade.”
Quint shifted his gaze to Carly. Her lips were compressed. She said, “We’re doing this for me, Grace, not for you.
Mr. Barron
understands that.” She said his name like she’d forced a four-letter word through a blow-dart. He repressed a smile. Carly continued, “I need you to show him all the designs you worked up for the winery house. He expressed a strong interest in getting a feel for my preferences. Would you mind giving a full presentation?”
“Not at all, if that’s what you want.”
“That’s what I want.” Carly turned to Quint. “That’s what I
require
.”
Grace laughed outright.
Quint slanted his gaze back to her. The designer’s eyes were lit with something like old-fashioned mirth, like her eyes belly-laughed at him. “What?” he asked.
“You sure you want to know?” Grace responded.
“Yes.”
“Well, I suspect you thought leasing Carly’s winery would be a simple deal, but let me tell you that I have torn my hair out trying to please her with my designs. I wish you all the best working with her.”
“Hey,” Carly complained.
Grace cut her off as she reached for her wheelchair and brought it close. “It’ll just take me a minute to assemble everything. Can I offer you some refreshment? Tea, coffee, a soft drink?”
“Don’t trouble yourself,” Quint said, but Carly glared at him. He took the hint. “Actually, I just drove in from Phoenix and was getting settled in my hotel room when Carly kidnapped me to come over here. Iced tea would be nice.”
“Sugar?” Grace asked, sliding into her wheelchair.
“Perfect.”
“Same for me,” Carly added.
The rest of Grace’s movements made a ballet look awkward. She’d obviously been in her chair for years because she worked it like it was an extension of her body. She had tea and all her materials on the table in a matter of minutes. She didn’t wait but launched into a power-point slide show, one room at a time. Because a house that size had almost as many additional living ‘areas’ as rooms, the presentation took over an hour.
By the end, Quint had a stomach full of tea and a frown pressing on his brow. The woman had worked long and hard at every detail and her talent rivaled Sylvie’s.
He glanced at Carly who crossed her arms over her chest with an I-told-you-so shouting from her beautiful brown eyes. Just looking at the lift of her chin and the challenge in her expression forced his mind back to that first night with her. She was the exception to the rule and she had surprised him…again.
Desire rippled through him. He wanted his hands on her some time real soon. He was so hot for her.
He lowered his chin. His chest grew tight. The muscles of his shoulders tensed and twitched. He wanted to toss her over his shoulder. Then what? Take her to a dark place, make love to her, maybe put a rope around her ankle and the other end around his wrist so he’d always know where she was and what she was doing and who she was talking to. The thought of other men having similar thoughts made him crazy. He didn’t want her talking to other men…ever…again.
“Quint, are you okay?”
His mind cleared. Carly leaned toward him, a concerned look in her eye.
“I’m fine.”
“Then why are you holding your fists like a boxer?”
He looked down at his hands and laughed.
He eased back on his stool and shook out his fingers. He dumped his thoughts right away and brought his mind back to order. He leveled his sights back on the game at hand—Carly’s winery and how he could wrest it from her tight grasp.
He took a deep breath. In this present situation, he only had one option, to make amends.
He explained to both women what had prompted his decision-making, that he had hired the famous
Sylvie
to do the work for him in part because she had cachet but more to the point, she had the set-up and connections to get the house furnished in the necessary three-week sprint.
Grace nodded. “Given the time constraint, you made the right decision. Sylvie has a wonderful reputation and she’ll do the job for you. Though I have a tremendous amount of experience and I think I’ve proven the level of my design aesthetic, the sofas still wouldn’t be delivered for
six-to-eight-weeks
.”
Quint nodded. He liked Grace a lot. “If you’ll give me your card, I know for certain I’ll be able to use you in the future.”
She shifted just a little to her right and pulled a business card off a holder that turned out to be miniature wheelchair. He smiled. She also had a sense of humor. He met her gaze then nodded. Her eyes twinkled all over again.
He took the card and flicked it several times with his finger.
Ordinarily, he would have wished Grace Hartley well and left, but he had a powerful opportunity to make a significant inroad with Carly right now. His gut tightened and that cue prompted him to act. He almost salivated as he began the process.
He withdrew his blackberry. He started making some mental calculations, both the amount of hours Grace had probably put in on this job as well as the mark-up on all the furnishings that wouldn’t make it into her bank account because he’d hired Sylvie to do the work. He typed in the number. He then hit his assistant’s number. “Hey, Sheila, I need you to cut me a check and I need it couriered to Sedona today,” he glanced at the designer, “that is if Grace Hartley will allow me to purchase her design work for the winery.”