Knitting in the City 01 Neanderthal Seeks Human (32 page)

Once in the safety of the onboard toilet I let my head thump against the wall behind me and glanced at myself in the mirror. I admit it; I am not above talking to myself in the mirror. In fact, I do it quite often. The image I found looking back at me was covered with splotchy red patches
, the remains of an impressive blush, and a grim expression.

I wanted- no, I
needed
to find some way to turn off my intense involuntary reaction to Quinn. He’d only been gone one week and it was like all the progress toward comfort and ease in his presence had dissipated; I was acting like a ridiculous impious teenager.

My boss.

The Boss.

I groaned.

I took a couple of deep breaths and attempted to calm the momentous beating of my heart. Why was it that I felt so painfully self-aware? Was it that I now fully understood how off limits he was? How wretchedly doomed I was to live in the state of perpetual unrequitedness? To my utter despair his presence seemed to make the invisible box in my head explode instantly upon eye contact, scattering the once neatly folded thoughts and feelings all over my pretend closet of calm.

It wasn’t just his physical
superiority, not any more. Undeniably, as demonstrated during our initial elevator encounter, the magnificence of his features seemed to render me painfully inept at normal conversation. Now I knew him. I now had memories attached to him: the way he titled his head when he listened, the sound of his voice, the sound of his laugh, his ready responses to my hypothetical questions, how he teased me, the touch of his fingers brushing my hair over my shoulders, the heat of his gaze moving over my body,
what his chest looked like after a shower.

The last thought made me groan again as a new tidal wave of tingling embarrassment rushed from my stomach to the tips of my fingers.

I glanced around the small bathroom and wondered how much longer I could remain without raising suspicions as to the state of my physical or mental health. It was the second time in two months I’d considered taking up residence in a bathroom stall. I glanced at my watch; we were scheduled to depart in less than ten minutes. I needed to pull myself together.

I closed my eyes and I went through the normal coping exercises of folding up my reckless feelings but they all seemed to take the shape of black and red lacy lingerie. Frustrated, I bit my bottom lip
, hard, and resolved to wash my hands, hoping if I could focus on something as simple as washing and drying my hands I might make it through the next four hours on Quinn Sullivan’s private jet.

I took one more significant breath then exited the safe confines of the toilet stall, smoothing my hands over my thighs. I approached the front of the plane, walking with measured steps, trying to look unconcerned and like a normal, capable, confident human being instead of the awkwardly big headed Neanderthal that I was.

I nearly ran back to the bathroom when I saw that Carlos had taken the seat I previously occupied, next to Steven, and Quinn was seated opposite Carlos; this left one vacancy in the four-seat cluster, the one next to Quinn. I swallowed with effort and hesitated. The men hadn’t yet noticed me. My eyes moved over the cabin and fell on the back of Olivia’s head; she was by herself in the adjacent cluster. The seat across from her might as well have been labeled ‘Janie’s best option.’

Making up my mind I closed the distance and moved to take my best option but Steven-
damn Steven!-
foiled my plan.

“Janie, no- sit here-” he motioned to the seat next to Quinn, “Olivia will take notes. Mr. Sullivan needs you to review the latest invoices. I was also just telling him about your thoughts on managing Guard Security’s expenditures using the billable tracking software.”

“Oh. Ok.” I looked from Steven’s smile to Olivia’s frown which, if possible, seemed to deepen as I slipped into the seat next to Quinn. I didn’t, however, look at Quinn. I didn’t look at him even as I explained the purpose of the software, how I’d come across the open source project when I was in graduate school, how I’d used it as an effective way to track time spent on tasks and assign effort to each task. 

The plane taxied and took off. Steven’s encouraging grin, Carlos’s warm brown eyes, and even Olivia’s somewhat hostile stare settled my nerves. When I finished explaining how the system could be tailored to improve the efficiency and profitability of billings and collections over the current time-only based system I was almost calm. 

“Based on historical data, I ran an analysis which, even though highly hypothetical, demonstrates that we could increase revenues even in the short term. Carlos, will you please hand me my iPad? I think it’s under your seat.” I shifted and pointed to my bag.

“Sure thing.” Carlos leaned forward to extract my case.

“It’s an interesting idea.” Quinn’s voice sounded thoughtful and I sensed him shift next to me, leaning closer as I opened the iPad to the bulleted list I prepared on the impact of implementing the software.

“We won’t be able to use the open source product but we could have our team develop something similar in house.” Carlos commented.

“It’s actually a really great product.” I scrolled down to a description of the system, “I checked last week and they just pushed a new release.”

Quinn’s voice was very close to my ear as he spoke and I could feel the air around me change as he leaned over my shoulder. “That’s not the point. I’m sure it’s a great product but we can’t use open source.”

“We also couldn’t apply it to the Infinite Systems group.” Steven sounded matter-of-fact as he chimed in and shrugged his shoulders, “But, for our corporate partners, it would answer a lot of their questions on the billing structure.”

I frowned, looking from Carlos to Steven; “What am I missing here? Why can’t we use open source?”

Quinn placed his hand over mine and pulled the iPad between us, forcing me to turn toward him. He wasn’t looking at me but rather at the screen of the tablet as he responded in a mumble, “Data security issues.”

My voice was slightly unsteady as I tried to focus on something other than the feeling of his hand covering mine and holding me in place, “Well
, well why can’t we use it for the Infinite Systems group?”

Quinn lifted his gaze to me abruptly, his eyes narrowed and silence stretched. I thought he wasn’t going to answer. His jaw seemed to be set and his mouth drawn in a particularly thin line as though he were considering something unpleasant. I took the opportunity to look at him, really look at him. A twisting pain originating just under the left side of my rib cage made my breath catch; I missed looking at Quinn and I missed talking to Quinn.

But he wasn’t Quinn. He was Mr. Sullivan.
The Boss.

I licked my lips and broke the silence, “I guess it doesn’t really matter, I just thought- I just thought it would be good to keep things consistent.”

A momentary flash of something that looked almost like alarm crossed Quinn’s features and he turned to Steven; his voice sounded accusatory, “I thought Janie only worked on the public accounts?”

Steven lifted his hands slightly as though he were defending himself, “She does. She does
, we split the two. I handle all the private clients on the back end but-” Steven’s eyes met mine for a brief moment before he continued, “but Carlos and I were thinking that some of the Infinite Systems clients might respond well to her-”

“I thought I was very clear.” Quinn’s voice
, although quiet, had the cadence of a growl and he slowly pulled the iPad completely out of my grip, arranging it on his lap and turning his attention to the figures on the screen.

Carlos cleared his throat and I could only watch the strange exchange with wide, confused eyes; “Mr. Sullivan, Janie is very talented. Please consider-”

Quinn huffed, “I won’t. Don’t bring it up again.”

He was angry. Quinn looked even more amazing when he was angry. The silliness of my priority in thought process dawned on me sluggishly as I watched him review the information I prepared. I knew that, instead of focusing on his good looks, I should be focusing on why I was being purposefully excluded from participation in Infinite Systems
, despite Carlos and Steven’s suggestions. Maybe it had something to do with my suspicion that I didn’t deserve my job. That I’d been hired based on a whim, not based on ability. 

As I pulled my attention from him I swallowed, my throat felt thick and tight; I surveyed the group: Steven briefly met my gaze and he gave me a tight, apologetic smile. Carlos’s expression was one of stormy frustration directed at his hands on his lap. Olivia seemed to regard me with something resembling displeasure and suspicion.

Before my mind could wander Quinn abruptly dropped the iPad in my lap; his voice aloof, “Send the web link to the development group and have them use the open source product to start drawing up requirements. Now, before we touch down I want to review the invoices for Outrageous and the scope of work for the Las Vegas properties.”

The subject of my involvement with Infinite Systems seemingly closed, we turned to the subject of the upcoming meeting.

Throughout the two-hour gauntlet that followed, I did my best to stay focused on Quinn’s questions and not his mouth; on where he pointed and not his hands. I swear whatever pheromones Quinn Sullivan secreted were the equivalent of Janie-cat-nip.

The most difficult and dangerous parts were when he would shift close to me and lean over my shoulder. I found myself resisting the urge to lean into his coat lapel and smell him. At one point I became slightly fixated on the pulse point at the base of Quinn’s neck and nearly missed one of Carlos’s questions.

Carlos seemed to take my distracted response as a sign of fatigue and suggested a break. Everyone immediately agreed. Thankfully, Quinn excused himself as he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and walked to the back of the plane to make a call.

I didn’t allow my gaze to linger on his backside as he walked away (even though I wanted to). Instead I lifted my eyes to Steven’s and he winked at me. His small gesture served to calm my nerves and I forced my han
ds to relax on the case of the iPad.

“You did really great.” Carlos was the first to speak, his tone was quiet. I wasn’t sure if he was trying to be respectful of Quinn’s telephone call or if he just didn’t want to be overheard.

“Thanks.” I gave him a tight lipped smile, “Is he always like this? On trips?”

Steven nodded, “It can be pretty brutal. But, you know, he’s the Boss. He gets the job done and so must all of we.”

Olivia leaned over the aisle, “I don’t mind. I think he’s brilliant.”

Steven muttered something under his breath but I couldn’t hear it. I frowned at him and he mouthed:
“I’ll tell you later.”

“Looks like we’re almost there.” Carlos absentmindedly remarked as he glanced out the window.

As if on cue the attendant appeared and told us all to buckle up. We were about to land. As I buckled my seat belt I noted that Quinn was taking a seat in one of the four-seat clusters at the back of the plane and hadn’t yet ended his call. His eyes briefly met mine and I thought I saw him smile- one of his whisper, barely there smiles. Then he looked away and frowned- one of his serious, fiercely irritated frowns. 

The plane began its descent and I was still firmly seated on my dramacoaster of uncertainty.

Just…
great.

~*~

As soon as I stepped off the plane and into the dry heat of the Las Vegas private airport I was immediately struck by how colorful and colorless the landscape was. The desert was rich hues of browns, reds and oranges but nothing else. It was heat and sand and fire and gasoline and cigarettes. I was abruptly thirsty.

Everyone else was already down the ramp as I had opted to hide in the bathroom until I was certain everyone was gone. A little apart from the airplane were two black limos. Steven, Carlos and Olivia handed off their bags to one driver and Quinn was standing next to the second limo, engaged in a conversation on his cell phone. I pulled my roller bag after me down the ramp and headed toward Steven and the first limo; however, before I could hand off my bag, I heard Quinn’s voice from behind me.

“Ms. Morris- you’ll be riding with me.”

I turned just my head toward him and hesitated, having some difficulty comprehending that I wasn’t going to be taking limo #
2 with Steven and Carlos and Olivia; I would be taking limo #1 with Mr. Sullivan Boss McHotpants.

Steven reached forward, squeezing my hand and keeping me in place for a brief moment, his voice was low enough to ensure the comment was unheard by others, “Oh Janie, he’s going to subject you to the silent twenty minute car ride from hell.
After the meeting this afternoon we’ll order room service and have a sleep over, we can commiserate and you cry on my shoulder.”

I lifted my eyebrows in alarm, remembering Steven’s story about riding alone with Quinn, wondering if
, now that it was established he was my boss, Quinn would stop speaking to me. He seemed so different on the plane, distant and aloof. I imagined we would sit silently in the limo while his expression vacillated between stoic and apathetic.