Crazy for the Boss (Crazy in Love Book 1) Read online

  “Not funny.” Quinn picked up her rum and Coke and took a sip. “I guess he’s kind of good-looking, in that overprivileged, inbred way. But frankly, I don’t even notice.” Not much.

  “Sure you don’t,” Anna said, not giving up.

  Almost as if his ears were burning from their conversation about him, James glanced over, pausing mid-sentence as his gazed locked with hers. She saw recognition light his eyes even from here, the way his lips quirked up in that enticing way that had her heart racing like a thoroughbred just out of the gate.

  “Oh, God. He’s coming over.”

  Had she just yelled that? From the giggles her friends were lost in, she’d venture a big yes.

  Crap, that shot was already taking effect if the way her whole body felt overheated was any indication. “Don’t let me say anything embarrass— Wait. Don’t you guys dare say anything embarrassing.”

  “No promises,” Anna teased and took a playful sip of her martini.

  “Good evening, ladies,” James said in that familiar way that told her he’d greeted many women in the same fashion. With the same grin. Don’t look directly at hi—

  “Quinn, fancy meeting you here tonight. You’re not stalking me or something, are you?”

  Too late. Damn, he looked dangerously delicious in that black tight-fitting crewneck tee that showed off every ripple of muscle. He couldn’t be here. Not when her defenses were down, not in anything other than the uniform suit and tie from the office.

  Wait. Stalked? She straightened and leveled him with a glare. “Of course not. You knew that I was going out with my friends—” She stopped when she saw him wink at Anna and Tessa, who were trying not to laugh.

  Right, he was kidding. Where had her sense of humor gone?”

  “And who might you be?” Anna asked, sounding almost convincing in not knowing him.

  “Oh. James, this is Anna and Tessa,” she said pointing to each woman. “And this…is James Thornhill. My boss.”

  “Nice to meet you ladies. I’d offer to buy you all a round of drinks, but it appears as if you’re already covered,” he said just as the waitress returned with another round of shots that she set down, pointing out another group of men sitting across the room.

  She felt him studying her again, but she couldn’t trust herself to meet those eyes. Not when she felt like he and everyone in the place could read just about everything that was crossing her mind.

  “Well, I didn’t mean to interrupt your festivities. I just thought I’d stop and say hello.”

  She lifted her hand and gave a quick wave before sucking down another drink of rum and Coke.

  “Nice meeting you,” Anna and Tessa echoed, not hiding the fact they were watching him walk away with appreciative grins.

  “He seems nice. Not like the spawn of Satan at all,” Tessa said.

  “The verdict is still out.”

  “Should we have another toast, then?” Anna asked, already raising her shot glass.

  “I’m out,” Quinn said, studying the dark liquid dubiously. “No way can I show up tomorrow nursing a hangover.” Plus, having her boss just several yards away made the whole night suddenly awkward.

  “Two shots will not give you a hangover. Come on, just one more, pretty please?” Anna cajoled. “Then we can hit the club across the way for some dancing—since I know you’re already plotting your escape now that you’ve seen you-know-who.”

  “Hey, if I can do it despite an early morning in court tomorrow on a property dispute, so can you,” Tessa said and held her shot glass up.

  One more shot and they could leave, no begging required? That she could do.

  “Fine. Last one. Then I’m on water the rest of the night.”

  With a quick glance to make sure James wasn’t watching her debauchery—which she didn’t have to worry about since he was completely enraptured by whatever the barely twenty-one-year-old girl was saying—she threw it back.

  James was laughing at something that one of the girls who surrounded him said, more out of courtesy than anything else. Maybe it was him, maybe it was just the usual melancholy that hit him over the holidays, but tonight, the conversation all seemed rather dull.

  At least the conversation where he was sitting.

  What he wanted more than anything was to park himself at the table several yards away to hear what Quinn and her friends were saying.

  He glanced over, about to take a drink of his scotch, when his attention was caught by the sight of the three women suddenly bursting into laughter. More specifically, his attention was caught by one person in particular.

  Quinn, his prim, serious-minded employment counsel, was laughing unabashedly, her head tilted back into a full belly-clutching laugh, her smile wide enough for him to see her pearly whites from here.

  She definitely should do that more. It suited her. Letting herself go, enjoying the moment.

  It was a new thing for him tonight, seeing her dressed in anything but her usual conservative suits and with her hair unbound and around her shoulders—even if it was primly held back by that headband. It was almost like an invitation into more of Quinn, and he couldn’t help but be intrigued.

  Hell, more than intrigued, as he had to admit that, for a moment, his gaze had dropped to admire the enticing view of skin the low-cut blouse afforded him, reminding him that she was definitely a woman. A very pretty woman who suddenly had a hard time looking him in the eyes.

  But she didn’t have to look at him for him to know the color of those brown eyes that were a touch darker than the chocolate candies she had hidden on her desk. For him to see the inevitable embarrassment she likely felt, if the redness that suffused her face was any indication.

  “James.” He glanced over to see one of the girls surrounding him pouting, evidently because he’d missed whatever darling thing she’d said. He’d have to try harder. “Sorry, what was that?”

  She repeated it and he chuckled, but once again his eyes were drawn to the other table, where the women were now getting up to leave.

  It was strange the small twinge of sadness he felt at knowing he’d no longer be able to share their night—even if it was from way over here.

  Probably for the best.

  A hip-hop song flooded the speakers, and immediately two women grabbed him, insisting it was their favorite song and he had to dance with them. With a shrug, he threw back the contents of his drink and joined them on the floor.

  This was better. This was his element. This was what made sense.

  Chapter 7

  Early Tuesday morning, two weeks after Christmas, James stood in front of the board, presenting the details and projected profit that this Blossom Brew deal would bring to Thornhill Management for the next three years. From the faces of the over-sixty mostly male board, it was easy to tell which ones were on board with his vision for the future and those who were still clearly camp Neil.

  But he would win them over.

  And if not, he’d at least maintain the majority to make the changes he envisioned. And get that twenty percent it would take to finalize the franchise purchase—since every bank he’d spoken to required that Thornhill cover twenty percent of the costs before they’d finance the rest.

  “We are currently in the process of working with Crestfield Bank and Loans to handle the investment cost, and we should have the final approval for that in the coming weeks so we can finalize the deal with Blossom Brew. I just need your vote today to assure that we’ll be willing to front the initial twenty percent of the franchise cost.”

  His grandfather remained quiet and stoic until James finished, not showing any sign of approval on that cragged face. They’d seen each other on Christmas Day, of course, surrounded by a sea of family and friends that Cyrus hosted every year that made it difficult for them to spare more than a word or two for each other. Something that James always wondered whether it was intentional.

  “Any questions before we vote?” Cyrus asked the board.

  The
re were a few, mostly about Blossom Brew’s detailed launch plan that all franchisers were required to abide by, something that still didn’t sit well with a few members who liked to do things their way and didn’t like the interference. But as James explained patiently, Blossom would also be providing them with the support they’d need to train their employees and would help with the launch of their first store opening this summer.

  Dennis, he noted, didn’t rush to his aid to help in describing any of the more complex details, but James wasn’t entirely surprised. Fortunately, with Quinn’s help, James had become well versed in some of the more complex contract details and was able to deflect their concerns. He only wished that Quinn wasn’t conducting her management training today and could be here.

  “There was actually one more thing I wanted to discuss today,” Dennis said. “Before the vote. About this employee-assistance plan. Don’t you think that Thornhill is extending itself financially enough as it enters this multimillion-dollar franchise deal that we should postpone this so-called welfare plan until next year?”

  James stared at the pompous windbag who’d made it clear since the day the EPA was first proposed this plan that he thought it was pointless and stupid and not their responsibility.

  Which was why Quinn had prepared a detailed PowerPoint presentation that they’d gone over at the last meeting and had seemed to gain some consensus that it was worth testing the waters. Of course, the decision for it was entirely James’s, but as new CEO, he was treading carefully, since, his decision or not, he could be booted out of here just like Neil if they weren’t satisfied with him.

  “Like we discussed last month, the premiums are well below what we projected we currently lose every month from decreased productivity, absenteeism, and overtime expenses. I feel confident that this will improve not only our bottom line but the morale of our employees—both those who would immediately benefit from this program and those who are comforted by knowing of its availability. But as I said before, the program goes live in March, and we can review this again at the end of the year.”

  There was an edge to his tone as he finished, no longer hiding his impatience with the man. He’d have fired him on day one if he hadn’t thought it might trigger some alarm with the other board members. But he would bide his time and wait for the right opportunity.

  Such as when Blossom Brew was successfully launched and the first quarterly profits were in the bank.

  “I think we’ve heard enough for today. Let’s go ahead and take the vote,” Cyrus said.

  Two minutes later, James managed to restrain himself from pumping his fist in victory when the board voted yes to using the company’s assets to put up the twenty percent franchise costs—with three votes to spare.

  He nodded instead. “Thank you for your vote of confidence in this endeavor—and my vision for this company.”

  “With that said, we’ll go ahead and adjourn our meeting,” Cyrus announced.

  James watched as Cyrus and a handful of others drew into a discussion as they left the room, barely taking a moment to nod a good-bye in James’s general vicinity. James grabbed his things and headed to the door himself, pausing for a moment when he saw Paul, the division manager over their Mangus Burger chain of restaurants, join Dennis in his office, the door closing behind them.

  James shook his head. He couldn’t wait until he could show the son of a bitch the exit, but in the meantime, he’d play nice.

  And like he had many times these past few months since bringing Quinn Taylor on board, he thanked his lucky stars that he’d found someone as loyal and passionate and intelligent as she was to join his team. In fact, he might go visit her and share some of what had happened at this morning’s meeting…

  Oh. That’s right. He glanced at his phone. She was probably heading into her next management training session. He’d catch her up with the latest developments over lunch tomorrow, something they did every Wednesday since she’d come on board.

  One thing was certain—James definitely couldn’t afford to lose Quinn, not during this tenuous time. Or any time ever, really.

  She’d become invaluable to him.

  Quinn was prepping to start her next training session in ten minutes, that rush of adrenaline she usually got when standing before a group already delivering her a heady buzz, when there was a knock on her door. She glanced up expecting to see James, even though she knew he was supposed to be in a board meeting.

  “Hey, Quinn. Have a minute?”

  It wasn’t James but rather Lauralee, the woman who Quinn had negotiated with James to be rehired.

  Quinn closed the computer screen, smiling broadly at the woman, who looked a little tentative about bugging her. “Of course I do. Come in.”

  Lauralee stepped in and took a seat in the chair in front of Quinn’s desk. The woman was not a small woman, probably around five feet ten with a bigger build than most women, but the way she sat in the chair made her appear almost…tiny. Her light brown hair was pulled back in a low ponytail and from the black pants and white pressed shirt, Quinn guessed she was probably heading into work after this.

  “How are things going for you?” Quinn asked. “How were the holidays?”

  “Um….okay. A little slow.” She hesitated. “It’s kind of what I want to talk to you about. I mean, I’m really grateful to be back at the restaurant, working with the old crew as a shift supervisor. I love my job; I always have. Which is why I’ve been a little disappointed that my hours have only been about half of what they used to be. Of course, I know I can’t expect that I’d just resume my old schedule or get preference over people who’ve been there and working in the time I’ve been gone, but…”

  The woman glanced behind her, already looking like maybe she’d said too much.

  “It’s okay. You can tell me,” Quinn said, hoping to urge her on and trying to ignore the ticking clock and the training she was supposed to be starting soon.

  “Well, many of the other shift supervisors were complaining about their hours and how they were working more than they wanted to, and when I tried to pick up a shift from one of them, Paul nixed the idea. No explanation, just said the schedule was created for a reason. Now, in the six years I worked there, managers traded shifts all the time. It was never an issue, but for whatever reason…” Lauralee tapped her fingers on her knee nervously. “If it were just me, I could probably hang on a little longer, hope that more shifts will come my way with time, but I have two little girls at home and bills to pay. My mom helps out, and of course, there’s the settlement, but I prefer not to touch that. It’s my emergency fund.”

  In the three months since Quinn had been working at Thornhill and become familiar with the procedure and policies in the various restaurants, she had seen for herself how schedules were often traded, and as long as someone’s shift was covered, there weren’t usually any issues. The fact Paul overrode any trade requests was worrisome.

  Added to that was the frustration that had Lauralee not been wrongly fired in the first place, had received the time off she’d wanted to take care of her mental health, she would never have lost her seniority and wouldn’t be dealing with starting over on the totem pole of seniority.

  “Don’t worry, Lauralee. Let me see what I can do.”

  “That’s the other thing and why I’ve been nervous to come to you. If Paul finds out I was here making a complaint, he’s going to be really pissed. You know, maybe I shouldn’t have come back. Maybe I should just start looking for another job. Now that I’m employed again, I think other employees will be more likely to consider me for management jobs.”

  From what Quinn remembered, Lauralee had had a tough time finding anything but entry-level positions after she was fired, especially since she’d still been struggling with her PTSD and medication. “If you feel like you want options and want to look for other jobs, of course you should do so,” Quinn said carefully. “But why don’t you let me see what I can do. I’ll be subtle when I talk to Paul
. I can make it sound like there were other employees who were frustrated. But regardless, your coming to me with your concerns is not a reason for Paul to do anything to you. I’ll make sure of that, okay?”

  Lauralee nodded and Quinn could see the smallest sign of hope in the woman’s eyes.

  “I am sorry to cut things short, but I have a training I’m starting in the next few minutes. Why don’t you give me a day or two to see what I can get resolved and I’ll get back to you. Okay?”

  The woman came to her feet. “Thanks, Quinn.”

  It wasn’t until late afternoon that Quinn finally finished the training and returned to her office. Standing a few feet away and talking to Jeannie was Paul.

  Coincidence? She hardly thought so. It was like a fishbowl here sometimes; someone probably saw Lauralee speaking with Quinn and passed the word on to Paul.

  It was hard for Quinn to hide her distaste for the man. His overinflated ego and overconfidence were evident even in his stance, which had made taking his deposition a few months ago even more of a challenge. He hadn’t thought much of Quinn then, and the way he stared at her now with that smug smile on his thin lips told her that he still didn’t think much of her now.

  “Tell Dennis I’ll be by to chat with him later, would you, Jeannie?” he asked and stepped toward Quinn, not waiting for the assistant’s reply. “Quinn, do you have a minute?”

  If she had a dime for every time someone asked her that…

  “Sure, Paul. Come on in.” Not that she’d needed to bother, as he was fast on her heels and taking a seat before she’d reached her own. “What can I do for you?”

  “Well, I have a little situation. Normally I’d handle it myself, but I’ve been told that anything having to do with this employee has to be channeled through you.” It wasn’t hard to hear from his tone exactly how irritated he was by this fact. “Lauralee Bishop. You probably remember her.”

  Was he referring to the fact she’d worked at the firm representing her? Or the fact that he knew she’d been here earlier today?