Read Online Crazy for the Boss (Crazy in Love Book 1) by Ashlee Mallory - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ashlee Mallory
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raised his brows. “What, do you think I sexually harass good old Pauline when I have nothing else to do?”
“No, not because you sexually harass your secretary. But because you just said good old Pauline.”
He grinned. “I’ll give it some thought. So, did you ever give that real estate fellow of mine a call?”
Quinn picked up her glass and drained the last of the contents, then shook the ice as she glanced around, probably searching for their server, who was supposed to be bringing her a refill. “I decided that, for the time being, I’m just going to stay where I am. I like my roommates, and I’d hate for them to spend time finding a new roommate who flakes out on them when it’s time to pay the rent, leaving them in the lurch.”
“Sure. Or…could it be you have the tiniest bit of concern that they might just be replacing you?”
“That’s ridiculous,” she said, her laugh coming more forced than natural.
Ha. That was most certainly it. From what he’d learned these past few months working with Quinn, her roommates weren’t just friends but almost sisters to her, even if she hadn’t been able to see them as much as she usually did these past few months—as she liked to remind him.
But she was missing his point. About the realtor. “You do realize, though, that when I sent you that number, you were supposed to call Rich not just to be your realtor but to maybe give the guy a chance and go out with him?”
“Rich.” She looked incredulously at him. “Rich, the guy you introduced me to last week at the Thai place? Rich, the guy with the stick shoved so high up his butt that I could see it when he talked?”
“I assure you, it wasn’t a stick. He just has rather swollen tonsils.”
She ignored his joke. “No. Sorry, he’s just not my type.”
Curious. As James knew that Rich would be hard-pressed to find any woman whose type he wasn’t. Usually. But Quinn was unique. Not that he was complaining, since even though he’d passed on Rich’s information at Rich’s request as a favor to an old friend, James might have been hoping that Quinn wouldn’t be interested. Which didn’t quite make sense. It’s not like he could date her himself. Nor would he even want to. They were just so…different.
He tried to imagine taking the feisty attorney on a date. She’d probably spend half the night attacking his voting record and the other half detailing why his last dozen relationships hadn’t worked.
Although…he had to admit, the possibility of seeing her get all worked up had its advantages, especially when the color crept up those cheeks and her eyes seemed like they’d pop from her face. A good-night kiss would also offer some intrigue as well. Would she kiss with as much passion as she argued with? And what would his prim little attorney look like with that hair falling down her—
What the hell was he thinking? This was the last thing he needed right now, mixing his professional life with his personal. It would not end well.
James grabbed the ketchup bottle and, after a few shakes, squeezed some on his plate before he dipped his steak fry, trying to put Quinn back firmly in the place of annoying but oddly interesting—and indispensable—employee. “Okay. Then before I try and set you up with the next poor guy, why don’t you tell me a little about who is your type. Maybe start with your last boyfriend. What was his name?”
She narrowed her eyes, as if trying to figure out his angle. He gave her his most innocent expression.
“Chuck,” she said relenting. “His name was Chuck.”
James choked on his drink. “Chuck as in chuck steak? Chuck wagon? Chuck the giant murderous doll? Chuck like—”
“Yes, James. Chuck. Can we grow up a little? You’re the one who asked.”
“You’re quite right. So what was Chuck like? What did he do for a living?”
“He was an actuary.”
He would not laugh. “An actuary? As in one of those guys who calculates risk into a
“No, not because you sexually harass your secretary. But because you just said good old Pauline.”
He grinned. “I’ll give it some thought. So, did you ever give that real estate fellow of mine a call?”
Quinn picked up her glass and drained the last of the contents, then shook the ice as she glanced around, probably searching for their server, who was supposed to be bringing her a refill. “I decided that, for the time being, I’m just going to stay where I am. I like my roommates, and I’d hate for them to spend time finding a new roommate who flakes out on them when it’s time to pay the rent, leaving them in the lurch.”
“Sure. Or…could it be you have the tiniest bit of concern that they might just be replacing you?”
“That’s ridiculous,” she said, her laugh coming more forced than natural.
Ha. That was most certainly it. From what he’d learned these past few months working with Quinn, her roommates weren’t just friends but almost sisters to her, even if she hadn’t been able to see them as much as she usually did these past few months—as she liked to remind him.
But she was missing his point. About the realtor. “You do realize, though, that when I sent you that number, you were supposed to call Rich not just to be your realtor but to maybe give the guy a chance and go out with him?”
“Rich.” She looked incredulously at him. “Rich, the guy you introduced me to last week at the Thai place? Rich, the guy with the stick shoved so high up his butt that I could see it when he talked?”
“I assure you, it wasn’t a stick. He just has rather swollen tonsils.”
She ignored his joke. “No. Sorry, he’s just not my type.”
Curious. As James knew that Rich would be hard-pressed to find any woman whose type he wasn’t. Usually. But Quinn was unique. Not that he was complaining, since even though he’d passed on Rich’s information at Rich’s request as a favor to an old friend, James might have been hoping that Quinn wouldn’t be interested. Which didn’t quite make sense. It’s not like he could date her himself. Nor would he even want to. They were just so…different.
He tried to imagine taking the feisty attorney on a date. She’d probably spend half the night attacking his voting record and the other half detailing why his last dozen relationships hadn’t worked.
Although…he had to admit, the possibility of seeing her get all worked up had its advantages, especially when the color crept up those cheeks and her eyes seemed like they’d pop from her face. A good-night kiss would also offer some intrigue as well. Would she kiss with as much passion as she argued with? And what would his prim little attorney look like with that hair falling down her—
What the hell was he thinking? This was the last thing he needed right now, mixing his professional life with his personal. It would not end well.
James grabbed the ketchup bottle and, after a few shakes, squeezed some on his plate before he dipped his steak fry, trying to put Quinn back firmly in the place of annoying but oddly interesting—and indispensable—employee. “Okay. Then before I try and set you up with the next poor guy, why don’t you tell me a little about who is your type. Maybe start with your last boyfriend. What was his name?”
She narrowed her eyes, as if trying to figure out his angle. He gave her his most innocent expression.
“Chuck,” she said relenting. “His name was Chuck.”
James choked on his drink. “Chuck as in chuck steak? Chuck wagon? Chuck the giant murderous doll? Chuck like—”
“Yes, James. Chuck. Can we grow up a little? You’re the one who asked.”
“You’re quite right. So what was Chuck like? What did he do for a living?”
“He was an actuary.”
He would not laugh. “An actuary? As in one of those guys who calculates risk into a
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