Manhattan Boss, Diamond Proposal. Trish Wylie

      What was that supposed to mean? He had a suspicion he wasn’t going to like the way she was thinking. ‘You don’t think I’m capable of making an actual commitment?’

      ‘I didn’t say that.’

      It was what she’d meant, though. And he’d been right. He didn’t like what she thought one little bit. ‘I’m financially secure, own my own home—in one of the highest-priced real estate areas outside of Manhattan, I might add—and I’ve already done more than my share of playing the field. Why wouldn’t I want to make a commitment at some point?’

      And now she was frowning in confusion, as if none of that had ever occurred to her before.

      Quinn happened to think he was an all-round pretty great guy if you discounted his earlier years. The vast majority of women seemed to agree. And surely the very fact he’d resisted the kind of trouble that could have led him into a rapid downward spiral in his teens was testimony to his determination to make a better life for himself—and anyone who might end up sharing it.

      Okay, so he wasn’t a saint. Who was? But what had he done to rate so low in Clare’s opinion?

      Clenching his jaw, he turned his chair back to the long desk lining one wall, tossing the questionnaire down. ‘I’ll throw this your way before I go. And then we’ll see if there’s anyone out there prepared to take on this bad boy.’

      ‘Quinn—’

      ‘Send in the monthly accounts and get Pauley on the line for me.’

      In all the time she’d worked for him he’d never once dismissed her the way he just had. But he’d be damned if he’d feel guilty about it after that.

      The accounts were set gently in front of him.

      ‘Thanks.’

      ‘Pauley’s on line two.’

      He lifted the receiver, his hand hovering over the flashing light when she spoke, her lilting accent soft with sincerity. ‘It’s not that I think you can’t make a commitment, Quinn. I just didn’t realize you felt you were ready to. I’m sorry.’

      Taking a deep breath of air-conditioned air, he set the receiver down and turned in his chair to look up at her. And the gentle smile he found there had him smiling back in a single heartbeat. But then she’d been able to do that ever since he’d got to know her better. Sanding off the edges of a rough mood with her natural softness…

      He could really have done with her being around for the decade of his life when he’d been angry every hour of every day, if she had that effect on him every time.

      ‘We’ve never talked about any of this, that’s all. And we’re still pretty new to this friends thing, if you think about it.’

      Clare nodded, her chin dropping so she could study the fingers she had laced together in front of her body before she looked at him from beneath long lashes. ‘It’s not felt that way in a long time.’

      ‘I know.’

      There was an awkwardness lying between them that hadn’t been there in a long time either. Quinn felt the loss of their usual ease with each other, but he couldn’t see how to fix it without continuing on the path he’d already taken.

      ‘What happens after the questionnaire?’

      Lowering his gaze, he caught sight of her mouth twitching before she lifted her chin. ‘We have a sit down interview.’

      His eyes narrowed. ‘About what?’

      ‘Dating etiquette…’

      His eyes widened. She had to be yanking his chain. ‘You think I don’t know how to behave on a date?’

      ‘It’s how you behave we need to discuss.’ And now she was fighting off laughter, wasn’t she? He could see it in her eyes. ‘Men and women can have very different expectations of dating.’

      Quinn was at a loss for words. Now he wasn’t just commitment-phobic, he didn’t know how to treat a woman either? She probably thought he kicked kittens too.

      ‘A lot of men expect a first date to end with—’

      He held up a palm. ‘That debate can wait.’

      When her mouth opened, he pointed a long finger towards the door. ‘Work now—deep water later. I don’t pay Pauley to hang on the phone all day.’

      Waiting until the door clicked shut behind her, he stared at the wood, and then ran a palm down over his face. If she thought he was discussing his sex life with her in that little sit-down interview of hers then she could think again. And if she was going to delve into his private life on any level beyond the one he’d given her access to, then she’d better be prepared for the turnabout is fair play rule. In fact she could go first. His mom had raised all the Cassidy boys to be mannerly—no matter how much they’d protested.

      Actually, now he had time to think about it, getting to know her better appealed to him. There were plenty of things he’d like to know that he’d never asked because it felt as if he’d be crossing some kind of invisible chalk line. If he delved beneath the surface a little he could find out if she was hiding behind the matchmaking. And if she was?

      Well. He could use that.

      Not to mention the point he now had to make regarding his eligibility as potential long-term partner material, should he ever decide to settle down—which, in fairness, wasn’t going to be any time soon.

      But it was a matter of pride now…

      All right, so she’d never believed her questionnaires were all that amusing until she started reading Quinn’s that evening at home. It turned out knowing someone beforehand shed a whole new light on the answers—some of them so blatantly Quinn they made her laugh out loud.

      But then there were the other ones…

      Ones that made her wonder if she knew him anywhere near as well as she’d thought she did, or if she’d ever made as much of an effort trying to get to know him as she should have. Thanks to the questionnaire, she wanted to know everything. Everything she might have missed or misconstrued. Even if she discovered along the way that the friend she had was an illusion she’d conjured up in her head. Like an invisible friend a small child needed after they’d gone through an emotional trauma they couldn’t deal with alone.

      On paper Quinn was quite the package: stupidly rich, scarily successful at everything he did, liked pets, wanted kids one day, supportive of a woman’s need for a career as well as a family. Add all that to how he looked and it was a wonder he’d managed to stay single as long as he had…

      It certainly wasn’t for the lack of women trying to hunt him down.

      Ever since she’d first been introduced to Quinn he’d been either in the company of or photographed with stunningly beautiful women. None of them she now knew, as his PA, lasted beyond the maximum six-week cutoff point before he backed off and Clare was told to send a little blue box. And miraculously, barring the few weeping females she’d had to lend a sympathetic ear to, Clare was unaware of any of them stalking him. But surely one of them would have been worth hanging on to?

      Thing was, if he genuinely was ready to make a commitment to someone then she was going to have to take their bet more seriously.

      When the phone beside her sofa rang she picked it up without checking the caller ID. ‘Hello?’

      ‘What you doing?’

      For some completely unfathomable reason her pulse skipped at the sound of his familiar rough-edged voice. ‘Talking to you on the phone. Why?’

      It wasn’t as if she could confess to committing all his questionnaire answers to memory, was it?

      ‘Thought I’d come down for my interview.’

      Now? Clare dropped her chin, her eyes