Manhattan Boss, Diamond Proposal. Trish Wylie

strand of bright auburn hair from the loose knot tied at the nape of her neck. ‘Would you go away? I have just as much to do as you do. And I’ll have even more to do if I have to answer phone calls all day from people wondering why you’re late—which you already are cos there’s no way you’re making it to that meeting in eight minutes.’

      ‘Wanna bet?’

      She rolled her eyes. ‘Five bucks says you don’t.’

      ‘Aw, c’mon—it’s hardly worth my while stepping through this door for five measly bucks.’

      ‘If you don’t step through that door it’ll cost you that much in cab fare to the nearest hospital.’

      He fought off a chuckle of laughter at the empty threat. ‘Loser picks up the tab for dinner.’

      ‘You’re on. Now, go away. Shoo.’ She waved the back of her hand at him.

      Reaching for his cellphone as he headed for the elevators, Quinn realized he’d miss their daily wagers. He liked things the way they were. Why did he have to have his life knocked off balance again? Hadn’t he spent half of it on an uneven enough keel already? And it wasn’t that he didn’t understand her need to build something, but the dumb matchmaking thing wasn’t the way to go. Not for Clare. Not in his opinion.

      ‘Mitch—Quinn Cassidy—I’m on a tight schedule today, can you meet me halfway?’

      See—sometimes in order to win a bet a guy had to bend the rules a little—play dirty if necessary. Occasionally he even had to get creative. And Quinn liked to think he was a fairly creative kind of guy when the need arose. Plenty of women had benefited from that creativity and none of them had ever complained…

      He’d find a way to make Clare see sense about the matchmaking—he just needed the right opening, and it was for her own good after all. She’d thank him in the long run.

       What were friends for?

      CHAPTER TWO

      ‘YOU KNOW, I THINK I’LL have dessert.’ Quinn patted his washboard-flat stomach as he came back to the table, smiling wickedly in Clare’s direction.

      ‘You cheated.’

      ‘You said I’d be late—I wasn’t—I won.’

      Clare couldn’t hold back the laughter that had been brewing inside her all evening, thanks to his ridiculous level of gloating. But then he’d always been able to draw laughter out of her, even when he was being so completely shameless.

      ‘I need someone else to hang out with twelve hours a day.’ She glanced around to see if any of their friends, seated round the table, would take up her offer. ‘Anyone?’

      ‘Nah, I’m irreplaceable.’ Turning his chair with one large hand, he sat down, forearms resting on the carved wooden back while he dangled the neck of his beer bottle between long fingers with his palm facing upwards.

      ‘She tell you she quit her job today?’ The bottle swayed back and forth while startlingly blue eyes examined each of their faces in turn; a smile flirting with the corners of his mouth.

      ‘Don’t listen to him.’

      Erin smiled. ‘Oh, honey, we never do.’

      There was group laughter before Quinn continued in the rumbling, husky-edged voice that made most women smile dumbly at him. ‘Yup, she’s dumping me to go help the sad and the lonely.’

      ‘Leaving you sad and lonely?’

      Clare laughed softly when Evan took her side with his usual deadpan expression. ‘He’d never admit it out loud but he’d miss me, you know…’

      ‘Rob and Casey got engaged.’ Madison smiled an impishly dimpled smile when Clare’s face lit up. ‘That’s three now, isn’t it?’

      ‘Four.’ Clare almost sighed with the deep sense of satisfaction it gave her. ‘And I’ve had ten referrals in as many days.’

      ‘You’re charging the new fee you talked about?’

      She nodded. ‘And I talked to a website designer yesterday. He reckons we can have a site put together in a month or so—soon as I’m ready.’

      ‘Make sure there’s a disclaimer somewhere.’ Quinn rumbled in a flat tone.

      Clare scowled at him. ‘Just because you don’t believe in love in the twenty-first century doesn’t mean other people don’t.’

      His dark brows quirked just the once, his gaze absent-mindedly sweeping the room. ‘Never said I don’t believe in it.’

      Clare snorted in disbelief. ‘Since when?’

      Attention slid back to her and he held her questioning gaze with a silent intensity that sent an unfamiliar shiver up her spine.

      ‘So if I’m not married by thirty-four it automatically means I don’t believe in it, does it?’

      ‘You only believe in it for other people…’

      And, come on, he couldn’t even say the word out loud, could he? Not that she doubted he felt it for family and friends, but when it came to Quinn and women…well…they probably cited him in the dictionary under ‘love ’em and leave ’em’.

      Without breaking his gaze, he lifted a hand to signal a waitress—as if he had some kind of inner radar that told him where she was without him having to look. Or more likely because he knew waitresses in restaurants had a habit of watching him wherever he went. They were women after all,

      ‘I could throw that one right back at you.’

      It was just as well he was sitting out of smacking distance, because he knew why she wasn’t as starry-eyed about love as she’d once been. Not that she didn’t believe she might love again one day. She’d just be more sensible about it next time. It was why the method she used for matchmaking made such sense to her. Didn’t mean his words didn’t sting, though…

      And now he was putting her back up. ‘If you believe in it, then how come you have such a problem with me doing what I do?’

      Quinn broke the visual deadlock to order dessert with a smile that made the young waitress blush, and then attempted to drum up support. ‘C’mon, guys—tell her I’m right. People will blame her when they don’t end up riding off into the sunset on a white horse.’

      Clare dipped her head towards one shoulder, a strand of hair whispering against her cheek while she blinked innocently. ‘Aren’t you always right? I thought that was the general impression you liked people to have.’

      There was chuckling around the table, but Quinn’s expression remained calm, inky-black lashes brushing lazily against his tanned skin. ‘I’m right about this.’

      ‘You’re a cynic.’

      ‘I’m a realist.’

      ‘You don’t have a romantic bone in your body.’

      A dangerously sexy smile made its way onto his mouth, light dancing in his eyes. ‘I have a few dozen women you can call who’d disagree with that.’

      Clare rolled her eyes while the male contingent at the table laughed louder and the women groaned. ‘Whatever miracle it is you pull with women it has nothing to do with romance—it’s got more to do with your availability.’

      ‘I keep telling you I’m available, but do you take advantage of me? Oh no…’

      It was impossible not to react. And since it was either gape or laugh, she went with the latter. Quinn could say the most outrageous things, smile that wicked smile of his, and he always got away with it. He was that guy a girl’s mother warned her about: the devil in disguise.

      Clare could hardly be blamed for having had the odd moment of weakness when