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‘You’re right,’ Magenta agreed. ‘Respect has to be earned on both sides.’
‘And you have to lighten up.’
Magenta huffed wryly at Nancy’s comment. ‘Someone else said that.’
‘Let me guess…’ Nancy murmured, sucking her cheek.
‘Never mind who said it. We’re fighting for equality, and that’s a serious business.’
‘So is partying,’ Nancy insisted. ‘So we’re going to put our concerns about the men’s ability to contribute anything remotely useful to an ad campaign to one side for now and give them chance to schmooze us. But if we’re going to party you have to, too. And you have to be nice to Quinn, Magenta. He’s given us this chance, so now you have to give him a chance.’
Now everyone started teasing her. ‘All right, I give in!’ she exclaimed. ‘I will give him a chance—a tiny, miniscule chance.’
‘Yeah, right,’ Nancy said to a chorus of disbelieving jeers.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
THE night of the party turned out better than Magenta had dared to expect. Her colleagues forgot their differences and started to mingle and get to know each other. Friendships were forged across the sexes, which was exactly what she had hoped would happen—and some of those friendships were heating up, which couldn’t hurt. But when Quinn called her into his office she soon realised that not everything was going to plan.
She should have thought this through, she realised as Quinn gave her outfit a scorching review. ‘That dress is shapeless.’
And thin. And she was only wearing paper knickers beneath her paper dress, while Quinn—alarmingly, surprisingly, incredibly—was dressed exactly as she would expect a sexy guy to dress for an evening out in the twenty-first century. He wore a crisp, white shirt with the sleeves rolled back to reveal his muscular, hair-shaded forearms, sharp jeans with an understated belt and the cleanest black shoes Magenta had ever seen. This, together with the craziest-coloured socks, she noticed now as he crossed his legs at the desk to lean back and stare at her—red, fuchsia-pink and black stripes—quirky, sexy, different. ‘Let me explain.’
‘Please do,’ Quinn invited dryly.
‘It’s a paper dress,’ she explained, running her hands down the offending garment. ‘So you can’t expect it to be cut in a sharp design. It’s meant to represent practicality.’
‘Well, I doubt it will ever take off in a big way, other than into a niche market. Something as ugly as that doesn’t deserve to last in the realms of fashion.’
‘Thanks for the vote of confidence. It’s one of the products your team was keen to promote, by the way.’
‘I hadn’t forgotten.’
Quinn’s eyes had lit—was that humour?
‘Personally, I agree with you. I don’t think paper fashion will fly for long, however fiercely we promote it.’ But, eerily, Quinn was correct; disposable paper-garments would have a niche market in clinics, beauty salons and other places where a single wear was all that was required. Of course, she had the benefit of knowing this for sure while he could only be using his intuition. She dismissed the shiver down her spine. Quinn couldn’t be aware of the future. ‘At least I’m there with the theme,’ she said, eager to distract herself from questions with no answers as she looked him up and down.
‘As am I,’ Quinn said, standing up. ‘I’m guessing this is exactly what I’d be wearing if we were living in the twenty-first century.’
Magenta paled. The shiver was back again. Why had he chosen the twenty-first century in particular?
‘You’ve done well,’ he observed, lifting the slats of the blind covering his window. ‘Everyone appears to be enjoying themselves.’
‘I’m glad you’re pleased.’
Quinn’s appreciative glance sent heat dancing through her.
‘You look hot, Magenta.’
‘Do I?’ Magenta’s hand flew to her brow. ‘Perhaps a glass of water…’
‘Or a jug full?’
She shrieked with shock as Quinn slowly poured the jug of water on his desk slowly down the front of her dress.
‘I can’t believe you did that!’ she exclaimed. ‘You’ve—’
‘Ruined your dress?’ Quinn hummed. ‘You know, I think you’re right; this will never catch on.’ Taking hold of the front of it, he peeled it off her.
She was shivering with a combination of shock, anger and arousal as Quinn continued his unrelenting survey. ‘Stop that,’ she said. ‘You can’t just—’
