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‘You don’t scare me—it does.’
‘Lucky for you, I brought the car tonight.’
Something looped inside her like a video playing a scene from a film. ‘The Aston Martin DB5?’
‘You saw me drive up.’ Quinn’s cheek creased as he grinned at her, and for a moment she was too startled to say a word.
‘That’s right,’ she managed, telling herself the car was just some ridiculous coincidence. ‘But who said you were taking me home?’
‘Would a gentleman allow a lady to take a cab late at night?’
No. And if she attempted to go anywhere on her own she guessed Quinn would follow her at a discreet distance until he was sure she was safe. ‘But it’s early,’ she pointed out, glancing at her wristwatch. ‘Our meeting shouldn’t take more than an hour, so I’ll be quite safe going home on the bus.’
‘You could,’ Quinn agreed mildly, appearing to be intent on the menu. ‘Steak small, medium or large? Well-cooked or bloody? Sauce, no sauce?’
‘Fillet, medium, grilled, with salad, no sauce.’
‘We’ll take two of those,’ he told the waiter. ‘And some wine, beer?’
‘Water—fizzy.’
‘Done.’
It was all so normal suddenly between them, without a hint of mystery or magic to raise a single awkward question in her mind. She had to stop with the imagination. She wasn’t at work now, thinking up some far-fetched ad campaign; she should be concentrating on the here and now and forget about what might have been in a dream.
‘What’s this?’ Magenta said half way through her delicious, crunchy pudding of lemon-meringue pie and vanilla ice-cream when the wine waiter produced a bottle of champagne and opened it for them.
‘A celebration?’ Quinn suggested dryly. ‘My guess is you’ve been too busy working even to think about celebrating the fact that Steele Design has a new lease of life—largely thanks to your efforts.’
‘And your money,’ she pointed out.
‘I hope I have some skills to bring to bear too.’
‘That’s why I went after you.’ Magenta blushed as she had a flashback to her dream. She pushed it aside. They were professionals; of course he meant business skills.
‘Are you saying there’s a possibility we might make a good team?’ Quinn’s lips pressed down attractively.
‘Why not?’ She held his gaze as the waiter served their champagne.
‘To the future of Steele Design,’ Quinn said, raising his glass.
‘I’ll drink to that.’
‘I’ll handle the business side of things, keep all the aggravation out of your hair, while you handle the ideas.’
‘Sounds like a dream team to me.’
Realising what she had said, Magenta froze. She felt like a computer stalling when it couldn’t handle an input overload, but Quinn didn’t miss a beat. ‘To the dream team,’ he said mildly, chinking glasses with her.
She didn’t fight him when Quinn suggested taking her home in his car. It was even colder when they got outside, and there were little flurries of snow in the air. Quinn settled her inside the strangely familiar interior and even helped her to secure her seat belt when he got in. That felt good: twenty-first-century man with old-world manners. It didn’t come much better, in fact.
They continued to talk about the business, but there was always something left unsaid between them, Magenta felt, so she said it. ‘Quinn, do you dream?’
‘Doesn’t everyone?’ He turned right onto the main road, confidently negotiating the steady buzz of traffic.
‘I’m talking about the dreams we have when we’re asleep. I know everyone dreams during the day, but you’re in control of that.’ Quinn glanced at her and she could see she’d got his attention. ‘You only have to think of something you want, if you want to dream when you’re awake, and before you know it you’re weaving a whole fantastic drama round it.’
‘Is that right?’ Quinn said dryly.
‘You know it is,’ she said, feeling a throb of warmth as their eyes met briefly. ‘What I’m talking about are dreams beyond our control, like the ones we have at night. Dreams that creep up on us and take everything in a new direction—a direction we could never have dreamed of.’ She laughed. ‘If that makes sense?’
‘It makes perfect sense to me.’
Was Quinn teasing her? It was impossible to tell. ‘Do you have dreams like that, Quinn? Dreams that make a weird kind of sense even though you know they could never happen?’
‘Like a parallel life that seems to be reality?’ he suggested, sending a shiver down Magenta’s spine. ‘Sometimes.’
