‘Shall we get down to business?’ she suggested, putting her glass down.
Quinn’s lips pressed down with amusement as he put his own glass down next to hers. ‘I’m ready if you are.’
This was business?
Quinn had dragged her into his arms, and his kisses were a brushing, teasing, honeyed reminder. ‘I shouldn’t…’
‘You should. You must.’
Quinn’s dark eyes glinted with humour, and then he deepened the kiss. The chance to experience everything she had ever dreamed about with Quinn—a man who exuded power, raw and unrepentant—was now a very real possibility. She had always been awkward with men before—concerned she’d get it wrong—but the way Quinn was kissing her, binding every part of her to him, left very little to chance.
Best of all, Magenta reasoned, nothing could go wrong in a dream—there were no consequences. She was free of inhibition and of embarrassment. Her twenty-first-century world of metro-males and smooth-cheeked mummy’s boys had never seemed further away as Quinn persuaded her this was one experience she shouldn’t miss out on.
Modern™Romance are pleased to present
this new and exciting mini-series!
MEN WITHOUT MERCY
Arrogant and proud, unashamedly male!
Modern Romance with a retro twist…
Step back in time to when men were men—
and women knew just how to tame them!
About the Author
SUSAN STEPHENS was a professional singer before meeting her husband on the tiny Mediterranean island of Malta. In true Modern™ Romance style they met on Monday, became engaged on Friday, and were married three months after that. Almost thirty years and three children later, they are still in love. (Susan does not advise her children to return home one day with a similar story, as she may not take the news with the same fortitude as her own mother!)
Susan had written several non-fiction books when fate took a hand. At a charity costume ball there was an after-dinner auction. One of the lots, ‘Spend a Day with an Author’, had been donated by Mills & Boon® author Penny Jordan. Susan’s husband bought this lot, and Penny was to become not just a great friend but a wonderful mentor, who encouraged Susan to write romance.
Susan loves her family, her pets, her friends, and her writing. She enjoys entertaining, travel, and going to the theatre. She reads, cooks, and plays the piano to relax, and can occasionally be found throwing herself off mountains on a pair of skis or galloping through the countryside. Visit Susan’s website: www.susanstephens.net —she loves to hear from her readers all around the world!
RUTHLESS BOSS,
DREAM BABY
SUSAN STEPHENS
CHAPTER ONE
MAGENTA yelped with alarm as a scuffed biker’s boot slammed onto the ground within inches of her feet. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing? ‘ she exploded, frantically clutching the armful of documents threatening to spill from her arms.
Taking off his helmet, the man shook out a mop of inky-black hair. He was exactly the type of man you didn’t want to see when you’d had the day from hell and looked like you’d been dragged through a hedge backwards: gorgeous, cool, and commanding. He had ‘danger’ flashing round him like neon lights.
‘Well?’ Magenta demanded furiously. ‘Do you always ride a motorcycle like a maniac? ‘
‘Always,’ he drawled.
‘I should report you.’
Eyes the colour of a storm-tossed ocean laughed back at her.
And she would report him, Magenta determined, just as soon as she sorted out the flat on her car, along with a million and one other things.
Such as her father deciding to retire and sell his shares to some stranger without a word to her. Such as saving her colleagues’ jobs from this unknown predator. Such as wanting to get back to her team and their fast-moving, retro ad campaign set in Magenta’s favourite era, the sixties.
‘Do you mind?’ she said, trying to skirt around the man’s monstrous, throbbing machine. ‘Some of us have work to do.’
‘Is that why you’re leaving the office early?’
‘Since when are my working hours your concern?’
The biker shrugged.
Magenta’s glance swept the car park. Where was the security guard when you needed him? She had been loading up the car with things she intended to finish over the weekend in her own time—not that she was about to explain that to this guy, who looked like he spent his weekends in bed. And not alone.
‘You’re leaving me?’ he demanded as she made a move to continue on her way.
‘Somehow I’m managing to drag myself away.’
What was he doing in the car park of Steele Design anyway? Was he a courier? ‘Do you have a package?’
His grin made her cheeks blaze red. She had to watch her words in future, Magenta concluded. They were about the same age—maybe he was a year or two older—but his eyes held infinitely more experience. ‘If you don’t have anything to deliver, this is private property and you should leave.’
He raised an eyebrow.
Oh, good. He was really impressed by her command of the situation.
The biker’s self-confidence was making her edgy—that and his manner, which was cool, when she was fuming. Some men were just comfortable in every situation and this man was clearly one of them.
A sharp flurry of snow kept her hurrying along but the man’s laugh was warm and sexy on her back. ‘What’s so urgent you can’t spare a moment to chat?’ he called.
She stopped and turned to confront him. ‘Not that it’s any business of yours, but I am going inside to put on the clothes I wear in the gym so I can change the tyre on my car.’
‘Can I help you?’
‘No.’
Perhaps she should at least have thanked him for the offer.
Now she felt guilty?
Settling the helmet on his head again, he revved the engine. ‘You’re going? ‘ she said, perversely wanting him to stay.
Powerful shoulders eased in a careless shrug.
Why exactly was she driving him away, when he was the most interesting thing to have happened in a long time? Because she had more sense than to prolong the encounter, Magenta reasoned, crunching snow underfoot as she started on her way again. But, instead of riding off, the man kept pace with her, scuffing his boots on the surface of the road as he kept the engine purring along in neutral. ‘Haven’t you gone yet?’ she demanded.
‘I’m waiting to see you in gym clothes.’ He grinned.
She huffed at this, all the time trying to work him out. He was dressed too casually to be a businessman and his voice was low and husky with an accent she didn’t recognise. Perhaps he was a mature student;