Chapter Seven
“You’re not staying late again, are you?” Carol Harris questioned with a worried glance.
Meggie looked up and feigned a cheerful smile. A large stack of policies bordered two sides of her desk. “I have to if I want
to get caught up.”
“But, Meggie, you were really sick; you missed all of last week. No one expects you to make up the entire workload by staying
late every night. You’ll only make yourself ill again.” The petite blonde with pale blue eyes glanced over the piles of work
that needed to be finished. “I’d stay with you,” she volunteered with a guilty look, “but I’ve got a date with John tonight.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Meggie told her friend. “I’m not going to be too much longer.” Her elbows were resting on an open
policy.
“Can I get you anything before I go?” Carol offered.
“A cup of coffee,” Meggie told her gratefully.
A while later when Meggie lifted the plastic cup to her mouth, the last drops of cold coffee surprised her and she glanced
at the clock. It was after seven and her stomach reminded her with a growl that she hadn’t eaten since lunchtime.
Flexing the tired muscles of her shoulders, she leaned against the back of the chair and yawned. After two late nights this
week Meggie was exhausted. Yet working overtime didn’t seem to be decreasing the number of policies on her desk. As hard as
she worked to catch up during regular work hours, several stacks remained on her desk. Eyeing one last pile, she promised
herself she’d quit once they were finished.
The sound of shoes clicking against the polished linoleum floor surprised her and she turned around.
“Quinn.” Her eyes rounded with pleased excitement.
The angry intensity of his look burst the bubble of pleasure seeing him had created.
How did he get inside the building? The security men were well trained and wouldn’t let just anyone inside at night. One of
the older guards, George, had escorted Meggie to her car the night before, declaring it wasn’t safe for a woman to be on the
streets alone at night. It wasn’t likely they’d allow someone in simply because Quinn claimed to know her.
“What are you doing?” he demanded, ignoring her greeting.
“Working,” Meggie supplied, mystified as much by his attitude as by his presence.
“At this hour? I thought you went home at five.”
“Yes, normally, but I’ve got to catch up with all this.” Her hand made a sweeping motion over her desk.
His hand reached out, pulling her to her feet. “Come on, you’re going home.”
“Quinn?” She jerked herself free. “What’s gotten into you? You’re acting like a madman. I’m working a few hours late, so what?”
“So what?” he growled back at her. “I didn’t spend a miserable week as your nursemaid so you could work yourself into a relapse.
Is that understood?”
“No, it’s not,” she shot back angrily. “What gives you the right to dictate what I can and what I cannot do?”
The dark eyes narrowed to a menacing frown. “Two wretched nights sleeping in a chair,” he responded tightly. “Get your coat,
I’m taking you home.”
Eyes flashing fire, and arms akimbo, Meggie shook her head. “No, you’re not.”
“Don’t bet on it, lady.”
“I wouldn’t argue with the man, Miss O’Halloran.” An amused voice spoke from behind her.
Meggie swiveled around to find the security guard who’d walked her to her car the night before.
“Evening, George,” Quinn said pleasantly.
“Donnelley.” George nodded, a maze of wrinkles creasing his face as he smiled. “It won’t do you any good to argue with one
of Portland’s finest detectives, miss. My advice is to let him take you home.”
Meggie wanted to snap that she wasn’t particularly interested in his advice, but she bit back the words.
“This yours?” Quinn asked, holding up the pale peach-colored jacket.
Thwarted, Meggie nodded tersely. With her mouth pinched shut, she grabbed the jacket out of his hand and took her purse from
the bottom desk drawer.
“Good night, George,” she murmured in a strained voice. “I’ll see you tomorrow evening. I’ll be working late to make up for
what I couldn’t do tonight.”
“No, she won’t,” Quinn contradicted her sternly. After a curt nod to George, he followed Meggie across the huge open floor.
Rather than wait for the elevator, Meggie took the stairs. The echo of Quinn’s purposeful steps directly behind her only quickened
her pace. Marching through the accounting department, Meggie made her way toward the employees’ parking lot in the back of
the building.
“Meggie, stop,” Quinn insisted.
She tossed him an irritated glance over her shoulder and continued out of the building. Before she reached her car an abrupt
hand on her arm whirled her around.
“Meggie, would you stop; I want to talk to you,” Quinn demanded tensely.
“No,” she snapped. “What gives you the right to come here and treat me like a ten-year-old?” Her voice cracked and she turned
away, attempting to steady her breath.
She hadn’t seen Quinn in days. Jill hadn’t been over that weekend and Meggie could only surmise that Quinn had prevented the
girl from visiting. That hurt. He may not have approved of her “phony religion,” as he called it, but to purposely keep Jill
away was like saying he didn’t trust Meggie. That hurt more.
His eyes were flashing fire, but he dropped his hand and let her go. “I wanted to arrange for a tracer on your phone, but
we’ll talk when you’re in a more reasonable frame of mind.”
“You’ll have a long wait, Quinn Donnelley,” she informed him heatedly.
An hour later Meggie paced the carpeted floor of her apartment, arms folded across her chest. She sank down in one of the
living room chairs, only to jerk herself upright a minute later. At least she hadn’t completely lost her cool. The line between
anger and rage with Meggie could be thin and she was grateful to have escaped when she did. Past experience had taught her
that if she paused, read through a few psalms, she would feel better. Meggie reached for her Bible.
They met at the elevator the next morning. Meggie had left a few minutes later than usual in hopes of missing Quinn, but he
was there almost as if he’d been waiting for her.
“Good morning, Meggie.” His smile was bright and cheerful.
Meggie had slept restlessly and wasn’t in any mood to exchange banter with him. Rather than say anything at all she nodded
curtly and punched the button for the bottom floor with unnecessary force. The elevator doors closed slowly.
“You don’t look well,” Quinn continued on a cheerful note. “Didn’t you get enough sleep last night? You’re looking thinner
too.” When she didn’t respond to either statement, he proceeded further. “It’s probably those late hours you’ve been keeping
lately,” he said with a knowing look.
The minute the doors opened, Meggie forged ahead, leaving him standing alone in the elevator and chuckling.
Her disposition had improved by the time she arrived at the office.
“Morning, Carol.” Meggie pulled out the chair to her desk and sat.
“Hi, how did things go last night?” she questioned, rolling her chair back to Meggie’s desk and rotating around. “Did you
manage to get anything accomplished?”
“Not really,” Meggie sighed deeply. “I was interrupted. How about you? Did you have a good time with John?”
Carol’s smile was filled with unspoken messages. “Did I ever! We’re going out again tonight.”
Meggie looked at her friend enviously. Carol and John were so right together, it was obvious they’d probably marry. Why couldn’t
love and all it entailed be as simple for her? How much easier her life would be if she could have loved Sam and married him.
Nothing would have pleased her father more. Yet here she was hundreds of miles from home in love with a man who obviously
didn’t love her.
By five o’clock, after a busy day, there wasn’t much work left on Meggie’s desk, but she decided to stay anyway. If she happened
to see Quinn he’d think she’d given in to his demands. He had no right to dictate anything to her, least of all her working
hours.
At six she had just about completed the one small stack of business that needed her attention. She sat coiled and ready to
face Quinn in case he did show.
When she saw his rangy figure moving across the floor toward her, she stiffened resentfully. Forcing herself to concentrate
on the policy she was reviewing, she waited for the inevitable confrontation.
“Over here, George.”
Unbidden, her heart quickened at the pleasant sound of his rich, low voice. In spite of herself she glanced up to find George
carrying a large white sack. Quinn held another.
“This where you want it?” the older man questioned, setting the sack on Carol’s desk.
Quinn nodded approvingly. “Great.”
“Need anything else?” George’s bright smile lit up his dull green eyes.
“Nothing now. Thanks, George.”
The old man glanced amusedly at Meggie, then turned and walked away.
Quinn set his sack beside George’s on top of Carol’s desk.
Finally Meggie could stand it no longer. “Just what are you doing?” she demanded.
“Bringing you dinner,” he remarked casually, as if this was the most normal thing in the world. Meggie’s eyes widened as he
opened a sack and pulled out a candle, placing it on the corner of her desk. He balanced two plates on an uncrowded corner,
removing a pile of policies.
“I’m not hungry,” she said in an even, quiet voice and could have slapped her stomach for growling at just that moment.
“Pity,” Quinn continued. “I’m starved.”
As much as she wanted to ignore him, prove her indifference, Meggie couldn’t avoid throwing him inquisitive glances as he
opened the second bag. Small white boxes with wire handles were ceremoniously placed on the table. Taking Carol’s chair, Quinn
rolled it around her desk and sat down.
Furiously Meggie closed one policy and reached for another. The aroma of almond chicken hit her with the force of a brick
wall. She swallowed back a weakness to succumb; lunch had been hours ago.
“Sure you won’t join me?” Quinn asked a moment later.
“I’m sure,” she said stubbornly.