Ginny stared at the phone, wondering if she’d been away too long.
“Miss Lockwood. I got the number for your billionaire friend.” Alice set the paper on the desk like she was placing meat before a hungry tiger.
Ginny felt a smile form in her chest before it appeared on her face. “Great job, Alice.”
Alice beamed. “Will there be anything else?”
Ginny was about to dismiss her when a thought popped into her head. “Will you tell human resources I need a secretary?”
“Sure.” She practically skipped from the room.
Ginny pushed aside the company phone and used her cell to call Quinn. Her palms were damp and her heart beat too fast. She took a deep breath. “It’sQuinn,” she mumbled. Except a part of her, the part that had registered his wide shoulders and the handsome cut of his jaw, told her it wasn’t the Quinn she’d had a pudding fight with in the cafeteria.
The phone rang three times, and her heart plummeted at the thought of leaving a message. She hadn’t prepared one, so her head spun with the options. Something casual, upbeat, friendly …
“Hello?” said an uptight and polished voice.
Ginny’s head stuttered off of leaving a message and tripped over the knowledge that she had a real person on the phone. “Hey. I mean, hello. Is Quinn there?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Wilaby is unavailable at the moment.”
Of course he was. Quinn had pushed her off to his assistant. Ouch. “May I leave a message?”
“Yes, you may.” His response was so formal that it made her smile to think of Quinton working with this guy. Quinn probably got a kick out of using the incorrect grammatical phrases and watching his assistant turn red in an effort not to correct him.
“Will you please tell him that Virginia called? He can call me back at this number; it’s my personal cell.” She hadn’t blocked the number from caller ID, so it should be easy to get out of the phone.
“I will pass that along.” Just as Ginny was about to thank him, he coughed and said, “Are you free this evening?”
A puff of air escaped her lips at the unexpected question. She got the feeling Mr. Stuffy was going to help her, but she wasn’t exactly sure what he was getting at. “I could be.”
“In that case, might I extend an invitation to a Welcome Summer party at Quinton’s brother’s house?”
“Ben’s having a party?”
“Yes. Shall I leave your name at the gate?”
She nibbled on her lip. Seeing Quinn in person would be ten times better than a phone call. “That would be lovely, thank you.” She twisted in her seat, making it dance. Mr. Stuffy was an ally.
“Very well, then. Good day.”
She said goodbye and hung up, throwing her arms into the air. This junkie day just got a whole lot better.
Chapter Eight
Ginny
The heavy iron gates of The Cove spurred the creation of a half dozen billionaire jokes in Ginny’s head. She couldn’t wait to tease Quinn about living in an exclusive neighborhood surrounded by men and women with net worths bigger than some countries. Heck, these guys probably owned their own islands and formed their own governments to avoid income tax.
She gawked at the Asian-inspired home on her right. It was something right out ofCrazy Rich Asians. She loved it! On her left was a road that would take her down to the beach and the lighthouse house she’d seen poking above the trees. That would be a fun place to stop in the tour. Not that she’d get much of a tour tonight. Security lined the streets, wearing black uniforms and sunglasses.
As if the weather knew that Ben Wilaby was having a pool party, it had complied with the first summer weather she’d seen since her arrival. She’d put the top down on her light-blue Ford Mustang—a gift for her sixteenth birthday. Needing to throw off the shackles of work, she’d pulled her hair out of the low bun and let the large beach waves hang free about her bare shoulders.
Most of the houses were set far enough off the road that they were hidden behind trees. If she didn’t know there were mansions in there, she’d think she was driving up a country lane. Her mom used to like to take Sunday drives. She’d said that the feel of the road beneath her tires and the miles disappearing behind her gave her a sense of peace. She’d wanted to get out and see the flowers—to verify they bloomed and bushes grew every year. She hadn’t been a woman who took much on faith.
A warm breeze tickled Ginny’s loose strands of hair. After leaving the office, she’d needed to shed the constricting skirt and toe-pinching heels. The summer dress was a purchase from a street bazaar in Cairo. Paired with sandals and a forearm full of bracelets, she looked every bit the gypsy she’d been. And she loved it. Loved feeling beautiful in her own skin.
Ahead, on the left, was a giant castle complete with turrets and gargoyles. That must be where Adam Moreau lived, she reasoned. He’d been at Stanford and hung around with Quinn and Ben some, though he mostly kept to himself. Such a serious student, and a serious person, for that matter. She’d seen him at the reunion, the stunning brunette on his arm a surprise to one and all. There had been jokes in college that he didn’t have a heart. Good on Adam for proving them wrong.
