“Necessary,” Ginny countered.
“I’ll see to the details.” Emily paused for a moment. “Congratulations on your engagement. I’ve met Quinton Wilaby—he’s a good guy.”
“Thanks.” Ginny warmed all over. She had the stupid urge to bury her face in her hands and squeal. Quinnwasa good guy—the best. He didn’t mind talking about business, but he could whittle away an afternoon on deck talking about absolutely nothing and everything. Speaking of which … “Can you do me a favor? Will you look up what we’ve spent on InfantPure? I’d like to shop it around.”
Emily sucked in through her teeth. “That’s an original product idea.”
Ginny leveled her with a look. “I know. I thought of it.”
“The research contains company procedures. Trade secrets.”
Ginny wavered briefly, wondering if she’d shoot a hole in the side of the company by selling InfantPure. She’d wanted InfantPure to go live years ago because of the potential it had to change the world—especially in underdeveloped countries—but she had an obligation to the company now as well. Where was the line? “I understand. I’d still like the number.”
“Very well.” Emily’s tone said it was anything but well. She’d follow through. This wasn’t her call. It was Ginny’s. And if she messed this up, she was the one who would take the fall.
Her computer beeped and the quarterly reports appeared on her desktop. Bless Lyle. She opened them, happy to see all the right numbers on the rise. Her net worth wasn’t as high as Quinton’s, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t compete. Success was addicting, and she was ready for another notch in her belt.
Chapter Nineteen
Quinton
Quinton wandered into the dust-free barn. He’d never seen anything like Jamon West’s equine facility. As large as a subdivision house, the barn sported a gabled roof. Large brick columns supported the porch that wrapped around the building.
A massive dormer, finished in the same stonework as the house, arched over the entryway. Red hardboard gave the outdoor space a pop of color, and iron light fixtures in a deep brown hung every so many feet.
Inside was a rock fireplace, and a painting of horses running through a green field hung over the generous wood mantel. Two leather chairs and a luxurious sofa gathered around the fireplace. To the left of the sitting area was a giant flat-screen television framed by cherry cabinets. There was a thick black marbled counter with a sink and a raised bar with stools wrapped around the outside. Stainless steel appliances were in the corner.
Quinn followed a brick floor done in a herringbone pattern to the stalls with wrought-iron tops and wood-paneled bottoms with the JW brand carved into each door. Several horses were in the stalls, and small framed signs were hung to give the inhabitants’ names.
“Jamon?” Quinn called over the stalls.
Jamon’s head popped up, cowboy hat first, followed by his big Texas grin. “Howdy, neighbor.”
Quinton couldn’t help but smile. Jamon was a far cry from the guys he’d gone to private school with. He was considered new money and sometimes sent the old money in The Cove into heart palpitations. Quinn thought chasing down a runaway horse in his boxers and cowboy boots was completely logical if the man cared about the horse.
They shook hands and made small talk for a minute. Jamon picked up the horse’s foot and tested the shape of a horseshoe against it. He grunted and let the foot drop.
“I was wondering if you’d be interested in purchasing a research project.” Quinn gave a brief overview of the idea. “This is strictly confidential, mind you.”
Jamon lifted his hat and scratched his head. “Sounds like a worthwhile project, but I run an equine-specific lab.”
Quinn’s hope plummeted. He’d wanted to be Ginny’s knight in shining armor and take care of this, ensuring that her dream would make it out there into the world and do some good.
“But …” Jamon reset his hat. “I met a guy in Santa Barbara a couple years ago. His wife is a vet, and he’s a pharmaceutical genius. Developed something for a flu that was going around—saved lives.”
Quinn nodded eagerly. The white knight was back on his horse. “Can I get his number?”
“He’s a recluse. Lives on a houseboat. Likes his privacy. I’ll get in touch with him and see if he’s ready for a new challenge. If so, I’ll have him call you.”
“Thanks.” Quinn slapped him on the back. “That’s the best news I’ve heard all day.”
He could use some good news. Dad had shown up out of the blue, asking to see him. Not Ben—him. He’d let Ben take the lead in dealing with their father, one of the perks Ben had of being the oldest. So his father’s desire to reconnect was startling.
Quinn hadn’t been able to face the man who’d run out on their family after his time with Ginny on the boat. Instead, he’d made an appointment to meet him for dinner later in the week—after he’d had a chance to prepare, and hopefully to forgive enough that he didn’t punch the guy in the face right off the bat. He was still working on that. There was just so much to work through that he needed a night of fun. He’d asked Ginny out tonight, ready to play.
He made his way out of the barn—using the term lightly, considering the palace these horses occupied—and headed to his car. He drove through the city, in a rush to see Ginny and share the news that he had a lead for InfantPure. It wasn’t a solution to her worry, but it was a possible positive outcome.
She must have been waiting in the lobby, because as soon as he pulled up to the valet parking, she walked out. He watched her tug her rain jacket tighter against the mist. In an hour or so they’d have a heavy rain on their heads.
