Page 58 of Quinn, By Design

“Please.”

She passed him a sugar bowl before turning to make tea. The rhythmic tinkle of the metal spoon against his ceramic cup communicated patience, a hard-won skill for a man in a hurry. Or maybe he wasn’t the man depicted in the business press? She slid onto the chair opposite and raised her gaze to meet his. “Actually, I want your advice.”

“Why me?” He leaned back, at ease with himself and her, but he’d recognise a lie.

“I have an accountant and a lawyer I trust, but this is more personal.” She’d sounded out both indirectly and done some of her own research, when she’d woken from her grief coma and seen how illogical her actions were. Like any self-respecting sleeping beauty, Niall’s kisses had woken her.

“And I’m connected to family?” He made the deduction, saving her the embarrassment of confessing. “Except, I’m not.”

“Anna took you to meet her family. That’s rare, and I’m betting you know how rare. She trusts you and trusts you around people she cares for.” There was a rock-solid decency about the Turner and Quinn twins. She attributed the same characteristics to Hunter by dint of his connection.

“Interesting conclusion.” His eyebrows rose, and she wasn’t sure if he was flattered or annoyed at the dent in his inscrutable persona. “Niall took you to meet his family. Does that make you trustworthy?”

“I’m trustworthy.” But she was shaking her head. “Kate invited me. A kindness because of Grandpa.”

“We can agree to disagree on that point.” He sipped his coffee, while she held her breath waiting for his next move. “Is that why you invited me to the gala?”

“I invited you so you could get a sense of the business, its products and clients.”

“You’d planned a second meeting before we had our first.” One eyebrow disappeared into the hank of hair sweeping across his forehead. “I’m impressed.

“You have no interest in antiques. Your reputation is mixed. Ruthless according to some, fair according to others.” Lucy ticked points off her fingers. “And then there’s Anna.” Continuing on the same path wasn’t an option, because Lucy’s actions were harming Niall.

“Anna’s got nothing to do with my business.”

“You’re dating her. I’m judging you by the company she keeps.”

A wolfish grin streaked across his face, his predator instincts diverted by the surprise attack. “Did you inherit your approach from your grandpa as well?”

“Might have.” Maybe falling for Niall and not knowing how he felt about her had heightened her awareness of others in the same situation. Hunter would protect the people Anna loved.

“Congratulations on choosing your grandpa’s business model.” He toasted her with his remaining coffee.

“Did you ever meet him?” She soaked up new stories about Cameron McTavish.

“I did some research before accepting your invitation.” He steepled his fingers in front of his mouth, his inscrutable gaze assessing her. “What sort of advice are you after?”

“When I was a little girl, we were dirt poor.” She took a quick sip of tea, the hit of caffeine reinforcing her decision to use him as a circuit breaker. “Occasionally, my mum would disappear us overnight”—Lucy flashed her teeth—“that’s how she described it when we took off because she hadn’t paid the rent. There were other bills, visits from debt collectors, times when we couldn’t buy food. The upshot is I entered my teens paranoid about debt.”

I’ve said it aloud and the world hasn’t ended.

“Any debt.”

“Makes sense.” He wasn’t judging her, which made her next admission easier.

“For the last five years I’ve managed McTavish’s books. We take items on consignment, but we also buy outright, backing our judgment that we’ll sell what we’ve bought and won’t default on the overdraft. Since Grandpa’s death, my brain’s gone haywire. I’ve become obsessed with building huge cash buffers in case even the smallest bill can’t be paid.” She stared at the unmarked folder sitting at the end of the table. Evils had flown out of Pandora’s box before she’d slammed it shut. Only hope had remained.

“Sounds like you’ve identified your problem.”

“I have.” Last week she’d asked Clem for her professional assessment.

“Is it possible that Grandpa’s death catapulted me back to childhood? Made me helpless again?”

Money was the security blanket she’d craved as a child, and debt had been the out-of-control monster stalking her dreams.

“Then you’re more than halfway towards a solution.” He drained his coffee and set it aside. “You don’t need me.”

“My banker, my accountant, even my lawyer told me to make my assets work harder; that cash flow wasn’t the monumental bogeyman I was turning it into.” She pushed her empty cup around the table, huffed out a breath and tossed him a half-smile. “Pity I didn’t lock myself in a room for a month before making any decisions.”

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