Because of the biker, Magenta concluded. With his larger than life personality, he didn’t even need to speak to command attention; he just had to be. Having changed her clothes, and kicked off her shoes with relief, she picked the mail up and headed for the kitchen. The phone stopped her dead. She picked it up. ‘Magenta Steele?’ The voice was crisp, deep and very masculine. ‘Gray Quinn here.’ Magenta’s heart rolled over. ‘Gray…’ ‘Most people call me Quinn.’ There was a hint of a smile in the voice, but not enough to reassure. ‘I’m in the office tying up some loose ends. I’d like to see you for a discussion on your position going forward with the company first thing tomorrow morning.’ ‘But my father said—’ ‘Your father doesn’t head up Steele Design now. I do. Nine o’clock okay with you?’ ‘Of course…’ A chill ran through her. Quinn might be a sexy charmer, according to office gossip, but she’d just encountered the Genghis Khan side of him.
