Daddy's Coming Home For Christmas

Daddy's Chasing his Valentine:5 - I Have a Type

Noelle

After Robert Quinn stormed in to get his son, I tried going back to bed. But honestly, I could still feel the surge of adrenaline and excitement zinging through my veins.

Given how small and frail Trevor was, I expected his father to be a short, slender featherweight. But the man at my door was surprisingly brawny, with broad shoulders and a thick barrel chest that narrowed down into a tight waist and powerful thighs. His head was shaved bald. I didn’t think I would find a bald guy attractive, but somehow, Roger Quinn pulled it off. He didn’t look like a hotel manager. He looked like some ex-Navy Seal gone mercenary.

And he looked like he wanted to kill me for taking his son. I could feel his anger, but just beneath it, I could feel his terror. He wasn’t a total jerk, he was just a dad who was scared he almost lost his kid. So I tried not to take it too personally when he pushed me aside and shouted at me.

But just because I didn’t take it personally didn’t mean I was going to tolerate his disrespect. I’d worked among the rich long enough to know that you couldn’t give an inch to these megalomaniacs, or they would chew you up and spit you out.

But there I was, laying in bed late into the morning wondering what it would be like if those arms, instead of pushing me aside in a rush to get to his kid, had actually pushed me into the wall in a fit of passion? What if he trapped me there, his rock hard body bonding me in place, one hand beside my head while the other held my face angling it up for a kiss…

“Get a grip, Noelle,” I grumbled to myself as I hugged a pillow to my chest and rolled over onto my back.

Maybe I did have a type after all.

I felt like slapping myself. There was probably a Mrs. Quinn in the next room. Trevor had said his mom was dead, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t have a step-mother. Look at me, I’d had four of them. And knowing my dad, he was probably out there looking for number five right now.

Finally I gave up on sleeping late and went to grab a shower. Raphael said I would normally have Saturday and Sundays off, but there might be events or special circumstances that would require me to work weekends and some holidays. But I was okay with that. It’s not like I had a family that needed my time and attention. As Raphael Segretto’s executive assistant I was pretty much on call 24/7.

But, it was 11 AM on a Saturday, and I had no calls and no texts. I towel dried my hair with the world news playing in the background, then pulled it over my shoulder in my usual careless braid. I had been scolded and advised many times that my lack of style was a detriment to my career in the corporate world. But firstly, I couldn’t really help it. And second, I couldn’t really care. Some women built their careers on their youth and their beauty. Then what happens when that beauty fades with age? Then those same women mutilate themselves with plastic surgery and Botox and peels, creams and fillers. They end up desperately scrabbling for a foothold before they are ultimately replaced by a younger newer model.

At least I had the security of knowing right from the start that I was never hired to be anyone’s eye candy.

I pulled on the brown dress that I had been wearing earlier, because it wasn’t really dirty. For a moment my eyes fell on the gift bag that contained the dress that Beth had made for me. I had a moment of confusion where I thought about wearing that pretty thing instead. But why would I wear something special like that on the weekend when I was just lounging around? Unless I was purposely trying to catch the eye of a certain manager?

I straighten my shoulders. None of that girly nonsense for me. I would wear the pretty purple dress on Monday, for work hours.

I grabbed my purse and headed for the door. I was late for the breakfast service, but maybe I could get the kitchen to whip me up an early lunch. Since it was Saturday, most of the construction workers and contractors were off, so the lodge was quiet. I padded down the stairs to the lower level. And stopped abruptly. The table where I usually sat was occupied. By a big bald man and his small, skinny son. Trevor looked morose as he slumped in his chair. I noticed he’d had a shower and was now dressed in clean, albeit wrinkled, clothes. His damp hair had been parted and combed neatly, but some bits in a cowlick in the back were still standing up stubbornly. He had an untouched hamburger and fries on his plate. Given his moody expression I had a feeling that Dad must have been pretty harsh with him.

He’d been pretty harsh with me too, but I wasn’t going to take it to heart. I sucked in a deep breath and forced a pleasant smile to my face. “Good morning, Mr. Quinn. Good morning, Trevor,” I greeted them as I took a seat at a separate table. I purposely sat facing the window so I wouldn’t be tempted to stare at the new manager. His shirt was open at the collar, and the first button was undone. I thought I had a glimpse of some ink when he turned to acknowledge me.

Ali, one of the new waitresses, came to take my order. It wasn’t as simple as selecting from the menu. I needed to know what dishes they were making today. Grill items like burgers were always available, but Mr. Segretto had instructed me to be sampling the menu’s specialty items.

“Today we have a broccoli and cheddar soup made with Vermont Cabot Cheddar,” Ali said, “And for our entre we have a braised venison in a rosemary shiitake sauce with roasted winter vegetables and a fresh cucumber salad.”

“Wow, that sounds delicious! Bit much for lunch though. I’ll try it at dinner. Could I just get the soup, and maybe a turkey sandwich?”

“Of course, Miss Swanson. And to drink?”

“Water with lemon, as usual.”

I was just sitting there, minding my business, scrolling through my phone, when Mr. Quinn picked up his plate and slid into the chair opposite from me, totally obscuring my view of the lake. “Do you mind if we join you?” He asked.

A little late to ask permission, since he was already seated and little Trevor was now transferring his plate and a glass of chocolate milk over to my table too. He gave me a little smile and stuck a French fry in his mouth.

“Sure, welcome,” I replied dryly.

“I’m sorry if we got off to a bad start this morning,” he said smoothly. He had a slight Aussie accent, but I had a feeling he wasn’t a native. I wanted to ask him where he was really from, but I didn’t think we were on friendly enough terms to share those kinds of personal details. He did have a really nice voice though, like smooth, warm salted caramel. “I’m a bit disoriented from the long flight and the jet lag and the time difference, and I panicked when I couldn’t find Trevor this morning. I didn’t mean to take my frustrations out on you. In fact I should thank you for watching him.”

“Apology accepted,” I said, just as Ali returned with my soup and sandwich and a tall glass of ice water balanced on a serving tray. “And you are welcome.”

He gave me a long speculative look. “So you are Raphael’s new assistant. What happened to Rachel?”

I didn’t know exactly what had happened with Mr. Segretto’s previous PA. My first assumption was that she’d made some unwelcome s****l advances. But after living in the Segretto house for two weeks I had gathered some clues that made it sound even worse than that. I suspected that this Rachel woman had something to do with the fact that Raphael Segretto had been estranged from his family. But I wasn’t one to gossip. I even wondered if Mr. Quinn was setting me up.

That was entrapment.

“I think you should ask Mr. Segretto about that yourself,” I said, picking up my spoon and stirring the soup. I turned my attention to Trevor. “How do you like Vermont so far?” I asked him.

“It’s boring,” he said. He watched me take a spoonful of my soup, and picked up his as-yet untouched burger.

“Boring? Well that’s because you just got here. There’s all kinds of fun things to try. There are horses, do you like horses?”

“No.”

“Okay, what about cross country skiing? Or snowshoeing.”

“I don’t know how to do those things.”

“Me neither!” I said cheerfully. “But I’m going to learn. When in Rome!”

The kid gave me a quizzical look. “You want to wear a toga?”

I quickly took a gulp of water to keep from choking on the mouthful of soup I had just swallowed. “Maybe not.”

Mr. Quinn cleared his throat, forcing me to put my eyes back on the man I was trying desperately to ignore. Looking in his eyes made me feel hot under the collar. Literally. I pulled at my dress to let a little air in around my neck.

“So, Miss…?”

He had already forgotten my name. Typical.

“Swanson. But please, call me Noelle.” I picked up my sandwich and took a big bite. Mayonnaise oozed out and dripped down my chin.

Smooth. Really smooth.

I grabbed a paper napkin and wiped my chin.

“Noelle. Rafe told me you might be able to help me track down a qualified nanny for Trevor?”

At the mention of the word nanny Trevor threw down his burger and slumped down in the seat.