Chapter 10: The Pact

QUINN'S POV

The skylight had darkened to black when I opened my eyes again. For an instant, I'd forgotten where I was. But the soft, lavender scented sheets brought me back. An odd quiet enveloped me and I wondered if Dr. Johanssen still milled about or had my second caretaker come in to take her place.

I didn't have to wonder long as Ford appeared in the doorway, his silhouette outlined by the hallway light. I sat up, covering myself with the sheets. I wondered if I looked as happy as I felt to see him.

"How long have you been standing there?" I asked.

"I just got here."

He strolled into the room in that easy, unhurried gait of his. He turned the lamp on and his beautiful face came into full view. Even as tired as he looked, I'd never seen a more exquisite creature. His brown eyes were softer in this light, his angular jaw not so severe.

He had the beginning of dark stubble growing on his chin and cheeks and I wanted to reach out and stroke his face. Presently, my eyes were fixed on his perfect, luscious mouth and absently, I licked my own lips. He sat down on the edge of the bed next to me.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

I tucked my knees underneath my chin. "Better. How was your conference call?"

He seemed surprised that I would ask. "It went well. It seems you were on to something with investing in soft commodities. The numbers checked out and I think we're going to move forward. Thank you for your input."

I smirked. "Even though you didn't want to hear it?"

"I've been wrong before."

"Have you? I can't imagine."

"Do you want dinner?"

"No. What time is it?"

I grabbed his wrist before he could respond. I stared at his watch, but there were three dials turning in different directions and I couldn't make heads or tails of it.

"How do you read this thing?"

"You can't tell time and you can't open the front door. I'm starting to reevaluate my earlier assessment of you."

I let go of his wrist. "Very funny."

"It's seven o'clock. You should eat."

"Why do you bother asking me if I want to eat? You're just going to make me anyway."

"I'd never 'make' you do anything. And, I'm trying to be polite."

"Speaking of polite, the clothes you bought me are too expensive. I can't accept them."

He frowned. "Do you plan on wearing the same sweater and jeans forever?"

"I don't know, but I can't accept them. It's too much."

"They're just clothes and shoes."

I pulled on a curl of hair and it rebounded as I let go. "Very expensive clothes and shoes. How did you know my size?"

"I guessed."

"You're a very accurate guesser."

He shrugged. "It wasn't hard. You're about the same size and height as my sister."

"When did you have time to do all of it?"

"I made a phone call to Collin yesterday and had him take care of it."

"So I have him to thank for his exquisite taste in clothes?"

"Mostly, yes."

I raised a brow. "Mostly?"

"I chose a couple of items."

I felt flattered he'd taken the time to choose 'anything' for me. "Thank you. And for the phone, too. But, I've been thinking. I can't stay here."

"You're right. You can't."

His curtness hurt my feelings. "I still don't know what I'm doing with my life."

"Are you still intent on ending it?"

I sighed heavily. "I don't know. I don't think so."

I wasn't sure, but he looked relieved.

"Then might I offer a solution to your current situation?"

"I'm all ears."

"You can come work for me. It's obvious you know a lot about commodities contracts and I could use someone young and fresh on my team. I'll get you an apartment or a house or whatever you want, and you can start to save your money -- pay me back for the clothes if it'll make you feel better."

"That's incredibly generous."

"No, It's business. We both get something we want. I get an innovative addition to my team and you get the time to figure out what you want out of life. If you can't find at least one thing to live for, one good thing in this world, say, after six months, I'll leave you to your own devices."

I couldn't help but be amused. "Kind of like a pact?"

"For lack of a better term, yes."

I only pondered the idea for a moment. What difference did six more months make?

"You have a deal."

He looked satisfied. I wanted to delight in his concern for my well-being. But I had a feeling he'd already spoken the truth; he'd based his decision on good business practices and nothing else.

He stood. "Good. Now what about dinner?"

"Soup is about all I can stomach right now."

"I'll bring you some."

He turned to leave but I stopped him. "Thank you, Ford. Thank you for everything."

"As soon as you're feeling better, I'll have HR call you and set up a time for you to sign the necessary paperwork."

I cocked my head to the side. "Do you have a hard time accepting gratitude?"

"Not particularly. Why?"

"Because every time I tell you 'thank you', you ignore me."

"What would you have me say?"

"Just acknowledge me, is all."

He walked toward me again. "Am I not paying you enough attention, Miss Mathers?"

I squirmed beneath the sheets. His eyes had darkened. He looked like a tiger on the prowl. "No, you've been very attentive and kinder than anyone else in my life. I just want you to know how much I appreciate it."

I stared up at him as he gazed down into my eyes. He tipped my chin up with his forefinger. "You're welcome."

I swallowed hard. His eyes transfixed me.

"Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"No, nothing," I mumbled.

He smiled and I almost lost it.

"Then if there's nothing else, I'll bring your soup."

He left and I fell back against the dunes of pillows. I didn't know what had just transpired between us, but I felt a shift between us. Or maybe my overactive imagination imagined it that way. No one who looked like Ford would be interested in a girl like me. But one could hope.