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she’d counseled Fran from IT about whether she should fight an HOA fine after her dog crapped on the rug in the foyer.
    But as time-consuming as it could be, she had to admit there was something invigorating about having the trust of so many people in such a short amount of time. She felt…valued.
    Or played. Depending how you looked at it.
    She sighed, her silence being her only sign that he had a point.
    “And since we’re finally here, we might as well take advantage of the opportunity to try one of Juan Carlos’s tacos.”
    She glanced at her watch. Nearly one o’clock. “I suppose, but you have one hour and then we’re out of here.”
    He grabbed her hand and pulled her up from the car. An easy gesture for some but one that left her a little stunned by the contact. And not entirely…unaffected.
    Snap out of it, Quinn. This is your boss .
    Regardless, those bright, sexy eyes sometimes made her heart skip a beat when he looked at her a certain way. And the crisp white shirt spread open in a V, revealing a tantalizing amount of tanned skin, often had her eyes darting dangerously below where they should.
    Then there was the way his hand felt in hers. Warm, solid, but also sensual enough to have sent shivers straight down her spine.
    But this was James Thornhill. A man who’d told her just yesterday that a five percent pay increase to hundreds of hardworking employees who’d been working at the same salary for the past three years despite the increased cost of living was out of the question. A man who’d just spent an unknown amount of money flying to San Diego in a privately owned company jet to eat tacos.
    Like she’d told her friends, she was not and never, ever would be interested in a man like that, no matter how her traitorous body superficially reacted to his obvious charms.
    Case closed.

    * * *
    A n hour later , Quinn leaned back in the booth, holding her belly. Two—okay, two and a half—tacos loaded with cheese, sour cream and guacamole, a pound of chips and salsa, and half of James’s rice pudding later, and she was ready to be rolled right out of there.
    “Señor Thornhill,” a man maybe in his mid-forties said enthusiastically as he came toward them. He grabbed James’s hand when he reached the table and grinned. “You should have told me you would be coming today. I would have had Elena prepare your special dish.”
    “It was last-minute, Juan. We happened to be in the area and thought we’d grab something to eat.”
    Quinn raised her brows at that outright lie but didn’t say anything.
    “And who’s the lovely lady?” Juan asked, turning his attention to her.
    “Quinn just joined us at Thornhill,” James said. “She’s our in-house labor and employment attorney.”
    “Ah, very good to meet you, Quinn. I think you’ll find that most employees acquainted with Mr. Thornhill here are usually fairly happy in their employment.”
    “Oh? Were you employed by Thornhill?”
    “Of course, of course. James here and I both used to be line cooks at the Silver Grill.”
    She had to have misheard him. “Line cooks? James Thornhill? This man?”
    Juan chuckled at her evident disbelief. “ Sí , not that he was very good at first, burned most everything. But a few weeks under my tutelage and he was nearly as good as me.”
    “You see, Quinn,” James said and reached over to take her last chip off the plate. “I am a man of many hidden talents.”
    The two men spoke about business and Juan’s family while Quinn mused at the thought of James Thornhill cooking fries and burgers, even as a teen. She’d have expected him to be at parties and ski trips to Aspen growing up, not doing anything so humble as working as a line cook.
    “Well, it is really good to see you, James,” Juan said as the waitress returned and set the paid ticket back on the table. “Bah. James, you know your money isn’t good here. Leah, comp Mr. Thornhill’s ticket—”
    “I’m quite able to pay my own bill,