job at
Estelle.
She was supposed to be sifting through e-mails to see what the magazine had done to incur the publicâs wrath last month, but her brain was too preoccupied to concentrate on the trivial complaints in front of her.
Who cares if the cheeseburger one of our models was photographed with has more than eight hundred calories? She was only
pretending
to eat it anyway.
No, Quinnâs mind was resting solidly on the tattooed, reformed bad-boy brother of her best friendâs boyfriend. She remembered back to their meeting the day before: how one of his tattoos had peeked out from beneath his V-neck T-shirt, making her want to pull his collar aside so she could see the intricacy of the design more fully. How willing he was to help her with her article/new-life plan. How he never gave the slightest intimation that he thought her idea was stupid or juvenile. How, after admiring him from afar for months, she now had the excuse to spend time with him.
Not that anything will come of it.
Quinn could only imagine the types of girls Tim attracted. With his intense green eyes, strong, lean build that was riddled with tattoos, and his square jaw with a permanent hint of stubble across itâyeah, there was no way heâd ever go for someone like her. And she wasnât entirely sure she wanted him to. Because as hot as he was, there was something dangerous about him. Something that made her question if she could even survive a day in his world. And while the tiny rebel within that she was trying to unleash was up for giving it a go, the rational side of herâ
the traditional, safe side
âwas satisfied with just getting to know him better.
Besides, heâs probably only helping me because he thinks Iâm some defenseless little girl whoâll get in trouble without someone looking out for me.
Shockingly, Quinn was fine with that, as long as it meant she got to stare at Tim more often.
âIs there a Quinn Sawyer here?â a voice asked, breaking Quinn from her thoughts.
âUh, yeah, IâIâm Quinn.â She slowly raised her hand so the stranger knew where her voice had come from.
âThis is for you.â The man handed her an envelope and then abruptly turned and left.
Quinn stared at the envelope like it had anthrax in it.
âYou gonna open it or what?â
Tylerâs voice caused Quinn to nearly jump out of her chair. âJesus Christ! You scared the hell out of me.â
âYeah, yeah, whatever. Open the envelope.â
âCan I have a little privacy please?â Quinn said with a feigned tone of self-importance.
âNo.â
âFine,â Quinn muttered as she opened the envelope, though she did turn her chair so that Tyler couldnât see its contents over her shoulder. Inside was a small sheet of lined paper.
Carpe diem, Quinn. Today is the first day of the rest of your life (is that how that corny saying goes?). Anyway, I decided that we needed to up the stakes for your first foray into Good Girl Gone Badâdom. Make up an excuse to leave. IT MUST BE A LIE. Then get your ass downstairs and wait for further instructions.
The letter wasnât signed, but it didnât take a rocket scientist to know who it was from. Quinn felt a smile drift across her lips as her body surged with anticipation. Sheâd had no idea Tim would want to start their little adventure together so soon, but she was glad for it. Quinn had been waiting to do something like this for her entire life, and suddenly waiting even a single day longer felt like it would cause her irrevocable harm. She glanced up, and her eyes met Tylerâs.
Crap, I forgot he was here.
âWell?â he prompted.
âItâs nothing. Just a reader who wanted their complaint delivered with a little extra pizzazz.â She watched Tyler deflate.
âDamn. I thought something interesting was finally happening around here.â
âSorry to disappoint.â Quinn dropped