The first in a brand new contemporary romance series starring the men and women who are determined to keep the billion-dollar denim dynasty, Riley O’Brien & Co, on top, but aren’t about to let success stand in the way of love…
Amelia Winger is a small-town girl with big dreams of becoming a successful designer. So when she gets a gig designing accessories for denim empire Riley O’Brien & Co., it’s a dream come true. Amelia can handle the demanding job, but she isn’t quite prepared for sexy CEO Quinn O’Brien. She’s doing her best to keep things professional, but the attraction sparking between them makes it personal. And so does the secret project she’s working on behind his back…
Quinn’s not interested in the new accessories, but he is interested in the woman designing them. Amelia is smart, sexy, and talented, and he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about her since they met. Mixing business and pleasure isn’t wise, but that doesn’t stop him from coming up with excuses to spend time with her. He thinks he understands the risk he’s taking when he gets involved with Amelia. But he doesn’t know he’s risking a lot more than his heart.
Quinn pulled open one of the heavy wood doors to the executive wing, and as he did every morning, he took some time to enjoy the walk along the polished concrete floors to his office. A timeline highlighting the major milestones in Riley O’Brien & Co.’s history stretched from one end of the hallway to the other. It started with the founding of the company prior to the California Gold Rush, and old sepia images, black-and-white pictures, and a handful of color photos brought it to life.
He could see glimmers of himself in some of the images on the wall. All the men in his family had hair so dark it was almost black. And like his grandfather’s, Quinn’s hair was slightly wavy.
It was hard to tell from the early pictures what color his ancestor’s eyes were, but legend had it that Riley O’Brien’s eyes were so cold a glare from him could stop even the roughest of gold prospectors in their tracks. No doubt, he must have been one mean son of a bitch to build a successful business at a time when California was nothing but a territory full of wild and avaricious men.
Quinn turned his attention from the timeline and entered his office. Before he could sit down, a sharp knock sounded on his door, and his sister’s dark head poked around it.
“Do you have a minute?” Teagan asked, slightly breathless. Her blue eyes were wide behind the black-framed glasses she wore.
“Sure. What’s up, T?”
She slipped inside his office, shutting the door behind her. Her black dress crossed over the front of her body and tied on the side. Dotted with big red cherries, it was a perfectly nice piece of clothing, but he was immediately pissed off she wore it.
“Why are you always wearing a damn dress?” he growled.
“You don’t like it?” she asked, feigning confusion.
“Our family fortune was built on jeans,” he reminded her. “Can’t you put on a pair once in a while?”
It was a discussion they’d had many times, and her answer was always the same. He could have repeated it verbatim, and now he got to hear it again.
“Riley’s look good on you. They look good on most men. But they do not look good on most women. They especially don’t look good on short women. Or women with big butts, big thighs, or big anythings. Ergo, they don’t look good on me.”
Quinn held up his hands, sorry he’d brought up the subject. “I don’t want to get into another argument about the women’s division,” he backtracked hastily. “Your dress is fine. You look very pretty.”
Ignoring Teagan’s rude snort, he settled in his chair and propped his feet on his desk. “What did you need?” he prompted her as he inspected his new boots.
She eyed him for a few moments before answering. “Amelia Winger has agreed to design our new line of accessories.”
He dropped his feet to the floor and sat up. The accessories were all Teagan’s idea, and the little sneak had gone behind his back to make them happen.
She had wanted to revamp the entire women’s division, and when Quinn refused, she had persuaded their dad to give his stamp of approval for the line of accessories. Now Quinn had to suck it up and play nice with the new designer until their dad officially resigned and handed the reins over to him.
“So she’s definitely going to do it?” he asked.
“I think so. She requested a meeting with you, since you’re going to head up the project, but as long as you don’t blow it, I think she’s on board.”
He huffed out a breath in annoyance. “Why would I blow it?”
“Quinn, you can be really intense about Rileys. It’s . . . well, it’s a turnoff to some people.”
He nodded, agreeing with Teagan’s assessment. He was intense. He was devoted to protecting the Riley O’Brien brand, and he never forgot every single pair of Rileys ever produced was branded with his last name.