The Mighty Quinns: Danny
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Kate Hoffmann
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1
“SO THIS IS BALLYKIRK,” Jordan Kennally murmured to herself, peering through the windshield of her car at the picturesque village below.
She’d been in Ireland for nearly sixteen months now, working as the project manager on the Castle Cnoc renovation. And though she’d seen a lot of the countryside, she was still amazed at how every sight managed to look exactly like some picture-postcard. Ireland was nothing if not quaint.
She glanced at the clock on the dash, then calculated the time it would take her to find Danny Quinn, discuss their business and get back to the castle. She wasn’t used to chasing around the countryside looking for workers, but she’d been told that Danny Quinn was the best. And Jordan needed the best.
She steered her car down the winding road that led into Ballykirk, following the carefully drawn map that Kellan Quinn had provided. The town was like so many others along the coast of County Cork—a pretty collection of colorful buildings set against a stunning landscape, this time the blue waters of Bantry Bay.
When her father had assigned her the project at Castle Cnoc, she’d looked at it as both punishment and reward. It was her first project as manager, solely in charge of a five-million-dollar budget and pleasing one of her father’s wealthy clients. It was also a way of putting her firmly into her place at Kencor.
She’d been doggedly scratching her way up the corporate ladder of her family’s multimillion dollar real estate development firm, working hard to carve out a place for herself. But with four equally driven and talented older brothers above her on the ladder, just the process of getting noticed was impossible.
She’d begged for good projects to manage, but had always been given a secondary role, usually as the interior designer, for projects that her brothers headed. She’d been sent to Ireland to oversee the restoration of a once grand manor house and castle keep, because no one else could be bothered to come. They were all too busy with hotels and shopping malls and office towers.
“Whistler Cottage.” No street, no number, just a name. Jordan studied the map. “Behind the bakery and up the hill to the blue cottage,” she read. The bakery was easy enough to find and when she did, Jordan parked her car, grabbed her bag and jumped out of the vehicle.
There were blacksmiths scattered all over Ireland, their skills ranging from amateur to competent artisan. But Danny Quinn was known as one of the best ornamental blacksmiths in the country, a true artist, and she intended to hire him for her project.
His brother, Kellan, had served as the architect on the Castle Cnoc restoration and Jordan had assumed that Danny would jump at a big-budget job so close to home. But he hadn’t returned any of her calls. So Jordan had decided to force the issue. She needed an answer, one way or another, or she’d be put off schedule.
The pressure to bring the job in on time and under budget was immense. If she did, her father wouldn’t be able to ignore her anymore. The next logical step would be the boutique hotel they were developing in SoHo and after that, progressively larger projects. They wouldn’t think of her as the company “decorator” anymore.
Jordan cursed softly. They all looked at her like some swatch-wielding cream puff, unable to exert any power with the mostly male contractors on the job sites. Maybe she didn’t curse and throw tantrums and berate the workers, but that didn’t mean she didn’t get the job done. Jordan had always preferred a quiet confidence to a raging temper. You get more flies with honey. That’s what her grandmother had always said.
But she’d been pleasant to Danny Quinn, polite on all the messages she’d left. Maybe it was time to get tough. If he didn’t want the job, he needed to tell her outright so she could find someone else. Trouble was, she didn’t want anyone else. Kellan had shown her a portfolio of his brother’s work and Danny was exactly who she needed to provide some of the authentic details she sought for the project.
As the map indicated, a cobblestone path led between the bakery and the adjacent building. After walking through a narrow alleyway, she saw the sign for the smithy—a decorative iron anvil and tongs attached to the side of an azure cottage set on the low hillside.
The front door to the cottage was wide open and she walked inside. Two black-and-white dogs lying near the fireplace immediately leapt up and began barking at her. They scampered across the room, driving her against a battered breakfront.
“Shh,” she urged, working her way back to the front door. “Settle down. I’m not going to hurt you.” Jordan held out her hand as she made her retreat. But just as she turned to step outside, she ran face-first into a wide, muscular and naked chest.
A tiny cry slipped from her lips as she stumbled back. The dogs got behind her legs and she felt herself losing her balance. And then she was on the floor with the dogs climbing all over her, licking at her face and nuzzling her hands.
“Finny. Mogue. Away now.”
The dogs retreated a safe distance, then sat down and peered at her with curious blue eyes, their tongues hanging out, their heads cocked. They looked so pleased with themselves. “Thank you so much for the lovely welcome,” she muttered to the dogs as she struggled to her feet. A moment later, the man grabbed her hand and helped her up. It was only then that Jordan got a good look at the elusive Danny Quinn.
The family resemblance was keen. At first glance, he looked like his older brother, Kellan. But upon more careful study, she saw that where Kellan was handsome in a cool, sophisticated way, his brother oozed raw sex appeal.
He wore torn blue jeans that rode low on his narrow hips, and an old work shirt, open at the front and missing its sleeves. A sheen of perspiration covered his sinewy arms and chest. His hair, nearly black, stood up in unruly spikes. But it was his eyes, pale blue in color, that caught her complete attention. She forced herself to look away and her gaze drifted to a narrow strip of hair that traced a line from his navel to beneath his—
“Sorry about the dogs,” he said with a boyish smile. “They’ll herd anything that moves.” He paused. “How they could mistake you for a sheep, I’ll never know.”
Jordan looked up, her face warming with embarrassment. Sheep? What was she doing? Quinn was a business associate. “You—you must be Daniel Quinn.”
“I must be,” he said. “And who must you be?”
“Oh.” She held out her hand. “Jordan. Jordan Kennally.”
He seemed taken aback by her introduction, but then wiped his hand on his jeans and took her fingers in his. “You’re Joe Kennally?”
“Jordan,” she said. “Your brother calls me Joe. He thinks it’s funny.” She cleared her throat, determined to stay on the subject at hand. “I’ve been trying to contact you for the past two weeks now and haven’t gotten a call back. So I decided a visit was in order.” He stared at her silently. “What?” she asked, an impatient edge to her voice.
“I’m just surprised you’re a girl. Kell neglected to mention that.”
Jordan felt her temper rise. That comment had been thrown at her regularly since she’d begun working for her father’s development company. Why couldn’t she be a girl? Women had every right to work in the construction industry these days. And Jordan wasn’t a name reserved exclusively for boys.
“Is that a problem?” she asked, snatching her hand back and fixing him with a cool look. Obviously, the only way to keep this conversation on track was to present a tough facade.
Danny shrugged. “I can assure you, that’s never been a problem with me. And had I known you were a woman, I might not have dodged your calls for two weeks.” He chuckled. “And had I known that you were so beautiful, I’d have turned up on your doorstep in less than a day.”
“You could tell I was a woman from the messages,” she said.
Danny frowned. “I really wasn’t paying attention. I usually just ignore my phone messages.”
“That’s always a good business practice,” she murmured.
He stepped out of the door and motioned for her to follow him. “Come on then, I’ll show you around.”
To her consternation, he didn’t bother to button up his shirt and she found herself fixated on that thin line of hair, this time following it up from his belly to his collarbone. Maybe she should offer him a chance to put on something more appropriate for a business meeting. When her attention shifted to the sculpted muscles of his upper arms, Jordan stifled a groan.
She stepped past him, her shoulder brushing against his body as she walked outside. The contact sent another current racing through her. Jordan wanted to scream. What was happening to her? After just a few minutes, this man had her completely off balance. There was no way she’d be able to negotiate a contract with him in this state. He could ask for a million Euros and her naked body in his bed and she’d sign on the dotted line.
“Just follow the path to the back,” he said, pointing.
Since she’d been in Ireland, Jordan had lived the life of a nun. The first year, she’d made a point to return to New York at least once a month, in an attempt to maintain a romantic relationship with her last boyfriend. But after their breakup, it had seemed like a waste of time and money.
Though she’d made a few acquaintances in the area, she’d kept to herself. In truth, she wasn’t very good with friends. Work always took precedence and she often turned down invitations to socialize because of that. She put all her energy into her job.
“Did your brother tell you about the project?” she asked as they walked to a small stone barn set behind the cottage.
“I know the place,” Danny replied. “Castle Cnoc. We used to go out there when we were teenagers. It was a grand spot for a party if you could avoid getting caught by the peelers.”
“Peelers?”
“The gardai. The…cops. People around here think it’s haunted, you know.”
“Yes, well, a lot has changed,” she said, risking a sideways glance. “We’ve finished with most of the renovations. But we still have a lot of the details to get right. Your brother showed me your portfolio. I like your work. A lot of the original ironwork was stripped out of the place after it was abandoned, but we do have photos from early in the twentieth century and some samples we managed to find. So you’d do some new fabrication and some restoration of existing work. We want to put everything back the way it was.”
“It’s a big job of work,” he said. “That place is huge.”
“We haven’t done anything to the castle itself. That will be done later. It’s the attached manor house that we’re working on.”
“That’s still a big house,” he said. “And the last time I saw it, it was a ruin.”
“Nine bedrooms. Nearly ten thousand square feet. Built in 1860 with a major addition in 1910. I know we haven’t talked money, but I figured you’d want to see what’s required before you give me a quote. And I wanted to meet you, to see if we…well, if we could work together.”
They reached the door to the old stone barn and he stopped and stood in front of her, staring at her in a brazen way. She pressed her hand to her chest, wondering why her heart was suddenly beating so fast. Was it the smile that made his mouth seem more kissable? Or was it the sheen of perspiration that made her long to touch his bare skin? Or was it—
“So, this is kind of like a first date for us,” he commented. “We’re just feeling each other out, trying to decide whether we want to get involved, is that it?”
Jordan felt her cheeks blaze again. This was crazy! She’d dealt with handsome men like Danny Quinn all her adult life. What was it about him that had turned her into a silly teenager? “It’s purely a business transaction, Mr. Quinn. It has nothing to do with my feelings for you. Not that I have any feelings at all for you. We just met.”
“Oh.” He nodded. “Then it would be more like I’m a brasser and you’re my customer?”
“A brasser?”
“A prostitute? A hooker, I think you Americans call it.”
“I’m not making you do anything illegal, unless making hinges and gates will get you arrested in Ireland.”
“You haven’t seen my hinges,” he said with a grin. “They’re obscenely sexy. Erotic, some would say.”
She had to put a stop to this—this playful, but highly suggestive banter. “Mr. Quinn, I—”
“Oh, Jaysus, can we stop with the Mr. Quinn? No one ever calls me mister. And it makes you sound like a snootypants.”
“Do you want this job?” she asked, her eyes narrowing in frustration. “Because I get the feeling you’re doing everything in your power to get me to turn around and walk back to my car.”
He raked his hand through his tousled hair. “Now don’t be doing that. I’m just having a bit of fun,” he cajoled. “And you’re right, I’m not really sure I want to take on a job like this. Copying someone else’s work doesn’t appeal to my creative sensibilities at all.”
“But you’d be a part of a really wonderful project. The castle is going to be restored to its former grandeur.”
“Why? So some rich American can live there and pretend he’s a nineteenth-century lord, looking down on all the locals? Oh, count me in on that. And while you’re at it, do you have a few red-hot pokers you’d like to stick in my eye?”
Jordan stared at him, baffled by his response. She’d gotten the impression from Kellan that his brother really needed the work. But it was clear that Danny Quinn required more than just a decent paycheck before he took a job. He needed inspiration.
“So who is it that bought the old castle?” he asked. “Everyone in the county has been speculating. Whoever it is must have money to burn.”
“I’m really not at liberty to—”
“If you expect me to take the job, I’m going to want to know who I’m working for.”
“You’d be working for me,” Jordan said.
“And who would you be working for?” He pointed inside the barn. “After you.”
She opened her mouth to counter his sarcastic query, but as soon as her eyes adjusted to the dark interior of the barn, Jordan was silenced. From every rafter, in every nook and cranny, there were beautiful objects made of iron, twisted into shapes she’d never thought possible. She saw gates and railings and balustrades and a beautiful sundial that she immediately wanted for the garden at Castle Cnoc.
But it wasn’t just architectural items that she found. Along one wall were a series of small animals, hedgehogs and rabbits and squirrels, clever little creatures made of cast iron. She wandered over to a crooked shelf tacked to a crossbeam and examined a collection of small carved objects.
“You did these?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder.
“When I was a kid. The cast-iron animals are for the tourists. They’re small enough to fit in a suitcase and make a nice remembrance. You wouldn’t believe how many good jobs I get because of those bloody hedgehogs.”
Jordan smiled. “They are cute.”
He reached down and grabbed one and handed it to her. “Then take one with you. They make a proper doorstop or a decent paperweight. But they’re pure hell if your toe runs across one in the dark.”
“Thank you,” Jordan said.
He stared at her for a long moment. “You have a lovely smile,” Danny said.
Jordan quickly turned away, crossing the dirt floor to the forge. The massive stone fireplace, set at waist level, was located against the far wall, banked with coal, red embers glowing inside. Soot stained the stone above the hearth. Tools lined the walls surrounding the forge and a battered anvil sat in the center of it all.
“This is amazing,” she murmured. She walked to a spot where an iron gate was propped against a post. The decorative ironwork was so intricate, so artistic that Jordan immediately knew she wasn’t in the presence of a craftsman but an artist. She pointed to a huge rosette sitting beside it. “What is this for?”
“That’s just a try,” he said. “The two I finished were set into the stone wall of a formal garden, kind of like a window.”
“I want you,” she blurted out, spinning around to face him. “I don’t care what it takes, but I want you.”
A slow smile curved his lips. “That’s always nice to hear.”
Jordan groaned inwardly. Never in her life had she been so befuddled by a man. Yes, she found him wildly attractive. What woman wouldn’t, him standing there with his shirt unbuttoned to the waist and his gorgeous body tempting her?
But there was something else at work here. He was incredibly talented and impossibly charming and nothing like the men she was usually attracted to. Yet the attraction was undeniable. If he agreed to work for her, she’d have to keep that attraction in check.
Maybe she ought to just walk away. Having him in close proximity was a disaster waiting to happen. What she really needed was a blacksmith who was old and wrinkled and didn’t have all his teeth. That kind of man would be so much easier to resist. Danny Quinn was the human equivalent of catnip.
“How much do you want me?” Danny asked.
“What I meant was that I want you to do this job. I can see your talent and I think we can work out a way that your needs—” She cleared her throat. “Your artistic needs can be met.” Jordan drew a deep breath. “As far as compensation, I’m willing to be generous if you’re willing to put all your time and effort into the project until it’s finished. Ten-hour days, six days a week if necessary.”
“And what kind of compensation are we talking about?”
“Well, it depends on how long you take to finish the job. But I can promise you that it will be very generous. Well worth your while.”
“You’ll have to include living expenses. I can’t work from here.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to spend my time making the drive back and forth every time I need to fit something, dragging iron from here to there. We can set up a forge on-site. It will be more efficient. I’ll need a place to sleep.”
“You don’t want to sleep at home?”
“I have to tend the fire and I sometimes work late into the night. I don’t need anything posh, just a bed and a shower.”
“All right. There’s a cottage that you can use.”
“And I’m bringing my dogs, too. And I eat three meals a day.”
“You expect me to cook for you?” Jordan asked.
“I expect you to feed me,” he replied.
The thought of having a man as sexy as Danny around 24/7 was a bit disconcerting. But she was a very capable woman with finely honed self-control. And this was business. Nothing would happen if she didn’t want it to happen. “That can all be arranged,” she said. “We don’t have a cook at the house, but I’ll open up an account for you at the market in the village.”
“I can live with that.” He smiled and a shiver skittered down her spine. “Well, I suppose I ought to see the place, make a few notes and figure out if this is really a job I want to do.”
“The sooner the better. I’d like you to start as soon as possible.” She paused. “And I should warn you, I’m a very hands-on—” Jordan swallowed hard. In such a highly charged atmosphere, her admission could probably be misconstrued—again. “I meant to say, I’m very concerned with details, so I will be involved in all important decisions.”
He cocked his eyebrow, then shrugged. “I have some things to finish up here. Why don’t I drive over this evening and you can show me around?”
“That would be fine.”
They stood facing each other, an uneasy silence growing between them. Now that their business was completed, Jordan realized she should leave, or risk looking as though she was interested in something more than his blacksmith skills. She held out her hand again. “Well, it was a pleasure meeting you, Mr.—Danny.”
He took her fingers in his, his touch so gentle that it was more a caress than a polite gesture. “You have no idea what a pleasure it was for me, Jordan,” he murmured.
For a long moment, she wasn’t sure what to do. His touch felt so good she didn’t want to pull away. Neither one of them took a breath or even blinked, and when he took a step closer, Jordan was certain he was about to kiss her. She yanked her hand back and clutched at the purse slung over her shoulder.
“Later,” he said with a crooked smile.
She wasn’t sure whether he was referring to their meeting at the castle or his intention to kiss her. “I look forward to it,” she stated curtly. “And please don’t blow me off this time.”
“I wouldn’t think of it,” he said in a low voice.
Jordan gave him a nod, then strode out of the barn. As soon as she had put a reasonable distance between them, she cursed softly. Had it really been necessary to add that last part? It made her sound like a complete bitch. But from the moment she’d set eyes on Danny Quinn she’d found it impossible to separate pleasure from the business she meant to do with him. She’d have to toughen up if she was going to deal with him—and with the unbidden attraction she felt.
“He’s not that cute,” she said to herself in a feeble attempt to mitigate her feelings. “All right, maybe he is really cute. But he’s probably just like all gorgeous men—full of himself. And I’ve always hated men with big egos.”
Hopefully, by the time she got back to Castle Cnoc, she’d have convinced herself that Danny was just like all the other workmen wandering about the place—ordinary guys, there to do a job and nothing more.
But as she pulled away from the bakery, she realized it would take a whole lot more than the drive to make that happen.
Maybe a ride to Dublin and back would do it.
DANNY TWISTED THE rearview mirror around to check his appearance. After he’d finished work for the day, he’d grabbed a quick shower and a shave and put on a decent shirt, then set off for Castle Cnoc. He’d thought about walking. Along the coast the castle was not more than an hour’s hike. But he didn’t want to arrive all sweaty and knackered. For any other girl in County Cork, he wouldn’t have bothered to worry. But Jordan Kennally was not just any girl.
She was—well, what the hell was she? he wondered. Sophisticated…and ambitious…and American, three qualities he hadn’t really dealt with in his love life to date. No wonder he’d acted like such a fool. Even the best of his pathetic charm had had no effect on her. He’d tried to be cool and he’d sounded like a bleedin’ culchie instead. And she’d left acting as though she’d stepped in something with a big stink on it.
“So just keep your gob shut,” he muttered. “Smile and nod and let her do all the talking.”
He jumped out of the battered Land Rover and slammed the door behind him. He probably should have borrowed Riley’s car, just to create a better impression. Hell, he probably should have gone out and bought some new clothes and maybe even stopped for a haircut. And while he was out, he could have bought himself a clue as to how to act around a woman like Jordan.
He stared up at the facade of the old manor. The castle was attached to the huge Georgian house on its north side—the tall stone tower constructed to look out over the surrounding countryside and the sea to the west. Smuggler’s Cove was right below the castle, at the bottom of the rocky cliff.
With all the construction around, it was difficult to tell where the front door of the manor house was anymore. Danny wandered over to a scaffold covered in plastic and found the door behind it. He pushed it open and stepped inside the spacious entry hall.
He felt as if he were stepping back in time. His last visit had been during a drunken birthday celebration for one of his schoolmates. At the time, he’d been just shy of eighteen and the manor had been rundown and open to the elements. But now the windowpanes had been replaced with sparkling glass and the crumbling plaster restored to its former beauty. Wainscotting had been polished and floors waxed.
As Jordan had promised, Castle Cnoc’s manor house had nearly been restored to its former grandeur.
“Hello?” Danny called.
A soft melody drifted from the rear of the house and he followed the sound, the Irish tune luring him closer.
The imposing dining room at the rear of the ground floor had also been restored, the floor-to-ceiling paneling refinished and shining softly in the late-afternoon sun. A new chandelier hung from the ceiling in the center of the room, crystals twinkling.
The music grew louder as he traced it to the small breakfast room that adjoined the dining room. Danny felt a tiny thrill race through him when he saw her. She was standing on a ladder, her back to him, polishing a stained-glass medallion in one of the leaded windows. A Cara Dillon song played from a small radio.
Jaysus, she was beautiful, tall and slender, but with curves in all the right places. Her dark hair and pale skin made her appear delicate, but Danny already knew better. He suspected that Jordan was the kind of woman who liked to get her own way, and pity any man who wasn’t willing to comply. He smiled to himself. Hell, he could stand to be bossed around a bit—especially in the bedroom.
She’d changed out of the turtleneck jumper and jeans that she’d had on earlier and now wore a pretty flowered dress with a green cardie over it. His gaze fixed on her backside and he found himself speculating on the color and style of her knickers.
“White,” he murmured to himself. “With lace.”
Danny leaned against the doorjamb and continued to watch her, listening to her hum along with the tune. She seemed so relaxed, completely different from the businesslike woman he’d met earlier that morning.
Danny knew it was crazy to want her the way he did. She was about to become his boss, never mind the fact she’d be leaving Ireland as soon as her work was done at Castle Cnoc. Yet, he couldn’t seem to help himself. From the moment he’d set eyes on her, he’d felt a wickedly powerful fascination.
He’d always done his best to avoid lengthy romantic entanglements with women. An occasional one-night stand with an attractive girl was plenty for him. He’d just never been any good at commitment.
His mother had always said it was because he was constantly searching for his muse, the perfect woman who could push his art to greater heights. “Hard work,” she’d say, shaking her finger at him. That was the only thing that would bring him true success. But that hadn’t stopped him from looking. Still, as he observed Jordan, Danny suspected she was more like one of the enchantresses from the old fairy tales, the leanan sidhe. Everything about her was meant to make him ignore reason and surrender to her magic. But the leanan sidhe were dangerous. If a man tried to leave such a powerful being he was doomed to death.
Danny slowly walked into the room, taking in the tiny details: the stained glass, the carved rosettes in the dark wood paneling, the decorative plaster medallion on the ceiling. “This is brilliant,” he said.
Startled, she clutched at the ladder then glanced over her shoulder. “You scared me! How long have you been standing there?”
“Two verses and a rather lovely chorus.” She wobbled on the ladder and he rushed to offer his hand. When he’d captured her fingers in his, Danny grinned. “Look at what you’ve done to this place. It’s a deadly miracle.”
“It is?” she said, excitement suffusing her tone. “It’s…deadly. Yes. I’ve been so wrapped up in all the details that sometimes I forget to look at the big picture. It’s going to be beautiful when it’s all done.”
“And you’re in charge of all this?”
“Yes. I’m the project manager. The boss.” She paused, sending him a suspicious look, then slowly climbed down the ladder. “Is that going to be a problem?”
He held on to her hand, smoothing his fingers over the back of her wrist. “You being in charge? Why would that be a problem?”
“Some men don’t like working for women. I’ve had to fire a handful of them on this project because they wouldn’t listen to me. They were…insubordinate. And dismissive. And rude.”
“This isn’t the type of job that women usually do,” Danny said. “But in all honesty, I usually work for the woman of the house so there’s no problem that I can see.”
She slowly withdrew her hand from his. “Come on, let’s go to my office. I’ve got a lot of the old hardware there and a list of what we need done.”
Danny followed her through the dining room and down a narrow hall behind the stairs. She stopped to open a door, but it appeared to be stuck. As Jordan struggled with it, Danny reached around her to help. “Here, let me give it a try.”
“No,” she insisted. “I can get it.” She shoved her shoulder against the door, but it wouldn’t budge. “It’s as if someone locked it from the inside.”
Jordan turned to face him and they found themselves in an odd embrace, his hands flat against the door on either side of her, trapped in the small alcove of the doorway. He drew a deep breath, the scent of her perfume touching his nose, and leaned closer. A woman didn’t wear perfume like that unless she wanted to attract a man.
There was no helping it. Nothing to be done. Without even a second thought, Danny brushed a kiss across her lips. It was a tentative contact and he waited for her response, bracing himself for a slap across the face or a verbal dressing-down.
But to his surprise, Jordan threw her arms around his neck and kissed him back, desperately, hungrily, as if she’d gone without for far too long. At first it was a clumsy kiss, but then Danny took her face between his hands and softly tempered her frenzy with a carefully measured assault.
Almost immediately, she melted against him, her body going limp. A tiny groan slipped from her throat and he drew back and looked down into her flushed face. Her eyes were still closed and he couldn’t tell from her expression what she was thinking. Was she embarrassed by her actions? Or well-pleased?
“Jordan?”
She opened her eyes and stared up at him. “Oh, God.” The word slipped out of her on a gasp. She twisted out of his embrace and nervously smoothed her hands over her clothes. “That was…unexpected.”
He reached out and ran a finger along her flushed cheek. “Now don’t get yourself all mortified over it. It was a kiss and nothing more. A very lovely kiss at that,” he said.
“Yes.” She nodded nervously. “Well, maybe we should just focus on the business at hand.”
As far as Danny was concerned, the only business at hand was the business of kissing her again. In truth, he had an entire business plan unfolding in his head. First another kiss, then a caress, and then, maybe full-on seduction. He didn’t care a whit about the job, he wanted this woman.
He slipped his hands around her waist and moved her out of the way, then firmly grasped the doorknob. When he turned it and pushed, the door easily swung open. He chuckled softly. “Clever,” he said. “If you wanted me to kiss you, you should have just asked.”
“It was locked!” Jordan cried.
“And now, it’s unlocked.”
Jordan gave him an odd look. “I wasn’t trying to get you to kiss me,” she said, walking past him into the library. “These things happen around here all the time. Doors are locked, then they aren’t. Windows are closed, then they aren’t. Things go missing and then they turn up a day later.”
“Sounds like brownies,” Danny said. “Or leprechauns.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Or ghosts. Or fairies. We have all manner of fantastical creatures here in Ireland. And none of them up to any good at all.”
“I don’t believe in any of those things,” Jordan said.
Danny followed her into the library, making a careful study of the backside of her beautiful body. He fought the urge to slip his arms around her again and pull her into another kiss. Instead, he distracted himself with exploring the interior of the old library.
A memory flashed in his mind and he chuckled softly. “I do remember this room,” he murmured. “I lost something here.”
“Well, I don’t think you’ll find it after all these years,” Jordan said. “But you’re welcome to look.”
“I don’t think I’d want to find it,” he said. “She was seventeen and I was fifteen. And I thought I knew everything about girls. After that night, I realized I knew nothing.”
“You mean you—”
Danny nodded. “I lost my virginity right about—” he stepped to a spot in front of the fireplace “—here, I believe. I was drunk on whiskey and she was looking for a bit of fun. The minute she put her hands on me, I knew the world would never be the same.”
“Right here?”
Danny nodded. “God, that seems like just yesterday.”
“How old are you?” she asked.
“Twenty-six. How old are you?”
She tipped her chin up and, for a moment, he thought he’d insulted her. “Twenty-seven.”
He grinned. “I’ve always gone for older girls.” Danny continued his stroll around the room. Instead of books, the shelves were filled with pieces of decorative plaster and wood carvings, doorknobs and ceramic tile, and an entire wall of iron hardware.
“We’ve collected samples of all the hardware that needs to be replicated,” she said. “It’s on these two bottom shelves.” Jordan turned and searched the cluttered surface of the desk, then glanced nervously over her shoulder.
“What’s wrong?” Danny asked.
“Nothing,” she murmured with a frown. “I just misplaced something.”
“I can help you look,” he said. “What is it?”
“No,” she said. “It’s probably gone.”
Danny walked over to the desk. “What was it?”
“An old door knocker, made of cast iron. It was really beautiful. I found it half-buried in the garden. I was hoping that we could make them for all the exterior doors.” She sighed, shaking her head as she braced her hands on her hips. “I don’t know who’s been in here, but I’m about to put in a surveillance system to find out.”
“Leprechauns steal things from houses. Brownies like to live with humans and torment them for amusement.”
“I told you, I don’t believe in leprechauns or brownies.”
“You should. You’re in Ireland,” he teased. “You’ve got to let the country into your bones. After all, with a name like Kennally, I’d wager you have a drop or two of Irish blood in you.”
Jordan laughed softly. “I’m a quarter Irish. My father’s father.” She shook her head. “I probably just misplaced it. It’ll turn up later.” She picked up a paper from her desk and held it out to him. “Here’s the inventory of what we need. They’re numbered to correspond with the samples on the shelf.” She opened her mouth, then snapped it shut again.
Danny gave her a curious look. “Was there something else?”
“About what just happened outside in the hallway. I want you to know that that kind of behavior is absolutely inappropriate and I’m sorry that I let my—my— Whatever. I’m just sorry. And it will never, ever happen again.”
“Jaysus, don’t say that. It’s really the only thing that makes me want to take this job,” Danny admitted. “Replicating hinges isn’t nearly as exciting as kissing you.”
“But we can’t,” she insisted.
“Why not?” He backed her up against the edge of the desk and braced his hands beside her hips. Once again, he met no resistance when he kissed her. If anything, she seemed to enjoy it even more this time. He took care to make the kiss deliciously tantalizing, invading her mouth with his tongue.
“See,” he whispered against her lips. “It’s very simple. I lean forward and you lean forward and it happens.”
“We can’t,” she said again.
“Yes, we can,” he said. “Forget the job. I don’t need the job if that’s what’s standing in the way.”
“But I need you to do the job,” she insisted. “Much more than I need you to do…this. We need to keep it strictly business.”
“I don’t do business,” he said. “It’s art. There are no rules. And I refuse to consider you my boss. You can, however, be my muse.”
A smile quirked at the corners of her mouth. “I’ll be a muse for hinges and gates?”
Danny nodded. “I’ll need one. The job itself promises to be a bit of a snore.”
“Mr. Quinn, you are completely full of shite.”
He stepped back as she fixed him with an irritated glare. “I see you’ve picked up the language, if not the mythology,” he said. Sure, he’d pulled the last straight out of his arse, but right now, he’d say just about anything to get her to kiss him again.
“Will you do the job?”
“Are you going to let me kiss you again?”
She shook her head. “This project is very important to me, Mr. Quinn.”
“If you call me Mr. Quinn again, I’ll walk out of here and you can get Neddy O’Doul to do your work. He usually shoes horses and he makes a hames of that.”
“Danny,” she said. “My future depends upon this project. It has to come in on time and under budget. You have no idea how much is riding on this. We can’t have any distractions.”
He wasn’t going to get any closer to Jordan sitting at home. He’d have to take the bad with the good. “I’ll do the job,” he said. “You won’t have to worry.” He pushed away from the desk and saw relief flood her features. All the tension in her body eased. “Tell me why this is so important.”
“I have a lot to prove to my boss, who just happens to be my father. If I do a good job here, then maybe he’ll finally recognize that I’m competent and trustworthy. And as good as any son he has.”
“You work for your father?”
“Yes. I’ve worked for his real estate development and construction firm since I was in high school. Some day, I plan to run it.” Jordan paused, then smiled weakly. “I’ll just have to find a way to get rid of my four older brothers first, but I’m working on that.”
“Well, I’ll have to make sure that you get what you want while you’re here,” Danny said.
She nodded. “Yes. Fine. I suppose we should talk about compensation.”
“I don’t like to talk about money,” he said. “That’s business. And it will be difficult to know how much this will cost until I buy materials and get started.”
“But I have to have some idea,” she said, concern furrowing her brow.
“What’s your budget?”
“Thirty thousand plus materials,” she stated.
“Materials. There’s where the budget could go to hell. You’ll have to decide if you want iron or steel.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Iron is authentic to the time period but very expensive. Steel is cheaper, but it doesn’t have the same look.”
“Iron,” she said. “When aesthetics make a difference. Steel, when practicality is important. This has to be an authentic restoration.”
“The labor budget sounds more than reasonable,” he said. In truth, it was enough to live on for a good year. Once he completed this job, he could spend the next twelve months working on his art instead of working in the smithy. “You’ve got your man.”
She relaxed and smiled. “Good.”
“Now, why don’t you show me where I’m going to live and where I’ll set up the forge.”
They made a quick tour of the house, upstairs and down, then walked outside to tour the collection of stone buildings that surrounded the manor. There was a stable, a barn and a huge garden with a newly restored drystone wall. “You’ll need a gate for this?” he asked, peering over.
An elderly man and woman were inside, wearing wide-brimmed hats and wellies, standing among huge piles of earth. They stared down into a hole in the ground, not noticing Danny and Jordan. “What are they doing?” he asked.
“That’s Bartie and his friend, Daisy. They run the garden club in Glencairn. They showed up one morning and volunteered to do the work for free if I paid for the plantings. Bartie claims that he played in the garden as a child.”
“Folks around the county weren’t very happy to hear that an American bought this place,” he said. “They’re kind of suspicious of outsiders.”
“I know. But I’m employing a lot of local craftsmen and once they find out who bought the place, they’ll be fine. The person is of Irish descent. In fact, she can trace her family back to the original builders of the castle.”
“Are you going to tell me who it is, then?”
“You have to promise not to say anything. Until she moves in, she’d like to avoid publicity.”
Jordan leaned forward and whispered a familiar name into his ear. There weren’t many actors living in County Cork, and now they were about to gain a certified American movie star. “Holy Mary, now there’s some news.”
She pressed her finger to her lips and shook her head. “Don’t tell.”
He pressed his own finger to his lips. “Silent as the grave, I’ll be.” Danny glanced back inside the garden. “So, what are they doing in there?”
“Some Irish thing. Purifying the soil, I believe he calls it. Something about the peat and the sea air and leachings from limestone. I don’t really understand it. But he promises I’ll have a beautiful rose garden in the end.”
“Where do I stay?” Danny asked. “And where do I set up the forge?”
Jordan pointed down the path as they continued on. “There’s an old laundry cottage back there with an existing hearth. I think that will do for the forge. And there’s the cottage you can use for your living quarters. It was the first place we renovated,” Jordan explained. “I used it as my home and office until the manor house had a decent roof and plumbing. It’s very comfortable.”
She unlocked the door and walked inside. Danny followed her to find a cozy place not much different from his cottage in Ballykirk, a bedroom on one end and a kitchen and bath on the other, with a large living area in between.
“I hope it’s all right.” Jordan motioned to the bedroom. “The bed is brand-new. There’s electric heat and a shower in the bathroom. And a functioning kitchen.”
“This will be fine,” he said. “I can start moving in tomorrow.”
“Good,” she murmured.
He reached out and took her hand in his, weaving their fingers together. “So, I guess that would be it, Miss Kennally. Everything is settled between us?”
“Yes,” she said, watching him play with her hand. “I—I look forward to working with you, Mr.—I mean, Daniel. Danny. Dan?”
“Danny,” he said. He took her hand and turned it over, then placed her palm on his chest, covering her hand with his. He wanted to do so much more. “I would kiss you, but now that we’ve come to an agreement, we’ll have plenty of time for that later.”
“Well, you got what you wanted,” she said. “And I got exactly what I wanted. That’s what makes a good business deal, don’t you think?”
“I got the first thing I wanted. But there’s always room for renegotiation.” With that, he let her hand drop and turned to the door of the cottage. It took all his willpower to walk away. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Jordan.”
He left her standing in the center of the room, her green eyes wide, her lips parted. As Danny strode back to his car, he couldn’t help but wonder if all that had happened between them had simply been a way to secure his services. When she’d come to the smithy that morning, she’d been determined to convince him to work for her and here he was, ready to drop everything and move into her caretaker’s cottage.
No, Danny thought to himself. He knew how to read women and she was just as attracted to him as he was to her. There was a lot about this job he was going to like, Danny mused. And spending more time with Jordan Kennally was top on the list.
