The Mighty Quinns: Danny (3 page)

“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.

 

D
ANNY 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?”