The Mighty Quinns: Danny (9 page)

“We've grown bored with wagering on Dealy's ability to catch fish,” Markus said. “And it's not nearly as interesting as your ability to catch women.”

“Can I get in on this?” Riley asked. “What's the wager? How much are we tossing in?”

Kellan shook his head. “For a total wanker, Riley,
you managed to get yourself a great woman. Don't feck it up or you'll go back to being a total wanker.” Kellan turned to Danny. “As for you, watch yourself. I happen to be fond of Jordan and I don't want you hurting her.”

“Is that jealousy I hear?” Riley asked.

“No, I just know my little brother. And he doesn't have the best reputation. Jordan is a nice person. She doesn't deserve a git like you.” He stood and grabbed his newspaper, then took it and his cup of coffee to a table in the corner.

“You know what your problem is, Danny boy?” Dealy asked. “You're too damn good-looking. Riley and Kellan too. Look at Markus here. Look at that face. When he was a lad, the girls didn't have such high expectations when it came to him. They knew he'd have to work harder because he was so close to ugly.”

“Who are you to talk?” Markus said. “You're ugly as a bucket of toads.”

“It's true,” Johnnie said. “When a lad is too
flash,
he thinks he can get any girl. He's never satisfied with the one he has.”

“I'm perfectly satisfied,” Riley said.

“So am I,” Danny added.

“Don't you get too comfortable,” Kellan shouted from across the room. “It won't take her long to see her mistake. You just can't go draggin' anyone off to bed and expect them to fall in love with you.”

“I didn't drag her into bed,” Danny said. “In fact, she came to me. How could I refuse?” That wasn't exactly the full story. But what had he been supposed to do? She'd been frightened and uneasy and he'd just calmed her nerves in the best way that he could.

Kellan set his paper down and crossed the bar, leaning close to Danny, his voice low. “She looks like she's tough and like she's got herself together,” he said, “but she's a lot more fragile than that.”

“I know,” Danny said. “And I'm not going to hurt her. That's the last thing in the world I'd ever want to do.”

“You don't understand. She doesn't work like other people. She has this way of pulling you in, until all you want to do is make her happy. I've seen her do it. And if you fail, she doesn't yell or curse. She just acts all disappointed and then you feel lower than an earthworm's arse.”

Danny nodded. “I know, I know.” In truth, he didn't know. He hadn't experienced that moment with Jordan. And he didn't mean to anytime soon.

Eamon Quinn walked through the doors from the kitchen with a paper bag. “Here's your breakfast. Two black coffees and soda bread. I threw some fruit salad in there. And before you leave town, you may want to stop by and wish your mother a happy birthday. Tell her she doesn't look a day over thirty-five,” he said.

Danny winced. “I'm sorry. I forgot all about her birthday today. I'll ring her later. I've been so—”

“Don't worry. Kellan told her all about your new job. You know, she's been dying to get a look inside that castle, too. You might invite her for a tour to make up for the missed birthday.”

“I will,” Danny said. “Once it's all finished, I'm sure Jordan wouldn't mind.”

“Remember what I said,” Kellan muttered.

Danny nodded. “I have to go.” He grabbed the bag
and headed out the front door of the pub. As he strode back to his cottage, he drew a deep breath of the sea air and smiled to himself. Funny how his life had changed so much in just five days.

It didn't matter to him how long it lasted. He was going to enjoy himself while he could. And when it was time for Jordan to leave, he'd kiss her goodbye and regret that it couldn't go on for just a little longer.

But even as he told himself it was just a passing thing, Danny could imagine them together for more than just a few weeks or months. He found her endlessly fascinating. And she seemed to find him interesting as well. There was a lot to be said for that, wasn't there?

Danny hurried back to his cottage. The dogs were waiting and he shooed them out, then closed the door. A moment later, Jordan rushed out of the bedroom, half-dressed, her hair tumbling around her face.

“Where have you been?”

“I just went to get us breakfast,” he said.

“We're late. I have to get back to the house. The workmen will be there and I have calls to make and—”

“It's Saturday,” Danny said.

“I know it is. I work on Saturday. So do you. Just because we're sleeping together doesn't mean we can ignore our responsibilities.”

She'd gone from lover back to boss—and she was disappointed in him. “I wasn't gone that long. I was talking to my brothers. Kellan was at the pub and my da was back from his holiday.”

“You should have told me you were leaving,” she said. “I woke up and you weren't there. I looked all over for you and—”

“You knew I wasn't far,” Danny said, frowning. “Jordan, I wouldn't have left you here. I knew we had to get back. So come on, then. Get dressed. Let's go. You're the boss.”

Jordan blinked, her expression suddenly shifting. “Don't say that.”

“What? That you're the boss?”

She cursed softly. “I'm sorry. I'm really tired and I'm a little hungover and I just want a shower and a really big cup of coffee.”

He took one of the paper cups out of the bag. “I brought you coffee,” he said. Stepping closer, Danny dropped a kiss on her lips. “And something to eat.”

Jordan groaned. “See. I'm really awful. You're right. I need to learn to relax. Why can't I do that? It's Saturday. We should just go right back to bed.”

“I shouldn't have left you alone in a strange house.”

“Well, don't do it again. Or I'll have to make a note in your personnel file.”

Reaching out, he ran a finger along her arm, tracing a lazy path from her wrist to her elbow and back again. “You have a file on me? What does it say?”

She took a sip of her coffee and then sighed. “It says that you have trouble separating work from—from everything else, and I think that might become a problem.”

He stared at her for a long moment, fighting back a surge of frustration. Would it always come back to this? Did they always have to be boss and employee? Why couldn't she see them as just a man and a woman? “Am I supposed to pretend that I don't want you? Because I do. All the time. And if that's a problem, then write it
up in my personnel file. In big red letters.” He walked to the door and pulled it open. “I'll be in the car with Finny and Mogue. As soon as you're ready, we'll go.”

Danny snapped his fingers as he walked out the front door, and the dogs came running. He opened the rear door of the Land Rover and they hopped inside. Then, he slid in behind the wheel and waited, his anger growing with every moment that passed.

When she finally came out of the cottage, Jordan walked slowly toward the vehicle. She got into the passenger seat and looked over at him. “I'm sorry,” she said. “This is all kind of new to me and I haven't figured out how to handle it yet. You might be able to separate work and pleasure, but I'm going to have to work on it a little longer.”

“Then forget about the job. Don't worry. I will get it done and it will be perfect. You have to trust me. We
can
just be lovers.”

She nodded, then reached out and grabbed his shirt, pulling him closer. Jordan pressed her face into his chest. “I really hope so.”

D
ANNY STARED AT THE
ornate medallion he'd begun for the garden gate. He'd been working on it for three days, fitting it in between the hinges and hardware on Jordan's list. He'd carefully copied the design from an old black-and-white photo that Jordan had given him.

The work was beautiful, but it wasn't Irish. He suspected the original artisan was John Wellston, a British blacksmith from Galway who had done a lot of the work in the area at the turn of the century. Wellston's work was quite prized nowadays, found on many historical homes.

At the time Wellston worked, Ireland was in the midst of a rebellion, an attempt to break away from British rule. Wellston worked for many of the wealthy British families and Irish loyalists. But now that Ireland was free, it didn't seem right to put his work back up on the gate. It should be Irish work on an Irish gate.

Danny glanced at his watch, then dropped the tongs on the floor and shrugged his stiff shoulders. Jordan was out for the morning, running errands to Cork and Bantry. She'd been buying furniture for the house—
keeping a careful inventory of it in a huge book in the library.

She'd been trying to track down some of the original furnishings so she might buy them back. But she hadn't had much luck in that area. Everything she bought was carefully restored and reupholstered, then shipped to a storage facility in Cork, awaiting the moment when it would be moved to Castle Cnoc.

Danny grabbed a towel from the worktable and rubbed the sweat off his grimy face, then grabbed the medallion and hauled it outside, propping it up against an old wooden crate. Drawing a deep breath, he stretched his arms over his head, working the kinks out of his back as he stared at his work.

No, it didn't look better in the light of day. He sat down on a wooden stool set against the wall of the laundry. There wasn't much good about it, he mused. Copying Wellston's work just didn't seem right. He ought to just start over, with a design of his own. At least he'd take some pride in the making of it.

Sighing softly, Danny raked his hands through his hair, then leaned back against the wall, drawing a deep breath of the late-morning breeze.

This had become a sticky point between him and Jordan and it was about to come to a head. They'd disagreed on a few other small projects and he'd given in, agreeing to make exact copies rather than put his own mark on the work.

But the medallion would be the focal point of the walled garden. It needed to match the beauty of the house and the surrounding landscape—and it should be Irish. Maybe he could use that point to convince Jordan.
But first, he'd have to come up with a better design, one with some of the elements of the first, only in a more Gaelic manner.

A wave of exhaustion came over him and Danny fought back a yawn. It didn't help his creativity when he could barely put a thought together. Late nights with Jordan followed by early mornings at the forge were wearing on him. And though he kept assuring Jordan he was right on schedule, that wasn't the truth. He'd fallen at least a week behind and was falling further with every day that passed.

He closed his eyes and let his mind drift, searching for inspiration. But instead, his mind filled with thoughts of Jordan, her naked body, her lush mouth, her warm hands—disconnected images of pleasure that plagued him night and day.

Danny cursed beneath his breath. She had become his
leanan sidhe,
so alluring and yet so dangerous, tempting him and tormenting him at the very same time. He was a happier man when she was close, but was it worth the price he paid? He felt as if she'd already stolen a part of his soul, and the thought of taking it back brought out only a desperate ache deep inside of him.

Wanting her had become second nature, like drawing breath. He couldn't look at her without his hands aching to touch her, or his lips craving her taste. Was this simple lust or obsession? He was so wrapped up in it, Danny couldn't tell the difference, not that he'd even know in the first place. If he could just get a decent night's sleep, then maybe he could sort it all out.

But the nights were what he was living for. With
every one spent with Jordan, he learned more and more about passion and need, grew more aware of the pleasure they could give each other. Her bed had become a place to explore and experiment, a place to push the boundaries of what was possible between a man and a woman.

Danny drew a deep breath and let his body relax. Just a few minutes, a short kip, and he'd find his energy. He couldn't be bothered to walk back to his cottage or even stretch out on the grass at his feet. Just a few…

“Are you asleep?”

Startled by her voice, Danny sat up straight and opened his eyes. “No,” he said, wiping his eyes. “No, I was just thinking.”

“You were asleep,” Jordan said, her brow furrowed deeply.

“Yes,” he admitted. “Maybe I was. I'm knackered, Jordan. Give me a break. I just needed a quick kip and then back to work.”

“How are you supposed to stay on schedule if you're napping on the job?” There was an edge to her voice and he could see she was upset.

He grinned and held out his hand to her. “How am I supposed to stay on schedule if I'm spending my nights pleasing you? That would be the more appropriate question.”

“Are you saying I don't work?” Jordan asked.

He shook his head. How did she get that out of his comment? “Of course not. I'm saying that what we do in our spare time makes it hard to get anything done during the day. You can sleep in but I have to get up and go to work.”

“You
are
saying I don't work!” Jordan began to pace back and forth in front of him. With every step she took, she was getting more and more upset and Danny stood silently, searching for a way to defuse the looming argument.

“Would you like to tell me what you're really upset about?”

She stopped and opened her mouth, then snapped it shut. “No,” she said.

He reached out and grabbed her hand. “Come on, sit down and tell me about your day.”

She plopped down on the stool and cupped her chin in her hand. “I bought a crystal vase a few months ago. It's an exact match for one that was pictured in the foyer. I put it in the butler's pantry and now it's gone. It just disappeared. I have no idea how long it's been gone, but I didn't imagine that I bought it or put it there. I have a receipt.” She rubbed her forehead. “Sometimes I think I'm going crazy.”

“You're not going crazy,” he said.

She shrugged. “I know. One of the workmen must have come into the house and taken it. I need to be more careful with the locks.”

“What else?” he asked.

“It's nothing. I'm just tired. Stressed. Confused.” She pointed to the medallion. “It looks nice.”

“No, it doesn't,” Danny said. “I don't like it. The smith who designed it was a Brit. And I refuse to copy his work. There should be Irish work on the gate.”

“We had an agreement,” Jordan said.

“And I'm going back on it. You want a medallion for the garden gate, I'll make you one. It's going to be
beautiful and it will be Irish and it will be my design. I want to leave something of my work in this place.”

“I could fire you for this,” she said, a defiant tilt to her chin.

He chuckled. “You could. But you won't. You wanted the best and I'm the best.”

She shook her head. “Do what you want,” she murmured, her voice wavering. “I'm tired, too. And everything is all screwed up. And it's all because of you.”

“Me? How am I to blame?”

She looked at him, her eyes filling with tears. She'd gone from contrary to crying in the course of a few seconds. What the hell was he supposed to do now? Danny tried to grab her hand, but she turned and started back to the house.

“Oh, bollocks,” he muttered. He ran after her, catching up on the stone terrace. “Jordan, wait.” He caught her waist and spun her around to face him. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said, shaking her head. “Just go back to work.”

“No. You're in tears.”

“I am not!” she cried, denying the wet streaks on her face. “I'm not crying. I don't cry.”

“Then why is your face wet?”

“I don't cry!”

“You're tired. We barely got any sleep last night. I was acting like an arse. If you
are
crying, which I'm not saying you are, it wouldn't be a surprise.”

“I'm not crying,” she insisted.

He pulled her along to a bench and sat down next to her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and
smoothing the hair from her eyes. “Tell me what's going on.”

She drew a ragged breath and brushed the tears from her cheeks. “I—I need to be done with this job. I need to go home. I have better things waiting for me and the longer I stay here, the less chance I have of getting them.”

Just the mention of her leaving caused a pain, like a dagger to his heart. “So you'll finish the job and go home,” he murmured, pulling her close and kissing her temple.

“But the longer I stay here with you, the more I don't want to leave. Everything is so simple here. I don't have to fight to be happy.” She sniffled. “Do you know what I was just doing?”

“Threatening to fire me?” Danny teased.

“Talking to my father. He has a project that I really want to manage, a boutique hotel in SoHo. I thought, maybe, when he gave me this job, he was preparing me for that one. It's the perfect project for me and he knows it—small, unique. And I was right on track to get it. Until you.”

“You're going to blame this on me?”

“Yes. Because I really don't care that he's probably going to give it to my brother. My brother who wouldn't know a sconce from a scone. I'm just so tired of this constant battle. Here, I'm happy. I don't feel any pressure and I actually like this job. And I like you.”

“I like you, too,” Danny said. “And I can tell how much this hotel project means to you.”

“It doesn't mean anything,” Jordan said with a shaky laugh.

“Of course it does. You're just angry.” He cupped her face in his hands and touched his lips to hers. “We'll figure this out. You'll find a way to change your father's mind.”

“What about the gate?” she asked.

“You have to trust me. You have to let me do this my way. I promise, I'll make it good.”

She closed her eyes and sighed, her shoulders sagging. “Just get it done. I don't care how you do it. It doesn't make a difference anymore.” Jordan pulled out of his grasp. “I really don't think it's a good idea for us to spend so much time together. Both of us know there isn't a future here. And we should both focus more on work.”

“Sure,” Danny said.

“Maybe you should stay at the cottage tonight.”

“No problem.” Danny wanted to grab her and pull her into his arms, to kiss away all her worries. He much preferred complete infatuation to utter confusion. But right now, Jordan needed a bit of space, a chance to figure out what she really wanted. She thought her problem was him; but Danny suspected there was something else at work here, something much deeper.

If she needed time, he'd give her that. She could have all the time she wanted. “Come on,” he said. “Let's go make you a cup of tea. That always makes things better.”

“I don't like tea,” she said.

“What about ice cream?” he asked.

“I love ice cream.”

“There's a place in town that has the best strawberry ice cream,” he said.

She smiled. “I love chocolate.”

“They have that, too,” Danny said. “We'll go have ourselves a scoop.”

“We should really get back to work.”

“Well, if we're going to be spending our nights alone, then we'll have plenty of time for work.”

She drew in a ragged breath and forced a smile. “I may have been a bit rash about that. Maybe if we just tried to get to sleep earlier, things would improve.”

Danny drew her into his arms and gave her a fierce hug. “We'll give that a try,” he said. “Now stop crying and we'll go get ice cream.”

“I'm not crying,” she insisted, her face pressed into his chest.

“Sure you're not,” Danny whispered.

 

J
ORDAN STRODE DOWN
the garden path, her scheduling flowchart clutched in her hands. It was about time to get this project back on track. No more distractions, no more Ms. Nice Girl.

Maybe she did need to be tougher. Obviously, whoever was stealing from the house thought she was an easy mark. And if that's what it took to get what she wanted, then she'd just have to change her ways. Bartie was a perfect example. He'd been working on the garden for months and nothing was done. Danny was doing his own thing with the gate medallions. And the filter for the pool had been nothing but trouble since it was installed.

“It's time to kick ass and take names,” she muttered to herself. “Get tough. Be mean.”

Cursing softly, she brushed aside the memory of her
attempt with Danny. The humiliation of breaking down in front of him yesterday still brought a flush of warmth to her cheeks. She'd never let her emotions get the better of her in her business life before. Why now?

She'd just been so overwhelmed with everything that had happened between them that she'd cracked. Too many late nights, too much time spent feeling like a wanton woman rather than a detached professional.

But this wasn't just about the job. Though she'd tried to blame everything on Danny, Jordan knew it was nearly all her fault. Ireland was changing her. She'd lived here for months, feeling like a fish out of water. But now, with Danny's arrival, this place was beginning to feel like home.

If she hadn't been so weak, so anxious to jump into an affair with him, then everything would be fine. He'd be finishing his work and she'd be getting ready to leave Ireland for a better project in Manhattan. And she'd have no regrets for anything that had happened between them.