The Mighty Quinns: Danny (13 page)

Jordan slowly shook her head. “No, no, no.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” he said, tugging his T-shirt over his head. He watched as her gaze drifted over his chest, then reached for the button of his jeans. He unzipped
them and skimmed them down his hips, kicking off his shoes before casting the jeans aside.

He was left in only his boxers and when he hooked his fingers in the waistband, Jordan sucked in a sharp breath. With deliberate ease, he slowly slid them down until he was standing in front of her, completely naked.

“All right,” she finally said. “It would probably be better to call my father tomorrow. He's always in a bad mood on Tuesdays.”

“That's my girl,” Danny said. “Since I've had a head start, I'll let you catch up before we race to the pool.”

“Here?”

Danny nodded. “Yes.”

Jordan took the opportunity to perform a very sexy striptease for him and when she had him completely distracted with her naked body, took off for the door. Danny headed to the kitchen and the stairs that led down from there, but Jordan took the opposite path, taking the stairs near the front door. By the time he reached the pool, she was already treading water in the deep end.

“You have a half hour,” she called, her voice echoing against the tiles. “You'd better make it worth my time.”

 

I
T WAS NEARLY
9:00 p.m. when Jordan pulled up in front of the manor house. The drive back and forth to Wexford was a long one, but her time had gone to a good cause. Over the past sixteen months, she'd visited hundreds of antique stores all over Ireland. To her delight, she'd found period fixtures for almost every room in the manor house. Today had brought a small chandelier for the upper hallway.

The only problem with a day away was that she hadn't had her regular dose of Danny Quinn. She'd grown used to seeing him whenever the impulse stuck.

But the ride to Wexford had given her time to think about all that had happened since his arrival at Castle Cnoc. Though she'd vowed to keep their relationship simple, the deeper her affections grew, the more difficult it became. She found herself fantasizing about a real future with the sexy Irishman.

She imagined them strolling the streets of Manhattan together, buying a weekend house in Connecticut, keeping an apartment in the city, enjoying everything that New York had to offer. Other times, she imagined herself living here in Ireland, raising a family and making a home with him. But always, she came to the realization that if they were to have a future, one of them would have to sacrifice.

Though she'd been determined to call her father and give him her ultimatum, Jordan had been putting it off for the past few days. Tomorrow was Friday and after that, the weekend. She'd call him at home on Sunday morning, knowing that without the pressures of the office, he might be more amenable. Plus, her mother would be there to run interference.

In truth, she was afraid of his answer. If he did allow her to quit, then she had to decide what to do with the rest of her life. At least now, everything was still in limbo. She still had choices.

As she stepped out of the car, she saw Danny standing at the front door. The scaffolding was gone and the original door was hung with brand-new hinges and
hardware. Progress, she mused. That always brought a smile to her face.

“Hey, baby,” he said with a devilish smile. “Welcome home.”

“You've been busy,” she said. “It looks incredible.” He swung the door back and forth on its hinges, demonstrating how smoothly it worked. “Very nice job. Have you been waiting here long?”

“All afternoon. But I have a good reason,” he said.

“You always have a good reason,” she teased.

He strode up to her and picked her up off her feet, wrapping her legs around his waist. “I'm not always thinking about sex,” he said. “I have other things going on in my life.”

“Like what?”

Danny carried her into the house. But instead of heading back to the office, he carried her up the stairs, his mouth warm on her throat. They walked to her bedroom and then into the bathroom.

“What are we doing?”

“I'm going to draw a bath for you and then you're going to relax and tell me about your day. And then I'm going to ask you something and you're going to say yes.”

“Don't I always say yes?”

“That's true. And after you say yes, we're going to have some dinner and spend the rest of the night in bed.”

She slipped out of her jacket and tossed it aside, then rubbed her stiff neck. Hours in the car had exhausted her and she couldn't think of anything she wanted more than a hot bath. But her curiosity was piqued. What was he going to ask? she wondered. What was so important
to him that he'd bribe her with a bath to get a positive response?

“Ask me now,” Jordan demanded.

“It can wait,” he said.

As the water ran into the huge clawfoot tub, Danny slowly undressed her. When she was naked, he stood back and stared at her. It felt odd for him to be fully clothed while she was naked. Not odd, she thought. Erotic. “No, I want to know now. Did you go over budget? Did you mess something up?”

“It's not about the house.” He helped her into the tub, then handed her a glass of wine that he'd set on the floor.

“What is it?” she asked, sinking down into the hot water. “I want to know.”

He cursed softly. “This is supposed to be relaxing and now you're all tense,” he said. “It's really nothing.”

“If it's nothing, than you can ask me now. Do you need a day off? Is that it?”

He reached into the back pocket of his jeans and handed her an envelope. “It's an invitation to my gallery opening on Saturday night. I'm showing a couple of pieces and I thought you might like to come with me. As my date.”

Jordan stared at the invitation, warmed by his offer. “Yes,” she murmured. “Yes, I'd love to go as your date.”

He seemed pleased with her answer, dropping a quick kiss on her shoulder. “It's in Dublin. I thought we could go and spend the night. Maybe see a bit of the city on Sunday. Make a weekend out of it.”

Though Jordan had never spent more than a day away from Castle Cnoc, she realized that time with Danny was running out. There were so many things she wanted
to experience with him, but every day that passed was one less she'd have with him. By her estimate, they had less than a month left. And yet, any time spent in Danny's company was better than her solitary life in New York.

Was he really what she'd been waiting for? This wasn't supposed to be how it happened. She wasn't supposed to fall in love with an Irish blacksmith with thick, dark hair and bottomless blue eyes.

She opened her eyes and glanced at him. Danny wasn't pretty, he was sheer masculine perfection. He wore his looks the way he wore his clothes, casually, as if he weren't aware of the effect they had on her. She was so accustomed to neatly tailored men that he seemed exotic and forbidden.

“In Manhattan, gallery openings are pretty fancy affairs. Are they that way in Dublin?”

He chuckled. “You're going to see me in a proper jacket,” he said. “No tie, but I'm going to look very sexy. The women will be all over me.”

“I didn't ask so you could tell me about your wardrobe choice. I'll need to decide on a dress.”

“I could take you shopping,” he said.

“I have the perfect dress at home. I'll have it sent from New York this afternoon.”

“Then it's all settled. On Saturday, we're going to Dublin.” He was watching her through hooded eyes. “Now, tell me about your day.”

“Chandelier for the upper hallway, monogrammed towels for the bathrooms, still looking for decent sheets. May have to do mail order from Frette. Unless I take a weekend and go to Italy for linens. Or Paris.”

“Is that even a possibility?”

“Yes,” Jordan said. “If that's what's needed, that's what I'll do. I'd prefer to stick with Irish linens though. Maybe if we left tonight, I could shop tomorrow in Dublin.” She groaned softly and leaned back in the bath. “God, I'm so sick of shopping.” She glanced over at him. “Enough about me. What did you do all day long?”

“Thought about you in the bed,” he said. “Made some hinges. Thought about you in the bathtub. Worked on the garden gate. Thought about you in the swimming pool, designed a front gate for the drive.”

“Really?” She laughed. “So, you had a productive day.”

“Yes,” he said. “So, boss, give me a job to do. I could rub your feet. Or wash your back. Or massage your shoulders.”

“All of those would be nice,” she murmured.

“I'll start with the shoulders.” He sat down behind her and began to knead the knotted muscles. She tipped her head to the side and he pressed his lips to a spot at the base of her neck. “Do you ever wonder what you'd be doing if you hadn't come here to Castle Cnoc?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Our lives seem so intertwined here. What if you were alone? What would you be doing right now?”

“I'd probably be sitting at the pub, having a beer with my brothers. Maybe tending the bar, drawing Guinness. Then a game of darts or billiards.” He chuckled. “Jaysus, I had a boring life before I met you.”

“Me, too,” she said. “I spent my free time searching the internet for fabric and furniture and fixtures. The
highlight of my evening would be my decision whether to have a ham sandwich or a grilled cheese. Dinner would be followed by whatever bestseller I was reading.”

“I'd say we were damn lucky to meet each other.”

“You've ruined me for other men, you know.”

“How is that?”

“The sex. It's too good.”

He rested his chin on her shoulder. “How can the sex be too good?”

“I never really thought sex was important,” Jordan admitted. “My parents aren't very loving with each other. Our family shows affection by insulting each other. We just weren't…physical. But with you, we always seem to be touching.”

“I like that,” Danny said.

“Me, too. And I never thought I would. I'd sit in the subway or at the park and watch couples hanging all over each other and wonder why they couldn't contain themselves. Now I understand.” She turned and kissed his cheek. “Just the tiniest thing can bring the biggest thrill.”

He smoothed his palms over her shoulders and chest, then cupped her breasts. “You do have a very touchable body, boss.”

Jordan moaned softly as his thumbs rubbed across her nipples. She'd grown accustomed to this power that she held over him. When he touched her, she didn't feel like a boss or Andrew Kennally's daughter or the Kennally brothers' younger sister or Kencor's “decorator.” She was just a woman.

Her heart slammed in her chest and she arched to
meet his caress. Danny circled the tub and pulled her to her feet, wrapping his arms around her naked body as his lips captured hers.

Jordan was always amazed at how powerful his kiss was. He was able to take her breath away, to make her body ache, to send her heart racing, by simply covering her mouth with his. He had a way of possessing her that made her feel weak and powerful all at once.

The kiss spun out in one long, delicious encounter, growing deeper and more passionate with every breath they shared. Danny's hands smoothed over her damp skin but Jordan's touch was hampered by his clothes.

A frustrated moan slipped from her throat as she fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. She needed him naked, needed his skin touching hers. “Stop.” Pressing her hands to his chest she pushed him back. “Take off your clothes.”

“No,” he said.

Jordan frowned, shaking her head. “No?”

“No,” Danny said. “If I take off my clothes, then I'm not going to be able to stop myself. I think we should just take our time. We have the whole evening.”

“Am I the boss or are you?”

“You're the boss,” he said.

“Then you're supposed to follow my orders?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Take off your clothes, Danny Quinn. And make it snappy.”

With a reluctant smile, he slowly stripped. When his boxers were around his feet, he braced his hands on his hips. “Now what? Would you like me to fix that squeaky hinge or change the oil in your car?”

“Get in the tub,” Jordan ordered.

He did as he was told, sliding down into the warm water. Then Jordan climbed in and straddled his waist, his hard shaft pressing against the crease between her legs. She grabbed a sponge and lathered it up then ran it over his chest.

“Isn't this considered sexual harassment?”

“Yes,” she said. “And I could get fired for this.”

“Really?”

Jordan nodded. “Really. But you're not going to say anything, are you?”

“Never,” he said. “As long as you promise to keep harassing me, I'll keep quiet.”

She leaned over and kissed him and when she moved back, Jordan shifted on top of him, slowly taking him inside her. A gasp slipped from her lips and she smiled. “I think we're going to be getting into a little overtime tonight.”

“I'm ready to do whatever it takes to get the job done.”

D
ANNY AND
J
ORDAN ARRIVED
in Dublin by mid-afternoon on Saturday. Danny insisted on driving Jordan's Volvo, making it from County Cork to Dublin in record time. As they raced over the curving highways, he felt as if they were setting off on a grand adventure, even though it was only a night in the city.

They weren't boss and employee now. They were a couple having a little holiday together. She was his lover, his girlfriend, his date. And it felt good to be like everyone else in the world. Just two people falling in love.

They did some shopping for linens, then checked into a room at a nice hotel. Though Jordan tried to insist on paying for it, expensing it along with the sheets, Danny refused. He wanted the weekend to be his treat and Jordan reluctantly accepted. In truth, he had all sorts of things he wanted to show her.

They got dressed for the opening, then went out for a stroll before dinner. O'Connell Street was famous for its shops, but Danny had decided to take Jordan on a sculpture tour. They began with the statue of James
Joyce and then moved on to Daniel O'Connell. James Larkin was next. The last sculpture was inside an imposing building.

“I used to come here all the time when I was at university,” Danny said, holding the door open for her. “It's a pretty special place in my family history.”

“What is this, a museum?”

“No,” Danny said. “It's the post office.”

“You spent time at the post office?”

Danny nodded. “I know. It's a bit strange, but I'll explain.” They stood in the center of the lobby, Danny holding tight to her hand. “This is where the rebellion began. This is where my great-great-grandfather on my mother's side made his stand against the British soldiers. The Easter Uprising was kind of like your revolution.” He pointed to the statue. “That's Cuchulainn.”

“Did he fight in the rebellion?” Jordan asked.

Danny shook his head. “No, he's one of our mythological heroes. His big victory was the cattle raid of Cooley.”

“He stole cows?”

“No, he protected the bull of Ulster from Queen Maeve's soldiers.”

“He protected a cow—”

“A bull.
The
bull.”

“And he gets a statue.”

“I guess he's a martyr to cattle protection. Queen Maeve set her sorcerers on him and killed him after he saved the bull. The statue is in memory of the fourteen rebels that were executed after the Easter Uprising.”

“That makes much more sense,” Jordan said.

They stared up at the statue for a long time before
Jordan slipped her arms around Danny's waist and gave him a hug. “I like it. I think it's the nicest one we've seen tonight. Except for yours, of course.”

“You are not required to like my work,” Danny said. “The sculptures you're going to see tonight are pretty abstract.”

“I'm going to love your work,” she said. “I know I will.”

They strolled out onto the street. There was a chill in the air and Danny slipped out of his jacket and draped it around Jordan's shoulders. “Have I told you how beautiful you look in that dress?” he asked.

“Yes. Lots of times. At least twenty since I put it on at the hotel.”

“Well, then this is twenty-one. You do look incredible. You're going to be the most beautiful woman in the room tonight.”

“And you're required to say that,” she teased.

“No,” Danny replied, shaking his head. “That's the thing about you. You don't have any idea how pretty you are. I think you've spent so much time trying to be one of the guys that you don't have any sense of who you are as a woman.”

“I did feel that way,” Jordan said, stunned that he'd sensed it. “You make me feel…feminine.” She held up the sleeve of his jacket. “Like this. My brothers would never think to offer me a jacket if I was cold. They'd just yell at me for forgetting to bring my own along. And they'd never tell me I was pretty. They'd just make some stupid comment about my pigeon-toes or my knobby knees. Or they'd start in on my chest.”

“They make fun of your chest?”

“It's often the topic around the Thanksgiving table. They think that teasing me is great family fun. I take a lot of abuse for being the only girl. Especially when my father encourages it.”

Danny frowned. “Next time you have a family dinner, you call me. I'll come and stand up for you. I'm pretty good with my fists and I'm the master of the verbal put-down. Your brothers wouldn't pick on you again. Truth told, my two brothers and I could best your four brothers in a good scrap.”

“That's not the worst of it. My mother tells me if I'd just get married and bring a husband home, my brothers would show me more respect.” Jordan paused. “Not that I'd expect you to marry me. It—it's just what my mother said.”

“Do you ever think about getting married?”

“Sure. I think every woman does. But it's not something that I'm focused on. What about you?” It was the truth. Since meeting Danny she had thought about it more than she had before; but it still didn't mean that she wanted to marry him. That would require a complete shift in her priorities.

“I don't really think about it either,” Danny said. “But it's a possibility. My brother Riley met Nan and now they're going to get married and that was just this last summer.” He shook his head. “It's a strange thing. A wee bit frightening. That things can change so quickly and there's nothing to be done about it.”

“Marriage just hasn't fit into my plans.”

“Mine neither,” Danny said.
Not that it couldn't,
he thought. But he wasn't ready to say that out loud.

A long silence grew between them as they walked
down the sidewalk to the restaurant. He hadn't felt so uncomfortable around Jordan since the day they'd met. Everything had come so easily these past weeks. But maybe this was a conversation that was unavoidable. How much longer could they go on ignoring the future? Sooner or later, they'd have to talk about it.

“You should come to New York sometime,” Jordan said. “We have a lot of statues and sculptures there.”

“You've got the big one,” he said.

“The big one?”

“The Statue of Liberty. That's one thing I'd really like to see.”

“Then you'll have to come,” she said. It was the closest they'd come to talking about a future together. And Danny was pleased. At least there was a possibility they'd see each other again after she left Ireland.

“What else would we see, besides the inside of your flat?” he asked.

“Depends on when you come. If you come in the fall, we'd go to Central Park. At Christmas, we'd look at the windows at Bloomie's. In the winter, there's skating at Rockefeller Center. In the spring there's baseball at Yankee Stadium. And summer is weekends in the Hamptons. And then we'd eat hot dogs and visit museums and go to Chinatown for Szechuan. We'd take a carriage ride at midnight and go to the top of the Empire State Building and have corned beef sandwiches at the Stage Door Deli and see a Broadway show.”

“Jaysus, I can see why you'd want to go home. Ireland must seem like such a bore to you.”

“No,” she said. “I love Ireland. I didn't at first, but I
think I'm going to miss it after I leave. Who knows, I may come back for visit or two.”

Danny chuckled. “I'd like that. Maybe you could find another house to fix up. Kellan's always doing that. You could do another project with him.”

“Actually, Kellan talked to me about that. He offered me a job.”

Gobsmacked, Danny wasn't sure what to say. Why hadn't she told him this? Why hadn't Kellan mentioned it? Was there a reason they'd keep it a secret from him? “Yeah,” he murmured, maintaining an even tone. “That would be really nice.”

“But, I think if I come back, I'd want to spend my time seeing Ireland first,” she said. “Take some time off. Do a little trip around the country. Like your parents do. What is that called?”

“Caravanning,” Danny replied. “So it's good we talked about this. I certainly feel better.”

“I do too,” Jordan said.

It wasn't much, but Danny did feel relieved. They'd defined their relationship a bit. They'd become so close it had been hard to believe that they'd go their separate ways and never see each other again. Now, they wouldn't.

“And we can always Skype,” Jordan said.

“I don't know what that is, but it sounds like fun. Can we do it tonight? And does it involve taking off your clothes?”

“Sometimes it does involve the removal of clothing,” Jordan said. “We'll talk about that later.”

“Are you hungry? We can eat or we can stop by the
gallery.” He pointed across the street. “It's just there. It won't be busy and they always serve finger food.”

“Let's go now,” Jordan said. “We can always eat later.”

He took her hand and they crossed the street, then stopped short before opening the door for her. “What's wrong?” Jordan asked.

“I'm a bit nervous,” he said.

“People will love your work,” Jordan said.

“I'm not worried about people,” Danny said, “I'm worried about you. You're the only one who matters.”

He pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. And there it was. No truer words had ever been spoken. If he'd thought he could keep himself from loving Jordan, then he was sadly mistaken. It had already happened. And there was no going back.

 

B
Y THE TIME
the show officially began, the gallery was packed with guests and press. Jordan had been to a number of openings in Manhattan and this was no different. There was excitement in the air and everyone milled around the pieces, wineglasses dangling from their hands.

Danny stood between his two sculptures, talking to interested guests while Jordan stood nearby, sipping her wine. He seemed like a different person in this environment, so composed and serious, not at all like the funny, teasing man she'd come to know. The suit made him look older, more respectable, and, even though he hadn't combed his hair, he was still dangerously attractive.

As expected, Jordan fell in love with the sculptures
the moment she saw them. He'd told her they were abstract, but there was something about them that brought to mind birds soaring on the air currents over the cliffs near the manor.

The sculptures had been made of copper, the thin sheets bent and crumpled and assembled to create a sense of motion. She could imagine the pieces in a museum or a private home or even the lobby of a public building. Considering the number of people gathered around Danny, Jordan felt confident that the sculptures would be sold before the night was through.

“What do you think?”

Jordan turned to find a woman standing next to her. She was about the same age as Jordan, and dressed entirely in black, her hair cropped short and trendy glasses perched on her nose.

“Sally McClary. I'm the art critic for the
Evening Post.
You seem to be captivated by his work.”

“Oh, I am,” Jordan said. “I think it's extraordinary.”

Sally nodded. “Yes, he is, isn't he.”

“Oh, I thought we were talking about his work.”

“I am,” Sally said. “Not his art work, although that's quite extraordinary, too.”

Jordan frowned. What was this woman getting at? What other work did— “Oh, you've seen his commercial work? He's an excellent blacksmith.”

“Oh, goodness, no. I'm talking about the man. The gorgeous man beneath those clothes.” She took a slow sip of her wine. “He's like a fine work of art himself. Strip the clothes off of him and you could stare at him all day long, couldn't you?” She smiled slyly. “A pity
he doesn't spend more time in Dublin. He has quite a group of fans here.”

Jordan wasn't sure how to respond. She pasted a smile on her face. “So what do you think of the art?”

“Oh, it's fabulous, of course. But then, I've always been a patron. He needs to work more. There's not enough of his work out there to make an impact on the market. And he needs to show outside Ireland. London. New York. Even Los Angeles. Oh, they'd love him there, don't you think?”

Jordan nodded. “Yes, I suppose they would.”

“Well, enjoy the rest of the evening,” Sally said. “And take a look at the Deirdan etchings. He's the next big thing. Mark my words.”

Jordan watched the woman weave her way through the crowds. She stopped and spoke with Danny, resting her hand on his chest as she leaned in close. He smiled and nodded and Jordan wondered at the easy familiarity. Had they been lovers?

She'd never really considered Danny's past. For all she knew, his sex life had begun the moment they met. But that was silly. He'd been seducing girls since high school and even at two or three females a year, that was still a considerable number.

As Sally walked away, he glanced over and caught Jordan's eye. Was that a trace of worry she saw in his face? Jordan watched him over the rim of her wineglass, trying to read his expression. When he excused himself, she gulped down most of her wine, and crossed the room to meet him.

“Are you all right?” he said.

“Sure. Fine,” she said. “I was just talking to an art critic. Sally something.”

“Right,” he said. “Sally McClary. She works for the
Evening Post.
She's a fan.”

“I know,” Jordan said. “She told me. She seems to be a very devoted fan.”

Danny tipped his head as he studied her. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“I don't know. She's the one who started the conversation with me. I got the impression that you two might have been…”

“Did she say that?”

“Not in so many words. Were you?”

He shifted nervously. “Would you be angry if I told you the truth? Because I'll lie if it makes you feel better.”