The Mighty Quinns: Danny (4 page)

“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 clut
tered 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.