The Mighty Quinns: Riley (3 page)

“You're lending me this car?” she asked.

“This is it,” he said, giving the dashboard a pat.

“
What
is it?”

“This is a Fiat. A Cinquecento. She may be small, but she's got four wheels and an engine.”

“She has a stick shift,” she said. “Which would probably indicate the opposite gender. And I can't drive a stick shift.”

“It's not rocket science,” he said. “I can teach you in just a couple of minutes. Besides, this car barely uses any petrol. Though it does have an oil leak you'll have to mind.”

Nan tipped her head back and covered her face with her hands. “So the car looks like it belongs to a family of clowns. Please, please tell me the guesthouse isn't a hovel made of sticks and mud in the middle of some swamp.”

“Bog,” he said. “We call it a bog. And the cottage is very cozy.”

“Those photos you sent were real?”

“It's my childhood home. My brother Kellan has re
cently renovated it. He lives there now and again when he's come down from Dublin. And my sister Shanna decorated it. She likes old things—antiques. It's just as the photos show. Better even.”

Nan took a ragged breath and nodded. “Okay. As long as the cottage is nice, I'll be fine.”

He reached out and grabbed her hand, looking for any excuse to touch her again. “Feel better, then? No more tears?”

“I'm good,” she replied.

They rode for a long time in silence, Riley searching his mind for a topic of conversation without appearing to snoop. He wanted to know everything about her. Was there a man in her life? Did she love him? Was she thinking about kissing him again? “You're a librarian. You must really like books.”

“I love books,” she said. “I always have. Every one you open is a window into a new world.”

“Did you open a book about Ireland? Is that why you're here?”

Nan shifted to face him. “My mother came to Ireland when she was twenty-two. Right after she got out of college. I came here looking for her.”

“That's a noble purpose,” he said, hoping that the mention of her mother didn't restart the tears. For a girl who appeared so fragile on the outside, Nan Galvin was made of steel beneath. “I can't imagine losing my ma at such a young age. I'm sorry.”

“Me, too,” she said.

“But your father is still alive?”

Nan shook her head. “He died last spring. He was
older than my mother. He never remarried. I used to think it was my fault, that he was so consumed with raising me that he didn't have time for anything else. But once I got older, I realized he didn't find someone else because my mother was his one and only love. He just wanted to be with her.” She glanced over at him. “Do you believe in that? That everyone has just one person they can love?”

It was a strange question to ask a total stranger, but then Nan never seemed to run out of questions. When she wanted information, she simply requested it. Riley could honestly say he'd never given the notion much thought. But she deserved an answer. “Sure. Why not? It would probably explain why I'm still single.”

“I don't remember much about her,” Nan continued. “She had red hair and green eyes and the softest hands. She was an art teacher. Her great-grandparents came from Ireland. I think that's why she named me Tiernan.”

“It's a beautiful name. But I've never heard it used for a girl. It's usually a boy's name.”

“I know,” she said. “I looked it up. I guess she liked the way it sounded.”

“So what else have you planned to see?” he asked.

“Everything in and around Ballykirk,” Nan said.

“And why Ballykirk?”

“Because this is where my mother stayed twenty-seven years ago,” she said.

“I wonder if anyone about town would remember her?” Riley asked.

“I hope so,” she said softly. “I really hope so.”

Her voice was so soft, so filled with faith that he had
to fight the impulse to stop the car and pull her into his arms and kiss her again. He'd always acted on his instincts, but this time, Riley decided to let his attraction to her simmer for a time. She'd booked the cottage for ten days.

He had plenty of time to woo her and he intended to take full advantage of any opportunity she offered.

 

B
Y THE TIME THEY
neared Ballykirk, Nan had decided that Riley Quinn was the sexiest man she'd ever met. It wasn't only the dark good looks. He had an endearing combination of boyish charm and masculine confidence that she found completely irresistible. Though kissing a stranger was rather scandalous for her usually conservative approach to men, it wasn't difficult to understand her motives. He was just so kissable.

Her coworkers had teased her about vacation romances and Nan had laughed them off, but now she had to consider the possibility. She wasn't the same person she was at home. From the moment she set foot on Irish soil, she'd felt a sense of freedom. If she could kiss him after knowing him for an hour, what would happen after a day?

Though Nan had had a few long-term relationships in the past, she couldn't say she'd ever been in love. Perhaps her reluctance came from watching her father's loneliness increase with every year that passed. In her world, lost love had the capacity to bring a great deal of pain, sometimes lasting a lifetime. So she'd never taken the risk, never completely surrendered her heart.

As for Riley, his charms would only go so far. Even
if he was bent on kissing her again, she had no intention of falling in love with him. There was absolutely no future in it. But that didn't mean she couldn't enjoy a vacation romance.

As they raced down the country roads, Riley pointed out interesting sights and accompanied his travelogue with witty stories about the local folk. Irish music blared from the car's speakers and every now and then, he'd sing along, in a beautiful tenor voice.

As the warm August breeze blew through the open windows, Nan realized that she'd told the truth at the immigration desk. She was here for pleasure. But a different kind of pleasure—the kind that filled her senses, that made her body come alive and her mind open to new possibilities. The kind that only a man's touch might bring.

Nan had always read that Ireland was a land filled with magic and now she understood why. From the moment she stepped out of the airport, she felt as if she'd been carried into another world. All around her, the colors were brighter and the sounds more beautiful. The air smelled sweet and the man sitting beside her had captured her imagination.

As they reached the coastline, Nan got a good view of the water, the road running along the edge of the rugged, windswept hills. Every gothic novel she'd ever read came to mind and she imagined the heroines standing alone on the cliffs, their skirts buffeted by the ocean breeze.

“That's Ballykirk down there,” Riley said, pointing
to a small gathering of whitewashed buildings on the waterfront.

But instead of continuing on to town, he turned up a narrow lane, taking her higher into the hills. “I thought the cottage would be closer to town,” she said.

“It's not far,” he said. “A brisk walk is all. And there are bicycles at the cottage. And you'll have the car.”

“The car I can't drive,” she said.

He glanced over at her and grinned. “Just point it down the hill and take your foot off the brake. You'll roll right into town.”

“That's not funny.”

“Let's get yourself settled and then I'll give you a lesson later this afternoon. You'll be tearing up the road in no time.”

He made one more turn and a pretty thatched-roof cottage came into view, its whitewashed exterior bright in the noonday sun. Riley pulled the car to stop on the road, outside a low drystone wall that surrounded the front yard. “Here we are,” he said. “Home sweet home.”

Nan looked out, then turned to him and smiled. “It's so cute,” she said, overwhelmed with both relief and delight. “It's so much prettier than the pictures.” She hopped out of the car and walked up to the iron gate. A garden filled with colorful blooms flanked the narrow front walk and she drew a deep breath of the perfumed air. As she looked more closely, she saw little cast-iron animals, peeking from beneath low-lying leaves.

“Look at this,” she said, bending down and pointing to one of the sculptures.

“Hedgehog,” Riley said. “My brother makes those.
He has a blacksmith shop in town.” He opened the trunk of the car. “Go on. The door is open. I'll bring your bags.”

She ran up the walk, flung open the rough plank door and stepped inside. The entrance led into a simple living area with a worn wood floor. Rag rugs were scattered about and a huge hearth dominated one wall. Opposite the front door, and next to the back door, the kitchen was tucked into a small room with an adjoining bathroom. A collection of shabby chintz furniture, the colors a pretty contrast against the rough white walls, was gathered around the hearth.

Both bedrooms were tiny, but like the rest of the cottage, quaintly furnished. She circled around the old iron bed, her hand smoothing over the handmade quilt, then she threw open the window set in the thick wall. The breeze swept away the stuffy air and Nan fell back onto the bed, completely pleased with her surroundings. “It's perfect,” she whispered.

“This used to be my room.” Riley stepped through the doorway and placed her suitcase on the other side of the bed. “My brothers, Kellan and Danny, and me had this room, and my ma and da had the other. And my two sisters, Shanna and Claire, had the loft above us.”

“It's cozy,” she said. “I love it.” She sniffed. “What's that smell?”

“Peat. We burn it in the hearth. The cottage doesn't have heat, but it's August so you shouldn't be chilly. But if you are, you can call down to the pub and I'll come up and start a fire for you. Or there are some portable
heaters in the closet.” He stood next to the bed, watching her, his hands shoved in his jean pockets. “I guess I'll leave you then. Unless you'd like to come down and have lunch. Your rent includes a meal a day. The pub serves lunch and dinner, but I could probably find you breakfast as well.”

She circled around the bed, her hand running along the contours of the iron bed. “I think I'll unpack first. And then maybe take a nap.”

“A kip,” he said. “That's what we call it here.”

“A kip,” she said.

Riley chuckled. “There you go. Well, when you're ready, just follow the road down to the village and you'll find us at the end of the street right near the water. The Speckled Hound.”

“All right. And later we'll have our driving lesson?”

“We will.”

They stood, staring at each other silently for a long moment. Nan held her breath, wondering what was going through his mind. Was he thinking about kissing her again? And if he did, would she be able to keep herself from kissing him back? She waited, hoping he'd try. When he stepped toward her, she released her breath in a soft sigh.

“About what happened earlier…?” he murmured.

She nodded. “Uh-huh.”

“I probably shouldn't have done that. I was just having some fun.”

“You've kissed a lot of girls just for fun?”

He nodded slowly, his gaze still fixed on hers. “Yeah, I have.”

“You're very good at it.”

He chuckled softly. “I get my share of practice.”

“And is there a girl—a special girl—that you kiss more often than other girls?” Nan asked. “Maybe one that you're going to be kissing for the rest of your life?”

Riley chuckled. “No. There was, but…”

His voice trailed off, leaving her curious. “But?”

“She took off a few years ago. She wanted a wee bit more out of life than a part-time barkeep and a singer with a mediocre voice could give her. She lives in Galway now with her husband.”

“Then you're free to kiss anyone you want.”

“That I am,” Riley said. He took another step closer. “Would that be an invitation?”

Nan drew a deep breath. She wanted to scream her answer.
Yes! Kiss me again, throw me down on the bed, rip off my clothes.
“I'm not sure. If it was, would you accept it?”

“Well, why don't we just give it a try?” He reached out and smoothed his hands around her waist, then drew her closer. His mouth came down on hers, softly at first. And then his tongue traced a path along the edge of her lips and Nan opened her mouth, her tongue meeting his. She was already familiar with his taste, but she wasn't expecting the rush of desire that coursed through her.

Suddenly, the kiss wasn't enough. She wanted him to touch her, to pull her body against his, to overwhelm her with his own need. She splayed her fingers against his chest, his body all hard muscle beneath her touch.

It was obvious from the way he slowly seduced her with his mouth that he knew exactly what he was doing.
He kissed her exactly the way a woman would want to be kissed, deeply and romantically, and Nan did her best to keep up.

Riley turned her around and pressed her back against the wall of the bedroom, catching her hands and pinning them on either side of her head. Nan felt vulnerable, exposed, her desire evident in every ragged breath she took. Her heart slammed inside her chest, blood rushing through her veins and setting every nerve afire.

When he finally stepped back, she nearly collapsed onto the floor. She'd never really been kissed like that before. Was it an Irish thing? Did Irish men practice more than American men? Or had she just spent too much time with men who didn't really know what they were doing?

“Are you all right?” he asked.

She swallowed hard. “Yes.”

He cupped her cheek in his hand. “I'm going to leave you now. I'll see you later?”

“Yes,” she said. Strangely, one-word answers were all she could manage.