The Mighty Quinns: Danny

“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 cluttered 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.”