Kate Hoffmann: Danny

“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 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?”