Danny

4

DANNY STARED AT THE ornate medallion he’d begun for the garden gate. He’d been working on it for three days, fitting it in between the hinges and hardware on Jordan’s list. He’d carefully copied the design from an old black-and-white photo that Jordan had given him.

The work was beautiful, but it wasn’t Irish. He suspected the original artisan was John Wellston, a British blacksmith from Galway who had done a lot of the work in the area at the turn of the century. Wellston’s work was quite prized nowadays, found on many historical homes.

At the time Wellston worked, Ireland was in the midst of a rebellion, an attempt to break away from British rule. Wellston worked for many of the wealthy British families and Irish loyalists. But now that Ireland was free, it didn’t seem right to put his work back up on the gate. It should be Irish work on an Irish gate.

Danny glanced at his watch, then dropped the tongs on the floor and shrugged his stiff shoulders. Jordan was out for the morning, running errands to Cork and Bantry. She’d been buying furniture for the house-keeping a careful inventory of it in a huge book in the library.

She’d been trying to track down some of the original furnishings so she might buy them back. But she hadn’t had much luck in that area. Everything she bought was carefully restored and reupholstered, then shipped to a storage facility in Cork, awaiting the moment when it would be moved to Castle Cnoc.

Danny grabbed a towel from the worktable and rubbed the sweat off his grimy face, then grabbed the medallion and hauled it outside, propping it up against an old wooden crate. Drawing a deep breath, he stretched his arms over his head, working the kinks out of his back as he stared at his work.

No, it didn’t look better in the light of day. He sat down on a wooden stool set against the wall of the laundry. There wasn’t much good about it, he mused. Copying Wellston’s work just didn’t seem right. He ought to just start over, with a design of his own. At least he’d take some pride in the making of it.

Sighing softly, Danny raked his hands through his hair, then leaned back against the wall, drawing a deep breath of the late-morning breeze.

This had become a sticky point between him and Jordan and it was about to come to a head. They’d disagreed on a few other small projects and he’d given in, agreeing to make exact copies rather than put his own mark on the work.

But the medallion would be the focal point of the walled garden. It needed to match the beauty of the house and the surrounding landscape-and it should be Irish. Maybe he could use that point to convince Jordan. But first, he’d have to come up with a better design, one with some of the elements of the first, only in a more Gaelic manner.

A wave of exhaustion came over him and Danny fought back a yawn. It didn’t help his creativity when he could barely put a thought together. Late nights with Jordan followed by early mornings at the forge were wearing on him. And though he kept assuring Jordan he was right on schedule, that wasn’t the truth. He’d fallen at least a week behind and was falling further with every day that passed.

He closed his eyes and let his mind drift, searching for inspiration. But instead, his mind filled with thoughts of Jordan, her naked body, her lush mouth, her warm hands-disconnected images of pleasure that plagued him night and day.

Danny cursed beneath his breath. She had become his leanan sidhe, so alluring and yet so dangerous, tempting him and tormenting him at the very same time. He was a happier man when she was close, but was it worth the price he paid? He felt as if she’d already stolen a part of his soul, and the thought of taking it back brought out only a desperate ache deep inside of him.

Wanting her had become second nature, like drawing breath. He couldn’t look at her without his hands aching to touch her, or his lips craving her taste. Was this simple lust or obsession? He was so wrapped up in it, Danny couldn’t tell the difference, not that he’d even know in the first place. If he could just get a decent night’s sleep, then maybe he could sort it all out.

But the nights were what he was living for. With every one spent with Jordan, he learned more and more about passion and need, grew more aware of the pleasure they could give each other. Her bed had become a place to explore and experiment, a place to push the boundaries of what was possible between a man and a woman.

Danny drew a deep breath and let his body relax. Just a few minutes, a short kip, and he’d find his energy. He couldn’t be bothered to walk back to his cottage or even stretch out on the grass at his feet. Just a few…

“Are you asleep?”

Startled by her voice, Danny sat up straight and opened his eyes. “No,” he said, wiping his eyes. “No, I was just thinking.”

“You were asleep,” Jordan said, her brow furrowed deeply.

“Yes,” he admitted. “Maybe I was. I’m knackered, Jordan. Give me a break. I just needed a quick kip and then back to work.”

“How are you supposed to stay on schedule if you’re napping on the job?” There was an edge to her voice and he could see she was upset.

He grinned and held out his hand to her. “How am I supposed to stay on schedule if I’m spending my nights pleasing you? That would be the more appropriate question.”

“Are you saying I don’t work?” Jordan asked.

He shook his head. How did she get that out of his comment? “Of course not. I’m saying that what we do in our spare time makes it hard to get anything done during the day. You can sleep in but I have to get up and go to work.”

“You are saying I don’t work!” Jordan began to pace back and forth in front of him. With every step she took, she was getting more and more upset and Danny stood silently, searching for a way to defuse the looming argument.

“Would you like to tell me what you’re really upset about?”

She stopped and opened her mouth, then snapped it shut. “No,” she said.

He reached out and grabbed her hand. “Come on, sit down and tell me about your day.”

She plopped down on the stool and cupped her chin in her hand. “I bought a crystal vase a few months ago. It’s an exact match for one that was pictured in the foyer. I put it in the butler’s pantry and now it’s gone. It just disappeared. I have no idea how long it’s been gone, but I didn’t imagine that I bought it or put it there. I have a receipt.” She rubbed her forehead. “Sometimes I think I’m going crazy.”

“You’re not going crazy,” he said.

She shrugged. “I know. One of the workmen must have come into the house and taken it. I need to be more careful with the locks.”

“What else?” he asked.

“It’s nothing. I’m just tired. Stressed. Confused.” She pointed to the medallion. “It looks nice.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Danny said. “I don’t like it. The smith who designed it was a Brit. And I refuse to copy his work. There should be Irish work on the gate.”

“We had an agreement,” Jordan said.

“And I’m going back on it. You want a medallion for the garden gate, I’ll make you one. It’s going to be beautiful and it will be Irish and it will be my design. I want to leave something of my work in this place.”

“I could fire you for this,” she said, a defiant tilt to her chin.

He chuckled. “You could. But you won’t. You wanted the best and I’m the best.”

She shook her head. “Do what you want,” she murmured, her voice wavering. “I’m tired, too. And everything is all screwed up. And it’s all because of you.”

“Me? How am I to blame?”

She looked at him, her eyes filling with tears. She’d gone from contrary to crying in the course of a few seconds. What the hell was he supposed to do now? Danny tried to grab her hand, but she turned and started back to the house.

“Oh, bollocks,” he muttered. He ran after her, catching up on the stone terrace. “Jordan, wait.” He caught her waist and spun her around to face him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said, shaking her head. “Just go back to work.”

“No. You’re in tears.”

“I am not!” she cried, denying the wet streaks on her face. “I’m not crying. I don’t cry.”

“Then why is your face wet?”

“I don’t cry!”

“You’re tired. We barely got any sleep last night. I was acting like an arse. If you are crying, which I’m not saying you are, it wouldn’t be a surprise.”

“I’m not crying,” she insisted.

He pulled her along to a bench and sat down next to her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and smoothing the hair from her eyes. “Tell me what’s going on.”

She drew a ragged breath and brushed the tears from her cheeks. “I-I need to be done with this job. I need to go home. I have better things waiting for me and the longer I stay here, the less chance I have of getting them.”

Just the mention of her leaving caused a pain, like a dagger to his heart. “So you’ll finish the job and go home,” he murmured, pulling her close and kissing her temple.

“But the longer I stay here with you, the more I don’t want to leave. Everything is so simple here. I don’t have to fight to be happy.” She sniffled. “Do you know what I was just doing?”

“Threatening to fire me?” Danny teased.

“Talking to my father. He has a project that I really want to manage, a boutique hotel in SoHo. I thought, maybe, when he gave me this job, he was preparing me for that one. It’s the perfect project for me and he knows it-small, unique. And I was right on track to get it. Until you.”

“You’re going to blame this on me?”

“Yes. Because I really don’t care that he’s probably going to give it to my brother. My brother who wouldn’t know a sconce from a scone. I’m just so tired of this constant battle. Here, I’m happy. I don’t feel any pressure and I actually like this job. And I like you.”

“I like you, too,” Danny said. “And I can tell how much this hotel project means to you.”

“It doesn’t mean anything,” Jordan said with a shaky laugh.

“Of course it does. You’re just angry.” He cupped her face in his hands and touched his lips to hers. “We’ll figure this out. You’ll find a way to change your father’s mind.”

“What about the gate?” she asked.

“You have to trust me. You have to let me do this my way. I promise, I’ll make it good.”

She closed her eyes and sighed, her shoulders sagging. “Just get it done. I don’t care how you do it. It doesn’t make a difference anymore.” Jordan pulled out of his grasp. “I really don’t think it’s a good idea for us to spend so much time together. Both of us know there isn’t a future here. And we should both focus more on work.”

“Sure,” Danny said.

“Maybe you should stay at the cottage tonight.”

“No problem.” Danny wanted to grab her and pull her into his arms, to kiss away all her worries. He much preferred complete infatuation to utter confusion. But right now, Jordan needed a bit of space, a chance to figure out what she really wanted. She thought her problem was him; but Danny suspected there was something else at work here, something much deeper.

If she needed time, he’d give her that. She could have all the time she wanted. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go make you a cup of tea. That always makes things better.”

“I don’t like tea,” she said.

“What about ice cream?” he asked.

“I love ice cream.”

“There’s a place in town that has the best strawberry ice cream,” he said.

She smiled. “I love chocolate.”

“They have that, too,” Danny said. “We’ll go have ourselves a scoop.”

“We should really get back to work.”

“Well, if we’re going to be spending our nights alone, then we’ll have plenty of time for work.”

She drew in a ragged breath and forced a smile. “I may have been a bit rash about that. Maybe if we just tried to get to sleep earlier, things would improve.”

Danny drew her into his arms and gave her a fierce hug. “We’ll give that a try,” he said. “Now stop crying and we’ll go get ice cream.”

“I’m not crying,” she insisted, her face pressed into his chest.

“Sure you’re not,” Danny whispered.

JORDAN STRODE DOWN the garden path, her scheduling flowchart clutched in her hands. It was about time to get this project back on track. No more distractions, no more Ms. Nice Girl.

Maybe she did need to be tougher. Obviously, whoever was stealing from the house thought she was an easy mark. And if that’s what it took to get what she wanted, then she’d just have to change her ways. Bartie was a perfect example. He’d been working on the garden for months and nothing was done. Danny was doing his own thing with the gate medallions. And the filter for the pool had been nothing but trouble since it was installed.

“It’s time to kick ass and take names,” she muttered to herself. “Get tough. Be mean.”

Cursing softly, she brushed aside the memory of her attempt with Danny. The humiliation of breaking down in front of him yesterday still brought a flush of warmth to her cheeks. She’d never let her emotions get the better of her in her business life before. Why now?

She’d just been so overwhelmed with everything that had happened between them that she’d cracked. Too many late nights, too much time spent feeling like a wanton woman rather than a detached professional.

But this wasn’t just about the job. Though she’d tried to blame everything on Danny, Jordan knew it was nearly all her fault. Ireland was changing her. She’d lived here for months, feeling like a fish out of water. But now, with Danny’s arrival, this place was beginning to feel like home.

If she hadn’t been so weak, so anxious to jump into an affair with him, then everything would be fine. He’d be finishing his work and she’d be getting ready to leave Ireland for a better project in Manhattan. And she’d have no regrets for anything that had happened between them.

But Danny had seduced her and at the same time, awakened a part of her that she hadn’t known existed. For the first time in her life, she felt needed…wanted…desired. And that made her feel wonderful.

How many times had she heard professional women discussing the problem with trying to have it all? Was this what they meant? Did romance exist in direct competition with professional success? Could she be a woman in love and a woman in business at the same time? Or would one side always suffer?

Of course she could, Jordan mused. Women did it every day. But they didn’t have four brothers to compete with, or a father who never seemed to be satisfied. Or a man who could inflame her body with just a simple touch of his hand.

Her job would have been so much easier if Danny Quinn had turned out to be fifty years old, balding and toothless. Instead, he had to be handsome and charming and sexy as sin. She’d never stood a chance. Her feeble attempt to put an end to their late nights had lasted all of about two minutes. Last night had been just as long and adventurous as the previous nights had been.

Jordan turned in to the entrance of the garden and observed the landscape in front of her. More holes. More piles of dirt. It looked as if Bartie and Daisy had turned over every single inch of soil in the garden.

Gathering her resolve, Jordan strode inside the walls and approached the elderly couple. They were bent low, peering into a deep hole. “What are you two looking for?”

They jumped at the sound of her voice and then quickly straightened, fumbling with the tools they held. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” She stepped over and looked into the hole. “If there’s nothing, then why are you digging holes?”

“The soil,” Bartie said. “Ferrous-”

“Yes, I know. Ferrous metals. I searched ferrous metals in Irish gardens on the internet last night. I didn’t find anything. Not one thing about iron in the soil. And as far as roses, they can grow in almost any kind of soil with the proper feeding and fertilization.”

“Yes,” Bartie said, still nodding his head.

“Yes? Is that all you have to say?” Jordan paused and schooled her temper. “I don’t understand what the holdup is. It doesn’t look any closer to being done than it did when I arrived here sixteen months ago. Except instead of weeds, I now have piles and piles of dirt.”

“Oh, but it is,” Bartie said. “I can see how you think that, Miss Kennally. But rose gardens in Ireland can be a tricky thing. The soil has to be prepared in just the right way or you’ll have a catastrophe on your hands. We’ve had to go down a bit deeper than we planned, but it’s important. To avoid catastrophe.”

“I don’t want a catastrophe. I just want flowers. Roses. Get it done. If-if I don’t see flowers in this garden by next week, I’ll need to hire a professional.”

“Yes, miss.”

She stalked back to the entrance of the garden, then turned back to Bartie and Daisy. “Have you been inside the house lately, Bartie?”

The old man shifted nervously. “No, miss. I spend all my time in the garden. Why would I have cause to come in the house?”

“What about you, Daisy?”

“No, ma’am.”

Jordan shook her head. “Danny says we might have brownies or fairies in the house. Things keep disappearing and then reappearing somewhere else. Do you know anything about that?”

Bartie nodded. “Oh, yes, miss. Sounds like brownies to me,” he said. “I’ll keep a watch out for them. In the meantime, you might want to leave a little something out for them, miss. A biscuit or two, maybe a slice of tea cake.”

“Or you can build a new house for them,” Daisy said.

“Build a new house? For an imaginary creature?” Jordan shook her head. “I have to see some positive changes out here soon. It needs to start looking like a garden, not a construction site.”

Bartie tipped his hat, then returned to the hole he was digging. Daisy gave him a worried look and Bartie forced a smile. “Flowers,” he said.

As Jordan walked through the opening in the wall, she noticed new hinges hanging from the stone columns. Danny was working on the gate but she’d been reluctant to check up on his progress.

She’d accepted his refusal to copy the original gate, but she was afraid she might not like what he’d come up with to replace it. And if she didn’t like it, she’d be forced to make him begin again. She started toward the forge, then decided to wait. Trust. She had to trust that he knew what he was doing.

When she got back inside the house, she headed to the library, ready to get to work on her scheduling. There was still the roof on the laundry cottage and the new gravel paving on the drive. She had to check her inventory of furniture and make a final list of the pieces she needed, and she’d have to make some changes due to Danny’s slower pace. But there was still a chance to make her final deadline if she could just control her desires.

Jordan sat down at her desk, feeling much better about her options. Grabbing her calendar, she flipped through the next few weeks, searching for a few open days. A trip back to New York would be an excellent way to lobby for the hotel job. She could fly in one day and out the next. Danny could watch over the workmen for her while she was gone.

“Yes,” she murmured. There was still time to get everything she wanted. She’d bring her father a full report on the Castle Cnoc renovation, filled with photos and graphs and flowcharts. Her father loved graphs. He would have to see she was the right one. And if he didn’t-if he didn’t, she’d-

“I’ll quit!” she cried, slamming her pen down on the desk.

“Don’t say that.”

Jordan glanced up to see Kellan Quinn standing in the doorway of the library. “Hello.” For a moment, she’d thought it was Danny, all cleaned up and looking like a proper businessman. The brothers looked so much alike. But in reality, Kellan wasn’t anything like Danny. He was cool and aloof and completely in control of his emotions. She could depend on Kellan. Danny? Well, she still hadn’t figured that out yet.

He stepped through the door. “Hi. How is it going?”

From the moment she’d met Kellan sixteen months ago, she’d liked him. He was talented and thoughtful and possessed as much enthusiasm for the castle as she did. As the project architect, he’d prepared all the plans and drawings for the renovation, making sure everything they kept was sound and anything new was an accurate restoration. Now that it was almost finished, she realized how much she’d miss working with him.

“Things are going really well,” she said. “I didn’t know you were coming. Are you looking for Danny?”

“No,” Kellan said. “I’m looking for you.” He handed her an envelope. “My final bill. I know I could have mailed it, but I come with a personal request. Actually, several. Nan wanted me to remind you of the engagement party. She’d like you to come. It’s next Friday night at the pub. And she and my mother would like to come and tour Castle Cnoc once it’s all finished, if that’s all right with you?”

“I’d love to give them a tour.” Jordan stood and took the envelope from him. “Sit,” she said, pointing to a nearby chair. “Have you had a chance to walk through the house?”

“No, but I want to. It’s been a while. When are you bringing in the furniture?”

“Soon,” Jordan said. “I’ve got a few more things that I need to buy. Library books are next on the list.” She glanced around. “I have to fill all these shelves. But I want real books, leather-bound with gold leaf.”

“Where are you going to go for those?”

“I don’t know. London would probably be best. It would be nice if I could put together a real Irish library, though.”

“Really? I thought you were going for more of an English manor house.”

“I’ve been convinced that I should approach this from the Irish side. After all, the owner is half-Irish, so there is good reason to go that way. And Danny-”

“Oh, so that’s it,” Kellan said with a grin. “Danny is pushing the whole Gaelic-pride thing?”

“No. But he’s right. This is an Irish house and the decor should reflect that.”

“There’s a great rare books dealer in Galway,” Kellan said. “I’ll email you his name. He’ll help you find what you need.”

“Thanks,” she said.

“So, Joe, tell me that Danny has been treating you well. Is it all fair play, then, or has he been a dosser?”

“Fair play,” Jordan said, “I think. He’s very good at what he does.”

Kellan nodded slyly. “I’m sure he is. That’s why women love him.”

Jordan felt her cheeks warm. “Professionally. He’s an excellent blacksmith. We’ve had a few creative disagreements, but other than that, it’s been going quite well.”

“I would warn you off,” Kellan said, “but I suspect you know what you’re doing.”

This caused Jordan to laugh out loud. “I have no idea what I’m doing. I’m figuring it out as I go along.”

“I will say this-if he hurts you, I’ll reef the shite out of him.”

“That won’t be necessary. If he hurts me, I’ll reef the shite out of him myself.”

“And if things go well for you both and you’d consider staying in Ireland, then I have a proposal for you.”

“A proposal?” Jordan asked.

“I’d like you to consider working with me. I do a lot of houses like this, here and in Europe, and I like your work. And your style. No drama. I don’t know the technicalities of getting a work visa, but I’m sure that could be sorted out.”

“You’re offering me a job?”

“More like a partnership. If you decide to stay.”

Jordan leaned back in her chair. She hadn’t even considered staying. Her life was back in Manhattan. She had just always assumed she’d return. But it was nice to know that she had options. It would serve her father right if she decided to leave the company. At least someone admired her talent and work ethic. “Thanks,” she said. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Everything else is going well?” Kellan asked.

“If you’re asking about the house, yes. Oh, except for the brownies or the fairies. We’re not sure which we have. And then there’s the problems in the garden with Bartie. He’s been digging holes for weeks now. Big, deep holes. I don’t know what that’s all about.”

“You have brownies?” Kellan asked.

“Yes,” she said. “Someone or something has been sneaking around the house, stealing things and locking doors and windows behind them.”

“You do know that brownies aren’t real, don’t you?”

“Of course she does.” Danny appeared at the door, dressed in his leather apron and a backward baseball cap.

“Someone was in the house that night,” Jordan said. “I know I wasn’t dreaming.”

Danny drew a deep breath. “Yes, someone was in the house. Maybe not that night, but sometime that day. I found a footprint.”

“You did? You didn’t tell me that,” Jordan said.

“I didn’t want to scare you. And you haven’t had any more problems since I’ve been sleeping in the manor house.”

“Except for the vase,” she said.

“Right, the vase.” He smiled. “Well, I think we can rule out the place being haunted. Ghosts don’t carry off crystal vases.”

Kellan nodded. “Yeah, it was easier to believe in ghosts when the place looked like a wreck. Some of these old houses have secret entrances. And this house was used during the rebellion to smuggle guns. Maybe that’s how your brownies are getting in and out.”

Danny grinned. “Really? Where would this secret passage be?”

“I don’t know. I have the original blueprints, but there wasn’t anything on those. But then, there wouldn’t be if it was a secret. I just never thought to look.” He stood. “You need to find an undefined space. You could figure it out if you measured the rooms. Somewhere there’s a missing meter or so, a space wide enough for a hall or a stairway.”

“Now you have me curious,” Jordan said, smiling. “Wouldn’t that be a tale to tell the owner when she arrives? I think we should start looking. I want to find it.”

“I’d love to help,” Kellan said, standing, “but I’m off to Dublin. I need to scare up some more work.” He crossed the room and held out his hand to Jordan. “It was a pure pleasure working with you, Joe.”

Jordan smiled. “And thank you for the offer, Kellan,” she said. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good.” Kellan gave Danny a slap on the shoulder as he walked out the door. “You, watch yourself. Don’t be an arse. Be nice to your boss.”

When they were alone, Danny sat down in the chair Kellan had vacated. “What was that all about?” he asked.

“He brought me his bill,” Jordan said.

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” Danny said. “What kind of offer did Kellan make you?”

“It’s nothing,” Jordan said. “Just business.” She didn’t want Danny to know that she would even consider staying in Ireland. If he hadn’t thought about it, then knowing that she had would likely send him running in the opposite direction. And though Kellan’s offer was generous, it would take a lot to get her to give up her life in America.

Jordan jumped out of her chair. “I think we should look for that secret passage. Then we can figure out if anyone has been sneaking into the house.” She walked over to the wall of shelves. “How are we going to find it?”

“Tap on the walls,” Danny suggested. “Look for hidden latches or hinges.” He stood and walked to the door. “I have to get back to work. I’ll see you later.”

Jordan watched him retreat, then frowned. He seemed a bit upset. Maybe she should have told him about Kellan’s offer. But there was another reason she’d held back. What if he wanted her to stay?

Jordan drew a deep breath and closed her eyes. She could deny it all she wanted, but she felt something deep and strong for Danny Quinn. It might not be love, but it was something that wouldn’t go away just because she wanted it to. Leaving him was going to be much more difficult that she’d ever anticipated.

JORDAN DREW A DEEP BREATH and smiled, a look of pure pleasure coming over her face. “I love the smell of books,” she said.

Danny wrinkled his nose and looked around the used bookshop. To him, the store smelled a bit musty. “You and Nan should have come on this trip and left me home.”

“Nan?”

Danny nodded. “She was a librarian back in the States. Something to do with old books and maps. She’d have loved this place.”

“I thought you wanted to come,” Jordan said.

Danny slipped his arms around her waist. “I did. But you were the attraction, not some old moldy books.”

“What about when I get old and moldy?” Jordan asked. “Does that mean you’re going to stop liking me then?”

Danny nodded. “I’m afraid so. Once you turn thirty, I’m hitting the road.”

Jordan gasped, then slapped him playfully. “You’re awful. I think I might hate you.”

He bent to kiss her neck. “No, you don’t. You’re mad for me. Admit it. You can’t get enough.”

She sighed, tipping her head to allow his kisses to continue across her shoulder. “Well, that’s true enough. Although, I’m not sure it’s a good thing.” She gently pushed at his chest. “We’re here to look for books,” she reminded him. “Not to snog in the stacks.”

Reluctantly, Danny let her go. Hand in hand, they strolled down the narrow aisles between the stacks. “What exactly are you looking for?” He reached out and plucked a book from one of the shelves. “Here we go. An Illustrated History of Faeries and Sprites. Maybe we can find some of your wee friends in here.”

“Why do you think I’m a fairy?” she asked. “I don’t have wings. Or a wand.”

“Not all fairies look like Tinkerbell. And you wouldn’t. You’re the kind of fairy that uses all her trickery to lure me in.” He pointed to an illustration. “There you are. Leanan sidhe. See? That looks just like you.”

She examined the illustration carefully. “She has wavy dark hair. That’s about it.”

“There’s more,” he said.

“She’s naked and I’m fully clothed. And she has wings. And really big boobs.”

Danny playfully tugged at the back of her shirt. “You have lovely breasts. And I think I’ve seen wings in here somewhere. Why don’t we just take a closer look?”

“You need to keep your mind on business,” she warned, wagging her finger at him.

“And you need to stop distracting me. Fairy magic is a powerful thing and you don’t know how powerful you are.”

“If I’m so powerful,” Jordan said, “why can’t I get rid of the brownies in the house?”

“It doesn’t work that way. Fairies and brownies exist in separate worlds.” He handed her the book. “Here. You can read all about it. I’ll buy it for you, sidhe.”

“We’re here to look for big sets of books with nice leather bindings. And, of course, they should be interesting. I have a lot of shelves to fill.”

“So aesthetics are more important than content?”

Jordan shrugged. “I don’t know. It all depends. We should get a full set of Shakespeare. Why don’t we look for that first?”

“Buying books for their looks is like buying art because it matches the paint on the wall.” Danny reached out and plucked a book off the shelf and held it up to her. “You should start with an Irish poet.”

“Who is that?”

“W. B. Yeats.” Danny leaned back against the bookshelf and closed his eyes. “‘When you are old and gray and full of sleep, and nodding by the fire, take down this book, and slowly read, and dream of the soft look your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep.’” He opened his eyes to find her staring at him.

“That’s beautiful,” she murmured.

“I would still love you when you were old and gray,” he murmured. It was an impulsive statement that startled him, as it was based on the assumption that he loved her now-or would in the future. Was that even a possibility in his subconscious? And if it was, what would that mean to her?

Her gaze softened, as if she were searching for the truth in his words. Danny held his breath, hoping that she might return the favor and provide a clue to the depth of her own feelings. Was she falling in love with him? Did she think about a future together?

“You have to have Yeats,” Danny finally said, handing her the book.

She drew in a sharp breath and nodded. “Yes. Good.”

Danny forced a smile. He’d given her an opening and she hadn’t stepped through it. “And you’ll need collections of Swift and Goldsmith. And Wilde and Joyce.”

“How do you know so much about this?” Jordan asked.

“I’m Irish. We take great pride in our literary heroes. Bram Stoker and Samuel Beckett were Irish, too. And C. S. Lewis. Sister Mary Frances, my high-school English teacher, was a tyrant when it came to homegrown talent. I can still recite ‘The Lake Isle of Innisfree.’ It was my favorite poem.”

“Say it for me,” Jordan said.

Danny cleared his throat and stood up straight.

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,

And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;

Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,

And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

“That’s beautiful,” she murmured.

Chuckling, Danny dropped a kiss on her lips. “That’s not the end of it. Maybe I’ll finish it tonight, when we’re in bed.”

“Thank you, Sister Mary Frances.”

“I used to think that’s what I wanted. To escape my family, my brothers mostly, and find a place to be alone, in a bee-loud glade. But I’m starting to realize that life alone wouldn’t be much fun.”

“Not even in a cabin of clay and waddle? What is waddle?”

“Wattle,” Danny said, emphasizing the ts. “Wattle is strips of wood held together with clay or mud. Although sometimes, in olden days, they used animal dung and straw.”

“You know a lot of trivial things,” she said. “I’m impressed.”

“What do you know?” Danny asked. “Recite a poem for me.”

“No.” Jordan laughed. “Outside of nursery rhymes, I’m not sure I know a single poem by memory. Not that I didn’t at one time. Things just seem to come and go from my mind if I don’t really think about them.”

He leaned into her. “So you’ll forget all about me soon enough?”

She slowly shook her head. “No, I don’t think I’ll ever forget you.”

Danny cupped her face in his hands and captured her mouth with his. He loved to kiss Jordan. She was always so sweet and willing, her fingers clutching at his shirt. When he lingered over her lips, she moaned softly and Danny slipped his hand beneath her shirt to caress her breast.

His thoughts returned to the lines of Yeats he’d recited, the words drifting through his head. For the first time in his life, he could imagine spending the rest of his days with one woman. Jordan fascinated him with all her foibles and quirks. At once she was steely, yet vulnerable, serious, yet silly. With every contrast he discovered, he became more and more intrigued. Was this really the woman who could keep him interested for a lifetime?

And then there was their physical compatibility. He’d always enjoyed sex, but sex with Jordan was so much more than the simple satisfying of a need. It was how they communicated, how they conveyed the feelings that they hadn’t yet put into words. Did he love her? He wasn’t sure. But was he falling in love with her? There was a very good possibility he was.

“Books,” she murmured when he finally drew away. “You have to stop distracting me.”

“All right,” he whispered. “Let’s get your books. We’ll continue this later.”

As Danny followed her around the bookstore, pointing out volumes that belonged in her library, he thought about the time they had left together. He had at least another two weeks of work to do and he could maybe stretch it into three. But her work in Ireland would eventually end.

He tried to imagine how that would look, how it would feel. Would they just kiss each other goodbye and end it? Or would they make plans to see each other again? Though he’d always been one to make a break up clean and simple, somehow he knew it wouldn’t be simple with Jordan. He was already thinking of ways they could be together, of trips to New York.

He needed time. Or he’d have to make better use of the time he had. Riley had only been given a couple of weeks with Nan. How had he managed it? Maybe it was time to find out.