The Mighty Quinns: Danny Read Free Page A

It’s the attached manor house that we’re working on.”
    â€œThat’s still a big house,” he said. “And the last time I saw it, it was a ruin.”
    â€œNine bedrooms. Nearly ten thousand square feet. Built in 1860 with a major addition in 1910. I know we haven’t talked money, but I figured you’d want to see what’s required before you give me a quote. And I wanted to meet you, to see if we…well, if we could work together.”
    They reached the door to the old stone barn and he stopped and stood in front of her, staring at her in a brazen way. She pressed her hand to her chest, wondering why her heart was suddenly beating so fast. Was it the smile that made his mouth seem more kissable? Or was it the sheen of perspiration that made her long to touch his bare skin? Or was it—
    â€œSo, this is kind of like a first date for us,” he commented. “We’re just feeling each other out, trying to decide whether we want to get involved, is that it?”
    Jordan felt her cheeks blaze again. This was crazy! She’d dealt with handsome men like Danny Quinn all her adult life. What was it about him that had turned her into a silly teenager? “It’s purely a business transaction, Mr. Quinn. It has nothing to do with my feelings for you. Not that I have any feelings at all for you. We just met.”
    â€œOh.” He nodded. “Then it would be more like I’m a brasser and you’re my customer?”
    â€œA brasser?”
    â€œA prostitute? A hooker, I think you Americans call it.”
    â€œI’m not making you do anything illegal, unless making hinges and gates will get you arrested in Ireland.”
    â€œYou haven’t seen my hinges,” he said with a grin. “They’re obscenely sexy. Erotic, some would say.”
    She had to put a stop to this—this playful, but highly suggestive banter. “Mr. Quinn, I—”
    â€œOh, Jaysus, can we stop with the Mr. Quinn? No one ever calls me mister. And it makes you sound like a snootypants.”
    â€œDo you want this job?” she asked, her eyes narrowing in frustration. “Because I get the feeling you’re doing everything in your power to get me to turn around and walk back to my car.”
    He raked his hand through his tousled hair. “Now don’t be doing that. I’m just having a bit of fun,” he cajoled. “And you’re right, I’m not really sure I want to take on a job like this. Copying someone else’s work doesn’t appeal to my creative sensibilities at all.”
    â€œBut you’d be a part of a really wonderful project. The castle is going to be restored to its former grandeur.”
    â€œWhy? So some rich American can live there and pretend he’s a nineteenth-century lord, looking down on all the locals? Oh, count me in on that. And while you’re at it, do you have a few red-hot pokers you’d like to stick in my eye?”
    Jordan stared at him, baffled by his response. She’d gotten the impression from Kellan that his brother really needed the work. But it was clear that Danny Quinnrequired more than just a decent paycheck before he took a job. He needed inspiration.
    â€œSo who is it that bought the old castle?” he asked. “Everyone in the county has been speculating. Whoever it is must have money to burn.”
    â€œI’m really not at liberty to—”
    â€œIf you expect me to take the job, I’m going to want to know who I’m working for.”
    â€œYou’d be working for me,” Jordan said.
    â€œAnd who would you be working for?” He pointed inside the barn. “After you.”
    She opened her mouth to counter his sarcastic query, but as soon as her eyes adjusted to the dark interior of the barn, Jordan was silenced. From every rafter, in every nook and cranny, there were beautiful objects made of iron, twisted into shapes she’d never