child’s dark curls. “Mr. O’Connell, I am very concerned about you. Do you need a doctor?”
“A lawyer’s more like it.”
“I’ve got a question, O’Connell,” Rory said as he stepped between them. Peggy sensed that a protective barrier had suddenly risen in front of her and her child. Still crouched on the floor with Samantha crying against her shoulder, she leaned forward so she could see each man’s face in profile.
“What’s the question, Sinclair?” the EPA inspector asked.
“Why do you want a lawyer?”
“The kid—”
“Samantha,” Rory said evenly. “Her name’s Samantha.”
“Yeah, well, she left that rabbit in the middle of the stairs. The fall I took could have killed me.”
“So, you want a lawyer because you’re thinking of suing Mrs. Honeywell?”
O’Connell looked at Peggy. “Maybe.” His gaze dropped to her mouth. “Unless we can work out something.”
She gritted her teeth while heated anger pooled in her cheeks. If Samantha and her other guests weren’t present, she would ask the idiot if he actually thought his threatening her with a lawsuit would compel her to sleep with him.
Rory hooked a thumb in the front pocket of his jeans. “Here’s the deal, O’Connell. If you call a lawyer, I’ll have to talk to him, too.”
A guarded look settled in the man’s eyes. “About what?”
“I came down to breakfast ten minutes ago. I saw the pink bunny at the top of the staircase.”
“See—”
“Not in the middle of the staircase. Off to one side. Against the wall, in fact.” Rory shrugged. “Didn’t look like a safety problem to me. It sounds more like you just got clumsy. If you had gotten hurt, it would have been your own fault. Besides, what does it say about an inspector who trips over something hot pink?”
“We saw the bunny, too, Mr. O’Connell,” one of the art judges volunteered while the other nodded in agreement. “This gentleman is right. The bunny was against the wall. You must not have been looking where you were going.”
Apparently realizing he was outnumbered, O’Connell scowled. “Yeah, okay. I guess I’m more shaken up than anything.”
Peggy swiveled her head, gave the women a grateful smile. “Ladies, would you please escort Mr. O’Connell into the dining room? I’ll have breakfast ready in just a few minutes.”
O’Connell limped across the foyer between the two women, their bracelets clanking as they each patted one of his arms. Murmuring their sympathies, they steered O’Connell down the hallway that led to the dining room.
Peggy gave Samantha a hug, then settled on the bottom step. “Sweetheart, why don’t you take Bugs to your room? While you’re at preschool, I’ll see if I can sew him back together.”
“Can you fix him, Momma?” Voice hitching, Samantha stared at her through swollen, tearful eyes. “Can you really fix him?”
Cupping the small, tearstained face in her hands, Peggy placed a light kiss on her daughter’s trembling lips. “I can try.”
“Okay.” Samantha bent and gathered up the bunny’s head. Snuggling it and the fuzzy, pink body against her chest, she headed toward the hallway.
Peggy shook her head. “Dear Lord, give me strength.”
Chuckling softly, Rory offered his hand. “All this before breakfast. Are things always this eventful around Honeywell House?”
She hesitated an instant before sliding her hand into his. His flesh felt warm and firm against hers as he helped her to her feet.
“No, thank goodness.” Because his fingers had tangled with hers, she took a step back, disengaging her hand from his. “Usually things are on the sedate side.” She flicked a look toward the hallway in which O’Connell had disappeared. “I appreciate you stepping in. I doubt I would have been quite so tactful.”
“A lioness defending her cub doesn’t worry about tact.”
Peggy pulled in a deep breath. “No, she doesn’t. Samantha comes first with me.”
“That’s the way things should be.”
Peggy knew she had guests waiting for their breakfast, knew she needed to get to the kitchen. Still, she lingered inches from him, the spicy male tang of his cologne pervading her lungs.
“When Samantha showed you the picture she drew, I wondered how on earth you guessed it was a bunny. You knew because you saw Bugs at the top of the stairs.”
“The rabbit and the picture are both hot pink.” He shrugged. “I made a wild guess.”
“An accurate one.” She smiled as she fingered a wayward wisp of hair off her cheek. “Thank you again for defusing what might have turned into an even more unpleasant situation, Mr. Sinclair. If you’ll join the other guests in the dining room for coffee, I’ll see to breakfast.”
“You’re always so polite while you’re trying to get rid of me.” He smiled, a slow curving of the lips that gave his strong-featured face a devastating appeal. “What’s it going to take for you to call me Rory?”
She slid her tongue along her bottom lip. She didn’t want to picture herself in his arms, breathing his name against his heated flesh, but she did. “I think…” Her voice hitched, and she cleared her throat. “It would be wise for us to keep things between us on a business level, Mr. Sinclair.”
He said nothing for a moment, just stared down at her with those off-the-chart blue eyes until she had to fight the urge to squirm.
“You’re right, Ireland,” he said softly. “That would probably be the wise thing to do.”
Three
His appetite sated from a breakfast of melt-in-the-mouth pecan pancakes and apple cinnamon sausage, Rory stood in the gravel parking lot that bordered Honeywell House, a hip leaned against the front fender of his rental car. For the past hour he’d been telling himself that he couldn’t argue with what Peggy had said before she left him in the foyer. Keeping their dealings on a business level would be wise.
He just wasn’t sure that wise was the course he wanted to follow.
After all, wise wouldn’t get the woman into his arms. Wouldn’t have him feeling her ripe, sexy mouth softening and heating under his. Wise wouldn’t get her into his bed.
Which would definitely put an enjoyable twist on his stay in Prosperino.
Ireland. Why the hell had he called her that? He’d never before even thought about giving any female a nickname, especially a woman he had known less than twenty-four hours. It was those eyes, he decided. Cool jade that sparked liquid fire when her temper kicked in. Eyes that he suspected would go dark and smoky when she stepped
