calls. So Jordan had decided to force the issue. She needed an answer, one way or another, or she’d be put off schedule.
The pressure to bring the job in on time and under budget was immense. If she did, her father wouldn’t be able to ignore her anymore. The next logical step would be the boutique hotel they were developing in SoHo and after that, progressively larger projects. They wouldn’t think of her as the company “decorator” anymore.
Jordan cursed softly. They all looked at her like some swatch-wielding cream puff, unable to exert any power with the mostly male contractors on the job sites. Maybe she didn’t curse and throw tantrums and berate the workers, but that didn’t mean she didn’t get the job done. Jordan had always preferred a quiet confidence to a raging temper. You get more flies with honey. That’s what her grandmother had always said.
But she’d been pleasant to Danny Quinn, polite on all the messages she’d left. Maybe it was time to get tough. If he didn’t want the job, he needed to tell her outright so she could find someone else. Trouble was, she didn’t want anyone else. Kellan had shown her a portfolio of his brother’s work and Danny was exactly who she needed to provide some of the authentic details she sought for the project.
As the map indicated, a cobblestone path led between the bakery and the adjacent building. After walking through a narrow alleyway, she saw the sign for the smithy—a decorative iron anvil and tongs attached to the side of an azure cottage set on the low hillside.
The front door to the cottage was wide open and she walked inside. Two black-and-white dogs lying near the fireplace immediately leapt up and began barking at her. They scampered across the room, driving her against a battered breakfront.
“Shh,” she urged, working her way back to the front door. “Settle down. I’m not going to hurt you.” Jordan held out her hand as she made her retreat. But just as she turned to step outside, she ran face-first into a wide, muscular and naked chest.
A tiny cry slipped from her lips as she stumbled back. The dogs got behind her legs and she felt herself losing her balance. And then she was on the floor with the dogs climbing all over her, licking at her face and nuzzling her hands.
“Finny. Mogue. Away now.”
The dogs retreated a safe distance, then sat down and peered at her with curious blue eyes, their tongues hanging out, their heads cocked. They looked so pleased with themselves. “Thank you so much for the lovely welcome,” she muttered to the dogs as she struggled to her feet. A moment later, the man grabbed her hand and helped her up. It was only then that Jordan got a good look at the elusive Danny Quinn.
The family resemblance was keen. At first glance, he looked like his older brother, Kellan. But upon more careful study, she saw that where Kellan was handsome in a cool, sophisticated way, his brother oozed raw sex appeal.
He wore torn blue jeans that rode low on his narrow hips, and an old work shirt, open at the front and missing its sleeves. A sheen of perspiration covered his sinewy arms and chest. His hair, nearly black, stood up in unruly spikes. But it was his eyes, pale blue in color, that caught her complete attention. She forced herself to look away and her gaze drifted to a narrow strip of hair that traced a line from his navel to beneath his—
“Sorry about the dogs,” he said with a boyish smile. “They’ll herd anything that moves.” He paused. “How they could mistake you for a sheep, I’ll never know.”
Jordan looked up, her face warming with embarrassment. Sheep? What was she doing? Quinn was a business associate. “You—you must be Daniel Quinn.”
“I must be,” he said. “And who must you be?”
“Oh.” She held out her hand. “Jordan. Jordan Kennally.”
He seemed taken aback by her introduction, but then wiped his hand on his jeans and took her fingers in his. “You’re Joe Kennally?”
“Jordan,” she said. “Your brother calls me Joe. He thinks it’s funny.” She cleared her throat, determined to stay on the subject at hand. “I’ve been trying to contact you for the past two weeks now and haven’t gotten a call back. So I decided a visit was in order.” He stared at her silently. “What?” she asked, an impatient edge to her voice.
“I’m just surprised you’re a girl. Kell neglected to mention that.”
Jordan felt her temper rise. That comment had been thrown at her regularly since she’d begun working for her father’s development company. Why couldn’t she be a girl? Women had every right to work in the construction industry these days. And Jordan wasn’t a name reserved exclusively for boys.
“Is that a problem?” she asked, snatching her hand back and fixing him with a cool look. Obviously, the only way to keep this conversation on track was to present a tough facade.
Danny shrugged. “I can assure you, that’s never been a problem with me. And had I known you were a woman, I might not have dodged your calls for two weeks.” He chuckled. “And had I known that you were so beautiful, I’d have turned up on your doorstep in less than a day.”
“You could tell I was a woman from the messages,” she said.
Danny frowned. “I really wasn’t paying attention. I usually just ignore my phone messages.”
“That’s always a good business practice,” she murmured.
He stepped out of the door and motioned for her to follow him. “Come on then, I’ll show you around.”
To her consternation, he didn’t bother to button up his shirt and she found herself fixated on that thin line of hair, this time following it up from his belly to his collarbone. Maybe she should offer him a chance to put on something more appropriate for a business meeting. When her attention shifted to the sculpted muscles of his upper arms, Jordan stifled a groan.
She stepped past him, her shoulder brushing against his body as she walked outside. The contact sent another current racing through her. Jordan wanted to scream. What was happening to her? After just a few minutes, this man had her completely off balance. There was no way she’d be able to negotiate a contract with him in this state. He could ask for a million Euros and her naked body in his bed and she’d sign on the dotted line.
“Just follow the path to the back,” he said, pointing.
Since she’d been in Ireland, Jordan had lived the life of a nun. The first year, she’d made a point to return to New York at least once a month, in an attempt to maintain a romantic relationship with her last boyfriend. But after their breakup, it had seemed like a waste of time and money.
Though she’d made a few acquaintances in the area, she’d kept to herself. In truth, she wasn’t very good with friends. Work always took precedence and she often turned down invitations to socialize because of that. She put all her energy into her job.
“Did your brother tell you about the project?” she asked as they walked to a small stone barn set behind the cottage.
“I know the place,” Danny replied. “Castle Cnoc. We used to go out there when we were teenagers. It was a grand spot for a party if you could avoid getting caught by the peelers.”
“Peelers?”
“The gardai. The … cops. People around here think it’s haunted, you know.”
