“You’re forgetting Patrick,” she couldn’t help but add. “Five brothers, two sisters.”
“Yes, I forgot about Patrick. Isn’t he the one that married Stephanie, who has two little girls named Ashley and Amanda.”
Claire now knew the true meaning of feeling violated. How dare he go behind her back and bring her family into something that they weren’t even aware of. She wasn’t even aware of where this was going!
Quinn spoke again. “Uncle Donald here seems to think you and I, and of course your large family, would be the perfect occupants for this . . . house he claims to love so much.”
Stupefied, Claire’s jaw dropped to her chin and back. She was truly at a loss for words. Was it possible Donald Flynn was suffering from Alzheimer’s? What person in their right mind would concoct such an insane plot? And why?
This was too much. “Look, I don’t know why you’ve picked me to be your, I don’t even know what you’ve picked me to be, but this much I do know, I want no part of this scheme. And if I find out that Brock had anything to do with this”—Claire paused, trying to come up with a plausible statement—“I’ll quit the minute I see him. He can shove the firm up his ass!”
Quinn laughed. “You’ve got moxie, I see. I like that. Now, let me fill you in. Uncle Donald seems to think when he dies, this great castle will go to the great country of Ireland and be made into a tourist trap. So, since I’m his only living blood relative, who just so happens to be single living in California, as do you, my dear old uncle’s plotting an arranged relationship, at least that’s what I assume. Am I right?” Quinn asked his uncle.
Donald actually had the audacity to laugh. “You have to admit it’s not a bad idea. You’re both Irish, you both come from good families, not to mention you’re both quite good-looking, can you imagine what beautiful children you would have together?”
Claire felt her face turned fifty shades of red. Even Quinn appeared stunned.
During this entire exchange of words, Marty and Tilly kept themselves busy washing pots and pans and banging them whenever they felt they shouldn’t be privy to certain parts of the conversation.
“I’m sorry, Claire,” Quinn said. “I suspected he had something like this up his sleeve when he demanded that I be here today. I returned to Ireland for the holidays, thinking I would ride my bike along the coast. Maybe take a day trip to see the Cliffs of Moher, the usual touristy stuff. I planned to kiss that Blarney Stone, too. Even though I was born here, I’ve spent most of my life in the States. My parents lived in America. We only spent a short period in Dublin before my father’s job, he was a pilot for Aer Lingus, took him to New York. Mom loved the city, all the hustle and bustle. Me, on the other hand, once my parents died—my father was Uncle Donald’s younger brother—I think I forgot to add that in here somewhere, but once they were gone, I moved out West. And now, you pull something like this.” Quinn was mad, Claire could tell, but he was also hurt that his uncle had used him like this. Claire barely knew Quinn, but she saw the hurt in his eyes, heard it in his words. “Dad wouldn’t have wanted this.”
“Don’t you think I know that? Your father didn’t want this castle, didn’t want all the responsibility that goes along with the family wealth. All he ever wanted to do was fly airplanes. He could have cared less about our family’s fortune. Once he was out of college, he got away before our father insisted he join the family business. I, being the older of the two, didn’t have a choice.” Donald stopped talking and, for a minute, actually seemed ashamed of himself. “The farms, the dairies have been in the family too long to just let them go to a stranger.”
“I’m a stranger, Donald. You don’t really know me. All you know of me is my professional life, you know nothing of my personal life. No, forget that. Apparently, you made it your business to find out all about my family. I don’t appreciate it, either. It’s almost vulgar to think all the while I was looking after your finances, you were scoping out my family tree hoping to preserve your precious family castle and your fortune, which, by the way, is enough for hundreds of families. Has it ever occurred to you to use all these millions for something other than acquiring more?”
Claire held out her hand, “Don’t answer that. Look, Quinn, I’m going upstairs and make a few phone calls. If you could offer me a ride back to Dublin, I’d appreciate it.” With that said, she stood, took her dishes to the kitchen, where Marty and Tilly were nowhere to be found. She rinsed her bowl, spoon, and cup, then put them inside the industrial-sized dishwasher, wondering why he needed such a large dishwasher in the first place since the castle was hardly occupied.
On her way back upstairs, she passed several beautifully decorated Christmas trees that hadn’t been lit up before. Reds, greens, gold, and silver sparkled throughout the parts of the castle, but Claire no longer felt any pleasure at being in her homeland. All she wanted to do now was pack her bags. No, she didn’t even have to do that as she hadn’t bothered to unpack. The gods were smiling on her, she thought as she entered her guest room. Digging through her purse for the cell phone that she’d never bothered to turn on since landing in Dublin, she turned it back on and saw that she had five voice mails, all from a number she didn’t recognize. As she was about to listen to her voice mail, she heard a light knock on her door. Tossing her phone on the bed, she walked across the room and leaned against the door. “Yes?” She asked, unsure who was there. And if it was Donald Flynn, he could stand there and knock all night long before she would open the door.
“Claire, it’s Quinn.”
As soon as she heard his voice, she opened the door.
“Okay if I come in?” he asked.
Quinn Connor wasn’t the ogre his uncle was, that she was sure of. “Sure,” she said, and stepped aside.
“I knew he’d put you in this room. It has the best view of the back of the estate, plus the mountains. I’ve spent a night or two in this room myself.”
Claire wondered if he’d been alone, but it wasn’t her business, and right now, it was unimportant.
“Yes, it’s beautiful, and I’m sorry, but I can’t stay here. I was about to call the airlines to see if there’s another flight available tonight. I promised my family I would be home in time for Christmas, and from the looks of it, I’m going to be able to keep my promise.”
“Look, I want to apologize for my uncle’s behavior.” Quinn walked across the room and stared out the window. “For the past year, he’s been obsessed with keeping the property in the family.”
“Apparently. I was about to check my voice mail when you knocked. Mind if I check it now? I saw several calls from a number I don’t recognize. I hope it’s not bad news.” Claire took her phone from the bed.
“They’re from me,” Quinn said. “As soon as I got wind of Donald’s plan, I tried calling you, but you were already on your way. I’m sorry you had to travel so far for nothing.”
Claire smiled suddenly, liking this guy a wee bit more than she had an hour ago. “Thanks, that was good of you, but I had the phone off, and to be truthful”—Claire felt the urge to spill the beans—“I got a bit tipsy on the flight from LA to New York. When I arrived at JFK, I was a total mess. I had two drinks, and I swear they tasted like sweet tea. I drank them too fast or something, I don’t know, but by the time I left the bar, I was so drunk I couldn’t walk. Well, no I couldn’t walk because I’d managed to break the heel on my shoe, so I limped through the airport and purchased a nice comfortable pair of Betty Boop slippers, but this was after I spent a while hugging the porcelain god.” Claire laughed. “I am terrified of flying.”
Instead of laughing like she expected, Quinn took a deep breath, then blew it out, all the while clenching and unclenching his fists. “It’s just like him to do this. Did he know you weren’t fond of flying?”
Claire saw where he was going. “No, it’s not something I talk about. In my line of work, I have to travel, and it’s something I’ve learned to live with. I usually do a few relaxation techniques,
and they actually work quite well. I think all the alcohol in my system just amplified my fear. Though I did have a very pleasant seat mate. I promised I’d try to visit before I left.” Claire hated to make promises and not keep them, but she would call Kelly and send her a brand-new pair of Kate Spade ballet flats as soon as she returned to the States.
Curious, Quinn asked, “I take it you liked his company?”
“Actually, he was quite pleasant when he wasn’t crying,” Claire said.
“Crying?” Quinn asked.
“Yes. His name was Patrick, too. Though he prefers to go by Paddy. I thought the name was cute. It suited him.”
“Paddy, huh?”
“I’m sure when he’s older, he will grow out of the name, but until then it suits him just fine. I’m just sorry I won’t be able to tell him good-bye, he was quite the guy.”
Quinn stepped away from the window and sat on the edge of the bed. “So this Paddy, do you think he’s someone you could have a relationship with?”
Claire couldn’t help herself any longer. She laughed out loud, then sat on the bed with Quinn. “Yes, I think I could have a relationship with him. As I said, he was quite the guy. But he’s too young for me. I’m sure his mother, who traded her shoes for my Betty Boop slippers, would agree. I think he was about eight weeks old. It was his first flight, too.”
He turned to face her. “You mean Paddy was a baby?”
“He was, and he had a set of lungs on him, too. Kelly, that’s his mother, had to fly to New York to attend her grandmother’s funeral. We hit it off, and I am truly sorry I won’t get to tell her good-bye in person though I would like to call her before I leave.” She glanced at the clock on the bedside table. “I suppose it’s not too late to call, but I want to call the airlines first. I do not want to spend the night in this place.” Claire realized she spoke a bit too harshly. “I’m sorry, I know this is your family home, or castle, but I can’t help it. Your uncle took unfair advantage of me. And you, too.”
“I don’t want the place, trust me. It’s beautiful, and grand, but it’s not a home. No one lives in a castle anymore. I’ve told Donald for years he should turn the place over to the country, it’s an historical landmark, but he refuses to let go. I think his dad made him swear on his life he’d keep the castle in the family forever, but times aren’t like they were then.”
“True, but I can appreciate Donald’s desire to preserve his heritage.”
“I can, too, but it’s more than that with him. He’s obsessed. He rarely talks of anything else. You don’t see that side of him. I’ve been more than concerned. Thank God for Marty and Tilly. They know what’s going on, and we stay in contact almost daily since the change in him.”
“I’m sure I know this, but right now it escapes me. How old is Donald?” Claire asked.
Quinn appeared to do a quick mental calculation. “He’s turning eighty, get this, on New Year’s Day.”
“Wow, he’s in good shape for his age, at least physically. I’m not so sure about his mental status,” Claire said, then regretted it. It wasn’t her place to make a medical judgment. She was an attorney. She’d best leave the medical diagnosis to the pros.
“Yes, he is, but he’s been declining the past couple of years. Repeats himself. Marty says he’s forever losing things, then blames him or Tilly for hiding whatever it is he’s claimed to have lost.” Quinn truly hated this, but it was what it was. “I guess it’s inevitable. We’re all getting older, and I don’t know about you, but it sure beats the alternative.”
Before she realized what she was doing, she reached for his hand. His glance slipped to their entwined hands, and when he looked at her and smiled, Claire knew then and there that she was toast. About to pull her hand away, he placed his other hand on top of hers. “Don’t pull away, Claire.”
She didn’t want to. But this would never work. She lived in California. He lived in . . . California!
What was she thinking? She smiled at him and continued to hold his hand. Wanting to stay this way for as long as possible, she knew she couldn’t. “I don’t think I can call the airlines without the use of my hands.”
Before letting go, he took both of her hands, wrapped them in his, then before releasing them, he placed a light kiss on the palm of her hand. Her heart jolted, and her pulse pounded as though she’d just run a marathon. She took a deep breath but said nothing, as words weren’t necessary.
“You finish getting your things together, and I’ll call the airlines,” Quinn said, his voice husky, seductive. “If that’s okay?” he added.
Claire nodded, not sure she could speak. Her emotions were all over the place. Here she was prepared to dislike this handsome, intelligent Irishman, and all she could think of at the moment was the feel of his lips when he’d lightly kissed her palm. She looked at her hand, amazed that it still tingled from his lips, and his touch.
Before she lost total control of herself, she went to the bathroom and grabbed her dirty skirt, blouse, and underclothes off the floor. She hadn’t used her toiletries, so there wasn’t anything else to pack. She rearranged a few items in her luggage and found a plastic Target bag to put her dirty clothes in. A trick she’d learned years ago. She tied the bag into a secure knot, then tucked it beneath the shoes Kelly had so graciously traded for those silly slippers. Claire saw that the shoes were cheap and worn, which made her feel twice as bad for taking them. Maybe it was the only extra pair of shoes she owned. Claire hadn’t paid too much attention to Kelly’s feet, but she believed she’d had on sneakers. Yes, she would send her a brand-spanking-new pair of Kate Spades, along with a pair of warm Uggs. And a pair for Paddy. Ireland winters being as cold as Marty said, she was sure the mother and baby could use a warm pair of boots. She already knew Kelly wore a size seven, and between all her nieces and nephews, her sisters surely could advise her on a close size for baby Paddy. That settled in her mind, she listened to Quinn as he spoke on his cell phone. When she saw him reach for his wallet to remove a credit card, she practically leaped across the bed. “No! I have a return ticket,” she whispered loudly.
He smiled and brushed her hand away, then grabbed it and planted a wet kiss on her index finger. Jolts of desire shot through her, settling in the middle of her body. She wanted to yank her hand away but didn’t. She liked his lips, liked his kisses, no matter how slight. She smiled at him and leaned up and planted a kiss on his chin. He was too tall for her, and that was nice. She liked tall men. And she was liking Quinn Connor more by the minute.
Chapter 6
Claire turned away, suddenly embarrassed. She was thirty-four years old and couldn’t ever remember being so instantly physically attracted to a man. Her insides danced like Mexican jumping beans when he blew her a kiss while he continued to speak on the phone. “Yes, we’ll make sure to arrive on time. Thanks,” he said before clicking off.
“We’re all set,” he told her before pulling her into his arms. He wrapped his hands around her shoulders, and the gesture seemed familiar and comfortable. Claire lifted both arms and placed them around his neck. Before either of them could stop, Quinn’s lips gently covered her mouth. Slowly, he teased her mouth with the tip of his tongue, then he traced the soft fullness of her lips with his own. Desire burned inside her, and when he pulled away and stared into her eyes, her entire being was filled with a longing unlike any she’d ever known. It was more than physical, and she knew he felt it, too, from the sensuous light that passed between them. His gaze was tender yet smoldered with passion. He took a deep, shaky breath before pulling her completely against him. When she felt his hardness, a ripple of pure lust shot through her. She wanted Quinn Connor badly. And she wanted him now. Right here in his uncle’s guest room.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he whispered against her ear.
“Probably,” she answered.
Lightly, he fingered a loose tendril of hair on her cheek. “If you want to make the next flight out, we have to leave now.”
> She touched his thick hair, wanting to plant her hands in it, wrap her fingers around the long hair at his nape, but resisted. Now wasn’t the time, and maybe there would never be another time, but for now Claire cherished these few moments with this man, whom she’d thought of as an adversary only a short time ago.
“Let’s get out of here before I forget I’m a gentleman,” he said, then kissed her again, only this time on her cheek. Still, Claire felt hot with wanting. It would be a miracle if she didn’t jump his bones on the way to the airport.
Quinn carried her luggage, while she strapped her duffel over one shoulder and her purse on the other.
“I need to tell Marty and Tilly good-bye,” she said as they walked down the long hallway. Part of her felt a moment’s sadness knowing she was leaving Ireland behind without really having seen all that she’d longed to see, but she made a promise to herself; she would come back, and when she did, she would bring the entire O’Brien family with her.
Marty and Tilly must have possessed a sixth sense because both waited at the bottom of the staircase. “I didn’t think ya’d stay the night, an’ I’m sure sorry ’bout Mr. Flynn. I don’t think he’s in his right mind,” Marty said. Claire could see that it hurt the older man to speak such words about a man whom he admired and respected. There was probably some history between the two, Claire guessed.
On impulse, she gave Marty a quick hug and kissed his ruddy cheek. Tilly lingered behind him, though Claire saw the bag she tried to hide behind her small frame. When she saw Claire looking at the bag, she stepped forward and held it out to her. “This is for your trip. It’s cheeses, and breads, with a fresh batch of cranberry orange scones. I put a slab of butter in a plastic bowl, and a knife, too, but it’s one of those plastic kind. I didn’t want you to get in any trouble with the airlines. I see how they take stuff away from people now. It’s a shame what the world has come to.”
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