herself.
But now she'd best get up and put things back in order. She'd gotten in too late the night before to do more than throw open her bags and admire her new things. She needed to put them away proper, and stack up the gifts she'd bought, for she was a woman who couldn't abide untidiness for long.
She'd missed her family. Even through the giddy rush of seeing, doing, just being in Paris, she'd missed having them around. She wondered if it was shameful of her not to have expected to.
She couldn't say she missed the work, the hefting of trays and serving yet another pint. It had been glorious to be served for a change. But she was eager to go down and see how the pub had fared without her. Even if it did mean spending the rest of the day on her feet.
She stretched, lifting her arms high, letting her head roll back, focusing on the pleasure the movement gave her body. She was a woman who didn't believe in wasting her senses any more than she would waste her pounds.
It wasn't until she'd climbed out of bed that she realized the constant rumble outside wasn't thunder.
The construction, she remembered. Now wasn't it going to be lovely hearing that din every blessed morning? Gathering up a robe, she walked to the window to see what progress had been made in her absence.
She didn't know anything about the business of building, but what she saw out her window looked to be a terrible mess created by a team of half-wit pranksters. Piles of rubble, scars in the soil, a large concrete floor bottoming out a hole in the ground. Squat towers of cinder block were being erected at the corners with spears of metal poking out of the tops, and a great ugly truck was grinding away with an awful noise.
Most of the workmen, in their rough clothes and filthy boots, were going about the business of making a bigger mess altogether.
She spotted Brenna, her cap perched on her head, her boots mucked nearly to the knee. Seeing her, this forever friend who was now her sister, brought Darcy a warm flood of pure pleasure.
It had shamed her, and did still, to know that part of the reason she'd been wild to get away had been Brenna and Shawn's wedding, as well as her older brother Aidan and his wife Jude's happy planning for the baby they'd have by end of summer. Oh, she was thrilled for them all, couldn't be more delighted with what they'd found together. But the more content and settled they were, the more discontent and unsettled she found herself.
She'd wanted to ball her fists, shake them in the air, and demand, Where's mine? When will I have mine?
It was selfish, she thought, and it was sinful, but she couldn't help it.
Well, now she was back and, she hoped, better.
Darcy watched her friend stride around and give one of the laborers a hand with the blocks. She's in her element here, Darcy mused. Pleased as a puppy with a teat all to herself. She considered opening the window, leaning out to call a hello, and further considered just what having a woman leaning out a window in her robe would do to the rhythm of the work crew.
Because the thought of causing a stir amused her, Darcy reached down. She had the window open the first inch when she spotted the man watching her watching.
He was a tall one, she noted. She'd always had a particular fondness for tall men. He was hatless, and his burnt-honey hair was tousled by the breeze. He wore the rough clothes of a laborer and in her opinion wore them better than most. The long, lanky build had something to do with that, but she thought it was also a matter of confidence. Or arrogance, she mused as he coolly kept his eyes on her face.
She didn't have a problem with arrogance, as she had plenty of her own.
Well, now, you might be an interesting diversion, she thought. A handsome face, a bold eye. If you can string words into a decent conversation, you might be worth a bit of my time. Providing you're not married, of course.
Married or not, she decided, there was no harm in a bit of a flirt, since she intended to have no more than that with a man who likely lived from one payday to the next.
So she smiled at him. Slowly, warmly, deliberately. Then, touching a finger to her lips, she blew him a saucy kiss. She watched his teeth flash in appreciation, then eased out of sight.
It was always best, in Darcy's opinion, to leave a man not only wanting more, but wondering.
Now there was a woman who packed a punch, Trevor thought. And he still felt the impact. If that was Darcy Gallagher, and he assumed it was, he had a good idea why the characteristically dour Finkle had become tongue- tied and bright-eyed whenever her name had come up.
She was a stunner, all right, and he was going to appreciate a closer look. What she'd left him with now was the impression of sleepy beauty, of dark and tumbled hair, white skin, and delicate features. No false modesty there, he decided. She'd met his open stare equally, had taken his measure even as he took hers. The carelessly blown kiss had definitely scored a point.
He thought Darcy Gallagher would be a very interesting pastime while he was in Ardmore.
Casually he hefted some blocks, transferring them to Brenna's work area. 'The mix suit you?' he asked, nodding toward the trough that held fresh mortar.
'It does, yes. Good consistency. We're going through it fairly quickly, but I think we've enough to do us.'
'If you see us running low, order what you think we need. I think your friend's back from her vacation.'
'Hmm.' Distracted, she knocked loose mortar from her trowel, glanced up. 'Darcy?' Pleased, Brenna looked toward the window.
'Lots of black hair, wicked smile. Gorgeous.'
'That would be Darcy.'
'I- caught a glimpse of her in the window there. If you want to go in and see her, you can take a break.'
'Well, I would.' But she scooped up more mortar. 'Except that she'd take one look at me as I am at the moment and bolt the door. Darcy's very particular about her living quarters. She wouldn't appreciate me trailing in dirt. I'll see her midday.'
Brenna spread her mortar with the quick efficiency of the experienced and hauled up the next block. 'I can tell you this, Trevor, your men are about to have their hearts broken. It's a rare one who brushes up near our Darcy and walks away unaffected.'
'As long as we stay on schedule, the crew's hearts are their own concern.'
'Oh, I'll keep them on schedule for you, and Darcy will give them happy, if impossible, dreams. Speaking of schedules, I'm thinking we could have the plumbing roughed in on this section by end of week. The pipe didn't arrive this morning as expected. Do you want me or Dad to check on it when we're done here?'
'No, I'll deal with it now.'
'Then I hope you give them a good boot in the ass. You can use the phone in the pub's kitchen. I unlocked the back when I got here this morning. I've the number in my book.'
'No, I have it. You'll have the pipe today.'
'I've no doubt of that,' Brenna murmured as he strode toward the kitchen door.
The kitchen was spotless. It was one of the things Trevor noticed, and demanded, when it came to any business he had a part in. He imagined the Gallaghers wouldn't think of him as having a part in their pub, but from his viewpoint their business was now very much his concern.
He dug his book out of his pocket. In New York his assistant would have located the number, made the call. She would have worked her way through the various steps until she'd reached the person in charge. Only then, if it was necessary, would the matter have passed into Trevor's hands.
He had to admit, though that saved time and frustration, he rather enjoyed wading in at the bottom and administering that good boot in the ass.
In the five minutes it took him to reach the top level, he spied the biscuit tin. In the few days he'd been in and around Gallagher's he'd come to know that when there were cookies, they were homemade. And they were spectacular.
He helped himself to a honey and oatmeal cookie as big as his fist as he annihilated the supply supervisor without ever raising his voice. He jotted down the name, in case retribution should become necessary, and was given a personal guarantee that the pipe in question would be delivered to the site by noon.
Satisfied with that, he broke the connection and was considering a second cookie when he heard the footsteps on the stairs. Selecting peanut butter this time, Trevor leaned back against the counter and prepared for his first real eyeful of Darcy Gallagher.
Like Shawn's cookies, she was spectacular.
She stopped at the base of the stairs, lifted one slim eyebrow. Her eyes were blue, like her brothers', a brilliant
