Danny

“What? That you’re the boss?”

She cursed softly. “I’m sorry. I’m really tired and I’m a little hungover and I just want a shower and a really big cup of coffee.”

He took one of the paper cups out of the bag. “I brought you coffee,” he said. Stepping closer, Danny dropped a kiss on her lips. “And something to eat.”

Jordan groaned. “See. I’m really awful. You’re right. I need to learn to relax. Why can’t I do that? It’s Saturday. We should just go right back to bed.”

“I shouldn’t have left you alone in a strange house.”

“Well, don’t do it again. Or I’ll have to make a note in your personnel file.”

Reaching out, he ran a finger along her arm, tracing a lazy path from her wrist to her elbow and back again. “You have a file on me? What does it say?”

She took a sip of her coffee and then sighed. “It says that you have trouble separating work from-from everything else, and I think that might become a problem.”

He stared at her for a long moment, fighting back a surge of frustration. Would it always come back to this? Did they always have to be boss and employee? Why couldn’t she see them as just a man and a woman? “Am I supposed to pretend that I don’t want you? Because I do. All the time. And if that’s a problem, then write it up in my personnel file. In big red letters.” He walked to the door and pulled it open. “I’ll be in the car with Finny and Mogue. As soon as you’re ready, we’ll go.”

Danny snapped his fingers as he walked out the front door, and the dogs came running. He opened the rear door of the Land Rover and they hopped inside. Then, he slid in behind the wheel and waited, his anger growing with every moment that passed.

When she finally came out of the cottage, Jordan walked slowly toward the vehicle. She got into the passenger seat and looked over at him. “I’m sorry,” she said. “This is all kind of new to me and I haven’t figured out how to handle it yet. You might be able to separate work and pleasure, but I’m going to have to work on it a little longer.”

“Then forget about the job. Don’t worry. I will get it done and it will be perfect. You have to trust me. We can just be lovers.”

She nodded, then reached out and grabbed his shirt, pulling him closer. Jordan pressed her face into his chest. “I really hope so.”

4

DANNY STARED AT THE ornate medallion he’d begun for the garden gate. He’d been working on it for three days, fitting it in between the hinges and hardware on Jordan’s list. He’d carefully copied the design from an old black-and-white photo that Jordan had given him.

The work was beautiful, but it wasn’t Irish. He suspected the original artisan was John Wellston, a British blacksmith from Galway who had done a lot of the work in the area at the turn of the century. Wellston’s work was quite prized nowadays, found on many historical homes.

At the time Wellston worked, Ireland was in the midst of a rebellion, an attempt to break away from British rule. Wellston worked for many of the wealthy British families and Irish loyalists. But now that Ireland was free, it didn’t seem right to put his work back up on the gate. It should be Irish work on an Irish gate.

Danny glanced at his watch, then dropped the tongs on the floor and shrugged his stiff shoulders. Jordan was out for the morning, running errands to Cork and Bantry. She’d been buying furniture for the house-keeping a careful inventory of it in a huge book in the library.

She’d been trying to track down some of the original furnishings so she might buy them back. But she hadn’t had much luck in that area. Everything she bought was carefully restored and reupholstered, then shipped to a storage facility in Cork, awaiting the moment when it would be moved to Castle Cnoc.

Danny grabbed a towel from the worktable and rubbed the sweat off his grimy face, then grabbed the medallion and hauled it outside, propping it up against an old wooden crate. Drawing a deep breath, he stretched his arms over his head, working the kinks out of his back as he stared at his work.

No, it didn’t look better in the light of day. He sat down on a wooden stool set against the wall of the laundry. There wasn’t much good about it, he mused. Copying Wellston’s work just didn’t seem right. He ought to just start over, with a design of his own. At least he’d take some pride in the making of it.

Sighing softly, Danny raked his hands through his hair, then leaned back against the wall, drawing a deep breath of the late-morning breeze.

This had become a sticky point between him and Jordan and it was about to come to a head. They’d disagreed on a few other small projects and he’d given in, agreeing to make exact copies rather than put his own mark on the work.

But the medallion would be the focal point of the walled garden. It needed to match the beauty of the house and the surrounding landscape-and it should be Irish. Maybe he could use that point to convince Jordan. But first, he’d have to come up with a better design, one with some of the elements of the first, only in a more Gaelic manner.

A wave of exhaustion came over him and Danny fought back a yawn. It didn’t help his creativity when he could barely put a thought together. Late nights with Jordan followed by early mornings at the forge were wearing on him. And though he kept assuring Jordan he was right on schedule, that wasn’t the truth. He’d fallen at least a week behind and was falling further with every day that passed.

He closed his eyes and let his mind drift, searching for inspiration. But instead, his mind filled with thoughts of Jordan, her naked body, her lush mouth, her warm hands-disconnected images of pleasure that plagued him night and day.

Danny cursed beneath his breath. She had become his leanan sidhe, so alluring and yet so dangerous, tempting him and tormenting him at the very same time. He was a happier man when she was close, but was it worth the price he paid? He felt as if she’d already stolen a part of his soul, and the thought of taking it back brought out only a desperate ache deep inside of him.

Wanting her had become second nature, like drawing breath. He couldn’t look at her without his hands aching to touch her, or his lips craving her taste. Was this simple lust or obsession? He was so wrapped up in it, Danny couldn’t tell the difference, not that he’d even know in the first place. If he could just get a decent night’s sleep, then maybe he could sort it all out.

But the nights were what he was living for. With every one spent with Jordan, he learned more and more about passion and need, grew more aware of the pleasure they could give each other. Her bed had become a place to explore and experiment, a place to push the boundaries of what was possible between a man and a woman.

Danny drew a deep breath and let his body relax. Just a few minutes, a short kip, and he’d find his energy. He couldn’t be bothered to walk back to his cottage or even stretch out on the grass at his feet. Just a few…

“Are you asleep?”

Startled by her voice, Danny sat up straight and opened his eyes. “No,” he said, wiping his eyes. “No, I was just thinking.”

“You were asleep,” Jordan said, her brow furrowed deeply.

“Yes,” he admitted. “Maybe I was. I’m knackered, Jordan. Give me a break. I just needed a quick kip and then back to work.”

“How are you supposed to stay on schedule if you’re napping on the job?” There was an edge to her voice and he could see she was upset.

He grinned and held out his hand to her. “How am I supposed to stay on schedule if I’m spending my nights pleasing you? That would be the more appropriate question.”

“Are you saying I don’t work?” Jordan asked.

He shook his head. How did she get that out of his comment? “Of course not. I’m saying that what we do in our spare time makes it hard to get anything done during the day. You can sleep in but I have to get up and go to work.”

“You are saying I don’t work!” Jordan began to pace back and forth in front of him.