Chinatown for Szechuan. We’d take a carriage ride at midnight and go to the top of the Empire State Building and have corned beef sandwiches at the Stage Door Deli and see a Broadway show.”
“Jaysus, I can see why you’d want to go home. Ireland must seem like such a bore to you.”
“No,” she said. “I love Ireland. I didn’t at first, but I think I’m going to miss it after I leave. Who knows, I may come back for visit or two.”
Danny chuckled. “I’d like that. Maybe you could find another house to fix up. Kellan’s always doing that. You could do another project with him.”
“Actually, Kellan talked to me about that. He offered me a job.”
Gobsmacked, Danny wasn’t sure what to say. Why hadn’t she told him this? Why hadn’t Kellan mentioned it? Was there a reason they’d keep it a secret from him? “Yeah,” he murmured, maintaining an even tone. “That would be really nice.”
“But, I think if I come back, I’d want to spend my time seeing Ireland first,” she said. “Take some time off. Do a little trip around the country. Like your parents do. What is that called?”
“Caravanning,” Danny replied. “So it’s good we talked about this. I certainly feel better.”
“I do too,” Jordan said.
It wasn’t much, but Danny did feel relieved. They’d defined their relationship a bit. They’d become so close it had been hard to believe that they’d go their separate ways and never see each other again. Now, they wouldn’t.
“And we can always Skype,” Jordan said.
“I don’t know what that is, but it sounds like fun. Can we do it tonight? And does it involve taking off your clothes?”
“Sometimes it does involve the removal of clothing,” Jordan said. “We’ll talk about that later.”
“Are you hungry? We can eat or we can stop by the gallery.” He pointed across the street. “It’s just there. It won’t be busy and they always serve finger food.”
“Let’s go now,” Jordan said. “We can always eat later.”
He took her hand and they crossed the street, then stopped short before opening the door for her. “What’s wrong?” Jordan asked.
“I’m a bit nervous,” he said.
“People will love your work,” Jordan said.
“I’m not worried about people,” Danny said, “I’m worried about you. You’re the only one who matters.”
He pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. And there it was. No truer words had ever been spoken. If he’d thought he could keep himself from loving Jordan, then he was sadly mistaken. It had already happened. And there was no going back.
BY THE TIME the show officially began, the gallery was packed with guests and press. Jordan had been to a number of openings in Manhattan and this was no different. There was excitement in the air and everyone milled around the pieces, wineglasses dangling from their hands.
Danny stood between his two sculptures, talking to interested guests while Jordan stood nearby, sipping her wine. He seemed like a different person in this environment, so composed and serious, not at all like the funny, teasing man she’d come to know. The suit made him look older, more respectable, and, even though he hadn’t combed his hair, he was still dangerously attractive.
As expected, Jordan fell in love with the sculptures the moment she saw them. He’d told her they were abstract, but there was something about them that brought to mind birds soaring on the air currents over the cliffs near the manor.
The sculptures had been made of copper, the thin sheets bent and crumpled and assembled to create a sense of motion. She could imagine the pieces in a museum or a private home or even the lobby of a public building. Considering the number of people gathered around Danny, Jordan felt confident that the sculptures would be sold before the night was through.
“What do you think?”
Jordan turned to find a woman standing next to her. She was about the same age as Jordan, and dressed entirely in black, her hair cropped short and trendy glasses perched on her nose.
“Sally McClary. I’m the art critic for the
“Oh, I am,” Jordan said. “I think it’s extraordinary.”
Sally nodded. “Yes, he is, isn’t he.”
“Oh, I thought we were talking about his work.”
“I am,” Sally said. “Not his art work, although that’s quite extraordinary, too.”
Jordan frowned. What was this woman getting at? What other work did- “Oh, you’ve seen his commercial work? He’s an excellent blacksmith.”
“Oh, goodness, no. I’m talking about the man. The gorgeous man beneath those clothes.” She took a slow sip of her wine. “He’s like a fine work of art himself. Strip the clothes off of him and you could stare at him all day long, couldn’t you?” She smiled slyly. “A pity he doesn’t spend more time in Dublin. He has quite a group of fans here.”
Jordan wasn’t sure how to respond. She pasted a smile on her face. “So what do you think of the art?”
“Oh, it’s fabulous, of course. But then, I’ve always been a patron. He needs to work more. There’s not enough of his work out there to make an impact on the market. And he needs to show outside Ireland. London. New York. Even Los Angeles. Oh, they’d love him there, don’t you think?”
Jordan nodded. “Yes, I suppose they would.”
“Well, enjoy the rest of the evening,” Sally said. “And take a look at the Deirdan etchings. He’s the next big thing. Mark my words.”
Jordan watched the woman weave her way through the crowds. She stopped and spoke with Danny, resting her hand on his chest as she leaned in close. He smiled and nodded and Jordan wondered at the easy familiarity. Had they been lovers?
She’d never really considered Danny’s past. For all she knew, his sex life had begun the moment they met. But that was silly. He’d been seducing girls since high school and even at two or three females a year, that was still a considerable number.
As Sally walked away, he glanced over and caught Jordan’s eye. Was that a trace of worry she saw in his face? Jordan watched him over the rim of her wineglass, trying to read his expression. When he excused himself, she gulped down most of her wine, and crossed the room to meet him.
“Are you all right?” he said.
“Sure. Fine,” she said. “I was just talking to an art critic. Sally something.”
“Right,” he said. “Sally McClary. She works for the
“I know,” Jordan said. “She told me. She seems to be a very devoted fan.”
Danny tipped his head as he studied her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t know. She’s the one who started the conversation with me. I got the impression that you two might have been…”
“Did she say that?”
“Not in so many words. Were you?”
He shifted nervously. “Would you be angry if I told you the truth? Because I’ll lie if it makes you feel better.”
Jordan set her wineglass on the tray of a passing waiter and grabbed another one. “I’m not naive enough to believe you’ve never been with a woman before me. What you do to me in bed I’m sure comes from lots of experience.”
“Not lots,” he said. “Well, maybe lots, but that depends upon what you mean by lots.”
“You don’t need to tell me,” Jordan said.
“They don’t make any difference,” he said. “You’re the only woman I want.”
“Now,” Jordan said.
“Now. Always. Any time.” He gave her a seductive smile. “And that sounded really trite, didn’t it?” He grabbed her arm and pulled her along to a quiet corner in the gallery.
