The Mighty Quinns: Riley. Kate Hoffmann

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СКАЧАТЬ as she continued to review the photos. Yes, she was undeniably attractive. And that sweet body, so slender and delicate, was just as intriguing as her pretty face. But she was also very odd, that one. He jogged to catch up to her and when they reached the car, he pulled her door open and waited for her to get inside.

      She turned her gaze up to his and then held out her hand. “Thank you.”

      Riley was so surprised he wasn’t sure what he ought to do. He took her fingers in his, deciding that a handshake wouldn’t do. Slowly, he brought her hand up to his lips. “No need for thanks. I was happy to … do whatever it was that I did.” The urge to kiss her again was overwhelming and Riley leaned closer. And then, without considering the consequences, he caught her waist between his hands and pulled her against his body.

      Their first kiss had been borne of impulse, quick and fleeting, but this kiss was very carefully crafted. He gently explored her mouth, teasing with his tongue until she opened beneath the assault. She offered no resistance and though the kiss may have surprised her as much as it surprised him, she didn’t back away. When he finally did, she blinked up at him, her hand still resting on his chest.

      “Lovely,” he murmured.

      Nan cleared her throat and nodded nervously. “I think this is going to be a wonderful vacation,” she said. She climbed into the car and Riley closed her door, then hurried around to the driver’s side.

      “Bloody hell,” he muttered beneath his breath. “What are you doing? She didn’t come to Ireland to snog with a culchie like you, ya daft prick.” Still, she must have enjoyed it. She hadn’t slapped him across the face or called him out for such a bold move or even tried to put an end to the kiss. And maybe, if the opportunity presented itself again, he’d give it another go.

      When he got behind the wheel, Nan was peering out at the round tower, her eyes watery. Jaysus, this didn’t bode well. Kissing her had made her cry. “Oh, now don’t do that,” he murmured. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you. But I—”

      “No,” she said, laughing softly. “It wasn’t the kiss. That was lovely. Very nice. Better than nice. Excellent.”

      “Then why are you crying?”

      “I—I guess I’d like to think my mom might have been here when she visited Ireland years ago. She loved history. She might have visited this tower and put her hands on those very stones.”

      “Well, now you have a picture to show her.”

      “She died when I was eight,” Nan said.

      Silently cursing his stupidity, Riley turned the ignition and the car started. When it backfired, Nan jumped, pressing her hand to her heart and startling her out of her melancholy. “Nothing a tune-up won’t cure,” Riley said. “She’s a dependable old banger. You won’t have to worry. She’ll get you wherever you want to go.”

      “You’re lending me this car?” she asked.

      “This is it,” he said, giving the dashboard a pat.

      “What is it?”

      “This is a Fiat. A Cinquecento. She may be small, but she’s got four wheels and an engine.”

      “She has a stick shift,” she said. “Which would probably indicate the opposite gender. And I can’t drive a stick shift.”

      “It’s not rocket science,” he said. “I can teach you in just a couple of minutes. Besides, this car barely uses any petrol. Though it does have an oil leak you’ll have to mind.”

      Nan tipped her head back and covered her face with her hands. “So the car looks like it belongs to a family of clowns. Please, please tell me the guesthouse isn’t a hovel made of sticks and mud in the middle of some swamp.”

      “Bog,” he said. “We call it a bog. And the cottage is very cozy.”

      “Those photos you sent were real?”

      “It’s my childhood home. My brother Kellan has recently renovated it. He lives there now and again when he’s come down from Dublin. And my sister Shanna decorated it. She likes old things—antiques. It’s just as the photos show. Better even.”

      Nan took a ragged breath and nodded. “Okay. As long as the cottage is nice, I’ll be fine.”

      He reached out and grabbed her hand, looking for any excuse to touch her again. “Feel better, then? No more tears?”

      “I’m good,” she replied.

      They rode for a long time in silence, Riley searching his mind for a topic of conversation without appearing to snoop. He wanted to know everything about her. Was there a man in her life? Did she love him? Was she thinking about kissing him again? “You’re a librarian. You must really like books.”

      “I love books,” she said. “I always have. Every one you open is a window into a new world.”

      “Did you open a book about Ireland? Is that why you’re here?”

      Nan shifted to face him. “My mother came to Ireland when she was twenty-two. Right after she got out of college. I came here looking for her.”

      “That’s a noble purpose,” he said, hoping that the mention of her mother didn’t restart the tears. For a girl who appeared so fragile on the outside, Nan Galvin was made of steel beneath. “I can’t imagine losing my ma at such a young age. I’m sorry.”

      “Me, too,” she said.

      “But your father is still alive?”

      Nan shook her head. “He died last spring. He was older than my mother. He never remarried. I used to think it was my fault, that he was so consumed with raising me that he didn’t have time for anything else. But once I got older, I realized he didn’t find someone else because my mother was his one and only love. He just wanted to be with her.” She glanced over at him. “Do you believe in that? That everyone has just one person they can love?”

      It was a strange question to ask a total stranger, but then Nan never seemed to run out of questions. When she wanted information, she simply requested it. Riley could honestly say he’d never given the notion much thought. But she deserved an answer. “Sure. Why not? It would probably explain why I’m still single.”

      “I don’t remember much about her,” Nan continued. “She had red hair and green eyes and the softest hands. She was an art teacher. Her great-grandparents came from Ireland. I think that’s why she named me Tiernan.”

      “It’s a beautiful name. But I’ve never heard it used for a girl. It’s usually a boy’s name.”

      “I know,” she said. “I looked it up. I guess she liked the way it sounded.”

      “So what else have you planned to see?” he asked.

      “Everything in and around Ballykirk,” Nan said.

      “And why Ballykirk?”

      “Because this is where my mother stayed twenty-seven years ago,” she said.

      “I СКАЧАТЬ