Mistletoe Magic by Fern Michaels (22)

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.”

Claire stooped down and gave Tilly a tight hug. “Thank you so much, Tilly. I’m sorry I can’t stay and try another of your tasty dishes, but I’ll appreciate this”—she held up the bag—“on the flight home.” Before she knew it, tears filled her eyes. She sniffed, then Tilly handed her a wad of tissues. “Thanks, Tilly. Would you mind if I stayed in touch with the both of you?” Claire had only known the couple for a few short hours, but she felt as though she’d known them forever.

“We’d like that,” Marty said, then removed a slip of paper from his pocket. “That’s our snail-mail address, and our e-mail addresses. If you want, friend us on Facebook, and we can stay in touch that way, too.”

“I’d like that,” Claire said.

“We better get on the road if we want to make it to the airport in time. Keep in touch with me, and if you need me here, just say the word.” Quinn shook Marty’s hand, then he practically lifted Tilly off the ground when he hugged her.

Dark outside, the night air damp and bitterly cold, Claire suddenly remembered Quinn rode a motorcycle. “Do you have a car?” she asked as they walked to the side of the castle where Marty had parked earlier.

“No,” he said.

They walked to a modern building, that looked as if it were recently built. It didn’t have the stones like the area where Marty parked. Quinn removed a set of keys from a box, then unlocked the door. He flipped a light on, before Claire stepped inside. When she did, what she saw almost took her breath away. It did take her breath away.

“You said you didn’t have a car.”

“I don’t. I have several cars. I had this building constructed last year when I was here. Donald had a fit, but he loves these cars as much as I do. He kept them in a specialty garage in Dublin and never drove them. I finally convinced him the cars would be useless in a few years if he didn’t drive them. So, take your pick.” Quinn gestured to an array of vehicles.

“Should I ask which you prefer?”

“I like them all,” he said as he walked her through the rows of cars.

“How many?” she asked.

“Fifteen here, and three more in Dublin undergoing repairs.”

“So, you’re telling me you have eighteen cars? Here in Ireland?”

Quinn threw back his head and laughed. “I am.”

She could only nod. “So, you pick. I know absolutely nothing about cars other than they get me from point A to point B.”

“Stick with me, and I promise to teach you a thing or two,” Quinn said. Claire caught the double entendre.

“The roads might get icy. I think we’d better take the Range Rover. It has four-wheel drive, too.”

“Wait! I can’t leave yet. I have to call Kelly,” Claire suddenly remembered.

“Okay, but you do know you can call her from the car? We’ve got cell towers here in Ireland, too,” Quinn teased as he unlocked a black Range Rover. He took her luggage and duffel bag and placed them in the back of the car, along with Tilly’s doggie bag.

Unlocking the passenger door, he helped Claire climb inside. Once they were settled and their seat belts fastened, Quinn pressed a button, and an automatic door opened. “Nice,” Claire said.

“Yes, building this was one of the best things I’ve done for myself in years,” Quinn said as he backed out of the garage.

Claire supposed it was if you were a car buff but didn’t voice her thoughts.

“I’ll call Kelly now, if you don’t mind.”

Quinn handed her his cell phone. “Use mine. It’s local.”

“Sure,” Claire said as she searched through her purse for the paper with Kelly’s number and address. As soon as she found it, she punched in the number.

“ ’Ello?”

“Hi, Kelly, it’s Claire. From the plane,” she added, just in case Kelly had forgotten she’d given out her phone number.

“Oh, Claire, it’s mighty fine ta hear ya voice. I was hopin’ you’d call.”

She couldn’t help but smile hearing her heavily accented voice. “It’s hard to believe, but I’m on my way to the airport now. My business . . . only took a couple of hours.” And she wasn’t even bothering to spend the night? Claire realized how crazy she must sound. It’d been close to thirty-two hours since she’d slept in a bed.

“Aye, that was fast, I must say. Are ya sure ya can’t stay? Paddy would love to see ya again.”

Claire heard the laughter in her voice. “And I would like to see Paddy as well, but I have to rush home. I promised to spend Christmas with my family.”

Though Claire had spent several hours with Kelly, she suddenly realized that all she knew about her was that her grandmother had passed away, and she had a newborn son. Come to think of it, Claire hadn’t heard her mention the baby’s father. She’d spoken of her mother, but never mentioned a husband, if she had a career or anything remotely personal.

“That’s nice ya know. Family and Christmas. I was gonna decorate a tree this year, but aye, they’re so expensive. Paddy’s too wee to know about Christmas just yet,” Kelly said, her voice sounding far away and sad.

What the heck was wrong with her? Was Claire so self-centered that she couldn’t assess a situation that wasn’t connected to her or her legal life? Yes, she was, she thought, as Kelly told her about Paddy’s first giggle.

“I would’ve loved to hear that. I’m coming back to Ireland, though I’m not sure when. I’ll make sure to come for a visit. Stay in touch, okay?” Claire said. Kelly promised she would. When Claire punched the END button, she felt sad. Seeing the scrap of paper with Kelly’s address, she read it to Quinn. “Are you familiar with the area?”

Quinn looked in the rearview mirror, adjusted it before answering. “It’s Dublin’s worst possible area. Drugs, prostitutes, murders. You name it, it happens there.”

“I can’t leave without seeing her, Quinn. She’s a young woman, and I think she’s in need of a friend and maybe some financial help.” Claire really didn’t know what to do.

“You’ll miss your flight, you do realize that?”

“Yes, yes I do. Never mind. Let’s just get to the airport. I’ll figure out a way to help Kelly and Paddy.”

“I have an idea,” he said, a grin showing his white teeth in the darkened car.

“Let’s hear it.”

“How would you like to play Santa Claus?”

“Well for starters, I would need a sleigh, along with eight reindeer, about a hundred extra pounds, a white beard, and a red suit, but I’m game. I’m all ears.”

“It’ll take a bit of work, but I think I can make sure that Kelly and Paddy have a Merry Christmas.”

“Go on,” Claire prompted.

For the next half hour Quinn explained what he would do as soon as they arrived in the States. It took Claire a minute or two before his words registered. “What do you mean, when we arrive in the States?”

“I’m going home, too. A bit earlier than planned, but with such a sexy traveling companion, I couldn’t resist.”

Claire was at a loss for words. “But . . . why? You have all those cars, and your uncle is here. He’s not well, Quinn. Someone needs to keep an eye on him.”

“Marty and Tilly are highly qualified. Not only is Tilly an amazing chef, when she lived in China, she was also a doctor—an internist, I think.”

“You’re not joking, are you?”

“I wouldn’t joke about that.”

Claire realized she hardly knew Quinn Connor, yet she knew she could trust him, knew he was a man of his word. Plus, he was a really good kisser, and beyond good-looking. And an attorney, too. She couldn’t have handpicked a more suitable match for herself, but she’d keep those thoughts to herself. At least for now. When Colleen and Megan heard about him, the matchmaking would never end. She’d keep him a secret for a while.

“Does Donald know this?”

“I think he has an idea, but as long as she prepares gourmet meals, he doesn’t really give too much thought to anything else she does. Or Marty. Though Marty’s been working for my uncle since I was a boy, so there’s a story there. And they’re really good friends even though Marty works for him. He’s very well-off, and doesn’t need to work, but he seems to believe Donald couldn’t get along without him.”

“Then Marty and Donald must be about the same age,” Claire stated.

“Marty’s in his early seventies. And Tilly just turned sixty-seven. She made sure to remind me that I missed her birthday this year.”

“She hardly looks a day over fifty.”

“She’s a very intelligent woman. She’s never told anyone why she left China, but it can’t be good. Whatever her reason, I’m glad we have her. And so is Marty. They’ve been more than friends for a number of years.”

“I guessed as much. They make a cute couple.”

Quinn reached across the bucket seat and placed his hand on her upper thigh. “I know someone else who would make a cute couple, too.”

Claire grinned.

“Who would that be?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” Quinn said, then squeezed her thigh, sending shocks of desire through her.

And Claire would find out.