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Finkle was silent for a moment. Brenna strained her ears and heard the light tap-tap of his fingers on wood. “Yes, it is a lovely place. Picturesque, unspoiled. ‘Simple’ would be my word. It’s also remote. Having seen it, and having spent this short time here, I would have to go back to my original opinion, sir. I hardly see this theater project being a financial success. Dublin would be a more logical choice. Or failing that—”

Silence again, then the faintest of sighs. “Yes, of course. I understand you have your reasons. I can assure you that the land the Gallaghers have is the best location in Ardmore. The pub appears to be just what you expected. It’s off-season, of course, but it does a steady business, and it’s well run under the elder Gallagher’s hand. The food is first-rate, which I admit surprised me. Not at all your average pub grub. The sister? Yes, she’s . . . she’s . . .”

The bumbling had Brenna biting the inside of her cheek to hold back a bark of laughter. Men were so predictable.

“She appears to be efficient. Actually, I went back for a short time last evening, at their request. Darcy, the sister, Miss Gallagher, has an exceptional singing voice. All three of them, for that matter, are quite musical, and that could be an advantage. If you’re determined to place this theater here, in Ardmore, connecting it with Gallagher’s Pub is, in my opinion, the most logical decision.”

Still on her hands and knees, Brenna wiggled her butt, since her hands were full and she couldn’t punch a fist in the air.

“Oh, you can trust me to negotiate them down from the percentage they’re asking. I know you’d prefer to buy the land outright, but this sentiment of theirs has thus far proven unassailable. In actual terms, the lease they offer is a less risky venture for you and would in the long term give you a tighter connection to the established business. I feel it’s to your advantage to use Gallagher’s, and the reputation it’s earned, to launch your theater.”

The finger tapping sounded again, and the shoes uncrossed, then recrossed at the ankle. “Yes, that’s understood. No higher than twenty-five percent. You can trust me there. I hope to have the deal settled within twentyfour hours. I’m sure I can convince the elder Gallagher that he’d get no better offer from a London firm, or any other.”

As she sensed the conversation was winding down, Brenna scrambled up and turned the taps on full and loud. She hummed to herself as she watched the water run. After she’d turned it off again, she did a bit more rattling, then hefted her toolbox and strolled into the adjoining room.

“Draining like a champ now, it is. Sorry for your inconvenience.”

He never so much as glanced up, but waved her away as he’d waved her in and hunched over the laptop on the little desk.

“And a good day to you, sir,” she called cheerfully and heard the keyboard clatter as she slipped out.

Once she was clear, she sprinted. Finkle wasn’t the only one who knew how to do a report.

“Well, now, the London bit seems to have been inspired.” Aidan gave his brother a slap on the shoulder and shot Brenna a look of approval. “It’s got them shagging their asses, doesn’t it?”

“Some people can’t resist the competition.” Since they were in the kitchen, Shawn turned to get four bottles of beer from the refrigerator. “I think we should drink to the O’Toole here, and her busy ears.”

“I just happened to be where I was when I was.” But she took the offered bottle.

“You’re a fine field soldier, Sergeant O’Toole.” Aidan clicked his bottle to hers, then to Shawn’s and Darcy’s in turn. “Twenty-five percent and no more. Pity for him he didn’t know we’d have settled for twenty without a whimper.”

“The man—the Magee,” Brenna explained. “He’s determined to have what he wants here, though Finkle doesn’t approve. But approve he does of Shawn’s cooking, Darcy’s face, and your managing hand, Aidan. Oh, and he thinks you’re none too bright, Shawn, but an amiable sort. And when he speaks of Darcy, he stutters.”

Delighted, Darcy laughed. “Give me another day or so, and when he speaks of me, he’ll babble. And we can get thirty percent.”

Aidan slung an arm around Darcy’s shoulders. “We’ll take the twenty-five and wrap the deal. I’ll let Finkle think he’s turned the thumbscrews to get it, for why shouldn’t he feel accomplished after all? I can tell you Dad likes what he’s seen of Magee so far. He called only this morning to tell me that, and that he’ll leave the details of the matter to us.”

“Then we’ll let Finkle wrangle over the terms.” Shawn raised his bottle. “Until he gives us what we’re after.”

“That’s exactly so. Well, it’s back to work for now. Brenna, my darling, do you think you could make yourself scarce ’round the pub until we’ve got it hammered?”

“I can, of course. But I’m invisible to the likes of him. He doesn’t see past my toolbox. Fact is, he thought I was a man.”

“Then he needs glasses.” Aidan tipped up her chin and kissed her. “I’m grateful to you.”

“I tell you I could get us thirty without much more effort,” Darcy claimed, but she followed Aidan out into the pub.

“She likely could,” Brenna commented.

“No need to be greedy. I’m grateful to you as well.”

She cocked her head, and the faintest of sneers twisted her lips. It was one of Shawn’s favorite expressions. “Are you going to kiss me, then, as Aidan did?”

“I’m thinking about it.”

“Sure and you think a long time about things.”

“No longer than it takes.” So he cupped her face in his hands, still enjoying the sneer, then tilting her head to please himself, laid his mouth on hers.

Slow, comfortably lazy, like a warm breeze on a summer morning. She relaxed against him, her lips just starting to curve at the easy sweetness. Then deeper, so gradually, so skillfully, he took her deeper, she was over her

head before she realized she’d been going under.

She made a sound, caught somewhere between a sigh and a moan. As her heart battered against her ribs, she slid her hands up his back to grip his shoulders. Even as her body went on alert, braced for more, he was easing away.

“I can only be so grateful, at the moment.”

The man had made her dizzy, damn it. And had left her system screaming. “You did that on purpose.”

“Of course I did.”

“Bastard. I’m going back to work.” She reached down for her toolbox and, still off balance, rapped hard into the table when she turned for the door. Her head whipped around quickly, and her narrowed eyes warned him. But he was wise enough to keep his expression bland.

She sniffed, then strode around to wrench open the back door. There she paused, shot him one last look. ““You know, when you stop thinking, you do a fine job of the rest of it.”

He didn’t grin until she was gone. “That’s a fortunate thing, as I’ve about finished thinking altogether.”

Shawn stayed out of the way when Finkle came in that evening. But he fixed the man a king’s meal of baked plaice done with an herbed butter, served with cally potatoes to which he’d added a dash or so of thyme, and some curly kale. Since word from Darcy when she popped in was that the man would have licked his plate if there’d been no one about to notice, Shawn felt he’d done his part.

So it was mischief, as much as business sense, that had him going out to take Finkle a portion of lemon cheesecake.

Relaxed from the meal, and Darcy’s attentions, Finkle offered Shawn what might have passed for a smile. “I don’t know when I’ve had better fish. You run a creative kitchen, Mr. Gallagher.”

“That’s kind of you to say, sir. I hope you’ll enjoy this. ’Tis me own recipe, fiddled about somewhat from that of my dear old granny. I don’t believe you’ll find better when you return to London.”

Finkle, just about to take the first bite, paused with his fork in the air. “New York,” he said, very precisely.

Shawn let himself blink. “New York? Oh, sure, and it’s New York I meant. The man from London was thin as a skate and wore little round glasses. You’d think I’d be able to keep it all straight, wouldn’t you, now?”

Keeping his expression pleasant, Finkle casually took a sample of the cake. “So . . . you’ve spoken to someone from London about a restaurant, was it?”

“Oh, Aidan, he does the talking. I’ve no head for business at all. Is the cake to your liking?”

“It’s excellent.” The man had a slow brain, Finkle mused, but no one could fault his cooking skills. “The man from London,” he pressed. “Would you happen to know his name? I have a number of acquaintances there.”

Shawn stared up at the ceiling, rubbed his chin. “Was it Finkle? Oh, no, that would be you.” With a sweet and harmless expression covering his face, he lifted empty hands. “I’ve a bad habit of forgetting names. But he was a very pleasant individual, as you are yourself, sir. If you find you’ve room for another portion of cake, just let Darcy know.”

He strolled back to the kitchen, catching Aidan’s eye with a wink.

Ten minutes later Darcy poked her head into the kitchen and hissed, “Finkle asked for a moment of Aidan’s time. They’ve gone into the snug.”

“That’s fine, then. Let me know if you need help at the bar.”

“Consider I’ve let you know. Frank Malloy’s come in with his brothers.”

“He had words with his wife again?”

“That’s the face he’s wearing. I’ll not be able to keep up with them, and the rest of the customers.”

“I’m coming, then.”

He was pulling the second pint for the Malloys—all of whom were burly-built men with straw-colored hair who made their living from the sea—when Aidan and Finkle stepped out of the snug.

He nodded good night to Aidan, then to Shawn. And for a moment as he glanced toward Darcy, his stern face fell into lines as soft as a hopeful puppy’s.

“Are you turning in for the evening so early, then, Mr. Finkle?” Darcy set her tray on the bar, then sent the poor man a smile that could have melted slab chocolate at twenty paces.

“I—” He had no choice but to tug at the meticulously knotted tie, as his throat was suddenly thick. “I’m afraid I must. I have a plane to catch in the morning.”

“Oh, you’re leaving us altogether?” She held out a hand for his. “I’m sorry you can’t stay longer, and hope you’ll come back again when you’re able.”

“I’m quite sure I’ll be back.” Unable to help himself, Finkle did something he’d never so much as considered doing before in his life, even with his wife. He


Tags: Nora Roberts Gallaghers of Ardmore Romance