The Gallaghers of Ardmore Trilogy

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