The Gallaghers of Ardmore Trilogy

broke the connection and was considering a second cookie when he heard the footsteps on the stairs. Selecting peanut butter this time, Trevor leaned back against the counter and prepared for his first real eyeful of Darcy Gallagher.
    Like Shawn’s cookies, she was spectacular.
    She stopped at the base of the stairs, lifted one slim eyebrow. Her eyes were blue, like her brothers’, a brilliant color against flawlessly white skin. She left her hair loose so that it waved beguilingly over her shoulders.
    She was dressed with a tailored smartness that seemed more suited to Madison Avenue than Ardmore.
    “Good morning to you. Having a tea break?”
    “Phone call.” He took a bite of the cookie as he watched her. The voice, Irish and smoky as a turf fire, was as straight-out sexy as the rest of her.
    “Well I’m making some tea here, as I’ve run out upstairs and don’t like to start my day without. Makes me cross.” She skimmed her gaze over him as she moved to the stove. “Will you have a cup to wash down the biscuit? Or must you go straight back to work?”
    “I can take a minute.”
    “You’re fortunate your employer’s not so strict. I’ve heard that Magee runs a very tight ship.”
    “So he does.”
    While the kettle heated, Darcy dealt with the pot. The man was better up close. She liked the sharp angles of his face, the little scar on his chin. It gave him a dangerous look, and she was so bloody weary of safe men. No wedding ring, she noted, though that didn’t always tell the tale.
    “You’ve come all the way from America,” she continued, “to work on his theater?”
    “That’s right.”
    “A long way from home. I hope you were able to bring your family with you.”
    “If you mean wife, I’m not married.” He broke the cookie in half, offered her a share.
    Amused, she took it. “That leaves you free to travel for your work, doesn’t it? And what is it you do?”
    “Whatever’s necessary.”
    Oh, yes, she thought and nibbled on the cookie. Just dangerous enough. “I’d say that makes you a handy man to have around and about.”
    “I’m going to be around and about here for some time yet.” He waited while she lifted the sputtering kettle, poured the boiling water into the pot. “Would you like to have dinner?”
    She sent him a long sidelong glance, added a hint of a smile. “Sure I like a good meal now and then, and interesting company with it. But I’m just back from my holiday and won’t have time off for a bit. My brother Aidan’s a hard man with a schedule.”
    “How about breakfast?”
    She set the kettle down. “I might enjoy that. Perhaps you’ll ask me again in a day or two, once I’ve settled back in.”
    “Perhaps I will.”
    She was vaguely surprised, and a little disappointed that he hadn’t pursued the invitation then and there. She was used to men pleading a bit. But she turned, took out a thick mug for his tea. “What part of America are you from, then?”
    “New York.”
    “New York City?” Her eyes sparkled as she turned back. “Oh, is it wonderful?”
    “A lot of it is.”
    “It has to be the most exciting city in the world.” She cupped the mug in both hands as she imagined it, as she’d imagined it countless times before. “Maybe not the most beautiful. I thought Paris so beautiful—female and sly and sexual. I think of New York as a man— demanding and reckless and so full of energy you have to run to keep up.”
    Amused at herself, she set down his mug. “It probably doesn’t strike you that way since you’re used to being there your whole life.”
    “I doubt you think of Ardmore, or this area, as magic.” He saw her eyebrow arch up again at his words. “As a small and nearly perfect corner of the world where you can reach back or forward in time as suits you. And while there’s energy here, it comes with patience so you don’t have to run to keep up.”
    “It’s interesting, isn’t it, how people see what’s the everyday to someone else?” She poured out his tea. “I’d think a man who can philosophize so easily over tea and biscuits might be wasting his talents hauling bricks.”
    “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks for the tea.” He moved toward the door, passing close enough to appreciate that she smelled every bit as good as she looked. “I’ll bring back the mug.”
    “Mind you do. Shawn knows his kitchen supplies down to the last spoon.”
    “Come to the window again sometime,” he added as he opened the