The Gallaghers of Ardmore Trilogy

point in the quill. “It’s negotiable.”
    “And what would be the floor of that negotiation?”
    “Five thousand for the performance. The recording rights are a separate issue.”
    Her eyebrows arched. One evening singing, and more than she’d earn waitressing for weeks in the pub.“Pounds or dollars?”
    He hooked his thumbs in the front pockets of his jeans. “Pounds.”
    She made a little humming sound again. “Well, if we decide we’re interested, Aidan will haggle with you over that pitiful amount, to be sure.”
    “I’m looking forward to it. Aidan’s the businessman.” Keeping his eyes on hers, Trevor moved to her. “Shawn’s the artist.”
    “And what would I be?”
    “The ambition. Put the three parts together, and you’ve got a hell of a team.”
    “As I said before, you’re a clever man.” She looked away from him and out to sea, where the waves rolled in slow and smooth. “I’ve ambitions, right enough. And I’ll be honest with you here, Trevor, and tell you this particular idea has never occurred to me. The singing for anything but my own enjoyment.”
    He surprised her by trailing a finger down the line of her throat. “What you’ve got in there can make you rich. Famous. I can help that happen.”
    “That’s quite an offer, and appeals to my basest of egos and desires.” She walked on a little farther, until she stood near the street of the village where she’d lived all her life. “How rich?”
    His laugh was easy and full of pure pleasure. “I like you.”
    “I’m growing fonder of you by the minute. I’ve a yen to be rich, and I’m not ashamed to say so.”
    He jerked his head toward the house. “Talk them into it.”
    “No, that I won’t. I’ll put in my thoughts, and I’ll shout if I need to be heard, and exchange the usual insults when they’re warranted, but I won’t pressure them to do anything that doesn’t sit comfortably. It’ll come from all of us, or not at all. It’s the Gallagher way.”
    “Does it sit comfortably with you?”
    “I haven’t decided, but I’m enjoying the trying of it on, so to speak. I have to get back in there, as the discussion’s hot and heavy by this time. But . . .”
    “What?”
    “I wanted to ask, as you’re in the way of being an expert on such things.” She laid a hand on his arm, looked into his eyes. She wanted to see her answer there before she heard it. “Shawn. He’s brilliant, isn’t he?”
    “Yes.”
    It was a simple answer, almost casually given. And perfect. “I knew it.” Tears swam into her eyes, shimmered beautifully against the blue. “I have to get over this before I go back in or his head’ll swell up so I won’t be able to connect with his brain next time I cosh him. I’m so proud of him.” A tear spilled over, made her sniffle. “Damn it.”
    Caught off guard, Trevor stared at her, then dug in his back pocket for his bandanna. “Here.”
    “Is it clean?”
    “Christ, you’re a maze, Darcy. Here.” He dabbed at her cheeks himself, then handed the cloth to her. “You’d do it for him, wouldn’t you?”
    She blew her nose. “What?”
    “The performance, the recording. You’d do it for Shawn even if you hated the idea.”
    “It’s not going to hurt me any, is it?”
    “Stop it.” He took her arms, his eyes narrowed. “It wouldn’t matter what it cost you, you’d do it for him.”
    “He’s my brother. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him.” She let out a steadying breath, eased back, then handed him the bandanna. “But damned if I’ll do it for free.”
    When she turned to walk away, he fought a little war with himself. Pride against need. And need won. “Get a night off. Damn it, Darcy, get a night off.”
    The thrill of the rough demand shivered straight up the center of her body. But the look she shot over her shoulder was designed to taunt. “We’ll see.”
    The minute she was inside, she leaned back against the front door, shut her eyes. Weak, something about the man left her weak. And it was an odd sensation when tangled with the burst of energy that his offer and his promises had spurting through her.
    Her knees wanted to shake, her feet wanted to dance.
    And despite it all, she hadn’t a clue what it was she wanted in her heart.
    She opened her eyes, nearly smiled. From the raised voices coming from the kitchen it was clear that her family hadn’t a clue either.
    She started back, then stopped in the parlor doorway and looked at the old