Page 38 of Quinn, By Design

“Or last Sunday, and”—Kate looked around, an inquisitive bird—“I’m prepared to bet real money you’ll be caught up next Sunday too.”

“Do you need something?” He’d find the time to help, although time was a scarce commodity, getting scarcer. He was trying to reclaim a fraction of the time spent on Lucy’s work by missing Sunday nights at Liam’s.

“Your brother’s pining for your company.”

He met his sister-in-law’s gaze, signalling “some other time” for all he was worth.

“Okay.” Kate rested her hand on her belly. “If Mohamed won’t come to the mountain ...”

“If Liam called you a mountain, I can see why you sought refuge.” Niall pretended outrage. He loved Kate for herself and the besotted expression on his brother’s face when Liam looked at his wife. “I’ll save you.”

Her mouth softened. “I’ve brought samples.”

“Cake?” He gestured to Lucy. “Lucy loved your Christmas cake.”

“You’rethatLucy?” Kate said, as if she’d just made the connection.

He rolled his eyes. “My sister-in-law is not a good liar.”

“I worked that out.” Lucy smiled. “Niall already told you he shared your Christmas cake with me. I introduced myself as Lucy, and you put two and two together and came up with landlord.”

“I remembered because it’s rare for the caveman to share.” Kate stared hard at him.

“Don’t ask.” Niall held a hand up to Lucy, signalling he wouldn’t be explaining the “caveman” tag. “My door’s always open for cake. Thank you. Is that the only reason you came, Kate?”

“I came to see the Huon table.” Kate beamed at him. “Photos aren’t enough. But this looks interesting.” Her attention had been caught by the reassembled mahogany sideboard.

“That’s Lucy’s sideboard. It’s coming along,” Niall said, and to forestall further questions, he pointed to one of the library bookcases. “That’s next.”

“You’ve started.” Lucy smiled at him, which was reward enough for the extra hours he’d spent on her work over the weekend. A substitute for fantasising about getting her between the sheets. “I’ve got a buyer for the sideboard and a nibble on the bookcases. They want to see the finished product.” She held up a hand. “No pressure though.”

“Bills have to be paid,” he murmured.

Kate frowned.

“This way.” He pre-empted the questions he could see forming in Kate’s eyes and led them to the steel door. Once through, he unlocked his storeroom. With a flick of a switch, he flooded the space with light. More than three times the size of Cam’s storeroom, one side housed a sophisticated wheeled storage system for his timber. Against the opposite wall were the pieces he was collecting for the exhibition. Lucy, who hadn’t been in his space before, gasped. Kate hurried forward.

“It’s beautiful.” Kate waddled around the table, studying it from different angles. She let her hand rest on the surface. “It would take something special to displace this as the centrepiece.”

He shook his head, a warning to Kate that this was another no-go area. Lucy was on the other side of the room, studying a large mirror with a frame resembling a treble clef. Her fingers drifted over its surface. The visceral punch rattled his composure. Niall wanted Lucy’s hands drifting over him with the same mixture of curiosity and admiration. Mentally, he zapped Kate to Timbuktu. Kate opened her mouth, glanced at Lucy, then shut it again.

Four weeks since he’d started work on Lucy’s furniture. The empty spaces in this room testified to his neglect. He had the designs, he had the wood, he had the dreams in his head, and time was slipping away. He should have scheduled the photoshoot for the catalogue. Kate’s twin, Anna, had designed a new page for his website and social media pages. Anna pressed him daily to give the go signal, the emojis in her texts assuming ever more alarming features.

“Your niece and I thank you for the advance showing,” said Kate.

“Nephew.” He tried his usual distraction.

“Unless you’ve become an Irish mystic, I’m sticking with my prediction.” Kate put her hands on her hips and turned to Lucy. The glint in her eye matched her twin’s when Anna was on a mission. “Have you met my husband?” Kate had to repeat the question because Lucy had sunk to her heels to examine the carving on his rocking chair.

“Mm. Sorry?” Lucy turned her head.

“Come for dinner with Niall next Sunday?”

“I couldn’t.” Lucy rose to her feet slowly, her hand reaching for the pearls she wasn’t wearing.

Niall’s annoyance with Kate for meddling shifted to a need to understand the expressions chasing across Lucy’s face. Not wanting to impose? Not wanting to back him into a polite corner?

Eagerness?

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