Page 42 of Quinn, By Design

“I stayed a year beyond the mentorship.” He pushed his hands through his hair, surprised she wasn’t telling him what a selfish bastard he was. “Wanted to hone my skills, I said. Wouldn’t get another chance like that in my lifetime.”

“Was that true?” She was as stubborn as he was.

“I ignored what he wasn’t saying because the craft has always seduced me.” He spun on his heel and walked to the window. “I can’t turn my back on the wood. Not even to earn a bloody income.”Ask any girlfriend I’ve ever had; ask the woman I planned to marry.

“But you have. That’s what the frames are about?” Her insight rocked him, leaving no space for shame. “You need to do this. And you need to do it now? Why?” She pushed harder than his conscience.

“Because I left it too long to come home. Because Quinns pay their way.” Niall stared at her, and the truth dawned. Paying his share was core to his identity as a man and a son, and it wasn’t only about money. Maybe not even primarily about money.

“You’re talking about a partner in one of the most respected law firms in the country. Partner and head of their new division on environmental law. His wife, from the little I’ve learned, is a writer and researcher. And I don’t mean to be mercenary here, Niall, but the furnishings in this house aren’t cheap.” Impatience gave her words an edge. “He doesn’t need your money, and I bet he told you that.”

“He’s about to have a babe.” He retraced his steps to face her, giving her the justification he’d given his brother. “He needs a nest egg, to have options.”

“This is your cash flow problem. Grandpa knew this.” She didn’t pause when he nodded. “How much did you charge them for the cradle?”

“Don’t be daft,” Niall reeled.

“What’s in your pockets?” She dropped her gaze to his lower body, frying his few functioning brain cells. “Empty them.”

Digging into his jacket pockets, he pulled out carved alphabet figures, upper and lower case from H to P. He set them on the narrow ledge running at knee height around two sides of the room. They joined the letters A to G, large enough not to be swallowed, small enough to teach some manual dexterity by fitting them together.

“Another gift.”

“I love them.” And the way to show them wasn’t the money, but in the practical way he knew best. “The cradle’s got nothing to do with Da’s debts. These”—he gestured to the carved letters—“are just baubles.”

“The fruit bowl for me.” She took his face between her hands. “You aren’t going to get rich and famous anytime soon if you keep giving some of your finest pieces away. You need to forgive yourself, Niall. Everyone else has.” She pressed her lips to his.

He pulled her into his body, releasing some of the doubts Sinead had gifted him. The warm weight of her in his arms triggered a soul-deep need. He nibbled at her bottom lip, teasing her mouth open and letting his tongue trace hers. She tasted of honey, of the sweetness of a spring day where new beginnings were everywhere. Her hands linked behind his neck. He widened his stance, letting her feel his arousal even as he slowed his kisses.

The doorbell rang. He rested his forehead on hers. “Anna will be in here in seconds.” He ran Lucy’s hand over the bulge in his pants. “I don’t want her to know I’m quite this pleased to see you.” He gave a rueful laugh and set her away from him.

“I’m pleased to see you too.” She patted his cheek. “At the risk of scaring you away a second time, I just clocked desire one hundred and ten percent, gratitude non-existent.”

CHAPTER NINE

Niall watched his brotherhelp Kate carry platters of food to the table.

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