“So your birthday is March nineteenth,” Danny summarized.
“Yeh.”
“Welcome to the thirties. I’m thirty-five.”
“How did you know I was going to be thirty?”
“Your brother told me.”
“Of course.” She laughed and shook her head. Sometimes she believed the only reason Danny had hired Seamus was to glean information about her. Which was ridiculous, of course, because her ordinary life wasn’t of interest to a billionaire. And any dirt on her had been spread across the front page of a two-year-old newspaper. She was old Farthing news.
She suppressed the inclination to pick up Seamus’s discarded cigarette and throw it in the garbage. Instead, she stared into Danny’s laser-beamed gaze. He was so fine-looking, his strong build reminding her more of a leading man in a Hollywood picture than a coffee shop entrepreneur. His gaze was thoughtful, his full mouth turned up into a grin.
Mesmerized, she felt a piece of her heart melt. Perhaps he was more interested in her than she realized.
She released a ragged sigh. Umm, no. Everyone knew that rich people weren’t the least bit interested in poor people. Still, the thought that he might be a wee bit taken with her made her pulse unexpectedly quicken.
Seamus widened his stance and focused on Danny. “Clara and I enjoyed a lovely chat last night over a pot of tea. Whenever I’m thinking of going astray, she sets me straight.”
“I’m very proud of you, Seamus,” Clara said. “Please, go ahead and—” She stopped in midsentence. “Are you going to my flat first, or the city centre?”
Seamus pulled at the collar of his ill-fitting cargo jacket. “I’ll walk to the city centre first and browse the shops before they close. I might meet Liam.”
Danny’s expression became watchful. “Seamus, you’re welcome to spend the evening with us and visit the shops in the morning. Ian and Anna are stopping by, and I can drive you and Clara home later.”
Seamus threw Danny a look of mock disgust. “Don’t take offense, boss. I’ve been running the dishwasher ten hours today in your hot, steaming kitchen and I’m knackered. Besides, you two couples will want to spend time together without a big brother in the way.” He pivoted back to Clara. “So, I’ll meet you at your flat later.”
There was no mistaking the urgency in Seamus’s voice. He was curt, defensive. Had he always acted like that? No, not always. The shift had been gradual.
“I thought you were walking to the city centre,” she said.
“Clara, you’re always analyzing every word I say. I meant after I shop for your gift.”
Danny stepped forward. His gaze was sharp, carving a warning. “Don’t talk to your sister in that derogatory tone.”
Clara started at the bite of anger emanating from Danny’s six-foot frame.
“My brother is only teasing,” she said, attempting to diffuse the situation. “He often speaks to me that way.”
Seamus seemed to shrink a hair. “Only joking, boss. I’m just a big brother winding my baby sister up. If you had a baby sister, you’d understand.”
Danny hesitated. He stiffened. “I did,” he said after a long pause. “She’s dead.”
Clara flinched. “Danny, Seamus didn’t know about your sister’s death.”
She was making excuses, she realized. She was always making excuses for her brother.
As if reading her mind, Danny ran a hand through his hair, then pulled a business card from his wallet and gave it to Seamus. “Ring my office any time.”
“Yeh, thanks.” Seamus lit another cigarette, swung around, and strode briskly in the direction of the town centre.
Later, when Clara reflected on their conversation, she wondered why Seamus had rushed past her like a man who’d been given a reprieve from the guillotine. And why she hadn’t realized that all the shops in town closed at six o’clock.
Chapter Ten
The atmosphere in the after-hours coffee shop was so different from during the day, Clara mused. Quiet and calm, the customers gone, only a few employees organizing the shelves and polishing display cases. An Irish ballad about a fair maiden who’d lost her true love in Galway played softly in the background.
The scent of chocolate and butter cream, and, yes, the aroma of rich coffee beans caused Clara to halt in the middle of the lobby and sniff approvingly. Sea salt caramel candies were set in covered glass jars behind the counter. The sleek coffee shop boasted large, comfortable couches, Wi-Fi, computers set at various tables, and muted television sets. Half of the lobby was shelved with current books and magazines.
Danny stood at the cash register ringing receipts while she wandered to a display of CDs. She scanned the titles, noting his name on several covers. She picked one featuring an Irish fiddle and bagpipe and skimmed the list of songs.
“Who’s Glenna?” she asked.
Danny glanced up, his hand hovering above the cash register pad. “Why?”
“Because the name of this instrumental piece is ‘Ode to Glenna.’ Was she a former girlfriend?”
“My ex-wife’s name was Kyla,” was all he offered. When Clara raised her brows, he finished, “My marriage was disastrous and short-lived. Unfortunately, we couldn’t come to terms on our initial agreement, which resulted in a heavily publicized and ugly divorce.”
So he’d been married. And Glenna was someone else.
“Can I take the CD home? I enjoy traditional Irish music, and I’ll pay you, of course.”
“Didn’t I tell you that everything in my shop is free for you?” he said with a teasing smile.
She grinned. “No, but thanks. Are you singing on the CD?”
“Just one selection.”
“I look forward to listening.” She perused the song list until Anna rapped loudly on the front glass plate window.
“Anybody home?” Anna shouted above the Galway ballad.
Danny strode to the door and unlocked it. Ian stood at the entry beside Anna, fumbling with a set of keys. Both Anna and Ian removed their motorcycle helmets as rain pelleted the windows.
“I couldn’t find the keyring to the shop and upstairs office, boss.” Ian hurried Anna inside. “Do you have an extra set for the boardroom?”
“I should.” Danny shook his head as he walked back to the cash register. “Last month you couldn’t find your motorcycle in the shopper’s mart parking lot. Took you an hour to find it parked at the end of the plaza. You’re becoming more and more forgetful.”
“Now I park my motorcycle near the entrance, and haven’t lost it since.”
“How can you lose a motorcycle?” Anna reached around the counter for a caramel candy and chewed appreciatively. “A keyring maybe, but a candy-blue and canary-yellow motorcycle with shiny metal fenders?”
“Lots of people are absent-minded,” Danny said. He looked at Ian. “Perhaps you’re working too hard.”
Anna stopped chewing. “Then this is the perfect occasion to offer him a holiday, somewhere sunshiny and warm with his girlfriend. I’ve always wanted to revisit Portugal, my birthplace. I may have birth siblings there.”
All gazes turned to Anna. “Thanks for the broad hint. Glad you joined us,” Danny said.
“A free meal, coffee, and dessert at the newest hot spot in town? Who could resist? This entire plaza was a kip, a dump, and your transformation is amazing.” Anna smiled broadly. “Be warned that you’ve taken on an expensive venture offering free food to our family. We love to eat.”
Clara grinned. “Don’t tell him that. He’ll worry we’ll cut into his profit margin.”
“Enjoying time with you and your family is my pleasure.” Danny closed the cash register and placed the receipts in a drawer. “That’s why I’m working. To keep you all well-fed, employed, and happy.” He strode back to Clara and whispered, “And to keep you safe and protected.”
Before she could take a breath and remind him that she didn’t need protecting, Anna laughed and said, “We’re singing with joy ever since you came
to town, Danny.”
“Don’t tell him that, either.” Clara rolled her eyes. “He’s likely to burst into song at the slightest provocation.”
“You have one of the boss’s CDs, Clara?” Ian eyeballed the CD she held in her hand.
“Yeh. He’s feeling generous and said I could take it home. No charge.”
“Did he tell you that all the proceeds from the sales of his CDs are donated to a children’s charity in Dublin?”
“No, he didn’t.” Hurt and annoyed that Danny hadn’t mentioned anything about the proceeds going to charity, Clara tucked the CD in her purse and glared at him.
“I’m sorry, Clara.” Danny complemented his apology with an easy smile. “Am I forgiven?”
Ian shot Clara a look of wounded dignity on Danny’s behalf. “You’ll soon learn, Miss Clara, that the boss says little about his good deeds. Nevertheless, he’s known throughout the world for his philanthropy.”
The absurdity of Clara’s annoyance prompted her to shake her head. She shouldn’t be infuriated at Danny because he was generous and didn’t flaunt his good deeds.
“You’re forgiven,” she hastened to assure him.
Still smiling, Danny poured two steaming cups of herbal tea from a dispenser behind the counter, secured the lids, and handed one to Clara. “Even I think it’s too late for coffee.”
“Tea is brilliant, thanks.”
He took her hand and led her to the door marked private, calling to Ian and Anna that he was writing a song he wanted Clara to hear. “Help yourselves to whatever, sandwiches, desserts, beverages, in the kitchen, and we’ll join you later.”
“Just in case your song takes longer to sing than you anticipated,” Anna said with a knowing grin, “are there any slices of your divine Guinness cake left in the kitchen?”
“Aye. And tomorrow there will be an even better offering.” Danny exchanged a glance with Clara. “Will you share your prized lemon scone recipe?”
“Do I get a commission?”
“How does a flat fee of ten thousand euros sound?”
“Twenty thousand is fairer,” she quipped.
“Agreed.” Setting his tea down on the counter, he grabbed a pad and handed her his gold pen. “Can you write the recipe down for me?”
“Sure. It’s easy and I have it memorized.” She set her tea beside his and jotted the ingredients and recipe on the pad. “Tell your bakers to knead the dough first,” she instructed as she handed the sheet to him. “And drizzle the glaze on the scones when they come out of the oven and still warm.”
He examined the paper and placed it in his pocket. “Thank you.” His gaze dipped to her mouth before he led her through the private door. The reward for her recipe was a caress of his strong fingers against her nape and an unexpected, passionate kiss that took her breath away.
Danny clung to the feeling of Clara’s lips pressed against his as they rode the lift. He’d watched the conflicting reactions flicker across her beautiful face. She’d been obviously surprised by his kiss, feigning indifference at first. He’d deepened the kiss and, with a sigh, she’d wrapped her hands around his neck and kissed him. When the lift doors opened and the kiss came to an end, he drew a shaky breath. Slowly, his hand roved up her back.
“Fast lift,” he remarked.
Less than a minute later, they stood facing the door to his boardroom. He rattled the locked door handle and released it.
“Where is that keyring?” he muttered to himself. He glared at the door with one hand on his hip. “All the files are on my computer, including the song I was writing for you.”
“How’re you going to get in the boardroom?” Clara asked.
“How do you think?” He handed her his cup and lifted the decorative doormat in front of the door.
“My boots aren’t muddy, are they?” She raised one foot and then the other, checking the bottom of her boots.
He held up a keyring that had been under the mat and smiled. He inserted a gold key into the lock, swung open the door, and gestured for her to enter as he flicked on the lights.
“A billionaire hides a spare keyring to his boardroom under the doormat?” she asked.
“Soon-to-be billionaire,” he corrected with a grin. “Although I plan to become a billionaire once my franchises go global.”
“Why go global when you’re so successful right here in Ireland?”
“Because I’m a driven man and never satisfied.” He grabbed his cup of tea from her. “I can enter new overseas markets, gain additional customers, and double the coffee shop’s net worth. Someday I’ll tell you more, if you’re interested.”
“I’m interested.” She quirked a delicate eyebrow and said wryly, “No one can fault your ambition, Danny.” Her statement was followed by a prominent wheeze.
He shoved the keyring into his pocket and smoothed his fingers over her shoulders. “How are you feeling?”
“Couldn’t be better.”
“Aye, so it seems.”
There could be a remedy to soothe her breathing, although she would probably resist his suggestion that he help her pursue that. Nevertheless, he would try. “My doctors in Dublin are excellent. Would you like me to make an appointment with one of them?” He kept his tone light as they walked into the boardroom, their feet sinking into the thick wool carpeting.
She studied the carpet before meeting his stare. Her huge, dark eyes showed exhaustion. “Absolutely not. My cough will subside now that spring is approaching and the weather will be getting warmer.”
Her airy response despite her obvious fatigue was so typical that Danny almost acted unconcerned. “And then autumn will arrive again. And then what?”
She rubbed a brow as if to ward off the question and didn’t respond.
He set both cups atop ceramic coasters on the coffee table, pushed a pile of magazines aside and gestured to the espresso-colored leather sofa. “Please sit and rest a bit.”
She collapsed against the sofa and sighed. “The money part of the overtime is grand, while all those hours lifting heavy boxes is difficult. Between taking care of Seamus and juggling my jobs, I haven’t slept much.”
He sat beside her, wanting to take her into his arms. She shouldn’t work so hard, struggle as much as she did. A woman like Clara deserved to be sheltered and pampered, spoiled with extravagant gifts and a magnificent home.
“Shouldn’t you check your computer files?” she asked.
He opened her tea and handed the cup to her. “The files can wait.”
She took a sip. Several beats passed.
“What are you thinking?” he asked, deciding to engage in pleasant conversation to divert her from her tiredness.
“I’m thinking about how much my family’s life has changed this past week.”
“Hopefully for the better?”
She set her cup precisely in the middle of the coaster and fixed her gaze out the picture window. The view captured nighttime in the little town of Farthing, all smudged by a misty rain. The Farthing streetlights gleamed, creating a shadow play on her smooth cheeks.
“You’ve offered endless kindnesses—the flowers, meals, employment …”
He moved closer and draped his arm around her. “And you can repay me by accepting my protection. Please consider my offer to enlist Ian as your bodyguard until Jack Connor is safely behind bars.”
She shot him a frown. “Did anyone ever tell you that persistence isn’t always a good quality?”
“It’s one of the best qualities for running a successful business.”
“However, I’m not a business, I’m a person.”
Danny had the uncomfortable feeling he’d somehow managed to say the wrong thing, despite the fact that most everyone knew that successful businesses and persistence went hand in hand. Successful personal relationships, on the other hand, required caring and … affection.
He stood and cleared his throat. “I won’t be long checking my files.”
She plucked an issue of En
trepreneur magazine off the stack and began leafing through it. “I assure you I can amuse myself.”
He took a seat at his computer and scanned the files, relieved to find the coffee shop’s invoices, balance sheets, spreadsheets, and banking information hadn’t been tampered with. For some unsettling reason, he’d feared someone had hacked into his files, most likely because of the unnerving mystery of the missing keyring. Satisfied, he shut down his computer and settled onto the leather sofa beside her.
She didn’t glance up, apparently deeply engrossed in Entrepreneur.
Briefly, he closed his eyes, counting how many days remained before he was scheduled to depart for London. His lovely companion didn’t seem remotely interested that he was sitting so close. He propped one foot on the opposite knee and regarded her. As always when she was near, he could think of little else. Her beauty distracted him.
He shook his head. He didn’t have room in his life for distractions. He needed to concentrate on one goal, offering franchises worldwide to secure his wealth. Then he would find the peace that he’d been searching for, insulated from the poverty and insecurity he’d known.
He watched Clara in the silence. Soon, he’d be required elsewhere, although he refused to dwell on that thought, the absolute finality of his departure. After spending the week with her, he didn’t want to leave her picturesque town, her quirky family. Dining with her every evening, laughing together as they walked the rainy streets, writing lyrics to a song … These simple activities had caused him to stop and reflect on everything that had been missing in his life. Snippets of the ordinary. He’d forgotten they existed, and the peace those moments brought to his hectic, demanding world.
In the reasonably short amount of time since he’d become successful, he’d known plenty of attractive, ambitious women who had eagerly accepted any invitations he’d casually extended. Yet Clara was hesitant to spend one day in Dublin with him until he’d convinced her with a song. She wasn’t a woman who’d wanted to date him for his money or fame. If anything, Clara was furious when she’d learned who he really was.
Oh Danny Boy: A Sweet Contemporary Romance Page 9
