Mistletoe Magic

by Fern Michaels

  Claire stooped down and gave Tilly a tight hug. “Thank you so much, Tilly. I’m sorry I can’t stay and try another of your tasty dishes, but I’ll appreciate this”—she held up the bag—“on the flight home.” Before she knew it, tears filled her eyes. She sniffed, then Tilly handed her a wad of tissues. “Thanks, Tilly. Would you mind if I stayed in touch with the both of you?” Claire had only known the couple for a few short hours, but she felt as though she’d known them forever.

  “We’d like that,” Marty said, then removed a slip of paper from his pocket. “That’s our snail-mail address, and our e-mail addresses. If you want, friend us on Facebook, and we can stay in touch that way, too.”

  “I’d like that,” Claire said.

  “We better get on the road if we want to make it to the airport in time. Keep in touch with me, and if you need me here, just say the word.” Quinn shook Marty’s hand, then he practically lifted Tilly off the ground when he hugged her.

  Dark outside, the night air damp and bitterly cold, Claire suddenly remembered Quinn rode a motorcycle. “Do you have a car?” she asked as they walked to the side of the castle where Marty had parked earlier.

  “No,” he said.

  They were really going to ride a motorcycle to the airport? In this frigid night air? She’d be an iceberg by the time they arrived in Dublin! Or die of pneumonia!

  They walked to a modern building, that looked as if it were recently built. It didn’t have the stones like the area where Marty parked. Quinn removed a set of keys from a box, then unlocked the door. He flipped a light on, before Claire stepped inside. When she did, what she saw almost took her breath away. It did take her breath away.

  “You said you didn’t have a car.”

  “I don’t. I have several cars. I had this building constructed last year when I was here. Donald had a fit, but he loves these cars as much as I do. He kept them in a specialty garage in Dublin and never drove them. I finally convinced him the cars would be useless in a few years if he didn’t drive them. So, take your pick.” Quinn gestured to an array of vehicles.

  “Should I ask which you prefer?”

  “I like them all,” he said as he walked her through the rows of cars.

  “How many?” she asked.

  “Fifteen here, and three more in Dublin undergoing repairs.”

  “So, you’re telling me you have eighteen cars? Here in Ireland?”

  Quinn threw back his head and laughed. “I am.”

  She could only nod. “So, you pick. I know absolutely nothing about cars other than they get me from point A to point B.”

  “Stick with me, and I promise to teach you a thing or two,” Quinn said. Claire caught the double entendre.

  “The roads might get icy. I think we’d better take the Range Rover. It has four-wheel drive, too.”

  “Wait! I can’t leave yet. I have to call Kelly,” Claire suddenly remembered.

  “Okay, but you do know you can call her from the car? We’ve got cell towers here in Ireland, too,” Quinn teased as he unlocked a black Range Rover. He took her luggage and duffel bag and placed them in the back of the car, along with Tilly’s doggie bag.

  Unlocking the passenger door, he helped Claire climb inside. Once they were settled and their seat belts fastened, Quinn pressed a button, and an automatic door opened. “Nice,” Claire said.

  “Yes, building this was one of the best things I’ve done for myself in years,” Quinn said as he backed out of the garage.

  Claire supposed it was if you were a car buff but didn’t voice her thoughts.

  “I’ll call Kelly now, if you don’t mind.”

  Quinn handed her his cell phone. “Use mine. It’s local.”

  “Sure,” Claire said as she searched through her purse for the paper with Kelly’s number and address. As soon as she found it, she punched in the number.

  “ ’Ello?”

  “Hi, Kelly, it’s Claire. From the plane,” she added, just in case Kelly had forgotten she’d given out her phone number.

  “Oh, Claire, it’s mighty fine ta hear ya voice. I was hopin’ you’d call.”

  She couldn’t help but smile hearing her heavily accented voice. “It’s hard to believe, but I’m on my way to the airport now. My business . . . only took a couple of hours.” And she wasn’t even bothering to spend the night? Claire realized how crazy she must sound. It’d been close to thirty-two hours since she’d slept in a bed.

  “Aye, that was fast, I must say. Are ya sure ya can’t stay? Paddy would love to see ya again.”

  Claire heard the laughter in her voice. “And I would like to see Paddy as well, but I have to rush home. I promised to spend Christmas with my family.”

  Though Claire had spent several hours with Kelly, she suddenly realized that all she knew about her was that her grandmother had passed away, and she had a newborn son. Come to think of it, Claire hadn’t heard her mention the baby’s father. She’d spoken of her mother, but never mentioned a husband, if she had a career or anything remotely personal.

  “That’s nice ya know. Family and Christmas. I was gonna decorate a tree this year, but aye, they’re so expensive. Paddy’s too wee to know about Christmas just yet,” Kelly said, her voice sounding far away and sad.

  What the heck was wrong with her? Was Claire so self-centered that she couldn’t assess a situation that wasn’t connected to her or her legal life? Yes, she was, she thought, as Kelly told her about Paddy’s first giggle.

  “I would’ve loved to hear that. I’m coming back to Ireland, though I’m not sure when. I’ll make sure to come for a visit. Stay in touch, okay?” Claire said. Kelly promised she would. When Claire punched the END button, she felt sad. Seeing the scrap of paper with Kelly’s address, she read it to Quinn. “Are you familiar with the area?”

  Quinn looked in the rearview mirror, adjusted it before answering. “It’s Dublin’s worst possible area. Drugs, prostitutes, murders. You name it, it happens there.”

  “I can’t leave without seeing her, Quinn. She’s a young woman, and I think she’s in need of a friend and maybe some financial help.” Claire really didn’t know what to do.

  “You’ll miss your flight, you do realize that?”

  “Yes, yes I do. Never mind. Let’s just get to the airport. I’ll figure out a way to help Kelly and Paddy.”

  “I have an idea,” he said, a grin showing his white teeth in the darkened car.

  “Let’s hear it.”

  “How would you like to play Santa Claus?”

  “Well for starters, I would need a sleigh, along with eight reindeer, about a hundred extra pounds, a white beard, and a red suit, but I’m game. I’m all ears.”

  “It’ll take a bit of work, but I think I can make sure that Kelly and Paddy have a Merry Christmas.”

  “Go on,” Claire prompted.

  For the next half hour Quinn explained what he would do as soon as they arrived in the States. It took Claire a minute or two before his words registered. “What do you mean, when we arrive in the States?”

  “I’m going home, too. A bit earlier than planned, but with such a sexy traveling companion, I couldn’t resist.”

  Claire was at a loss for words. “But . . . why? You have all those cars, and your uncle is here. He’s not well, Quinn. Someone needs to keep an eye on him.”

  “Marty and Tilly are highly qualified. Not only is Tilly an amazing chef, when she lived in China, she was also a doctor—an internist, I think.”

  “You’re not joking, are you?”

  “I wouldn’t joke about that.”

  Claire realized she hardly knew Quinn Connor, yet she knew she could trust him, knew he was a man of his word. Plus, he was a really good kisser, and beyond good-looking. And an attorney, too. She couldn’t have handpicked a more suitable match for herself, but she’d keep those thoughts to herself. At least for now. When Colleen and Megan heard about him, the matchmaking would never end. She’d keep him a secret for a while.

&
nbsp; “Does Donald know this?”

  “I think he has an idea, but as long as she prepares gourmet meals, he doesn’t really give too much thought to anything else she does. Or Marty. Though Marty’s been working for my uncle since I was a boy, so there’s a story there. And they’re really good friends even though Marty works for him. He’s very well-off, and doesn’t need to work, but he seems to believe Donald couldn’t get along without him.”

  “Then Marty and Donald must be about the same age,” Claire stated.

  “Marty’s in his early seventies. And Tilly just turned sixty-seven. She made sure to remind me that I missed her birthday this year.”

  “She hardly looks a day over fifty.”

  “She’s a very intelligent woman. She’s never told anyone why she left China, but it can’t be good. Whatever her reason, I’m glad we have her. And so is Marty. They’ve been more than friends for a number of years.”

  “I guessed as much. They make a cute couple.”

  Quinn reached across the bucket seat and placed his hand on her upper thigh. “I know someone else who would make a cute couple, too.”

  Claire grinned.

  “Who would that be?”

  “That’s for me to know and you to find out,” Quinn said, then squeezed her thigh, sending shocks of desire through her.

  And Claire would find out.

  Chapter 7

  They arrived at JFK on time. Claire had never been so happy to get off an airplane in her entire life. The return flight home was much longer, and they’d had seats in coach by the toilets. Between the passengers’ coming and going, not to mention the smell that seeped out every time the door opened, Claire never slept a wink. By now it’d been close to forty-eight hours since she’d had any real sleep. Her eyes were gritty, her teeth felt like she hadn’t brushed them since they’d come in, and on top of everything else, she felt like she was coming down with a cold.

  Once they passed through Customs and retrieved their luggage, Quinn made a phone call. Twenty minutes later, they were picked up in a black Lincoln and whisked off to a private airport.

  “Where are we going?” she asked, though truly she didn’t care. As long as it was away from that terrible smell.

  “I thought you wanted to spend the holidays with your family,” Quinn said. “I am making it my personal mission to see that you arrive safely. I’ve chartered a private jet to take you to Colorado.”

  “Tell me you’re kidding.”

  “I would, but I’m not.”

  “I don’t know what to say, other than thank you.” Claire was too tired to think straight. All she wanted to do was sleep. If Quinn wanted to hire a private jet to take her home, it was fine with her. As long as she could sleep, and the plane didn’t smell like urine, she was good. She didn’t even think about being afraid. And she hadn’t been afraid on the return flight from Ireland. Quinn had entertained her, they’d watched two movies, shared the goodies Tilly sent, and talked about everything and nothing. By the time they landed on American soil, Claire felt as though she’d known him her entire life. Quinn told her about his law practice. He was a defense lawyer but devoted much of his time to the down and out. She wanted to ask him how he managed to earn a living, but she knew he’d inherited half of his father’s fortune when he’d died. Quinn Connor was a very rich man but Claire didn’t care. She liked him, maybe a bit more than liked, but again, she would keep those thoughts to herself. For now, she was content to let him take charge of her life even if it was only for a few hours.

  “You don’t mind if I come along for the ride?” he asked, as they climbed aboard the luxurious Beechcraft Super King Air B200.

  “Not at all, but I can’t promise to keep my eyes open much longer,” Claire said, then immediately yawned. “I am tired.”

  Quinn helped her get settled in her seat, showed her all the fancy buttons, and as soon as they were at a safe altitude, he explained to her how her seat reclined. He removed a soft pillow from the overhead bin, along with an equally soft blanket that smelled like Downy fabric softener. “You sure know how to make a girl happy.”

  He sat in the seat facing her. “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”

  It wasn’t long after takeoff that Claire fell into a sound, restful sleep. When she awoke, she was surprised to learn she’d been asleep for almost five hours. Her eyes didn’t feel gritty, but her mouth felt horrible. Quinn was sipping a cup of coffee and reading The Wall Street Journal. He must have sensed her watching him because he tore his gaze from the paper, and when he looked at her, Claire truly felt her heart skip a beat. She smiled at him.

  “Have a nice nap?”

  “Beyond. That coffee smells luscious.”

  “I knew you’d want a cup, so I made sure to save some for you.” Quinn had to stoop as he walked to the small galley at the back of the aircraft, but when he returned with a cup of strong black coffee in a real china cup, Claire felt as though she’d died and gone to heaven. She sipped the hot brew, relishing every drop. When she finished, Quinn poured her a second cup, this time bringing her a wrapped blueberry muffin and a paper plate with a knife and fork. “Sorry about the paper plate. Jack forgot to pack the good china plates.”

  “Hey, this is the most luxurious plane I’ve ever seen. And you know what?” she asked as she opened the cellophane-wrapped muffin. “I’m not even remotely nervous, or afraid. If I could travel in a plane like this, I don’t think I’d be nearly as fearful. Is that crazy or what?” she asked, then took a bite of her muffin.

  “Not at all. Now do you want to hear about Kelly and Paddy’s surprise? While you were sleeping, I made a few phone calls. It seems that Kelly’s husband died in a motorcycle crash right after she learned she was pregnant. Her mother barely gets by, but Kelly didn’t have much choice after her husband died, so she moved in with her. It’s public housing, which isn’t so bad, but the area is Dublin’s worst. Apparently, Kelly works as a full-time housekeeper for a well-to-do family. They bought her and Paddy’s tickets to New York.”

  “How do you know all this?”

  “First, and foremost, I am an attorney with contacts across the globe. Secondly, I have access to the Internet and a telephone. Now does that answer your question?”

  He grinned, and once again, Claire felt her heart skip a beat or two. “Has anyone ever told you what an amazing man you are?” She couldn’t help it. This guy was almost too good to be true. And like him, she, too, had her contacts. As soon as she was able, she just might have a look-see into his past, just to make sure there wasn’t anything . . . what, she thought? Bad? A juvenile record? An unwanted child? No, she would not do this. She trusted him, and she trusted her gut instinct as well. Quinn Connor was the man she thought he was. Decent, giving, and kind. Not to mention good-looking, brilliant, and, yes, she might as well add rich to his long list of growing attributes. And he was an excellent kisser. If his skills in the bedroom were anything like the rest of him, then Claire knew making love with Quinn Connor would be life-changing.

  “Claire?”

  She jerked herself out of her reverie. “Sorry, I was fantasizing.”

  “About me? Us?” he asked, all traces of humor gone.

  Claire wasn’t sure how to answer him. Did she tell him the truth? Or was she willing to be just another woman in a string of many? Someone to toy with until he grew tired of her? Was all of his kindness and concern for others nothing but an act? No, no, no! She had to stop second-guessing herself. She had feelings for this man. Real feelings that had nothing to do with his looks, his financial status, or the number of cars he owned. She just clicked with him, pure and simple.

  “Claire, did I say something to upset you?” Again, he was serious.

  She shook her head. “No, I’m just not sure why the sudden change of mood. One minute you’re teasing me, and when I tell you I am fantasizing, you’re suddenly serious. Did I say something to upset you?”

  “No, you didn’t. So tell me what you’re thinking? Pleas
e,” he added, a trace of his earlier humor in his words.

  “I’m thirty-four years old, Quinn, not some young cutesy girl that you can discard as soon as you tire of me.” There, she’d said it. Now all she had to do was wait for him to explain that he really liked her, and yes they were going to enjoy one another, but that’s as far as he was willing to go.

  What the hell happened to her? The Claire that needed no one. The Claire that was self-reliant and independent? The woman who vowed to remain footloose and fancy-free? She didn’t know. Maybe she’d left that woman behind when she’d crossed the Atlantic. Whatever it was, she wasn’t Super Claire anymore and didn’t want to be.

  More than anything, Claire O’Brien wanted to be loved. And she would accept nothing less. And that was the old dynamic Claire talking. She grinned.

  “Want to tell me what’s so funny because right now, I don’t seem to see the humor in what you just said. And for the record, Claire, I’m almost forty years old. I am not looking for some ‘young cutesy girl’ to have a fling with. I thought we had something. Was I mistaken? Am I moving too fast? Tell me, I want to know.”

  The old stubborn Claire was up and running, putting her foot in her mouth. The new, softer Claire was glowing inside just knowing that Quinn might have more than lust on his mind.

  “I was fantasizing about sleeping with you, when you asked why I was grinning. Then I decided that you’re way too handsome, way too accomplished, and way too rich to want . . .”

  “—what?”

  “A relationship.” There it was out. She barely knew the man, and she wanted a commitment from him. Sort of.

  “Do you think I make a habit of traipsing across the globe to help damsels in distress? Is that the kind of man you want to be with?”

  “No and yes,” Claire replied.

  “I suppose I have to ask if that was answered in the order in which the questions were asked?”

  Claire smiled, she couldn’t help it. She needed to learn to stop putting words in the mouths of everyone she came in contact with. It was truly a bad habit, one she wanted to rid herself of, but it wasn’t going to be easy.