“Except for the vase,” she said.

“Right, the vase.” He smiled. “Well, I think we can rule out the place being haunted. Ghosts don’t carry off crystal vases.”

Kellan nodded. “Yeah, it was easier to believe in ghosts when the place looked like a wreck. Some of these old houses have secret entrances. And this house was used during the rebellion to smuggle guns. Maybe that’s how your brownies are getting in and out.”

Danny grinned. “Really? Where would this secret passage be?”

“I don’t know. I have the original blueprints, but there wasn’t anything on those. But then, there wouldn’t be if it was a secret. I just never thought to look.” He stood. “You need to find an undefined space. You could figure it out if you measured the rooms. Somewhere there’s a missing meter or so, a space wide enough for a hall or a stairway.”

“Now you have me curious,” Jordan said, smiling. “Wouldn’t that be a tale to tell the owner when she arrives? I think we should start looking. I want to find it.”

“I’d love to help,” Kellan said, standing, “but I’m off to Dublin. I need to scare up some more work.” He crossed the room and held out his hand to Jordan. “It was a pure pleasure working with you, Joe.”

Jordan smiled. “And thank you for the offer, Kellan,” she said. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good.” Kellan gave Danny a slap on the shoulder as he walked out the door. “You, watch yourself. Don’t be an arse. Be nice to your boss.”

When they were alone, Danny sat down in the chair Kellan had vacated. “What was that all about?” he asked.

“He brought me his bill,” Jordan said.

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” Danny said. “What kind of offer did Kellan make you?”

“It’s nothing,” Jordan said. “Just business.” She didn’t want Danny to know that she would even consider staying in Ireland. If he hadn’t thought about it, then knowing that she had would likely send him running in the opposite direction. And though Kellan’s offer was generous, it would take a lot to get her to give up her life in America.

Jordan jumped out of her chair. “I think we should look for that secret passage. Then we can figure out if anyone has been sneaking into the house.” She walked over to the wall of shelves. “How are we going to find it?”

“Tap on the walls,” Danny suggested. “Look for hidden latches or hinges.” He stood and walked to the door. “I have to get back to work. I’ll see you later.”

Jordan watched him retreat, then frowned. He seemed a bit upset. Maybe she should have told him about Kellan’s offer. But there was another reason she’d held back. What if he wanted her to stay?

Jordan drew a deep breath and closed her eyes. She could deny it all she wanted, but she felt something deep and strong for Danny Quinn. It might not be love, but it was something that wouldn’t go away just because she wanted it to. Leaving him was going to be much more difficult that she’d ever anticipated.


JORDAN DREW A DEEP BREATH and smiled, a look of pure pleasure coming over her face. “I love the smell of books,” she said.

Danny wrinkled his nose and looked around the used bookshop. To him, the store smelled a bit musty. “You and Nan should have come on this trip and left me home.”

“Nan?”

Danny nodded. “She was a librarian back in the States. Something to do with old books and maps. She’d have loved this place.”

“I thought you wanted to come,” Jordan said.

Danny slipped his arms around her waist. “I did. But you were the attraction, not some old moldy books.”

“What about when I get old and moldy?” Jordan asked. “Does that mean you’re going to stop liking me then?”

Danny nodded. “I’m afraid so. Once you turn thirty, I’m hitting the road.”

Jordan gasped, then slapped him playfully. “You’re awful. I think I might hate you.”

He bent to kiss her neck. “No, you don’t. You’re mad for me. Admit it. You can’t get enough.”

She sighed, tipping her head to allow his kisses to continue across her shoulder. “Well, that’s true enough. Although, I’m not sure it’s a good thing.” She gently pushed at his chest. “We’re here to look for books,” she reminded him. “Not to snog in the stacks.”

Reluctantly, Danny let her go. Hand in hand, they strolled down the narrow aisles between the stacks. “What exactly are you looking for?” He reached out and plucked a book from one of the shelves. “Here we go. An Illustrated History of Faeries and Sprites. Maybe we can find some of your wee friends in here.”

“Why do you think I’m a fairy?” she asked. “I don’t have wings. Or a wand.”

“Not all fairies look like Tinkerbell. And you wouldn’t. You’re the kind of fairy that uses all her trickery to lure me in.” He pointed to an illustration. “There you are. Leanan sidhe. See? That looks just like you.”

She examined the illustration carefully. “She has wavy dark hair. That’s about it.”

“There’s more,” he said.

“She’s naked and I’m fully clothed. And she has wings. And really big boobs.”

Danny playfully tugged at the back of her shirt. “You have lovely breasts. And I think I’ve seen wings in here somewhere. Why don’t we just take a closer look?”

“You need to keep your mind on business,” she warned, wagging her finger at him.

“And you need to stop distracting me. Fairy magic is a powerful thing and you don’t know how powerful you are.”

“If I’m so powerful,” Jordan said, “why can’t I get rid of the brownies in the house?”

“It doesn’t work that way. Fairies and brownies exist in separate worlds.” He handed her the book. “Here. You can read all about it. I’ll buy it for you, sidhe.”

“We’re here to look for big sets of books with nice leather bindings. And, of course, they should be interesting. I have a lot of shelves to fill.”

“So aesthetics are more important than content?”

Jordan shrugged. “I don’t know. It all depends. We should get a full set of Shakespeare. Why don’t we look for that first?”

“Buying books for their looks is like buying art because it matches the paint on the wall.” Danny reached out and plucked a book off the shelf and held it up to her. “You should start with an Irish poet.”

“Who is that?”

“W. B. Yeats.” Danny leaned back against the bookshelf and closed his eyes. “‘When you are old and gray and full of sleep, and nodding by the fire, take down this book, and slowly read, and dream of the soft look your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep.’” He opened his eyes to find her staring at him.

“That’s beautiful,” she murmured.

“I would still love you when you were old and gray,” he murmured. It was an impulsive statement that startled him, as it was based on the assumption that he loved her now-or would in the future. Was that even a possibility in his subconscious? And if it was, what would that mean to her?

Her gaze softened, as if she were searching for the truth in his words. Danny held his breath, hoping that she might return the favor and provide a clue to the depth of her own feelings. Was she falling in love with him? Did she think about a future together?

“You have to have Yeats,” Danny finally said, handing her the book.

She drew in a sharp breath and nodded. “Yes. Good.”

Danny forced a smile. He’d given her an opening and she hadn’t stepped through it. “And you’ll need collections of Swift and Goldsmith. And Wilde and Joyce.”

“How do you know so much about this?” Jordan asked.

“I’m Irish. We take great pride in our literary heroes. Bram Stoker and Samuel Beckett were Irish, too. And C. S. Lewis. Sister Mary Frances, my high-school English teacher, was a tyrant when it came to homegrown talent. I can still recite ‘The Lake Isle of Innisfree.’ It was my favorite poem.”

“Say it for me,” Jordan said.

Danny cleared his throat and stood up straight.

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,

And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;

Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,

And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

“That’s beautiful,” she murmured.

Chuckling, Danny dropped a kiss on her lips. “That’s not the end of it. Maybe I’ll finish it tonight, when we’re in bed.”

“Thank you, Sister Mary Frances.”

“I used to think that’s what I wanted. To escape my family, my brothers mostly, and find a place to be alone, in a bee-loud glade. But I’m starting to realize that life alone wouldn’t be much fun.”

“Not even in a cabin of clay and waddle? What is waddle?”

“Wattle,” Danny said, emphasizing the ts. “Wattle is strips of wood held together with clay or mud. Although sometimes, in olden days, they used animal dung and straw.”

“You know a lot of trivial things,” she said. “I’m impressed.”

“What do you know?” Danny asked. “Recite a poem for me.”

“No.” Jordan laughed. “Outside of nursery rhymes, I’m not sure I know a single poem by memory. Not that I didn’t at one time. Things just seem to come and go from my mind if I don’t really think about them.”

He leaned into her. “So you’ll forget all about me soon enough?”

She slowly shook her head. “No, I don’t think I’ll ever forget you.”

Danny cupped her face in his hands and captured her mouth with his. He loved to kiss Jordan. She was always so sweet and willing, her fingers clutching at his shirt. When he lingered over her lips, she moaned softly and Danny slipped his hand beneath her shirt to caress her breast.

His thoughts returned to the lines of Yeats he’d recited, the words drifting through his head. For the first time in his life, he could imagine spending the rest of his days with one woman. Jordan fascinated him with all her foibles and quirks. At once she was steely, yet vulnerable, serious, yet silly. With every contrast he discovered, he became more and more intrigued. Was this really the woman who could keep him interested for a lifetime?