The Mighty Quinns: Callum

“Young?”

“Pretty,” he said.

“I thought you’d find out soon enough.”

“Did you invite her to lunch?” Cal asked.

“I told her I’d take her out something to eat after the boys were fed.”

“Leave that to me,” he said. “I’m just going to change and I’ll be right down.”

He ran up the stairs and into his room, stripping off his shirt along the way. Though he’d taken a shower before breakfast, he figured another wouldn’t hurt. The road had been dusty and his hair was sticking up all willy-nilly. He only had one chance to make a first impression—or a second impression.

He managed a shower in less than five minutes, then grabbed a towel for his wet hair. Luckily, he’d taken the time to shave off three days of stubble that morning. A splash of cologne was probably overkill, so he set the bottle back on the shelf.

Cal stepped into the hallway, rubbing his head with the towel until his hair was barely damp. But when he pulled the towel away, he found Gemma standing next to the linen closet, a blanket clutched to her chest, her eyes wide. A tiny cry of surprise slipped from her lips as the blanket dropped to the floor.

They both bent to pick it up, Cal getting to it first. He held it out to her as he rose. Gemma straightened, her gaze drifting along his naked body. He struggled to wrap the towel around his waist, but with only one hand, it was impossible to do. It seemed like an eternity before she took the blanket from him.

A long embarrassed silence followed as he tried to come up with a clever line. Of all the scenarios he’d gone over in his mind, this was not the way he’d intended their first meeting to go—him starkers and her all fascinated with his bits and pieces. Cal swallowed hard, realizing there was only one thing to say. “Hello,” he said.

Her gaze quickly returned to his face and a pretty blush stained her cheeks. “Wha-what are you doing here?”

“I live here,” he said. Though this wasn’t exactly the way he wanted it to go, he’d have to make the best of it. “I’m Callum Quinn. Cal.”

Stunned, she slowly took his outstretched hand, her fingers soft against his palm. “I’m—”

“Gemma Moynihan,” he said. “I know. The genealogist. Mary told me.”

She frowned, shaking her head in confusion. “But why didn’t you introduce yourself on the road?”

“I didn’t realize who you were at first. I thought you’d be older—I mean, I just assumed. Mary didn’t say that you—weren’t. Older.”

She looked around, as if searching for the quickest means of escape. “I—I should let you get dressed. Mary just sent me up to fetch another blanket for the bunkhouse.”

“I’m sure she did,” he muttered, wondering at the housekeeper’s motives. “I’ll see you later?”

Gemma nodded. “Right. Later, then. All right.” She turned and hurried back to the stairs, looking over her shoulder once before descending. Cal listened as her footfalls echoed from the lower hallway, then leaned back against the wall.

He’d always been the one who’d struggled to speak around women. It was obvious his lack of clothing had something to do with her unease. Maybe that was the key with this woman? To shed his clothes as quickly as possible whenever the conversation slowed so neither one of them would have to talk?

Fate had dropped Gemma Moynihan into the middle of the outback and he was going to make the best of the opportunity. In reality, she was trapped here, waiting for him to enlighten her about his family history. He’d dole out a few interesting tidbits here and there, just enough to keep her around long enough for him to explore this attraction between them.

But the first thing he’d do was make it clear to every man on Kerry Creek Station, including his two brothers, that Gemma was off-limits. Though he knew she wouldn’t be staying long, he could use the practice. When the right woman did present herself, he wanted to be ready.

“Lunch,” he murmured. He’d get Mary to make up something for them both and then he’d take her on a tour of the station. The more time they spent alone, the better his chances of charming her. And if that didn’t work, he’d just strip down and tempt her with his other attributes.

2

GEMMA RACED DOWN THE STAIRS, her face hot, her pulse pounding. She stopped at the bottom, grasping the newel post and drawing a deep breath. Had she just imagined that entire encounter? She’d spent the drive to Kerry Creek mentally undressing the man she’d met on the road, trying to conjure an image of him without his clothes. Was it any wonder that all came back when she met him again?

“No,” she murmured. He had definitely been naked. She had imagined a good body beneath those clothes, but nothing quite as perfect as what she’d seen upstairs. She took a ragged breath, then continued on to the kitchen, desperate to return to the bunkhouse where she could enjoy her embarrassment in solitude.

“Did you find it?” Mary asked as Gemma hurried through the kitchen.

“Yes, thank you,” Gemma called, shoving the screen door open with her free hand.

Some of the ranch hands were coming in for lunch and they watched her with unabashed interest as she passed. She wondered if her face was as red as it felt. It wasn’t like she’d never seen a naked man before. She had—many times. But what had ever possessed her to stare in such a blatant way?

Gemma walked inside the bunkhouse, then slammed the door behind her. Crossing to the bed, she flopped onto it, facedown into the pillow. An image of Cal flashed in her mind again. Oh, God. He had an incredible body, from top to toe, and the all the interesting parts in between. She groaned again. Yes, there, too.

“Be careful what you wish for,” Gemma said as she rolled onto her back. From the moment he’d driven off, she’d regretted not being more aggressive. She had always been the one in control of a relationship. She’d decided when it began and when it ended.

Similarly, she’d decided she wanted the post as senior instructor at University College, and had convinced the entire department that, even at her young age, she was the perfect person for the job. Her article on Irish religious icons made the cover of the university’s history journal, because she’d decided that was where it belonged. And when they’d demanded that she teach during the summer, she’d convinced them that her time would be much better spent doing research for a new book.

But here, she’d seen something she wanted—a man—and she was suddenly afraid to go after him. A summer romance was exactly what she needed, even though it was technically a winter romance here in Australia. It had been months since she’d been with a man. Yet, it didn’t seem quite ethical.

She was here to extract information from Cal. If they had a physical relationship at the same time, wouldn’t she be using her body to further her agenda? Gemma pinched her eyes shut. Wasn’t that what sex was about? Most women had an agenda—first sex, then marriage, a comfortable life, a good future. Her plan was just a wee bit different.

But if he knew what she was here for, then she wouldn’t be deceiving anyone. An emerald worth a half million English pounds wasn’t something he’d just turn over, simply because she said it belonged to her family. And if she found proof of the sale of the stone, then she could demand he return the ill-gotten profits.

The more Gemma became involved in her scheme, the more she realized how complicated things could become. But a few nights of brilliant sex was nothing compared to assuring her identity as a Parnell. She’d wanted Cal Quinn’s body for about three hours. She’d wanted to be a Parnell for years.

Gemma had always been so practical about sex. The physical release was enjoyable but she’d carefully avoided emotional attachments. Though there had been a number of lovers in her life, she’d never been in love. Watching her mother gradually destroy herself over a man she couldn’t have was enough to make Gemma cautious.

A knock sounded on the bunkhouse door and she sat up, tossing her hair over her shoulder. Gemma weighed the chances that Cal was on the other side. How could she face him without thinking about his naked—? She groaned as the knock grew more insistent.

“Come in,” she called.

The door swung open and Mary walked in with a tray. “Hello, there. I’ve brought you some lunch. Just a sandwich and some crisps. And a lovely slice of apple pie.” She set it down on the table near the door. “The boys are having stew, but I thought you’d prefer this. What would you care to drink? We have beer, lemonade and wine. There’s even milk, if you prefer that.”

“Lemonade is fine, thanks. But you don’t have to wait on me. I’ll come in.”

“No, no, I’ll send Cal out with it. You two can meet—again.”

Gemma covered her face with her hands. “Oh, Jaysus, he told you about that?” She shook her head and peeked between her fingers at the housekeeper. “He startled me and I didn’t know what to do or where to look. One isn’t often confronted with a naked man.”

Mary gasped. “Naked? What was he doing driving around in the nuddy?”

“Driving?” She paused, then smiled. “Oh, no. I’m not talking about the first time we met. I’m talking about the second time. Upstairs. He was coming out of the bath and I was—”

“Oh dear,” Mary said, a look of horror on her face. “Oh, I am so sorry. He said he was going up to change his clothes. I just assumed he’d come down and gone outside.” Flustered, the housekeeper began to rearrange the lunch on the table.

“Don’t worry,” Gemma said, crossing the room to stand beside her. “It’s not like I didn’t enjoy the view. He is quite fetching in the nip.”

Mary glanced over at her, then laughed. “I see you’ll fit in just fine around here. Living with all these men takes a certain amount of tolerance. That’s why I think it best you work your way up to meals in the kitchen. Their behavior can be bawdy and their language a little raw.”

“I’m Irish. We invented bawdy,” she said.