"Roberts, Nora - Irish Gallaghers 03 - Heart of the Sea" - читать интересную книгу автора (Roberts Nora)

In the five minutes it took him to reach the top level, he spied the biscuit tin. In the few days he'd been in and around Gallagher's he'd come to know that when there were cookies, they were homemade. And they were spectacular.

He helped himself to a honey and oatmeal cookie as big as his fist as he annihilated the supply supervisor without ever raising his voice. He jotted down the name, in case retribution should become necessary, and was given a personal guarantee that the pipe in question would be delivered to the site by noon.

Satisfied with that, he broke the connection and was considering a second cookie when he heard the footsteps on the stairs. Selecting peanut butter this time, Trevor leaned back against the counter and prepared for his first real eyeful of Darcy Gallagher.

Like Shawn's cookies, she was spectacular.

She stopped at the base of the stairs, lifted one slim eyebrow. Her eyes were blue, like her brothers', a brilliant color against flawlessly white skin. She left her hair loose so that it waved beguilingly over her shoulders.

She was dressed with a tailored smartness that seemed more suited to Madison Avenue than Ardmore.

"Good morning to you. Having a tea break?"

"Phone call." He took a bite of the cookie as he watched her. The voice, Irish and smoky as a turf fire, was as straight-out sexy as the rest of her.

"Well I'm making some tea here, as I've run out upstairs and don't like to start my day without. Makes me cross." She skimmed her gaze over him as she moved to the stove. "Will you have a cup to wash down the biscuit? Or must you go straight back to work?"

"I can take a minute."

"You're fortunate your employer's not so strict. I've heard that Magee runs a very tight ship."

"So he does."

While the kettle heated, Darcy dealt with the pot. The man was better up close. She liked the sharp angles of his face, the little scar on his chin. It gave him a dangerous look, and she was so bloody weary of safe men. No wedding ring, she noted, though that didn't always tell the tale.

"You've come all the way from America," she continued, "to work on his theater?"

"That's right."

"A long way from home. I hope you were able to bring your family with you."

"If you mean wife, I'm not married." He broke the cookie in half, offered her a share.

Amused, she took it. "That leaves you free to travel for your work, doesn't it? And what is it you do?"

"Whatever's necessary."

Oh, yes, she thought and nibbled on the cookie. Just dangerous enough. "I'd say that makes you a handy man to have around and about."

"I'm going to be around and about here for some time yet." He waited while she lifted the sputtering kettle, poured the boiling water into the pot. "Would you like to have dinner?"

She sent him a long sidelong glance, added a hint of a smile. "Sure I like a good meal now and then, and interesting company with it. But I'm just back from my holiday and won't have time off for a bit. My brother Aidan's a hard man with a schedule."

"How about breakfast?"

She set the kettle down. "I might enjoy that. Perhaps you'll ask me again in a day or two, once I've settled back in."

"Perhaps I will."