The Mighty Quinns: Brendan

But that changed the instant Amy lay down beside him. Pulling the down comforter over top of her and wriggling up against him, she settled in. He became acutely aware that he wasn’t wearing anything but the comforter and an uneasy smile, not that she could tell through the five layers of clothes she wore. “What the hell are you doing?” Brendan asked.

“I’m just going to lie here until I warm up. Then I’ll go back to my cabin,” she murmured. “You know, it’s really not the cold. It’s the damp. It just goes right to the bone.”

Brendan sat up and jammed the coverlet between their bodies. He didn’t mean to act like a prude, but this was totally unacceptable. “You’re not going to sleep in here,” he said. “This is my cabin.”

Amy turned over. “What’s the big deal? It’s not like anything is going to happen. I’m just trying to get warm.”

“Go back to your own cabin, Amy,” he said through clenched teeth.

“No,” she replied, tugging the comforter more tightly around her. “I want to stay here.” She watched him warily. “You don’t have to worry. I’m not going to attack you while you sleep. I’m not even attracted to you. You’re just a warm body.” With a frustrated sigh, she pulled one of the pillows from beneath his head. “You do have a huge ego. As if I couldn’t resist you. Please. You’re not that cute.” She laughed, then turned her back to him.

Well, he had his answer. If he thought there was even a flicker of attraction between them, he now knew it was strictly one-sided. She had no reservations about spending the night in his bed. Never mind that he was naked and in a state of tightly checked arousal. All she wanted was a warm place to sleep and he could provide that for her. But at what cost?

Brendan stared at her long and hard, then reached out and impatiently flicked a strand of her silken hair off of his pillow. “You stay on your side of the berth and I’ll stay on mine,” he warned. “Or you’ll be sleeping on the floor.”

“All right,” she murmured, snuggling more deeply beneath the comforter.

But the barrier between them was very thin indeed. His berth was barely bigger than a twin-size bed and even jammed up against the wall, her backside came dangerously close to his lap. Brendan lay frozen in place, afraid to move, almost afraid to breathe.

Though it had been a long time since he’d slept with a woman, he’d never expected his next time to be like this. Sharing a bed with a woman usually meant a night of passion and excitement, culminating in an exquisite release. Instead, he was here with Nanook of the North, whose only interest in him was in how much body heat he might provide.

Brendan wasn’t sure how long he lay like that, only that it was long after Amy had fallen asleep. She’d managed to wiggle up against him until his body cradled hers, until her hair tickled his face and her slow, even breathing was the only sound in the cabin. He tried to sleep, but every time he closed his eyes, unbidden fantasies swirled in his head. He imagined himself undressing her, tossing aside all those layers of clothes and pulling her body against his, skin meeting skin, the exchange of heat tantalizing and exciting, not a matter of practicality at all.

A cramp clutched at his leg and he groaned softly. The only way to stretch was to throw his leg over her hip. He did and the pain immediately eased. But a moment later, he realized what the action had cost him. He was now fully pressed against her backside and unable to quell a flood of arousal. With a low curse, Brendan backed away, but there was no more room on his side of the bed.

There was only one thing to do and the mere thought of it irritated him to no end. He scrambled over top of her and jumped out of the berth then snatched up a pair of jeans from a nearby chair and tugged them on.

He stood in the cabin and stared down at his guest, sleeping so peacefully, her body tucked into his bed. Any thought of sleep would be impossible as long as she was here. He considered carrying her back to her own cabin, but wasn’t prepared for the protest that would certainly ensue. Instead, Brendan slipped out the door, walked into Amy’s cabin and crawled beneath the rough wool blankets of her berth. The crew berths weren’t really meant for comfort. They made efficient use of a small amount of space, allowing no room to stretch out, especially for anyone over six feet tall.

Brendan folded his hands over his chest and stared up at the bottom of the bunk above him. What in the world had ever possessed him to invite her to spend the night? From the very start, he knew she was trouble. She said whatever was on her mind, even if it was insulting. She acted as if he was the cause of all of her troubles, dishing up the guilt until he had no choice but to respond. And then she had the audacity to crawl into bed with him as if her behavior wasn’t at all out of the ordinary!

Amy Aldrich definitely wasn’t like any other woman he’d ever met before. She lived her life by a whole different set of rules and standards. Or maybe it was the complete lack of rules in her life that made her different. Either way, Brendan found himself completely intrigued, captivated by her beauty but even more caught by the woman behind that luminous skin and those tantalizing blue eyes.

Tomorrow he’d get up early and find a place for her to stay. Even if he had to pay for a week or two at some local motel, it would be well worth the price. Amy Aldrich had swept into his life and upset the balance he worked so hard to achieve. If he let her stay, there was no telling what might happen. He might completely lose his mind and fall in love, just like Conor and Dylan had done with such startling speed.

No, this was not going to result in the fall of another Mighty Quinn! Brendan Quinn was much stronger, more determined than his brothers and he wouldn’t allow himself to give in to such temptation. Once Amy was off his boat and out of his life, he’d be safe again. He just had to make sure that happened as quickly as possible.

AMY STRETCHED sinuously beneath the down comforter, enjoying the warmth that enveloped her body. She opened her eyes and glanced around the cabin, taking in her surroundings. Light poured through the small portholes, dust motes dancing in the drafts that swirled through the chill morning air.

She knew she was alone, yet hadn’t recalled just when Brendan had crawled out of his bed. The clock on the bedside table read 9:00 a.m., a bit earlier than she usually rose after a night of waitressing at the Longliner. Amy sighed. But she was no longer a waitress. Today, she’d have to go out and find another job and another place to live, someplace clean and affordable. She’d have to play the games that she’d learned to play so well, hiding her real identity, employing clever strategies that would thwart the private detectives hired to find her.

Though the thought of starting all over again was a hassle, it was part of the life she’d chosen, a life filled with new experiences and adventures. In the six months since she’d left home, Amy had never once regretted her decision to run away. She paused. Well, maybe once or twice, when she thought about her grandmother.

Adele Aldrich was—and always would be—the single most important influence in Amy’s life. Her father’s mother had never resigned herself to the role her own parents had groomed her for. At age eighteen she’d received her trust fund and had immediately set off on a round of scandalous adventures—a safari in Africa, a trek through the Andes, even a boat trip down the Amazon. Then, to her parents’ dismay, she learned how to fly and lent those skills to the war effort in England.

Amy smiled. “I’m having my adventure, Grandmother,” she murmured. “But it would be a whole lot easier with money in my pocket.”

She sat up and grabbed the down comforter, wrapped it around her shoulders, and went in search of Brendan. Maybe she could convince him to give her just one more night here. It wasn’t easy to find a job that met all her criteria—no government forms, cash instead of a paycheck and meals included. Finding a place to stay was even harder. With only thirty dollars to her name, she barely had a few days’ rent, much less a deposit.

When she reached the main cabin, Brendan was nowhere to be found. Amy walked back and listened at the door of the head. Then she opened the door to her cabin and found him curled up in her berth, blankets twisted around his waist and his chest bare. For a moment, she forgot to breathe, startled once again by how handsome he was.

Luckily she’d been able to put thoughts like those out of her mind last night. Sharing a bed with a complete stranger was one thing. But sharing a bed with the sexiest man she’d ever met was quite another. Maybe it was best that she leave today. Her life was complicated enough already. Involving a man in it— even a man as desirable as Brendan Quinn—would only make things worse.

With a soft sigh, she gently laid the down comforter on top of him and wandered back to the main cabin. She had felt safe here, at least for one night. Amy tossed off her gloves and set out to make a pot of coffee. Before long, the rich smell filled the cabin and she poured herself a mug and sat down at the table.

Idly, she flipped through a stack of papers slowly realizing that she was looking at a book manuscript. Beneath another pile was a book jacket. She pulled it out and found herself staring at a picture of Brendan Quinn, looking slightly dangerous, like a modern-day pirate. “Bestselling author of Mountain Madness,” she murmured. A list of quotes by other authors gave glowing reviews of Brendan’s last book about a rescue on the north face of Mount Everest.

She went back to the manuscript and slid it in front of her. This book wasn’t about mountain climbing. It was about the men and women she’d come to know while working at the Longliner. The commercial fishermen who fished the North Atlantic and the families who waited for them to come back from the sea.

Amy was drawn immediately into the story, Brendan’s prose illuminating the reasons why men fished, why they risked their lives every day in a dangerous job to make a living that was backbreaking and often heartbreaking. Characters came to life and she recognized many of the qualities that her customers at the tavern possessed. Though the fishermen were a hard-living bunch, Brendan gave them all a quiet dignity as he explained how their way of life was slowly disappearing.

On and on she read, pouring a fresh cup of coffee for herself when her first cup got cold. As she read, she not only got to know the fishermen of Gloucester, she also learned more about the author—about what he respected and what he cherished in life, about the way he looked at the world.

“What are you doing?”

Amy jumped at the sound of his voice, pressing her palm to her chest. “You scared me,” she said.

His expression was cool with just a hint of aggravation. She put the manuscript down, realizing that she’d made a mistake in looking at it at all. “I’m sorry. I just picked it up and started reading. I didn’t mean to do anything wrong. It’s just that once I started, I couldn’t stop.” Amy smiled up at him. “It’s a wonderful book.”

He shifted, clearly surprised by her compliment. His eyes were still sleepy and his hair mussed, and the stubble of beard that had shadowed his face the night before looked even more rakish. He wore only a pair of jeans and Amy couldn’t help it when her eyes returned again and again to his broad chest and muscled belly. How could he possibly be so perfect, she wondered. There had to be a flaw somewhere.

“I didn’t mean to snoop,” she said with a light laugh. “I’m just a curious person. I always have been.”

He shrugged. “It’s not finished yet.”

“I know,” Amy said, picking up the pages and flipping through them. “If you ask me, the book needs a bit more depth. I wanted to know more about the personal lives of these men, what they wanted to be when they grew up, what their dreams were. Why they decided that fishing was their only option in life. And their wives and their friends, I wanted to know them, too. Did you ever think about interviewing them? It might add more color to your story.” She stopped short, realized that she might have insulted him. Why was she always so quick to give her opinion, even when it wasn’t requested? “Not that it needs more color. It’s very colorful as it is.” She drew a deep breath. “I really don’t know what I’m talking about, so just ignore me. Besides being a snoop, I often stick my foot in my mouth.”

Brendan stared at her for a long moment. “You know something about writing,” he said. “You have good instincts.”

She smiled at the compliment. “I studied American literature in college.” The smile wavered. “Before I dropped out, that is. And I read a lot. Fashion magazines, mostly.” It wouldn’t do for him to think she was too smart. He might start to ask questions.

“Where did you go to college?” Brendan asked as he moved to pour himself a mug of coffee.

“A small junior college near Los Angeles,” Amy lied. She made a mental note to keep her story straight. Her family was on the West Coast, though she hadn’t named a definite location. Now, she claimed to attend a nameless junior college in California. “You know, I could help you with your book. I noticed that you have all these notes and they’re very disorganized. I could type and proofread and make suggestions. I could be your assistant.”

He laughed. “I don’t need an assistant,” Brendan said, raking his hands through his hair as he took a place across the table from her.

She picked up the notes he’d scribbled on Longliner cocktail napkins. “I think you do. From what I can tell, you still need to check facts and there are some gaps in your research. And once you finish this book, you must have other projects. I could help you with all of that. Besides you do owe me.”

His eyebrow rose. “Owe you?”

“It’s because of you that I lost my job. And my place to stay.”

He stared at her for a long moment and hope began to grow in her heart. Was he actually considering her proposal? And if she did become his assistant, did that mean she could continue to stay on his boat? “All right,” he finally said. “Just for grins, let’s say I did need an assistant. What sort of compensation would you expect?”

“Three hundred dollars a week,” Amy said firmly. “Cash. Plus a place to stay.”

Brendan shook his head. “Three hundred dollars a week? I’m not a rich man. Besides, if I paid you that much, then I’d sure as hell want to deduct it on my taxes. One hundred dollars a week in cash.”

“Two-fifty,” Amy countered, then quickly amended it to two hundred. “Cash and a place stay. And that’s my final offer.”

“Two hundred cash and a place to stay?”

“Yes,” she said. “That’s what I was making at the bar.”

Brendan drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. Amy waited, silently praying that she hadn’t made a mistake by asking for too much. “All right,” he said. “But for two hundred—cash—you do anything I ask.”

She frowned, her eyes narrowing. “Oh, no,” Amy said, pushing to her feet. “I may be desperate, but I’m not that—”

“That’s not what I mean,” Brendan said.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not talking about sexual favors,” he replied. “If you’re going to be my assistant, then I may ask you to take care of some things that might not be writing-related. Like grocery shopping or running errands or cleaning up the galley. An assistant needs to be prepared to do anything to make a writer’s life easier.”

“I can do that,” Amy said.

“And you sleep in your own cabin. I’ll get you some new blankets and a space heater. And you ask before you snoop through my things. I value my privacy. I’m not used to having people around and I don’t want you to get underfoot.”

“All right,” Amy said. Though she made the promises, she didn’t intend to keep all of them. She’d always been a naturally curious person, so snooping was part of her nature. She was also gregarious, so getting underfoot was just her way of socializing. And after one night in Brendan Quinn’s bed, Amy had the distinct impression that it wouldn’t be her last. “But I have one request. I mean besides two hundred a week and a place to stay and a new down comforter of my own.”

“What is that?” Brendan asked.

She stared down at her coffee mug, trying to decide exactly what to tell him. Or whether to tell him at all. “If anyone comes around here, looking for me, no matter who it is, I want you to say that you don’t know me and that you’ve never seen me before in your life. Can you do that?”

“Someone’s going to come here looking for you?” he asked. “Who?”

“Never mind,” she said. “Can you do that for me?”

“What’s this all about?” Brendan asked, a suspicious edge to his voice. “Are you in trouble with the law?”

“No. I can honestly say, swear to God, that I’m not in trouble with the law. It’s just a private matter that will work itself out over time.”

“All right,” Brendan said. “It’s a deal.”

With a tiny scream of joy, Amy jumped up and grabbed him across the table, wrapping her arms around his neck and giving him a fierce hug. “I would have done it for nothing,” she cried. “Anything so I wouldn’t have to take another waitressing job.” She stepped back. “But I’ll do a good job. I swear. You won’t have any complaints.”

“I hope not,” Brendan murmured. He picked up his coffee and stood as if he needed to put some space between them.

Amy gave him an apologetic smile. “Right. You’re a very private person and I probably shouldn’t have done that.”

Brendan turned and grabbed a leather case from a locker in the main cabin and set it on the table. “You can use this laptop,” he said. “You do know how to use a computer, don’t you?”

“Of course,” she replied, unzipping the case.

He grabbed two microcassettes and a recorder from the counter in the galley and set them down beside the case. “These need to be transcribed. Typed, doubles-paced. After you’re done with that, you can arrange these interview notes by subject. Then you can take this list and run to the grocery store. We’re going to be working late and we’ll need a lot of coffee. And you’ll need to buy whatever you like to eat for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Can you cook?”

“No. But I have a very good instinct for takeout. I can tell by just reading the menu whether the food will be great or mediocre. You’re paying for my meals, right?”

Brendan chuckled. “You drive a hard bargain, Ms. Aldrich.”

She sent him a sly grin. “I suppose I do, Mr. Quinn.”

“I’ve got to run into Boston,” Brendan said. “I’ll be back sometime later this afternoon.” He reached in his wallet and pulled out fifty dollars. “For the groceries.” With that, he took his coffee and walked back to his cabin. When she heard the door snap shut behind him, Amy did a little jig around the room, giggling with excitement.

This was perfect. It was everything she could have hoped for. She had a job and a nice place to stay. Her employer was just about the most handsome man she’d ever met. And though he refused to admit it, there was a tiny spark of attraction between them. Who knows where that might lead, she mused. Wherever it eventually did lead, it sure would be an adventure getting there!

BRENDAN HEFTED the box of books onto his shoulder, balancing it carefully before he started up the front steps of Dylan’s flat. “This will be something new,” he called to Conor. “Books in Dylan’s apartment. I guess he’ll have to throw away his collection of girlie magazines to make room.”

Meggie Flanagan, Dylan’s fiancée, stood on the porch, her hands braced on her hips, her cheeks rosy from the cold. “We already got rid of them,” she teased, slapping Brendan’s arm playfully as he passed. “Now if I could only get rid of that awful leather recliner, I’d be happy.”

Dylan emerged from the front door and grabbed her from behind, giving her a playful kiss on the neck. “I haven’t really showed you what we can do in that recliner,” he teased. “You may come to appreciate it much more.”

Moving day had been planned for almost two weeks and it was a tradition in the Quinn family that hiring professional movers was a waste of money—especially when a guy had five strong and willing brothers to do the job. It had never been a chore, since the six brothers enjoyed each other’s company—and they didn’t change their addresses that often. Besides Brendan hadn’t seen any of his brothers since Conor and Olivia’s wedding and it was nice to catch up.

Brendan grinned at Meggie. “Yeah, wait till he shows you how he can balance a beer can on one arm and a bowl of chips on the other while he wields the remote. You’ll never love him more.”

Meggie’s giggle followed him as he slowly climbed the stairs to the second-floor flat. Though Brendan hated to admit it, the more time he spent with Dylan and Meggie—and Conor and Olivia—the more he was beginning to feel like an outsider in his own family. Just a few months ago, all six Quinn brothers were happily unattached—and planning to stay that way. Now, it was as if some disease had befallen the two oldest sons. Conor had already made a trip to the altar and Dylan was due to march to his doom sometime in June. But they didn’t act like men who had succumbed to some disaster. Instead, they behaved as if they shared a special secret that they weren’t telling anyone else.

Brendan certainly didn’t begrudge his brothers their happiness. But he had to wonder how they could have turned from confirmed bachelors into lovestruck fools in such a short time. Brendan couldn’t imagine the same thing happening to him. He’d always been able to keep the women in his life in proper perspective— separate from his career and the life he had chosen to lead. He had thought his brothers possessed the same talent, but he’d obviously been wrong.

“You haven’t said much today,” Conor commented, stepping up behind him to help him lower the box of books to the floor. “Everything going all right with the book?”

“Fine,” Brendan said, wiping his hands on the thighs of his jeans.

“No problems getting it all done?”

“Not anymore. I’ve hired an assistant to help me out.”

Conor blinked in surprise. “You’ve never had an assistant before,” he said. “Why now?”

Brendan smiled. He really hadn’t intended to tell anyone about Amy. But there were certain concerns he had, concerns that Conor, a police detective, might help to alleviate. “She just stumbled across my path and she needed a job, so I gave her one.”

Conor stared at him for a long moment, then walked into the kitchen and retrieved a couple of bottles of beer from the refrigerator. Using the front of his T-shirt, he twisted one open and handed it to Brendan, then opened the other for himself. “You just gave her a job?”

Brendan nodded, taking a quick sip of the cold beer. Even though the temperature outside was below freezing, climbing up and down the stairs with heavy boxes had worked up a decent sweat. “Yeah, I know it sounds a little rash. But I was partly responsible for getting her fired from her regular job. And getting her kicked out of the room she was renting. I felt a responsibility to give her a place to stay for the night.” He shrugged. “Then, all of a sudden, she talked me into offering her a job. I pay her in cash, give her a place to stay and she’s at my beck and call.”

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