The Mighty Quinns: Jack

Praise for Kate Hoffmann’s MIGHTY QUINNS

“This truly delightful tale packs in the heat and a lot of heart at the same time.”

—RT Book Reviews on The Mighty Quinns: Dermot

“This is a fast read that is hard to tear the eyes from.

Once I picked it up I couldn’t put it down.”

—Fresh Fiction on The Mighty Quinns: Dermot

“A story that not only pulled me in,

but left me weak in the knees.”

—Seriously Reviewed on The Mighty Quinns: Riley

“Sexy, heartwarming and romantic, this is a story to settle down with and enjoy—and then reread.”

—RT Book Reviews on The Mighty Quinns: Teague

“Sexy Irish folklore and intrigue weave throughout this steamy tale.”

—RT Book Reviews on The Mighty Quinns: Kellan

“The only drawback to this story is that it’s far too short!”

—Fresh Fiction on The Mighty Quinns: Kellan

“Strong, imperfect but lovable characters,

an interesting setting and great sensuality.”

—RT Book Reviews on The Mighty Quinns: Brody

About the Author

KATE HOFFMANN has written more than seventy books for Mills & boon, most of them for the Blaze® line. She spent time as a music teacher, a retail assistant buyer and an advertising exec before she settled into a career as a full-time writer. She continues to pursue her interests in music, theater and musical theater, working with local schools in various productions. She lives in southeastern Wisconsin with her cat, chloe.

The Mighty

Quinns: Jack

Kate Hoffmann

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Thanks Paul S.!

This book is for you (and your mom)!

Prologue

AILEEN QUINN kNELT over the bed of pansies, digging into the soil with her trowel until she’d broken up the clumps around the plants. The wind was chilly and the weather rolling in from the Atlantic was sure to bring rain. But it was spring in Ireland and she was alive to enjoy another summer. At age ninety-six, one couldn’t ask for much more.

She braced her hands on the tall handles of her gardening bench and slowly got to her feet. Every day was a blessing, she mused. And with each day came the hope that she would find more members of the family that she’d lost all those years ago.

As one of Ireland’s most famous novelists, she lived a charmed life. But it hadn’t started that way. She’d been raised in an orphanage, her father killed in the Irish uprising and her mother dead of consumption when Aileen was two. She had spent her life alone, without a single blood relative to call family.

But then, in the midst of doing research for her biography, she learned of her four older brothers—Diarmuid, Conal, Lochlan and Tomas, who had been sent from Ireland by her mother, hoping that her boys would make lives of their own in a more promising place.

Her investigator, Ian Stephens, had already tracked down one descendant, a lovely young man named Logan Quinn who ran a horse-breeding farm outside Brisbane, Australia. He’d also found Logan’s parents who had recently visited her in Ireland. She’d given David Quinn and his son, Logan, a sizeable gift from her estate, almost a million dollars each.

Aileen smiled to herself. She had so much money and nothing to do with it. Better that it went to help her family. They were the people who’d be her legacy, the children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren of her lost brothers.

“Miss Quinn?”

Aileen glanced over her shoulder to see Ian Stephens standing at the garden gate. “Hello,” she said with a smile. “Either you’re early or I’ve lost all track of time.”

“It’s half past eleven,” he said. “That was when we were supposed to meet, wasn’t it?”

She pulled off her gardening gloves and dropped them onto the padded bench. “Yes, it was. Come, let’s get out of this dampness and in front of a warm fire. I’m cold to the bone.”

Ian offered her his arm as they walked through the garden then onto the wide terrace and into the house. Sally, her housekeeper, appeared almost immediately and helped Aileen out of her jacket. “I’ve laid a fire in the parlor,” she said. “I’ll bring you tea.”

“Thank you, Sally. And bring a cup for yourself. Mr. Stephens has come with news, haven’t you, Mr. Stephens?”

He grinned. “I have. Lots of news. All good.”

Aileen nodded. “Then I think we’ll also need some of your blackberry scones, as well, Sally. And real butter, not that terrible paste you and Doctor Arnett insist I eat. I’m nearly ninety-seven years old. What harm will a few bites of butter do me now?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sally muttered, sending Ian a secret smile. “But I’m sure Mr. Stephens doesn’t keep his trim figure by gobbling down butter every chance he gets.”

Ian forced a smile, then cleared his throat. “I’ll have butter,” he said.

He extended his arm and Aileen slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Let’s go find a quiet place to talk, shall we?”

The stone country house was warm and cozy, filled with comfortable furnishings and items she’d collected over a lifetime. They walked to the parlor and Aileen sat down in the chair closest to the fire.

They chatted about the weather until Sally returned with the tea tray. She poured them both a cup and then found a spot for herself on a nearby sofa.

Aileen held out a plate of scones. “Have one. Sally bakes them for me every day. They are the only indulgence left to me, I’m afraid.”

As he munched on a scone, Ian opened his portfolio and withdrew a folder, holding it out to her as he wiped his other hand on a linen napkin.

She hesitated before taking it, knowing that the information inside would open yet another door to her past. There were times when the regrets outweighed the joy. “Tell me,” she said. “Who have you found?”

“Conal,” Ian said, setting his scone down. “And it wasn’t a simple task.”

She opened the folder to find a copy of a faded photograph. Though she wanted to recognize the face, the subject of the photograph was a stranger. “He’s a handsome lad,” she said. “I wonder if he resembles my father?”

Ian sat quietly as she studied the photograph. When she looked up at him, he continued. “Conal was hired out as an apprentice to a printer in Cork. Unlike many, this man valued education and Conal attended school until he was sixteen. In his early twenties, he left Cork and started writing for the Irish Independent in Dublin. And when the war broke out in Europe, he covered it. I’ve copied some of his articles.”

“He was a writer? My brother was a writer?”

“Yes, ma’am. And quite a good one from what I could see.”

“I used to read that paper,” Aileen said. “I might have seen his name.” She laughed softly. “If only we might have met. But then, would we have known each other?”

“After the war, he made his way to the U.S. where he settled in Chicago and founded an Irish weekly. He married at age 45 and had two children, a daughter, Mary Katherine, who became a nun, and a son, John, who married in 1975. John had three children, two daughters, Kristina and Katherine, and a son, Jack.”

Aileen picked up another photo, turning it over to find the name written on the back. “Jack Quinn.”

“He’s a sports writer,” Ian explained. “And his sisters are both high school teachers.”

“And their father?”

“He followed his own father into the newspaper business, but he died of a heart ailment a few years after his youngest daughter was born. From what I’ve uncovered, the family has struggled, but they are now living comfortably.”

“Have you contacted them yet?” Aileen asked.

“Not yet. I’m leaving for Chicago at the end of the week.”

Aileen closed the folder and hugged it to her chest. “I’d like to meet them. The whole family. You’ll arrange it, won’t you? Do all you can to convince them to come?”

“Kristina and Katherine are married and have young children.”

“Well, then, I’m looking forward to entertaining little ones. I’ve never had children in this house. It’s about time I did, don’t you think?”

“I’ll ring you as soon as I’ve contacted them,” Ian said.

He moved to get up but she waved him back into his chair. “You don’t have to rush off,” she said. “I enjoy your visits.”

“I enjoy them, too.”

She reached for a photo sitting on the small table next to her chair. “Have I shown you this? Logan sent it to me. He and Sunny got married last month. I was invited to the wedding, but I don’t travel much anymore.” She stared down at the couple in the photo, Logan dressed in a smart suit and Sunny in a simple flowing dress. They looked so happy, starting out their life together. She handed the picture to Ian.

“They are a lovely couple.”

“It’s the only regret I’ve ever had, you know. That I never married and had children.” She sighed softly, then put on a bright expression. “I sent them a wedding present. Two handmade Irish riding saddles. They were very pleased. I just got a letter from them last week.”

Aileen sat back in her chair and watched as Ian devoured another scone. She was beginning to like this young man. He took his work very seriously, which was a good thing for her. But she worried that he might not have enough time for a personal life. A young man like him ought to be thinking about marriage and a family.

Family was the most important thing in life, she mused. Everyone should have a family to love and treasure. And before the year was over, she hoped to be able to add to the three family members she’d already found, for then, she would be truly rich.

1

“THIS IS CRAZY,” Jack Quinn muttered. “I should never have taught you how to use Facebook.” He glanced over at his mother, standing quietly next to him in the baggage claim area at the San Francisco airport.

For a woman who had worked so tirelessly her whole life, Elyse Quinn looked remarkably young. But then, he’d noticed a change in her entire demeanor these past few months. He caught her smiling for no reason and the weight of the world seemed to have lifted from her shoulders. She looked…optimistic.

Jack’s mother had retired from her teaching job and was now happily looking forward to the next phase of her life. And part of that shift had included more travel. Strangely, her first post-retirement trip wasn’t to Europe or Asia, it was to visit an old childhood friend on the West Coast.

Elyse Quinn and Ben McMahon had spent summers as neighbors, their families living in lake cabins next door to each other. But when financial problems caused Elise’s family to sell the cabin when she was fourteen, they lost touch with the McMahons. Until Elyse discovered Ben on Facebook and they reconnected.

“Where are we supposed to meet him?” Jack asked, his gaze returning to the baggage carousel.

“Ben said he’d be here to pick us up. I expect if he doesn’t find us here, he’ll be waiting outside.” Elyse glanced over at him. “You really didn’t have to come along with me, Jack. I’m perfectly able to travel on my own. I went to Norway last year by myself, after all.”

“That was a tour. I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you fly halfway across this country to meet some man you barely remember. You don’t know anything about him.”

“Don’t be silly. We’ve been writing to each other for six months. And phoning. And using Facebook. And Skype. And I know you’ve done your research, too. If there’d been anything bad about him, you wouldn’t have allowed me to buy a plane ticket. Ben McMahon is a nice person and once you meet him, you’ll see that.”

Jack groaned inwardly. “You know what I think? I think you have romantic feelings for him. You just won’t admit it.”

Elyse smiled. “Don’t be silly. We’re old friends and that’s all. It’s a little late for me to be thinking about romance. And it is possible for a man and a woman to be friends.” She sighed softly. “Your father was the one great love of my life. I’m not looking for love.”

Jack’s thoughts flashed back to the night his father died, the night he’d been called to John Quinn’s bedside at the hospital.

The virus had taken away so much of his strength, destroying his heart. Jack had known that the end was near. He’d been nine years old and his father told him that he was now the man of the house. It was his job to protect his mother and two younger sisters.

And so he had, taking on the task with such ferocity that his concern sometimes bordered on obsession. His two younger sisters, now married, had every boyfriend strictly vetted until they brought home two men that Jack had finally found worthy to join the family.

Once Katie and Kris were out of the house, Jack had been left with just his mother to watch over. Luckily, his work as a sports writer had kept him in the Chicago area and her career as a kindergarten teacher had kept her busy. But now that she’d retired, everything had changed.

“There it is,” Elyse said, pointing to her bag. “Now where is yours?”

Jack continued to watch the carousel. “Did you call to confirm the hotel rooms?” he asked. “I still think we should have rented a car.”

“Ben is more familiar with the city than we are. And parking is so expensive, even at the hotel. I’m sure he knows best.”

Ben, Ben, Ben. That’s all his mother had been talking about for the past six months.

“What did you do with Roger for the weekend?” Elyse asked.

“He’s with Melanie,” Jack murmured. He and Melanie had broken up last year after a six-year relationship that his family had assumed would result in marriage. They’d shared a condo, an active social life and a mutt named Roger.

“I sure wish you two could work out your problems,” Elyse said.

“Mom, don’t start. I told you, that’s not going to happen. We’re just friends.”

Her brow arched. “Just friends. I thought men and women couldn’t be just friends.”

“Very funny,” he muttered. “We’re happier this way. Besides, I’m pretty sure she’s dating someone else.”

Elyse’s calm expression shifted to one of surprise. “Oh, Jack, I’m sorry. I always thought you two would end up together. You seem so perfect for each other. I love Melanie. Like a daughter.”

“I know, Mom. But that’s not going to happen.” Jack saw his bag and quickly grabbed it. “All right. Let’s go see if we can find our ride.”

“I want you to be nice,” Elyse warned. “This man is my friend and I don’t want you criticizing him like you do some of those ball players in your column.”

Jack had done a little research on Ben McMahon. And to his dismay, Ben seemed like a stand-up guy. He’d been married for over thirty years when his wife had passed away three years ago. He’d made his money in the computer industry and he had three daughters.

They headed for the doors, but Elyse reached out and touched his arm. “Wait,” she said.

“What’s wrong? Are you nervous?” Jack asked.

“A little. But I’m excited, too.” She glanced over at him, tears swimming in her eyes. “It seems like just yesterday we were swimming together and roasting hot dogs over a campfire. It’s like my life just rushed by without me noticing.”

Jack felt a lump of emotion fill his throat. He knew how hard it had been for her. After his father had died so many years ago, she’d put every ounce of her energy into providing for the family. There had been no dates, no men, no thought of remarriage. Just a single-minded desire to give her three children everything she possibly could.

But even though she’d denied any notion of romance, Jack knew that the line between friendship and love was very hard to navigate. “You’ll be fine,” he said, reaching out to give her a hug. “Just be yourself.”

“I feel like a silly teenager,” she said. “How am I supposed to be myself?”

They headed toward the sliding door that led outside. As they walked through, a slender woman with blond hair tumbled around her face ran into him, her body slamming against his chest.

She wore a black leather jacket and skinny jeans that clung to her long legs. Her hair was styled as if she’d just run her fingers through the waves after she’d crawled out of bed and her sunglasses were perched on the top of her head.

Jack grabbed her arms as she stumbled back and his gaze meet emerald green eyes. “Are you all right?”

“Sorry,” she murmured, stepping to the right just as he stepped to the left. They went back and forth a few times before he grabbed her again.

Then, they both froze and in an instant, their eyes locked. Jack felt a strange current running through his body, the warmth of her flesh seeping through the soft leather jacket. His breathing grew shallow and his mind suddenly lost its ability to form words. She was, in a single word, stunning.

He opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn’t come up with anything worth saying. Introducing himself seemed a bit nervy. And asking if they might find a quiet spot to be alone was totally out of the question. What should a guy do in a situation like this?

Kiss her. Every instinct in his body urged him forward, but yet Jack knew that he couldn’t do that. She was a stranger and he fancied himself a gentleman.

“I—I really need to get inside,” she said. “I’m late.”

“Oh, right,” Jack mumbled. “Sorry. I—I’ll just get out of your—”

The moment he moved, she was gone, disappearing through the sliding-glass doors. He stepped back into the terminal to look for her, but she was already lost in the crowd. Somehow, at that moment, he realized he’d just let opportunity pass him by. What was this powerful attraction, to a complete stranger? And why now, of all days?

He was thirty-one years old and happily single, although not necessarily by choice. He’d always thought that he’d know when the right woman came along. But even after six years with Melanie, the spark just wasn’t there.

And here he was, nearly bursting into flames over a stranger. He cursed beneath his breath and brushed the image of the beautiful blonde out of his head, then walked back outside.

He found his mother standing at the curb, staring at a black Mercedes sedan. The hazard lights were on, but there was no one behind the wheel. Airport security had just pulled up and was examining the car.

“What’s wrong?”

“Ben said he’d pick me up in a black Mercedes sedan,” his mother said. She glanced down the long walkway. “I wonder where he went?”

Jack rolled his suitcase over to his mother. “Watch the luggage. Don’t talk to strangers. I’ll check to see if he’s inside.”

In truth, Jack was more interested in finding the blonde, but he knew she was probably long gone. He hurried back through the doors, searching the crowd for a guy who looked like the man he’d seen on Ben McMahon’s Facebook page. But as he wove through the waiting passengers, he caught sight of a familiar face.

There she was. The goddess, standing in a spot near some uniformed chauffeurs, holding a sign made out of crumpled paper. As he approached, he searched his brain for something to say. Maybe he should just be honest.

“I’d really like to get to know you? Would you be interested in meeting me for a drink?” he murmured to himself. That seemed a little forward. “Hey, it’s you again. Sorry for getting in your way. Maybe I can buy you lunch.”

He glanced down at her sign. Maybe he should just pretend he was the person she was looking for. Jack stopped short when he saw “QUINN” scrawled across the paper in ballpoint pen.

“I’m Quinn,” he murmured. He hurried up to her, then cleared his throat. “Hey, there. I’m Quinn.”

She looked at him and rolled her eyes. “Sure you are.”

“No, I am,” he said.

“I’m here for an older woman named Elyse.”

“That’s me,” Jack said. “I mean, that’s my mom. I’m her son. She’s waiting outside. Elyse Quinn.”

She gave him a suspicious look, as if weighing the truth of his words against their previous encounter. “If this is just some come on, I really don’t have the—”

He held out his hand. “Hey, I’m not messing with you. I’m Jack Quinn, Elyse’s son.”

She took his hand, folding her fingers against his. The moment caused a tiny shock to rock his body. She had the most beautiful fingers and his mind automatically thought of what those hands might do to his body. He’d never realized that chauffeurs could be so sexy.

“I’m Mia McMahon. I’m Ben’s daughter.”

All his fantasies screeched to a halt and Jack tried to cover his stunned expression. “His daughter?” His mom had told him that Ben had three daughters, but he’d just assumed they’d be married, and living elsewhere. He searched her hand for a ring and found her fingers bare. For some reason, that made him happy.

She smiled warmly. “I’m sorry. My dad sprained his ankle playing tennis this morning. He’s hobbling around on crutches. He would have been here, but he can’t drive. So he asked me to look for your mother.”

“Well, she’s waiting outside. Let’s go,” Jack said, nodding at her.

She gave him a coy smile. “All right.” They wove their way back through the crowd and strolled out the door. But as they made their way back to the Mercedes, Mia took off at a run. The security officer was bent over the hood of the Mercedes, slipping a ticket beneath the wiper.

“No!” she cried, grabbing it and holding it out to him. “I’m here. I’m right here. We’re leaving.”

He held up his hands and shook his head. “Sorry. You can’t leave your car unattended. There’s no parking allowed here at all. You can circle and load, but no stopping to wait.”

“But I had to—”

“Nothing you say is going to make me rip up that ticket. You can mail the fine in to the address on the back.”

Mia shook her head as he walked away. “Great,” she shouted. She glanced down at the ticket. “A hundred and ninety-seven dollars? For five minutes?”

Jack walked up and took the ticket from her fingers. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it. It was our fault.”

“No!” she cried, grabbing the ticket back. “Don’t be silly. It was my fault.”

“It was my mother you were picking up,” he countered.

Their gazes met again and for a long moment, Jack lost track of where he was and what he was doing. God, she was pretty. He gently took the ticket from her fingers, then cleared his throat. “Maybe we should get in the car,” he said.

“Right,” she said.

He dragged their luggage to the rear of the vehicle as Mia popped the trunk. And when he’d finished loading it, he circled back to find that his mother and Ben’s daughter had made their introductions and Elyse had taken a spot in the backseat. Jack opened the front door and slid into the luxurious interior, taking a spot next to Mia.

She glanced over her shoulder and pulled away from the curb. “Seat belt,” she whispered to him.

“Where is Ben?” his mother asked.

“He sprained his ankle playing tennis this morning.” Both Jack and Mia answered at the same time and he chuckled softly. He saw a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth and wondered what was going on inside her head.

Was she as attracted as he was? Jack hoped that her duties for the weekend didn’t end with a ride to their hotel. He was going to be alone, for the most part. It might be nice to spend some time with a beautiful woman like Mia McMahon.

MIA’S WEEK OFF HAD NOT started out the way she thought it would. She’d planned to spend the afternoon painting the spare bedroom in her small condo in the Mission District and later, joining a group of friends for dinner.