The Mighty Quinns: Callum. Kate Hoffmann
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.
“Well, then, we’ll see you at dinner. And I’ll just go get that lemonade.”
Gemma pulled on her cardie and grabbed her sandwich and crisps, following Mary out onto the porch. The winter weather in Queensland was much warmer than winter in Dublin, pleasant enough to eat lunch alfresco. She plopped down on the top step and set her plate beside her. The sandwich was huge—a thick slab of warm ham between two slices of homemade bread. Mary had added mustard, remembering that Gemma had liked it from their lunch the day before.
Gemma had left so early for Bilbarra that she hadn’t bothered with breakfast. Famished, she took a huge bite of the sandwich and sighed. Food tasted so much better here. Maybe it was because someone more competent than herself was doing the cooking.
She heard the screen door slam and Gemma looked up to see Cal striding across the yard, a glass of lemonade in his hand. She chewed furiously and managed to swallow right before he stopped in front of her. “Hi,” she croaked, pasting a bright smile on her face.
“Mary sent this out.”
Gemma took it from his outstretched hand, avoiding his gaze. “Thanks.”
He rocked back on his heels and nodded, his hands shoved in his jean pockets. “Well, enjoy your lunch.”
“Would you care to join me?” Gemma asked. “This sandwich is big enough for the both of us.”
Cal thought about her offer for a long moment, then shrugged. “Sure. But first, I want to apologize for—”
“Oh, no,” Gemma interrupted. “You don’t have to—It was my—I didn’t mind.” She laughed nervously. “I mean, it didn’t bother me. I have seen a man naked before. Several times. More than several. Many.” She winced. “Not that many. Enough.”
“And you’d rather not see any more?”
“No,” she said. “Yes. I’d rather not be surprised by one. But I don’t mind…looking.” Gemma took another bite of her sandwich. She wasn’t having much luck using her mouth to speak. Perhaps she ought to stick to chewing.
“Mary said you wanted to talk to me about our family history.”
“I do.”
“Why?”
She’d expected the question and had a story all worked out. “Because I’m interested in what happened after your ancestors left Ireland. I’m working on a book. On the Quinn family.”
“Why the Quinns?” he asked.
“Because a Quinn is paying me to do the research,” she lied. “Edwin Quinn. He’s a very important man. And he wants to know more about his family.” She held her breath, waiting for him to either question her further or accept the story as it was.
“Why would someone pay to know all that? All those people are dead. That’s the past. Aren’t you more interested in the present?”
“I’m a historian. We’re supposed to be interested in the past,” Gemma explained. “And I think dead people can be very interesting. Did you know your third great-grandfather, Crevan Quinn, came to Australia on a convict ship?”
He nodded. “Most of the early settlers in Australia did. He was a thief. A pickpocket. He served his time and his parole in New South Wales and after that, he was a free man. He came up to Queensland and worked hard, bought some land and started Kerry Creek.” He took a bite of his half of the sandwich. “There’s a painting of him in the front parlor.”
“I’d like to see that,” Gemma said.
“I’ll take you on a tour of the station, if you like. Although there are more interesting things to see than that old painting.”
She