Jenna kicked off her shoes and threw her handbag on the bed. With a frustrated exhalation, she yanked open the door of the minibar fridge and pulled out a small bottle of white wine. So what if she’d already had two glasses during the evening?
Damn this Irish inheritance. Damn the family links that had brought her here. Damn Eve Callaghan. And damn Guy Sinclair too.
Glass in hand, she dropped down on the chair near the window. Some of the wine sloshed on her trousers, leaving a dark stain after she’d brushed it with her fingers.
She took a quick gulp of wine.
Calm down, Jenna.
The evening had been a disaster. Eve Callaghan had fawned over Guy, directing all her comments to him, leading him off in discussions about Ireland and America and God knows what else. Despite what he’d said about feeling uneasy about her, he’d responded to her flirting, laughing with her and exchanging amused glances.
In contrast, he’d hardly spoken more than a dozen words to her all evening. Instead, she and Dan had chatted, and she’d shared with him what Charley had told her about her grandfather’s mother and grandmother.
So what game was Guy playing? Was he interested in Eve Callaghan, despite his reservations about her?
The memory of his kiss forced its way into her mind. He’d made excuses, said it was the room and the dress, but she hadn’t imagined the passion in their kiss or the intensity in his eyes after Dan’s voice had interrupted them.
“Oh, to hell with him,” she muttered and downed the rest of her wine.
Tomorrow they’d return to Dublin and, with a bit of luck, she could catch an evening flight to London. If he wanted to come back to Ireland, he could do it on his own. She’d tell him she wanted to sell the house, and that would be the end of it.
A light knock on the door startled her. Who on earth—?
Her breath hitched when a squint through the peephole showed Guy standing outside. For half a second, she was tempted to ignore his knock, but curiosity got the better of her.
She opened the door but left the security chain on its latch.
“What do you want?”
“To talk to you.”
“Like you’ve been doing all evening?”
“Jenna, I need to explain. Please, may I come in?"
They soon unravel an intriguing tale of a 19th century love affair. At the same time, their mutual attraction grows, despite personal reasons for not wanting romantic involvements at this point in their lives.
A local property agent appears to have her own agenda concerning the house while other events pull Jenna and Guy back to separate lives in London and America. Friction builds over their decision about the house and its contents.
Will their Irish inheritance eventually bring them together - or drive them apart?
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