The Mighty Quinns: Callum. Kate Hoffmann

No cursing. Or belching. Or farting.”

      He found Gemma waiting on the porch, dressed in a pretty blouse and blue jeans. “There’s no need to knock,” he said as he opened the door for her. She’d tied her hair back in a scarf and as she passed, he fought the temptation to pull it off and let her hair fall free.

      It had been a long while since he’d enjoyed the pleasures of a woman’s body and the scent of her was enough to make his blood warm. Now, presented with the perfect female form, he couldn’t decide how to proceed. He placed his hand at the small of her back, steering her toward his end of the table.

      Cal forced himself to breathe as the warmth from her body seeped into his fingers. This was crazy. Women may have been a bit scarce lately, but he’d always been able to control his desires. Just touching her was enough to send his senses into overdrive.

      “Hello,” she said, smiling at the boys seated at the table. Skip suddenly stood and the rest of the stockmen followed suit in a noisy clamor. “I’m Gemma.”

      Cal cleared his throat. He should be making the introductions. After all, she was technically his guest. “Gemma, that’s Skip Thompson, and his younger brother, Davey. This is Jack Danbury. Over there is Mick Fermoy, Eddie Franklin and Pudge Bell. And you know Mary.”

      He waved Pudge out of the seat next to his and pulled out the chair for Gemma. “It’s nice to meet you,” she said as she sat down, sending them all a dazzling smile.

      The screen door slammed and Brody stepped inside, pulling his gloves off as he crossed the kitchen. He looked around the table at the boys, all still standing uncomfortably, before resting his sights on Gemma. A slow grin spread across his face as he approached.

      “I’m Gemma Moynihan,” she said in a lilting Irish accent. “And you must be Brody. I can see the family resemblance.”

      “Gemma,” Brody repeated. He glanced over at Cal, an amused expression on his face. Was it that evident, this attraction he had to Gemma? Cal felt as if he had a sign around his neck—I Fancy The Irish Girl. Well, stiff bickies. If Brody could have his fun with Payton Harwell, then Cal would enjoy Gemma’s visit, as well.

      “Have you met Payton?” Brody asked, smiling warmly at Gemma.

      “Yes, I did,” Gemma said.

      “Is she coming in to eat?” he asked.

      “I don’t know. She was lying in her bunk when I left. She looked knackered.”

      “Maybe I should take her something,” Brody suggested, stepping away from the table. He grabbed a plate and loaded it with beef and potatoes, covering the entire meal with a portion of Mary’s gravy. After fetching a couple beers from the fridge, he headed back out the door.

      “Oh, ho,” Mick said with a laugh. “If Brody doesn’t go back to footie, Miss Shelly might give him a job as a waitress. I reckon he’d look real fetching in the apron.”

      The boys found the joke hilarious and they all sat back down and began passing around the platters and bowls that Mary set in front of them. Cal held the boiled potatoes out in front of Gemma. “If you want something else, I’m sure Mary could make it for you.”

      Gemma met his gaze and for a moment, Cal felt as if he couldn’t move. Her eyes were the most incredible shade of green. And her lips were soft and lush, a perfect bow shape. If they’d been alone, he would have kissed her right then and there.

      “This is fine,” she said, smiling. “In Ireland, we love our praities. And I’m so hungry, I’d eat them ten ways.”

      She scooped a spoonful onto her plate, then took the bowl from his hands. Her fingers brushed his, but he didn’t pull away. Though it was silly to crave such innocent contact, for now it was as close as he’d get to her.

      “So where did you come from in Ireland?” Mick asked.

      “Dublin,” she said. “I teach at University College and my mother lives there. Though the Moynihans are originally from County Clare.” She paused. “And my father lives in Belfast.” The last she said so softly that only Cal could hear.

      “My grandparents were from Ireland,” Mick commented. “They came here right after they married.”

      “So you’re the full quid, eh?” Jack said. Cal shot him a look and Jack shrugged. “She must be smart if she teaches at university.”

      “I hated history in school,” Skip said. “Could never remember all those dates.”

      “It’s not just about dates,” Gemma said. “It’s about life. What our lives are built upon. My grandfather loved history and I’d stay with him during the summer months. He had a library full of books and I think I must have read them all. I loved the stories of the ancient Irish kings and queens.”

      “I sure would have studied harder if my teacher looked like you,” Skip said.

      Cal glanced around the table to find each of the stockmen watching Gemma intently. “You’re pretty enough to be a princess,” Pudge said. The rest of the boys agreed and Pudge blushed.

      “The Quinns are descended from the ancient kings,” she said, glancing at Cal. “I’ve come here to trace the history of the Australian branch of the Quinn family. I’m hoping I can convince Cal to let me dig up all the family secrets.”

      She was teasing him and Cal wasn’t sure how to react. He barely knew her. But he did know one thing about himself—he wasn’t considered a very comical fella. Among the Quinn brothers, Cal was the serious one, the guy everybody could depend upon. Brody and Teague led much more interesting lives and probably had a helluva lot more secrets to tell.

      “Do you have any secrets I should know about?” Gemma asked, a coy smile playing at her lips.

      “Oh, no,” Davey interrupted. “Cal’s life is an open book.”

      “I think you saw all my secrets earlier,” Cal muttered. As soon as he made the comment he wanted to take it back. It was a feeble attempt at humor. It hadn’t been the most proper of introductions and he probably should have just let the memory fade.

      He did have a few secrets, though. He hadn’t told anyone about the matchmaking service. And he’d been perving over the genealogist since he’d met her, spending most of the day trying to figure a way he might act upon his desires. That would go over big if he said it out loud.

      “I have a secret,” Davey volunteered. “And I’m not mingy about keeping it.”

      “Yeah,” Skip said. “Davey’s big secret is that he still sleeps with a teddy bear.”

      The rest of the jackaroos burst out laughing and Davey turned five shades of red. “I—I do not.”

      “I think that’s nice,” Gemma said. “I have a little monkey that sleeps on my bed. My grandmother gave him to me when I was young. He’s made from one of my grandfather’s socks and he’s still one of my most precious possessions.”