The Mighty Quinns: Dermot-Dex. Kate Hoffmann

doubt another missive from her siblings’ lawyers. The last time they’d sent registered mail. Now they were assaulting her with overnight packages. She thought they might finally give up now that Jane wanted to send her two sons to live at Clover Meadow. The balance of power had definitely shifted.

      The driver hopped out of the truck and circled around to meet her in the middle of the drive. “Rachel Howe?” he asked.

      “That’s me,” she said. She signed for the envelope, then took it from his hands. But it wasn’t from a lawyer. “This is odd,” she said to Dermot, staring at the bill of lading.

      “What is it?” he asked.

      “It’s from some kind of literary agency. Lynn Barrett Literary Agency in New York. Have you written a book that I don’t know about?”

      “No. I never kiss and tell. What about you?”

      She shook her head. “I wouldn’t have the words to describe it all.”

      “Hmm. Maybe you should give it a try. Talk dirty to me and all kinds of interesting things might happen.” He growled softly, then pulled her into his arms.

      Rachel slipped out of his grasp. “You are going to have to learn to behave yourself, Mr. Quinn. If Jane is sending her boys here, we can’t have them corrupted by your out-of-control libido.”

      “I’ll have you know, my libido was well under control until I met you.”

      Rachel opened the envelope and reached inside to pull out a smaller one. Inside was a letter and she skimmed it as they walked to the porch. “Oh, my God,” she said, sitting down on the step. “They want to know if I’d be interested in illustrating a children’s book.” Rachel reread the letter. “Remember I told you about that publisher I talked to at the convention? She passed my card on to one of her authors. She’s asking if I have an agent.” She looked up at Dermot. “I can’t believe all of this is happening now.”

      “This is a good thing. Do you have an agent?”

      “No. I work with the greeting card publisher direct. Now Briar Hollow wants me to buy more goats. And then, in between milking goats and drawing skunks and ducks, and caring for two high school–age boys, I’m supposed to illustrate a children’s book.” She groaned. “Maybe in my spare time I could go to medical school and rewire the house.”

      Dermot laughed, pulling her close. “It always helps to overreact, Rachel. Just throw all your insecurities out there and see what sticks.”

      “I’m not overreacting,” she protested. “Don’t you see what’s happening? I’m going to have to make a choice. The farm or my art. One or the other. I can’t continue to do both. And this is a really good opportunity.”

      “You’ll figure out a way.”

      “How?”

      “I’ll stay a little longer than I originally planned.”

      “No,” Rachel said. “No, that is not a solution. You have your own life to get back to and I’m not going—”

      “But I kind of like living here in the middle of your life,” he said. “Mostly, I like sleeping in the middle of your bed.”

      Rachel had already decided that she wasn’t going to take advantage of him any longer. He was far too kind to her, and though it made life easier, she had to figure out these things on her own.

      “I’m going to turn it down,” she said.

      “You don’t even know what it’s about,” Dermot reminded. “Why don’t you find out before you make a decision that you might regret?”

      She met his gaze. He was right, of course. Dermot was always right. He took a measured approach to any decision, weighing all his options, examining the pros and cons. Rachel suspected if he were the one running the farm, they’d be milking two hundred goats, turning out cases of soap and making their own cheese. “All right. I won’t make any quick decisions. But all of this is making me a little nervous.”

      “We’ll go into town later and post another ad at the grocery store. And then, we’ll put an ad in the local papers. And we’ll find someone to help you out on the farm.”

      Rachel leaned over a dropped a kiss on his lips. “You’re really too good to me, you know that, don’t you?”

      “I have ulterior motives,” he said, a wicked smile curling the corners of his mouth. “Which I am about to reveal.”

      “You smell like a goat,” she said. “I smell like a goat.”

      “We could always take a shower,” he suggested. “Together.”

      Right now, she didn’t want to think about all the things she had to do, all the decisions she had to make. She just wanted to lose herself in an intriguing exploration of Dermot’s incredible body. Rachel tugged off her boots and set them on the steps. “I’ll race you.”

      She ran inside, pulling her T-shirt over her head as she hurried through the kitchen. Dermot followed, hot on her heels, nearly catching her on the stairs. She screamed as she eluded his grasp, then slipped into the bathroom and shut the door behind her.

      “There’s only enough hot water for me,” she called. “You’ll have to wait.”

      “Come on, Rachel. We can share a shower, can’t we?”

      “You know what happened the last time we did that. We got distracted and ran out of hot water before I even got my hair washed.”

      “I promise. I’ll keep my hands to myself this time around.”

      “Promise?”

      “I’m taking my clothes off right now,” he said. “I’m almost naked. Oh, yes, now I’m naked.”

      She opened the bathroom door a crack and peeked out. He was standing in the hallway, his clothes at his feet. “Can I come in?”

      Her fingers twitched with the urge to touch him. He was already aroused. With Dermot, it was easy, she mused. He made it obvious that he wanted her as much as she wanted him. When it came to sex, she didn’t have to think. She just felt.

      She opened the door wider to let him pass. As he did, Rachel let her hand drift across his belly. He moaned and turned into her touch.

      “I’m counting on you to behave,” she said in her most seductive tone.

      “Then stop messing with me,” he replied. Dermot reached behind the shower curtain and turned on the water.

      Rachel quickly skimmed her jeans to the floor, then kicked them aside along with her socks. “I’m just making sure you’re only interested in a shower.”

      Dermot grabbed her and kissed her, stopping her come-on with his lips and his tongue. When he finally drew away, Rachel stepped behind the curtain and into the claw-foot tub. He joined her a moment later, wrapping his arms around her waist. His mouth found hers again and he kissed her, hungry with desire. Rachel arched against him as his lips trailed over her shoulder and onto her breasts.

      She slowly stroked him as he explored her body with his lips and tongue. The water made him slick, and before long, he was fully aroused and moaning with desire. Rachel knew exactly what would drive him wild, and when she closed her lips over the head of his shaft, he gasped, his hands braced on her shoulders, his eyes closed.

      If this was the last man she’d know intimately, Rachel could live with that. The memories of what they shared were so deeply etched into her mind that she knew she’d be able to recall every caress, every reaction, by just closing her eyes.

      She tempted him with her lips and her tongue, surprised by how easily she could bring him to the edge. And then, she took him too close. Dermot grabbed her arms and pulled her to her feet, his eyes closed, his jaw tense. Rachel watched as he struggled to maintain control.

      He gently drew