The Mighty Quinns: Kellan. Kate Hoffmann

Winterhill and a large trust fund. At age twenty-one, the naughty Gelsey returned with a vengeance—and with a seemingly bottomless bank account.

      She’d transformed herself from Gelsey Evangeline Woodson, well-educated daughter of a diplomat, to Gigi Woodson, party girl without a care in the world. For the first five years, it had been fun, like playing make-believe only with posh parties and exciting new friends. Even her mother had approved.

      But in the past few years, her life had started to spiral out of control and she began to suspect that she really did care. That all the pretending didn’t make the loneliness and the insecurities go away. Maybe she hadn’t had the best family life and maybe her parents hadn’t really wanted her around. But she’d come to realize that the life she was living would never make her happy and the friends she had weren’t true friends at all.

      Gelsey drew a ragged breath. So, perhaps this could be a fresh start. Today, this morning. Or afternoon. When she opened her eyes again, she could forget the past and start all over again. She could use what was left of her trust fund and build a simple life for herself, away from the glare of the spotlight and the flash of the paparazzi’s cameras.

      Her thoughts dissolved and she fell back into a shallow sleep, content for the first time in a long time. Everything would be all right. She’d be safe here, in this tiny cottage. No one knew her in Ireland beyond the housekeeper at Winterhill. No one would care if she stayed away for a day or even a week.

      She wasn’t sure how long she slept, but the touch of a hand on her face brought her back from a dreamless state of exhaustion. She opened her eyes and found him sitting on the floor near the end of the sofa and staring at her intently.

      “You’re awake,” he murmured.

      “Yes,” she said, her voice croaking. Gelsey cleared her throat.

      “Would you like something warm to drink?” he asked. “I have coffee or tea. Or soup. Or maybe a bit of whiskey?”

      Her stomach growled at the mention of food. “Yes, soup would be nice.” As for the whiskey, she’d decided to take a new direction in her life. It was time to stop drinking … at least to excess.

      “Soup,” she said.

      “I’ll be right back,” he murmured.

      Gelsey clasped the quilt to her chest as she pulled herself up to a sitting position. To her surprise, she didn’t feel nearly as bad as she’d expected. Just a little bit weak and a tiny bit embarrassed. But she was here, being waited on by a devastatingly handsome man who was making her soup. The first day of her new life was beginning quite well.

      As promised, he returned in a few moments with a huge mug and spoon. He sat down beside her and handed her the soup. “It’s beef and barley,” he said. “It’s from the pub down in the village. My ma makes it.”

      Gelsey took a spoonful. The hearty warmth made her smile. “It’s delicious.”

      “How are you feeling?”

      “Fine.”

      “How is it you came to be on the beach?”

      Gelsey opened her mouth to reply, then snapped it shut. She didn’t want to explain it all, especially to this man. She didn’t want him to think badly of her, to make assumptions and to write her off as some stupid girl without any limits.

      “I—I don’t know,” she said.

      “What does that mean?”

      Gelsey shrugged. “I don’t remember.” She took another spoonful of the soup, waiting for him to question her. But he just continued to watch her suspiciously. “I’m not sure.”

      “Are you saying you have amnesia?”

      Gelsey frowned. It sounded like a reasonable diagnosis and it happened all the time in the movies. If she didn’t know who she was, then she wouldn’t know where she came from. And she could stay here with this man. “I don’t know. I just don’t remember.” She took another spoonful of soup and handed it to him. “I’ve had enough, thank you.”

      “You’ve barely eaten at all,” he said.

      “What is your name?” she asked.

      “Kellan. Kellan Quinn.”

      A memory flashed in her mind, so clear it might have happened just yesterday. The boy that had chased her from the beach so many years before. His name had been Kellan. She’d heard his brothers yell it across the meadow and she’d committed it to memory. This was the same boy, all grown up.

      She smiled to herself. How many times had she woven long and complicated fantasies around that boy? For at least a month after, she’d thought about returning to the beach to find him. But the summer had ended and she’d been sent back to school, leaving thoughts of him far behind.

      “Kellan,” she repeated. “I like that.”

      “And what’s your name?”

      “Gelsey,” she replied.

      He said it back to her. Softly. The sound of it on his lips caused a shiver to skitter through her body.

      “Do you have a last name?” he asked.

      “I’m not sure I do,” Gelsey said.

      A grin teased at the corners of his mouth. “Does that mean you don’t remember it or you don’t want to tell me what it is?”

      “A little of both,” she said. She drew in a sharp breath as her gaze fell to his lips. Lord, he was handsome. She had dated an endless string of gorgeous men, but not one of them had captured her fancy like this man. He was just a regular guy, yet there was something so intriguing about him. “You kissed me,” she murmured.

      “No,” Kellan said.

      “You did. I remember. On the beach.”

      “You kissed me,” he said.

      “Yes.” Gelsey reached out and touched his face, then leaned closer, curious to see if the kiss she remembered was really so good. Her lips found his. He didn’t seem surprised or reluctant. Instead, he gently cupped her face in his hands and returned the kiss in full measure, his tongue tangling with hers.

      Desire raced through her body, warming her blood and making her mind spin. Gelsey felt giddy, like that breathless young girl on the cliffs. He’d been such a handsome boy, but now he was a man, full grown and capable of making her weak with need.

      “Does that help?” he asked.

      “Help?”

      “Your memory,” Kellan said.

      “Yes,” she said. “I remember liking that very much.” She peeked under the blanket. “I have no clothes. Did you undress me?”

      Kellan nodded. “You were cold. I had to get you warm.”

      “I don’t remember that.” She reached out and took his hand and placed it on her bare shoulder. “Maybe you should show me how that happened.”

      Kellan stared at the spot where he touched her, then slowly drew his hand away. “You—you should rest,” he murmured. “You’ve had a long day.”

      “What time is it?”

      “Nearly five,” he replied. “Do you have a place to go? Someone who might be waiting for you?”

      Gelsey shook her head. “No,” she said. “No one is waiting for me.” In truth, the only person who’d wonder where she was might be Caroline, the housekeeper at Winterhill. She’d call the first chance she got, but Caroline knew not to worry. Gelsey often disappeared for days at a time.

      As for her parents, they’d given up worrying a long time ago. No. No one really cared at all. The only one who’d ever truly cared had been her grandmother and she’d been gone for years now.

      “You