Keir O'connell's Mistress. Sandra Marton

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Keir O'connell's Mistress - Sandra Marton


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lot of work. I mean, it’s small, but I think, given time, I can build it into something.”

      “What kind of business?”

      Keir shrugged. “A small one, like I said.”

      “He’s being deliberately vague,” Sean said to Cullen, as if Keri weren’t there.

      “Yup. In fact, I get the feeling BB doesn’t want to tell us what this business is,” Cullen replied, his grin hidden by the darkness.

      “Don’t call me that!”

      “Can you imagine? He doesn’t want to call him BB and he doesn’t want to tell us what this business is.” Sean gave a deep sigh. “What’s the good of having a brother if he won’t let you in on his secrets?”

      “A Big Brother,” Cullen said solemnly.

      “Uh huh.” There was a pause. “With a pair of capital B’s, for short.”

      “Will you stop calling me that? And I didn’t say it was a secret!”

      “Should we tell him he didn’t have to?” said Cullen. “Should we remind him that we’re his very own flesh and blood and we can read him like a book?”

      Keir looked from Cullen to Sean. Despite all their teasing, they were worried about him. He knew, because he’d overheard more of their conversation than he’d let on. Well, why not tell them now? Get it over with, instead of dragging it out until after the wedding tomorrow. That was what he’d planned but being pronounced insane by all five of his siblings at once might be just a little intimidating.

      “Okay.” He took a deep breath. “You want to know what kind of business I bought?” Another deep breath. “A vineyard.”

      For what seemed an eternity, neither Sean nor Cullen said anything. Sean was the first to break the silence.

      “Did you say, vineyard? As in, where they grow grapes and make wine?”

      “That’s right. With a small restaurant as part of the setup.”

      “A vineyard,” Sean repeated.

      “Yes.”

      “In Connecticut,” Cullen added. “With a small restaurant as—”

      “Dammit, will you stop that? Yes. A vineyard. And a restaurant. And I don’t care if you guys think I’m nuts or what, I’m glad I bought—Hey! Hey, what’re you doing?”

      What they were doing was clapping him on the back hard enough to have sent a smaller man to his knees.

      “Man, that’s terrific,” Cullen said happily. “I mean, it’s crazy as hell but it’s time you did something crazy. Right, Sean?”

      “Absolutely. It’s so off the wall, it sounds like something I could have done.”

      “And that’s a compliment?” Keir said, laughing.

      “Damn right. Listen, you need to get in touch with anybody who’s into wine, let me know. I took a marker I never got around to collecting from a guy playing chemin de fer last summer. His family owns a vineyard in Burgundy.”

      “And if you need legal advice, I’m your man,” Cullen said. “I know you have your own attorney but since you’ll be doing the deal closer to my turf, back east—”

      “Wait a minute.” Keir stepped back and looked from one of his brothers to the other. “So, you don’t think I’m ready for a rubber room?”

      “Well, of course we do but then, we’ve always thought that. Right, Cullen?”

      “Absolutely right.” Cullen gave Keir a light punch in the shoulder. “Seriously, congratulations.”

      “Yeah. I mean, thanks.”

      “Just for the record, I’m impressed.”

      A smile curved Keir’s mouth. “Yeah?”

      “Yeah. Sounds like an interesting proposition.”

      “Well, that’s good to hear because the vote, so far, is three to one that I’ve lost all my marbles.”

      “Who’s voting?”

      “The duchess. My accountant. And my lawyer pretty much made it unanimous.”

      “Ma’ll come around. As for the accountant and the lawyer—all the more reason to dump them.”

      “You think?”

      “Absolutely. Megan’ll be your CPA. I’ll be your attorney. We’ll only be a couple of hours away and besides, why deal with people who’ll look for the hole in your head each time you sit down at the table?”

      Keir laughed. “You have a way with words, pal, you know that?” His smile tilted. “You want to know the truth, there’ve been moments I’ve doubted my own sanity.”

      “Just because you’re starting to live dangerously? Hey, that’s what life’s all about.” Sean elbowed Cullen. “You got all this straight? The man’s bought himself a vineyard. He bought himself a restaurant. And if it hadn’t been for us, he’d have made it in the elevator with Cinderella.”

      Keir’s mouth tightened. He’d been expecting this ever since his brothers walked in on the scene with Cassie.

      Then why did the teasing words make his belly knot?

      “We were not about to make it in the elevator, as you so delicately put it.”

      “Whatever you say, big brother.”

      “I hardly know the lady.”

      “Well, that’s good news for me. Just tell me her name, give me her number—”

      “Keep away from her.”

      Keir’s voice was suddenly tense with warning. Cullen and Sean stared at him. He glared back, and then he groaned.

      Cullen was only kidding but even if he wasn’t, so what? If he wanted to hit on Cassie, let him.

      “I mean,” he said carefully, “we embarrassed her enough. Besides, she’s an employee. She works in the hotel. She’s a cocktail waitress.”

      “Well, that certainly explains why the two of you were wrapped around each other. Doesn’t it, Sean?”

      Keir folded his arms. “You’re never going to leave me alone about this, are you?”

      “No,” Sean agreed pleasantly, “we’re not.”

      “Look, the elevator stopped and Cassie was in it. And—“

      “And?” Cullen said, with a lift of his eyebrows.

      “And,” Keir said briskly, “her heel was stuck.” Two pairs of eyebrows lifted. He decided to ignore the warning signs. “Somebody from Maintenance had left some plywood on the floor, and her heel got wedged in a knothole.”

      Sean gave a deep sigh. “Dangerous combination, plywood and elevators.”

      Despite himself, Keir’s mouth twitched. “Listen, I’m warning you both—”

      “No, it’s cool,” said Cullen. “We understand. As some men get older, they need more of, uh, more of a stimulus before they can get it on.”

      “Older? I’m one year older. One year!”

      “He’s right,” Sean said. “It wasn’t senile male hormones, it was a galloping case of ZTS.”

      “Okay. It’s not going to work. I’ve explained what happened. You want to get some more mileage out of it, go on. Be my guest.”

      “Trust us,” Sean replied solemnly, “we will.”

      Keir looked from one of his brothers to the other and saw the laughter dancing in their eyes.


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