A Mighty Quinn Seduction (The Mighty Quinns) by Kate Hoffmann Page B

hand? “I—I’m not sure what you want me to say.”
    “Are you going to drink that beer or just let it sit there and get flat?”
    “Help yourself,” he said, sliding it across the table. “Why don’t you start? I understand you’re a history teacher?”
    “Yes. Those who can, do. Those who can’t, teach.”
    “I don’t believe that’s entirely true,” Ian said. “I spend a fair amount of my time teaching. It’s part of working in academia.”
    “I’d hardly call what I do academia. Most of my students would much rather be playing video games or watching footy than sitting in my classroom.”
    “But you wanted to be a teacher, didn’t you?” She laughed, a lovely, musical sound that he found tantalizing.
    “Oh, God, no. I mean, I love it now. But I’d always planned to be a writer. I wanted to write novels just like Aileen Quinn does. But then a career as an aspiring novelist doesn’t exactly pay the bills now, does it?” She took a sip of his beer and nodded at him. “Now it’s your turn. What do you want to be when you grow up?”
    Ian frowned. “I am grown-up.”
    She forced a smile. “Yes. Yes, you are. You are very grown-up.” She pushed the beer back at him. “I think you need this more than I do.” Claire reached out and patted him on the arm. “Loosen up a bit.”
    As Ian reached for the glass. He was normally cool in business situations, able to control the conversation and keep the discussion on track. But there was something about Claire Kennedy that made it impossible to think. Or maybe it was just that a careful study of her striking features was more important to him than the business at hand. He took a sip of the Guinness. She was right. He needed the beer much more than she did. If he was going to keep up with the fast-paced conversation, a little Irish courage might help.
    * * *
    H E WASN ’ T J AMES B OND . In truth, on the surface he was more like James Bland. But the more Claire got to know Ian Stephens, the more she realized that he was a very charming man—when he made an effort. She was used to dealing with blokes who were so full of themselves they were barely tolerable. And the last thing they were interested in was conversation, unless it led to a good drunk and a quick shag. But Ian was definitely not that sort.
    They chatted over their supper of ham sandwiches and potato soup, getting to know each other, covering the usual subjects, education, employment and a mutual interest in history. Claire found him a very curious man indeed, full of tantalizing contradictions.
    Though he tried to appear at ease, she could sense he wasn’t used to a woman who challenged him, who didn’t follow the proscribed rules of behavior. Her bold questions seemed to confuse him and amuse him all at once. But he didn’t react with bluster or ego. There were some hidden insecurities beneath the surface and Claire was curious about who Ian Stephens really was.
    She had her own secrets, a painful past relationship that had colored her attitude about romance in the past decade. Had Ian been burned by love as well? His eyes would tell the story, she mused.
    “Do you always wear those glasses?” she asked.
    He reached up to touch the dark rims. “Yes. If I’m interested in seeing, I’m afraid I have to wear them.”
    “You don’t wear contacts?”
    “No,” he said. “They seem to be more trouble than they’re worth.”
    “Hmm.” Claire studied him for a long moment. “Take them off.”
    “But I—”
    “Just for a moment,” she said.
    He reluctantly did as she asked and the moment he did, Claire gasped softly. Oh, he was James Bond! And Mr. Darcy. And Heathcliff and every other stunning literary and cinematic hero she could think of. He had beautiful blue eyes and dark lashes that seemed impossibly thick for a man. And a perfectly straight nose and a strong jaw line that weren’t as noticeable when wearing the glasses.
    She reached for his beer, hoping to cover her