“Please do come back, won’t you?” Darcy called out and had the satisfaction of seeing Finkle flush a little as he glanced back her way. “I’d love to sing for you.”

She waited until they were safely out and away. “The man from London,” she said, snickering. “That was inspired.”

“Just came to me. And I’ll wager a pound to a pence that the minute he gets back to a phone he’s ringing Magee in New York to tell him we’re playing two lines.”

“It could backfire, you know, Shawn, and have this Magee looking elsewhere.”

“Or it could pay off.” He reached over to tug her hair, surprised at how much fun he’d had playing the game. “Life’s a gamble, isn’t it?”

He looked up as Brenna and her father came in for their lunch hour. “And that’s half the fun of living. A good day to you, Mr. O’Toole,” he said when Mick strolled to the bar. “Mary Brenna. And what can we do for you?”

“I’ve a thirst, Shawn.” Mick sent Darcy a wink.

“We can help you there.” Knowing his man’s preferences, Shawn slid a pint glass under the tap and began the process of building a Guinness. “And for you, Brenna?”

“I’m more interested in that soup I see on your menu.” She nodded toward the daily board. “But there’s no hurry.”

“None at all,” Mick confirmed as he slid onto a stool. “We’re all but finished at your brother’s house this morning. My Brenna here will tidy it up by day’s end, then we’ll be back to renovating rooms at the hotel. Sure, and I’ll miss coming in here for your cooking, Shawn. Not that the hotel doesn’t serve a good meal, but no one has your touch.”

“Will you have some soup today, and a sandwich as well, Mr. O’Toole?” Darcy slipped behind the bar to pour the tea she assumed Brenna wanted. “A man works as hard as you, he needs his fuel.”

“Well, I will at that, Darcy darling. You’ll make some fortunate man the best of wives one day, as you’ll know how to tend to him.”

With a quick and wicked laugh, Darcy slid the tea across to Brenna. “I’m looking for one who’ll tend to me—and lavishly. Speaking of it, has Daniel rung you up, Brenna?”

“Daniel?” She caught Shawn’s raised brow and fought not to squirm. “He did, yes.”

“That’s fine, that. Matthew said he would. That’s a fine-looking and well-set-up young man has his eye on your daughter, Mr. O’Toole.”

“And why shouldn’t he? She’s a pretty thing.”

“All right, Dad.”

“Well, you are, and what’s wrong with saying so?” The slap on the shoulder he gave her was one most men would have given a son. “A man’d be fortunate indeed to snap up a lass like my Brenna, as she’s fair of face and a good worker too. A bit of a temper, maybe, but that only adds the spice. A man doesn’t go looking for a bland sort of woman, does he, Shawn?”