Taming His Irish Spitfire: East Coast Spitfires, #1

By Brandy Golden

The last thing Ty needs is a hot-tempered little Irish spitfire in his life!

 

When Cheshire Huntington realizes that Tyrone Anderson is the architect trying to get the old Odd Fellows Lodge in downtown Boston torn down, the fight is on.  Chessy, as she is known to her friends, is a red-headed Irish sprite with a chip on her shoulder regarding wealthy people. The old lodge has memories for Chessy that she isn't ready to let go of yet, and a health spa catering to the sinfully rich is a poor substitute for the historic building. 

 

Tyrone Anderson isn't about to let a cheeky little window washer who insists on dripping water on his new suit every morning from her scaffold get in the way of his new project. He'll take the fight regarding the Odd Fellows Lodge to her if necessary.  It doesn't take Ty long to realize the little spitfire is hiding a painful secret. He wants to help her, but that's easier said than done when she thwarts him at every turn until he's ready to kiss her senseless or turn her over his knee!

 

You're going to love this romantic suspense as Ty promises to find out who is behind tearing down the lodge, but will Chessy ever learn to trust him?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brandy Golden Books
• Release date: Feb 19, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393386346

Brandy Golden

I'm a writer of compelling romantic stories in all settings. I love the American west cowboys, the Highlanders of Scotland, and the spitfires of contemporary romance.   My stories will always have strong males who don't mind turning a feisty young woman over their knee if the occasion warrants it. Sweet heat and passion, combined with some discipline make these stories of any genre captivating and enjoyable.  I live in the midwestern United States with a loving husband, five children, and five grandchildren, plus 3 furbabies. I also enjoy gardening scrapbooking, and of course, reading. Especially romance!  What you won't find in my stories is excessive foul language, overly descriptive and detailed sex, or BDSM. Well, mostly no BDSM. I do have a hint of it here and there, but I  have talented friends who write that very well. No, I'm more a fun-loving, John Wayne-style romance writer with just enough spanky spice to sizzle and keep you glued to the pages.  Enjoy the glow of romance, my friends, it's all around us..  Brandy

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Copyright 2020 Brandy Golden

All rights reserved

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Written by Brandy Golden

Cover art by Karen Napa

I’d like to thank those on my ARC team who helped with their excellent editing skills and beta reading, you are all treasures.

No copyright infringement is intended with the mention of known restaurant chains or otherwise public domain references. This is a complete work of fiction intended for mature readers only. Descriptions, characters, and story development comes strictly from the mind of the author and her mindset.

This book is one of many ‘oldies but goodies’ that have been in unavailable for years. Its previous title was The Architect and the Window Washer, published over 12 years ago. I have more that I’m planning to get back out to the readers as soon as I can.

Chapter 1

Chessy Morgan grinned down at the man walking beneath her scaffold. He in turn glared up at her. She waved cheekily when he did an about face and continued on his way, his back ramrod stiff, the water droplets glistening on his black Brooks and Dunn suit jacket.

So much fun to aggravate the man.

There was just something about the set of his blond head and the natural dominant arrogance that he seemed to stride through life with that set her teeth on edge. At least through her life on the scaffold above the sidewalk where she spent three hours a day earning the insurance payment on her Volkswagen.

The Gods must have smiled on her three days ago. That was when he’d first walked under her scaffold, and she’d accidentally dripped her squeegee over the side of the scaffold from the next floor up. His arrogance had popped out immediately, directed right at her and her mistake.

Hey! You up there! Pay attention to what you are doing! There are people down here you know!

The irritable tones had slashed up at her through the crisp Boston air, causing her hackles to rise and goose bumps to break out on her skin. She peeped over the edge, her bright green eyes alight with mischief and curiosity, to see an irritated male face. The dark blond slashes of eyebrows were drawn together in an impatient scowl.

You just dripped water on my new suit, he told her in no uncertain terms, as if there wasn’t another store in the entire city of Boston that would carry another one.

What a pity, she mocked, her gamin grin registering exaggerated sorrow.  Sure, and t’would be hard up you are if that’s the only suit you have to wear now, wouldn’t it? She couldn’t resist her exaggerated Irish brogue.

It was obvious the man was anything but hard up and Chessy had disliked him on sight. People with money liked to throw their weight around. She liked nothing more than to prick their hot air balloons of pride and censure of their fellowman whenever she got the chance.

Today, the Gods had been merciful yet again. The same man was just walking away from her for the third day in a row—with a well-spattered suit. Life couldn’t get any better than this, she thought happily. Funny, even though he hadn’t said anything the last two days, she knew he was fuming. She shrugged her slender shoulders. She was at a loss as to why he kept coming back, and frankly, didn’t care. She had succeeded in aggravating the life out of him and she felt vindicated, although she would rather have gotten even with her skinflint grandfather. Since she couldn’t aggravate him, another man of wealth was the next best thing.

Chessy glanced down at her watch.  It was almost noon. Time to close up for the day and meet Marsha, her best friend, at the Olive Garden for lunch. Whistling cheerfully, she lowered the scaffold and nimbly hopped off. It would be the end of the week before she finally got to the tenth floor, which was as high as the building went.

Working for Dunn’s window cleaners was interesting to say the least. She didn’t mind being up in the air at all and most certainly did not suffer from fear of heights. No, Chessy, short for Cheshire, was a Huntington, and Huntington’s knew no fear.

At least that’s what her spunky Irish grandfather had always told her.

She was even planning on making a parachute dive this summer, as soon as she could talk Marsha into going with her.

Quickly she jumped into her lime green Volkswagen beetle parked in the alley, and sped off, intent on making her lunch date. She totally missed the fact that she’d pulled out in front of a Lincoln town car. 

TY ANDERSON SHOOK HIS blond head and watched the colorful vehicle disappear into traffic. The little Volkswagen began to weave in and out of the cars like a colorful butterfly flitting among the flowers.

It was that cheeky little window washer that kept dripping water on him each time he walked under the scaffold.

He supposed he could walk down the other side of the street, but he didn’t feel the need to go out of his way for a saucy little redheaded sprite with an attitude. He didn’t know why she seemed to have singled him out for her prankish gestures—he hadn’t noticed anyone else with water drops on their shoulders.

Not enough trips over a knee for a good paddling of her backside he supposed. Well, she’d better watch it if she knew what was good for her. If the right opportunity came up, he wouldn’t hesitate to flip her over his knee for a sound spanking.

Where to, sir? came the placid request of his driver, Sam.

The Olive Garden, Sam, he replied.  I’m meeting Lydia there for lunch.

Of course, sir.

Ty sank back into the plush leather and reflected on the situation three days ago when he had yelled up at the brat to watch it. Her impudent grin and sassy retort had made him want to come up there, bend her over the scaffold railing, and set fire to the seat of her coveralls. His mother had always told him that good things come to those who wait, so he would await his opportunity.

A feral grin lit up his masculine features as he thought about teaching her a well-deserved lesson.  Who knows, he thought. Maybe the Gods would smile on him and he’d actually get the chance. And if he did, little miss cheeky pants would dance to a different tune.

Ty watched as Sam skillfully navigated the heavy traffic. He really didn’t need a driver, but he’d run across Sam Daniels on one of his construction sites. A gang of young punks had beaten and robbed him, so Ty had helped him to a hospital, paid for all his expenses, and then hired him so he wouldn’t have to beg on the street. Sam had raced cars once upon a time and was a very skillful driver, but gambling and drinking had eventually lost him his career and family. And finally, almost his life—until Ty had come along.

Sam hadn’t cared whether he lived or died in that hospital. Ty had wormed his story out of him and then offered him a way to take care of himself. He’d been grateful and hadn’t missed a day of work in two years. Of course, Ty had given him plenty of days off because he liked to drive his Mercedes convertible, so it had been a mutually satisfying agreement.

As Sam turned into the parking lot at the Olive Garden, Ty couldn’t help but notice the little lime green Volkswagen parked askew in a parking slot, effectively taking up two spaces. He wondered how many there were in Boston painted that outlandish color? He glanced at the inside as they drove past it and saw a cap flung carelessly in the front window that said Dunn’s window cleaning. He smiled wolfishly. Apparently, the little redheaded imp liked the Olive Garden as well.

YOU DID WHAT? MARSHA Pierson exclaimed, her bright blue eyes lighting up in laughter.  Cheshire Huntington, you are going to be in so much trouble one of these days. I can’t believe you deliberately dripped water on some man you don’t even know.  And dirty water at that. Marsha shook her head at the mischief sparkling in Chessy’s lovely green eyes as the vivid redhead nodded affirmatively, a broad grin slashing across her puckish features.

I sure did. And with the leprechaun luck of the Irish, maybe I’ll be able to keep doing it for several more days. Especially since he refuses to walk on the other side of the street. The least I can do is accommodate him, she added with a wink at her friend.

Marsha spied the arresting blond man as soon as he entered the restaurant and her hand flew to her breast. Oh my, Chessy, your blond hunk doesn’t happen to look anything like that one, does he? She nodded towards the front door and fanned her face with her napkin.

Chessy was taking a sip of water when she turned to see whom Marsha was referring to. Recognizing her victim, her quick intake of breath caused her to get water down the wrong tubing. Choking and gasping, she shrank back against the booth seat, hoping he didn’t come their way.  Saints preserve us, Marsha, that’s the man! Her green eyes glittered. He’s not coming this way, is he? she choked out, trying hard to suppress the sudden urge to burst into laughter.

Actually, he is, Marsha replied, her eyes alight with excitement. But he has met a very suave-looking woman. They are both following the waitress in this direction so it must be a lunch date. She straightened her shoulders and did a quick primp as all women do in the presence of a good-looking male. She appraised him as he sauntered behind the pretty woman, his brown eyes looking around as if searching for someone.

He acts like he’s looking for someone, Chessy, she whispered. Maybe it’s you. She tried to suppress a giggle at the horrified and outraged look on Chessy’s face.

Give me a menu, snapped Chessy hastily, unfolding the menu and turning slightly sideways so her face was hidden behind it. Her heart was beating fast and her fingers trembled. Then her eyes widened in startled surprise when lean male fingers appeared at the top of the menu and gently pushed it down. She looked up into a pair of amused brown eyes that seemed to hold a warning glint.

Ah...the little window washer. So nice to see you. He practically purred like a big cat.

Chessy felt like a rabbit caught in a predator’s hypnotic gaze and she gulped at his wolfish grin.

Huntington’s know no fear! Mentally she put up her fighting Irish dukes.

Do I know you? she replied haughtily, her small nose going into the air. Let him chew on that one!

We’ve never been formally introduced, but I’m quite aware of your presence each morning, he returned smoothly. Ty found himself enjoying the exchange as he watched her expressive face go from a startled rabbit to the proud combatant. Her green eyes were a beautiful startling color and he could sense the mischief emanating from her curvy little body. Oh, yes—he’d noticed.

Chessy cocked her head sideways as if trying to place him in her memory of numerous eligible males. Her fingers snapped suddenly. Yes, now I remember you, she exclaimed boldly. You are the one that just happens to walk beneath my scaffold about the time I’m draining the water from the squeegee. Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she stared up at him. Now I get the connection! You really should be more careful you know; you might ruin a suit that way.

Have another bite of ego deflator.

Oh, there will be a connection one of these days, he suavely assured her, and I can guarantee you’ll enjoy it about as much as I do water on my new suit. Ty thoroughly enjoyed watching her pretty eyes narrow in reaction to his words. She didn’t have a clue as to what he was talking about, but she would find out when the time came.

Say what? Are you threatening me?  Chessy’s delicate brow shot up as she appraised his meaning in her mind.

I never threaten, I only promise. And I can assure you, when and if the circumstances are right, a certain part of your anatomy will feel my wrath.

Chessy felt the hair stand up on the back of her neck as she stared at the brown-eyed man.

What part of my anatomy? It was on the tip of her tongue to ask what he was talking about, but his derisive grin set her teeth on edge and she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. You could just walk on the other side of the street, she pronounced haughtily, changing the subject away from her person.

Ty had to suppress a laugh. She badly wanted to know what he