by Nancy Warren
“But that wasn’t his fault!” Briana cried, moved almost to tears by the story.
“Tell him that.”
She drained the potatoes and filled the pot with cold water, letting this new information seep in. “Of course he blames himself. I guess I would in the same situation.”
“So maybe now you can see why I won’t have him hurt. I’ll tell you right now, and it’s not to minister to your vanity, but in the three years since Janie’s been gone, I’ve never seen him look at another woman the way he looks at you. And that scares me.”
“I don’t want to hurt him,” Briana said softly. And it was the truth, but not the whole truth. She’d come to Courage Bay to hurt him. To revenge her family. She felt sick inside.
“If you do, if you hurt him or those kids, I promise I will take you apart.”
This was not a promise Briana took lightly. One glance at those fierce blue eyes, and she knew she’d never want to cross Patrick’s sister.
She nodded. “Thank you for telling me.”
“I’m not stupid, you know. He won’t tell me anything, but I know you two weren’t playing charades inside that elevator. He’s got it bad.” She shook her head, hair falling around her face. “Besides, you look at him the same way he looks at you.”
Briana blinked, startled. She did? She thought her feelings for Patrick were her secret, and here she was broadcasting them every time she looked his way?
Not good.
“Don’t worry,” Shannon said, relaxing once more. “I don’t think anyone but me has noticed.” She chuckled. “It was pretty hard not to notice when you came out of that elevator with your blouse hanging open and the pair of you looking like…well, I don’t think the earthquake was the only thing that made the earth move.”
“This is a very inappropriate conversation,” Briana said, trying hard not to blush. Since she knew she was going a deeper red by the second, she stuck her head over the pot and started taking out potatoes. She shoved a couple Shannon ’s way. “Here. Peel these.”
“Ow,” her companion said. “They’re hot.”
“You’re a firefighter. You’re supposed to be able to take the heat.”
“Not in the kitchen,” Shannon grumbled. But she dug in and peeled potatoes, hot or not.
The sliding door opened and a huge man entered. The way he and Shannon looked at each other, Briana didn’t have to be introduced. Obviously, this was John Forester.
“Now that’s a sight for sore eyes-you being domestic,” he teased Shannon.
She laughed and introduced John and Briana.
“What are you doing in here?” Shannon asked.
“I’m hungry.”
“You’re always hungry. The food will be up in a minute. Go help Sean with the barbecue or something.”
With some good-natured muttering, John left and the two women went back to their potato salad.
Briana once more found herself raiding Patrick’s fridge and pantry for the ingredients she needed. There was lots of mayonnaise in the fridge, luckily, and some gourmet oil and vinegar dressing, which she threw in. No green onions, but she chopped up some celery and carrots. Patrick hadn’t boiled any eggs, so she decided to do without them. She got creative with some spices, mixed the whole thing together and found a pretty glass bowl to put the salad into. When she and Shannon were done, they had a very respectable-looking potato salad, and when they tasted it, they both approved.
“At least you’re a good cook,” Shannon said, helping herself to another scoop of potato salad, before Briana ruthlessly pulled it away and put it in the fridge.
Shannon started to wipe down the counter. “Look, I haven’t told many people this yet, but I’m thinking of moving to New York to be with John.”
“Wow. The family will miss you.”
“I know. Anyhow, I guess that’s why I was hard on you. I won’t be around to keep an eye on Patrick and the kids, so I have to get my licks in now.”
“I understand.” And she did. Family loyalty could make a person do some crazy things.
Now that Shannon had leveled with her, she seemed to loosen up around Briana, which was good. The only thing was, she didn’t want to be the great hope for Patrick’s future any more than she wanted to be the woman who brought him down with a sexual harassment charge.
Briana wanted a chance to get to know this man her body craved, who he really was, without the rest of the world looking on.
In a crowd of O’Sheas, that wasn’t likely to happen.
Surprisingly, as it turned out, Briana did get to know more about him that afternoon. She saw him with his family, relaxed in a sunny backyard with the smell of grilling burgers in the air.
They were a gregarious lot, the O’Sheas, and those she didn’t know, she soon met. Shannon made sure of it. She dragged Briana by the hand to meet her parents.
“Mom,” Shannon said, interrupting the older woman’s conversation, “this is Patrick’s new admin assistant, Briana Bliss. Briana, this is our mom, Mary.”
Mary O’Shea was as tall as her daughter. She looked about fifty, when Briana knew she had to be at least ten years older. She wasn’t a beautiful woman, but she was a striking one, with the most amazing cloud of long, white curly hair that floated around her head and shoulders in a way that was far too angelic for the expression in her twinkling hazel eyes. She looked like a woman who enjoyed a good joke and could keep her crew of men in line with no trouble at all.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Mary said, and instead of shaking Briana’s hand politely, she pulled her in for a rib-crushing hug. “Patrick thinks the world of you, you know. He’s lucky to have you.”
“Thank you,” Briana said faintly, wondering if she’d bruise.
“This is Patrick’s father, my husband, Caleb,” Mary said, jabbing her husband in the belly with her elbow to get his attention.
Caleb was tall-about six foot five-and probably weighed in about three hundred pounds. Even though he was completely bald, he was a handsome man, with the same gorgeous blue eyes and thick black lashes as Patrick.
Not certain she could survive a hug if he was as enthusiastic as his wife, Briana was relieved when he shook her hand heartily with his own work-roughened hand. “Patrick’s lucky to have such a pretty little thing in his office,” the older man said with an appreciative spark in his eye.
“You are so politically correct, Dad,” Shannon said, rolling her eyes at him.
Caleb only laughed, a big booming laugh. “I know Briana’s excellent at her job, because my son told me so. Don’t see why me thinking she’s pretty is a crime.”
Briana was dazed rather than offended. At five feet ten she didn’t often get called a “pretty little thing,” but the O’Sheas all seemed to dwarf her. She decided she liked Caleb with his humorous gaze and hearty laugh, so she smiled up at him. “I’m not offended. Thank you for the compliment.”
Shannon was summoned away by John, so her father took it upon himself to introduce the rest of his clan, which included Brian O’Shea, Patrick’s grandfather, Sean O’Shea, Patrick and Shannon ’s brother, who was a smoke jumper with the fire department, and his wife, Linda.
Even though it was a family party, the O’Sheas put Briana at ease, and she was soon enjoying herself more than she’d imagined she would.
Dylan roared past with a “Hi, Briana,” giving her his soon-to-be-chick-magnet grin and racing on to the next game with his crew of equally noisy friends. He seemed delighted to see her, but no more so than he was happy to see everyone else.
Fiona also had a friend over, the younger sister of one of Dylan’s pals, and the two little girls were sitting cross-legged on a quilt under a leafy tree, playing dolls. Briana walked over and paused to watch the girls. She couldn’t believe the difference between the orderly, low-key girls’ play and the rambunctious antics of the older boys.
She didn’t want to interrupt Fiona and her friend, but couldn’t stop herself from enjoying the scene for a
few minutes.
“Sugar and spice and everything nice?” a deep male voice said softly behind her.
Since her body immediately perked to attention, it was obvious who was speaking. She turned to find Patrick altogether too close and looking more relaxed now.
She smiled at him, wishing she had the right to put her arms around him and kiss him. Wishing he didn’t look at her in a way that put the idea into her head.
“Will Fiona and her little friend be that noisy when they’re Dylan’s age?” she asked.
She ought to take a couple of steps back, Briana thought, but her body wouldn’t obey the dictates of her more sensible brain. He was so close she could see the black flecks in his eyes, the lines of both laughter and tragedy endured that radiated from the corners of his eyes, the darker patch of stubble on one side of his jaw where he’d missed a spot shaving. She could even smell him, the clean laundry smell of his T-shirt and the earthy and so-familiar scent of his skin. It took her back to the dark elevator, when she’d been surrounded by his scent, the feel of his skin, the sound of his voice.
The pull she felt was like a physical tug.
“I doubt it. I think boys are just rowdier.”
And which gender would he have ended up having more of, she wondered, if his wife hadn’t died? Boys or girls? It was a sad thought for a sunny day, but the information was so new to her that she needed to digest it. She wished she could ask Patrick, encourage him to open up and talk to her about that awful time. But she didn’t have the right. She already felt an intimacy she didn’t want to feel, and to encourage it at this point was crazy.
“You look like you’re miles away,” Patrick said.
“Sorry. I think I’m in shock. I had no idea Dylan and his friends had so much energy.”
He chuckled. “He’ll sleep tonight. They all will. And I’m sorry I didn’t give you much of a welcome. You caught me in the middle of a panic.”
She smiled, thinking how much she liked the carefree sound of his laughter, and how rare that laughter was these days. “As I believe I told you, I love to cook.”
“The salad looks great. Thanks for helping me out.”
“What are friends for?”
“Is that what we are, Briana? Friends?”
Briana had asked the question idly, and his reply stunned her. She blinked and stared at Patrick, so serious and so handsome with the sunlight glinting off his black hair, his blue eyes intent on her.
“I-I’d like to think we are.”
He gazed at her as though there was a lot more he wanted to say, and couldn’t. He merely nodded, and she noted the tense set of his shoulders as he turned and strolled over to his brother Sean, who was helping John flip burgers.
She didn’t see Patrick again until it was time for cake and presents. Since there were no kids in her own life-most of her friends being young, childless professionals-she was ridiculously nervous about her gift for Dylan. Was it too old? Too…artistic? She didn’t want to disappoint Dylan with a lame gift, and now she wondered if she’d been wise to include her small present for Fiona.
Oh, well, she’d done it with the best of intentions. Quietly she handed the little girl the wrapped package when Dylan opened his. Fiona was delighted, and her dainty little fingers made surprisingly short work of the wrapping.
“It’s a book!” Fiona showed it to Briana as though it would be a surprise for her, as well. She’d asked at the bookstore and hoped she had something age-appropriate, and the story was about a small black dog who got lost and had to find his way home. It seemed to be a hit with Fiona.
Dylan ripped the wrapping paper off his gift. “Wow. Cool,” he said as he opened the case and spied all the art supplies. “Thanks. I’ll draw you the first picture.” He flashed her that grin again, then opened his book and pumped his fist in the air. “Yes!”
He opened his other gifts, but the biggest excitement was saved for his father’s present-a black mountain bike with a glossy black helmet to match.
“Sweet!” Dylan yelled. “Now we can go biking together, Dad.”
Briana only hoped life in Courage Bay would calm down enough that the father and son could enjoy plenty of weekend bike rides.
She smiled to herself. While they were doing that, she and Fiona could spend some quality girl time making cookies, doing manicures, decorating the doll’s house she’d spied in the little girl’s room. Briana was dying to get her hands on it. And when Fiona was a little older, she imagined the four of them out riding together.
Abruptly she yanked her daydreams back to reality. What was she thinking? She never should have come here today and allowed herself to fall into the fantasy that she was part of the O’Shea clan.
Until she’d cleared her uncle’s name, she needed to keep her distance from the O’Sheas-all of them. If by some slim chance Patrick had been a party to hurting her family, the two of them could never have a future together.
Briana forced herself to drink coffee and chat to Mary O’Shea as though she weren’t counting the seconds until she could leave.
Then, suddenly, nine of the boisterous young boys were being taken home, and relative quiet descended on Patrick’s home. Good. Her moment to escape had arrived.
After a short conversation with Patrick and John, Shannon clapped her hands. “Do the birthday boy and his sister want to come have a sleepover at Auntie Shannon’s?”
Over the shrieks of glee and the pleas, “Can you make pancakes in the morning? Can we take Cleo for a walk?” Briana felt her stomach contract.
Damn that interfering, matchmaking Shannon O’Shea. Briana had liked her better when she was threatening her than she did now that the woman was trying to foster a relationship between Briana and Patrick that was both inappropriate and fraught with potential heartache.
Briana knew perfectly well that the sleepover was a ploy to give her and Patrick time alone. It had to be the least subtle ploy she’d ever seen, and in front of his whole family, too! Not that anyone seemed to mind. Mary, for one, had a complacent smile on her face, and she saw the older woman reach for her husband’s hand and give it a quick squeeze.
Oh, no.
Briana didn’t want time alone with Patrick. Well, okay, she did, but not while everything was such a mess, and she was so confused.
No. She couldn’t and wouldn’t be manipulated like this. As well-meaning as his sister was, Shannon was also, as she’d warned Briana, pushy. For some reason, Patrick’s sister had now decided to sanction the romance, but Briana needed to let it be known to every O’Shea in Courage Bay that she made her own decisions. And being offered a night alone with Patrick on a silver platter was more tempting than she liked to admit, but she wasn’t ready for that delicacy quite yet.
In the pandemonium of the kids getting ready to go, and before Patrick’s family had a chance to leave, she retrieved her coat. Her color was high, she knew, but she couldn’t help that. Maybe they’d think she’d caught a touch of sun.
“Thank you for a lovely party,” she said to Dylan, who was running around the kitchen with his sleeping bag, shouting something about not needing a toothbrush.
Patrick didn’t seem to agree on the toothbrush situation and was down in the bathroom, she presumed, yelling something about cavities.
“Thanks for the present,” Dylan said. “I mean, thanks for coming.”
“I had a good time. You enjoy your sleepover.”
Then she gave Shannon her blandest smile, wished every O’Shea in the vicinity a pleasant evening, and headed out while the O’Shea she most cared about was down the hall in his children’s bathroom.
And take that, Shannon, she said to herself as she scooted into her car and drove home.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
BRIANA STARED at the grainy photocopy of the newspaper story and photo that had destroyed her uncle’s chance at being mayor and felt a surge of irritation. Uncle Cecil should hire a lawyer and a private investigator and find out once and for all who’d planted t
he false story and evidence. Her uncle insisted he wouldn’t have her aunt hurt, but he didn’t seem to consider that this whole mess was hurting his niece.
As much as she wanted to help her uncle, she was putting her own career in jeopardy. She’d come to Courage Bay so angry on her aunt and uncle’s behalf that she couldn’t see straight, never mind think straight. But she’d had two months to gain some perspective and she’d also discovered that she loved Courage Bay, enough that she wanted to put down some roots and stay awhile. Maybe forever. She could no longer contemplate a political hit-and-run operation.
Once Briana had done as much of the legwork as she could to find the culprit behind this story, she’d insist Uncle Cecil launch a formal investigation or drop his vendetta. That was a more honorable course than trying to destroy Patrick’s career.
Even as she tried to focus on the photo, her sneaky mind kept transporting her to that house in Jacaranda Heights, where, even now, Patrick was cleaning up after the party, or maybe doing some quiet activity of his own, since he had the house to himself.
All night long.
Lust grabbed at her with sharp claws and she gritted her teeth to stop herself from driving back over to his place. But maybe once she’d left, Shannon had reneged on the invitation to the kids, and Patrick and his family were all playing one of the new video games Dylan had received for his birthday.
No. Shannon wouldn’t back out of her invitation, not when Fiona and Dylan had been so excited. Patrick was on his own all right, unless he’d decided to use his freedom to do some socializing. She didn’t like how that thought made her feel, but then she’d had her chance to be the one “socializing” with Patrick, and she’d declined the treat.
But her restlessness didn’t abate.
She put the newspaper article down on her kitchen counter. What was she thinking? It was Saturday night. She should have gone out. One of the girls at work was having a party tonight. She could go. But having already turned down a dinner invitation from a man who might now be there, she’d decided to stay home.