“Let’s pray I’ll be back to you with some news in a day or two. In the meantime, you make the arrangements for Lamar’s surgery. You won’t have any problem at the hospital.”
“But they said—”
He met her gaze. “Trust me. There won’t be a problem.”
A relieved smile spread across her face. “Mr. Devaney, I don’t know how to thank you.”
“There’s no need,” he insisted, casting a look toward the boy who was giggling softly at something Father Francis had said. “Let’s just make sure Lamar is back on his feet soon. I’m looking forward to going to that ball game with him.”
Before he knew it, he was enveloped in a fierce hug.
“You’ll be in my prayers every night of my life,” she told him.
“I’d return the favor, but I think you’ll have better luck letting Father Francis do the honors,” he said wryly. “I’ve got to get back to work now, but I’ll be in touch. You can count on it.”
Ryan slipped out of the shelter before Father Francis could waylay him with some other mission of mercy. Outside, he shivered, though it was less a reaction to the temperature than to the sad plight of the Monroe family.
He was still thinking about them when he walked into the pub and headed for the bar, where Maureen had been filling in while he was gone.
“Everything okay?” she asked, regarding him with concern.
“It will be,” he said with grim determination. “Has Jack Reilly been in tonight?”
“Haven’t seen him,” she said. “But there is a familiar face in that booth by the stage.”
“Oh?” he said, puzzled by the mysterious glint of amusement in her eyes. One glance at the booth was explanation enough. Maggie was seated there with her parents. They each had the night’s fish-and-chips special and a pint of ale. He glanced at Maureen. “Cover for me a few more minutes?”
“Of course,” she said at once.
He walked across the room, greeting several regulars along the way, then paused beside Maggie. “Good evening. Welcome to Ryan’s Place,” he said, his gaze directed first at Nell O’Brien, then at her husband. He nodded at Maggie.
“Ryan, I love your pub,” Nell said with enthusiasm. “It reminds me of a place in Dublin that Garrett and I visited on our honeymoon.”
“The Swan,” Garrett said at once. He regarded his wife with a warm expression. “I believe we can credit a night there for our firstborn son.”
Nell blushed. “Garrett O’Brien, what a thing to be saying in front of a stranger.”
“Ryan’s no stranger. He’s a friend of our Maggie’s. Isn’t that right, Maggie, me girl?”
Maggie grinned at her father. “He still might prefer not to know all the intimate details of John’s conception.”
Ryan chuckled. “Actually I’m fascinated,” he said, just to keep the color high in her cheeks. “And what about Maggie’s? Is there a story behind that, as well?”
Maggie shot a warning look at her father. “If you tell it, I will never forgive you.”
“Now I really am intrigued,” Ryan said. “Make room, Maggie.” He settled in the booth beside her, thigh-to-thigh, in a way that had his blood heating. “Come on, Mr. O’Brien. Tell the story.”
Garrett O’Brien opened his mouth, then grunted, apparently when Maggie’s foot made contact with his shin. “Sorry, lad. I’ve been persuaded to keep silent. Even in today’s tell-all society, I imagine there are some things that are best kept private.”
Ryan turned to Maggie. “I suppose I’ll just have to pester you until you tell all,” he said. “Right now, though, I’d better get behind the bar before Maureen rebels.” And before he gave in to the urge to spend the entire evening right here with Maggie so close he could feel her breath on his cheek when she spoke.
“Join us again if you can spare the time,” Nell invited.
“I’ll do that,” Ryan promised, casting a last, lingering look at Maggie before striding across the room and trying to block her presence from his thoughts.
He didn’t get to keep his promise. Instead, it turned into an impossibly long night. Fridays were always busy because of the popularity of the band, but this was busier than most. It didn’t help that his new waiter was struggling a bit to keep up with the unfamiliar orders, but Ryan had to give Juan credit for trying. Still, it meant that Maureen was carrying more than her fair share of the load and that Ryan was spending extra time soothing ruffled feathers and keeping an eye out for Jack Reilly so he could ask for his help in tracking down Lamar’s father.
Suddenly Maggie was beside him. “It looks as if you could use an extra pair of hands behind the bar,” she said, already donning an apron.
He stopped filling an order for ale from the tap and stared. “What are you doing?”
“Pitching in,” she said, moving away to smile at a new arrival. She’d taken the man’s order and placed a pint of ale in front of him before Ryan could blink. She came back to him with a satisfied smile on her face. “Any objections?”
Ryan weighed uneasiness against pragmatism. Pragmatism won. “Not a one,” he said. “I can use the help.”
Just then he spotted her parents heading toward the door. They gave him a cheery wave as they exited. Gaze narrowed, he turned to Maggie. “Wasn’t that your ride home that just walked out of here?”
She grinned at him. “Not if I’m lucky,” she said, then vanished to take another order.
“Meaning what?” he said when she reappeared.
“I figure you’ll owe me,” she said. “A drive home’s not too much for a volunteer waitress to expect, is it?”
Ryan shook his head, aware that he’d just fallen into a tidy trap. “No, I suppose not, but I ought to make Rory take you.”
Her smile faltered at the suggestion, and Ryan grinned despite himself. “Not what you had in mind, hmm?”
She met his gaze evenly. “Definitely not.”
“Then I suppose I’ll have to be the one, if only to see exactly where this plan of yours is headed.”
“You won’t be disappointed,” she promised.
She said it with a look that had his temperature soaring.
And a lifetime’s worth of defense mechanisms slamming into place.
Maggie figured she would owe her mother for a really long time for coming up with the idea of leaving Maggie behind to help out in the pub. Nell had overcome all of Garrett’s objections by reminding him that it would give the two of them several hours at home alone. After that, her father couldn’t leave the pub quickly enough. Years of having six children underfoot had taught him to snatch any opportunity for privacy.
Sticking around uninvited had been a risky notion. Ryan could very well have found someone else to give her a lift home, just as he’d threatened. The fact that he’d backed down and decided to take her himself was definitely a good sign. Unfortunately, she wasn’t at all convinced they were ever going to get out of the place.
It was past midnight, and the last customer had been gone for twenty minutes, but Ryan was still tallying the receipts, dragging out the process, if she wasn’t mistaken. Maggie was sitting in a booth, rubbing her aching feet. It had been a long time since she’d spent so many hours as a waitress and bartender. She’d forgotten how exhausting it could be.
Oddly enough, though, a part of her felt exhilarated. She’d made over fifty dollars in tips, which was the only money she intended to take for her efforts. More important, she had thoroughly enjoyed talking to the customers. She’d missed that kind of interaction with people in her old job. Being the senior accountant for a corporation might have carried more prestige than waiting tables, but it hadn’t been nearly as much fun.
She glanced across the room and saw that Ryan had disappeared into his office. Maybe she could hurry him along, if she went over there and looked pathetic, which wouldn’t be all that difficult given the way she was feeling.
Groaning, she stood up in her stocking feet and walked over, carrying her shoe
s, coat and purse. She found Ryan behind his desk, jotting figures in a ledger.
“I’ll be with you in a second,” he said without looking up. “I like to get these numbers entered at night, so the day’s cleared out and I’m ready to start fresh tomorrow.”
“You’re keeping your records in a ledger?” she asked, staring at the cumbersome book with surprise. She glanced around the office and saw no evidence of a computer.
“Sure.”
“Why aren’t you computerized? It would take less time, and you’d have everything you need at your fingertips when tax time comes around.”
“This works,” he said, dismissing the idea.
“But—”
He glanced up with a grin. “You selling computers in your spare time, too?”
“No, but this is something I know a little bit about. I could set up a system for you in no time. And I noticed tonight that if you reorganized the liquor supply, it would be easier to keep track of what’s running low.”
“Maggie, I don’t need a system. I already have one,” he explained patiently.
“An outdated one, but I suppose that’s to be expected,” she said.
He frowned at that. “Meaning?”
“You’re pretty much stuck in your ways across the board,” she said.
For a minute it seemed he might take offense, but then he grinned. “It must seem that way to you, being the kind of modern woman that you are.”
“It is that way,” she insisted, ignoring the teasing. “But I won’t push you to change tonight. I’m too exhausted to waste the energy.” She grinned back at him. “But, as they say, tomorrow is another day.”
“I’m not changing the way I do things around here,” he said emphatically.
“We’ll see,” she said blithely.
“Maggie!”
“Don’t worry about it,” she soothed. “I’ll just sit right over here, quiet as a mouse, while you finish up. You won’t even know I’m here.”
“I doubt that,” he muttered.
She settled into the easy chair in the corner of his office, curling her feet up under her. Two minutes later she was sound asleep.
Ryan compared his figures one last time, then uttered a sigh of satisfaction. The orderliness of numbers pleased him. There was nothing messy or questionable about totals written down in black and white. Emotions, however, were another matter entirely.
And speaking of emotions, what was he to do about Maggie? He glanced across the room and found her sound asleep in his easy chair. At some point during the evening, she’d scooped her hair into some sort of ponytail, but there were curls escaping now to feather against her cheeks. Her dark-green sweater had twisted and ridden up to expose a tantalizing inch-wide strip of pale-as-cream skin. His heart hammered a little harder at the sight. If only he had the right to skim a finger along that delicate band of flesh, to slide his hand beneath the sweater to cup softly rounded breasts. His throat went dry at the thought.
He swallowed hard. He had to get her out of here and safely home before he did something stupid and acted on one of these increasingly frequent impulses of his.
Crossing the room, he hunkered down beside the chair. Despite his best intentions, he couldn’t seem to resist reaching out to smooth a wayward curl from her cheek, then lingering to feel the way her skin heated at his touch.
“Maggie?” he whispered, his voice suddenly husky. “Time to wake up.”
She moaned softly and stirred, but didn’t open her eyes. Ryan bit back a groan as images of her stirring just like that in his bed slammed through him. Visions of tangled sheets falling away from long, bare legs taunted him.
“Maggie,” he repeated with more urgency. “Time to go home.”
He said the latter to remind himself that home was where she belonged—her home, not his.
Another moan. Another stretch. And then a sigh as her eyes flickered open. A smile curved her lips. “Hi,” she said softly.
“Hey, sleepyhead.”
“I guess I fell asleep. What time is it?”
“After one. I need to get you home.”
She kept her gaze steady on him. “I could stay here. Save you the trip.”
Ryan stood up and backed away so fast he nearly tripped over his own feet. “Not a good idea.”
She seemed amused by his reaction. “Surely you have a sofa I could sleep on,” she said, her expression innocent. “Where do you live, by the way?”
“Upstairs.”
“Well then, that’s a whole lot handier than driving all the way to my place.”
“Maybe so, but something tells me I don’t want to tangle with your father and your brothers, who might find the idea of you staying at my place a little premature.”
She grinned. “Premature, not out of the question?”
“Maggie.” It came out as part protest, part plea.
“I just want things to be absolutely clear between us,” she said.
“And I’ll be happy to let you know when I have them figured out,” Ryan retorted.
“You’re assuming you’re the only one who gets to have a say,” she accused lightly. “Wrong, Devaney. I’m part of this equation.”
“Didn’t you tell me that your life is in a bit of a muddle right now?” he asked. “You don’t need to add to that by getting mixed up with me.”
She rose gracefully from the chair and crossed the room until she could reach up and place a hand against his cheek. Ryan felt that touch straight through to his toes.
“What if I want to get mixed up with you?” she asked.
“Why would you want that? I’m not an easy man to be with, Maggie. I don’t let people in. I like my privacy. I like the status quo.”
She laughed. “If that was supposed to scare me off, it missed the mark. You’ve just made the game more interesting.”
“Is that all it is to you, a game? Because if that’s it, maybe we have something to talk about after all. But if it’s more you’re after—” he captured her gaze and held it “—I’m the wrong man.”
Her gaze never faltered. “I suppose time will tell about that, won’t it?”
She stood on tiptoe and touched her lips to his, a quick brush of soft heat that invited more. Too much more.
Before Ryan could stop himself, he’d dragged her back for another kiss, this one deeper and more urgent. He was only dimly aware of the soft-as-satin texture of her mouth under his, of the faint taste of coffee and the heady scent of perfume. What truly captured his attention was the jolt to his system, the rush of blood and lick of fire that had him wanting more…needing more. Her body—soft and pliant—molded to his, as close as a second skin, as tempting and dangerous as anything he’d ever known.
He was on the brink of dragging her straight upstairs, not to his sofa but to his bed, when reason kicked in. Breathing hard, he backed away and dragged a shaky hand through his hair.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized.
“I’m not,” she said, sounding more triumphant than shaken. “I’ve been waiting my whole life for a kiss like that.”
Warning bells went off in Ryan’s head. “It was just a kiss,” he said, regarding her uneasily.
“That’s like saying the Revolutionary War was just a little disagreement over tea.”
Despite his wariness, the analogy amused him. “There was the Boston Tea Party,” he reminded her.
“Tip of the iceberg,” she countered. “It’s okay, though, if this was just a kiss for you. Maybe then you won’t mind doing it again.”
He heard the teasing note in her voice and decided to ignore the challenge. “Not tonight. Grab your coat and let’s get out of here.”
“Chicken,” she murmured as she passed him.
“Damn straight,” he replied without apology. Anything else and he’d be making the kind of decisions a man would only live to regret.
Chapter Six
When Maggie finally crept into the house, it was nearly three in the morning. No soone
r had she crossed the threshold into the kitchen, though, than the light was switched on. Maggie nearly jumped out of her skin.
“A little late, aren’t you?” Katie inquired, looking thoroughly pleased at having scared the daylights out of her big sister.
“What are you doing up?” Maggie asked irritably. “Come to think of it, what are you doing here? I thought you’d gone back to your own place.”
“Since my big sister’s visiting, I thought I’d spend some time at home,” Katie said. “Imagine my surprise when I arrived and found that no one was home. I waited for hours before Mom and Dad got here.”
Maggie thought of her parents’ delight at the prospect of going home to be alone. “I’m sure they were thrilled to find you here,” she said dryly.
Katie frowned. “Actually, they did seem a bit taken aback. What was that about?”
Maggie smothered a grin. “Just think about it, okay?” She glanced at Katie’s mug of hot chocolate. “Is there more of that?”
“There are packages in the cabinet. I zapped it in the microwave.” When Maggie shuddered, she added, “Dump enough marshmallows on the top and you can’t tell the difference.” She stood up. “Here, I’ll do it. You sit down and put your feet up. You look beat. What did you do tonight?”
“Mom and Dad didn’t tell you?”
“They made some cryptic remark about you being with Ryan.”
“That’s right. Actually, I helped out at the pub.”
Katie paused with the cup halfway into the microwave and stared. “I thought you swore you would never wait tables again after you worked out at the Cape that summer during college.”
“This was different.”
Katie grinned. “Because Ryan was there,” she guessed. “Ah, the things we do for love.”
“I’m not in love with him,” Maggie protested. She was fascinated, curious, in lust…but love? No way. She might believe in it, but she wanted to get the rest of her life in order first.
“Just halfway there?”
“Not even halfway,” Maggie insisted, though the memory of that bone-melting kiss they’d shared sent heat shimmering through her all over again. “He’s an attractive man and a decent, complicated guy. I want to get to know him.”
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