Cavanaugh Strong

by Marie Ferrarella

  She had to set her grandmother straight before this got out of hand. Lucy had a tendency to let her imagination run away with her, given half a chance.

  “I’m not his date,” Noelle began.

  “Well, you’re not his water boy—or water girl,” Lucy amended, then challenged, “If you’re not his date, what would you call it?”

  “Easy. I’m his plus one,” Noelle said for lack of a better term. That was all she needed, to have her grandmother tell people she was “dating” her partner. “And from what I gather, the Cavanaughs do things in a big way. They throw their doors open and yell, ‘you-all come on over now,’ or something like that and everyone within a twenty-mile radius just turns up, eats and has a general good time.”

  Okay, so it was an exaggeration, she thought—but not by much. She had never paid attention to the actual dynamics before, so she had pretty much been in the dark about how the Cavanaughs operated, but now that one of them was her partner, she was perforce more in tune to what was going on. The family, from what she could ascertain, went on for miles.

  Lucy laughed shortly under her breath. “Certainly wouldn’t want to clean up after that party,” she murmured, lifting the lid from the pan and turning over each piece of chicken so that the other side could be browned. “But I do think that you and Melinda should go. It’ll be good for you,” she said, looking at Noelle significantly. “You don’t get out that much, you know.”

  Noelle met her grandmother’s look head-on. “Right back at you, Lucy.”

  Lucy waved away the mere suggestion. “I’m not up to it.”

  Noelle was not about to be put off. She had no real desire to attend a reception where she hardly knew anyone, but her grandmother could use the diversion. “Which is exactly why you should go. And if you’re worried about not fitting in, I’m told that Cavanaughs come in all sizes, shapes and ages.”

  “I’ve never had a problem fitting in,” Lucy informed her.

  Well, that settled that, Noelle thought, relieved. “Great, then you’ll come.”

  Lucy began to demur again, then stopped as she apparently thought better of it. “Maybe it might be fun at that,” she agreed. The moment she made her decision, Lucy’s face lit up.

  Noting the look, Noelle felt really pleased. She hadn’t seen Lucy smile like that since Henry’s death. It was worth having to deal with feeling awkward at the reception just to see Lucy acting like her old self.

  Thanks, Cavanaugh, Noelle thought as she began to set the table. I owe you one.

  * * *

  It was hard to say who was more excited about attending this wedding, Noelle thought while she waited for her partner to arrive the following Saturday, Lucy or Melinda. Both her grandmother and her daughter seemed to be unusually energized. Amazingly enough, Melinda had even held still for her while she brushed her daughter’s hair to get her ready.

  At least Melinda’s little body was still. Her mouth, however, was going a mile a minute, asking questions about the wedding, about her partner and about everything in between.

  Noelle could hardly keep up, or answer the six-year-old fast enough. Each time she did, another question would pop up.

  “How many kids are going to be there?” Melinda asked as she was finishing up with her daughter’s hair.

  “Hold still, honey,” she cautioned. This was the last snag she needed to brush out of the curly red hair. “A lot.”

  “How many in ‘a lot’?” Melinda asked, attempting to turn her head around in order to look up at her.

  Placing her hand on Melinda’s chin, Noelle deliberately moved her daughter’s head so that she faced forward again. “How old did you say you were?” she asked the petite little redhead with a laugh.

  Melinda did her best to appear taller than she was. “I’m six. You know that, Momma,” the little girl reminded her.

  “Yes, I do. What I don’t know is the exact number of kids that’ll be there. I just know that the Cavanaughs have a lot of kids in their family, so you’ll have plenty of company at the reception.”

  All this time, Lucy had maintained a steadfast post by the bay window, acting as a lookout. “I think our ride’s here,” she announced just then, glancing over her shoulder at Noelle.

  Duncan.

  Noelle had absolutely no idea why Lucy’s innocent announcement would have her stomach suddenly tightening up as if it were a sweater tossed into a dryer set on Hot. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen him five days a week for more than the past six months.

  And besides, this wasn’t a date, she reminded herself. If it had been, she would have given him some excuse, begged off and as time for the reception drew close, she would have been busy cleaning the kitchen floor or something equally as glamorous and exciting.

  She wasn’t much on social get-togethers, not since the death of her second fiancé. These days, Lucy and Melinda were more than enough company for her. Dating was part of her past, not the present or the future.

  The doorbell rang.

  Noelle pressed her lips together. It looked like she was attending this social gathering whether she liked it or not.

  “Okay, people,” Noelle said, trying to sound as nonchalant as if they were just heading for an outing at the grocery store, “it’s showtime.”

  “We’re putting on a show?” Melinda’s eyes widening gleefully. “What kind of show?” she asked.

  “The kind that’ll keep your mom’s partner coming back,” Lucy told her great-granddaughter, lowering her voice.

  She hadn’t lowered it enough. “Lucy!” There was a warning note in Noelle’s voice.

  A note that Lucy made a point of completely ignoring. “No time to talk now, honey. Can’t keep the man waiting,” she declared, ushering Melinda before her as she opened the front door. “Men don’t like to be kept waiting.”

  “Hi, handsome, we’re ready,” Lucy greeted Duncan. She nodded at her great-granddaughter, who she had standing directly in front of her. “This little live wire is Melinda. She looks just like Noelle did when Noelle was her age.”

  “He doesn’t need to know that, Lucy,” Noelle chided her grandmother.

  Lucy was undaunted as she smiled at Duncan. “Just a little sidebar. I have a lot of trivia at my disposal,” she confided to Noelle’s partner.

  “Then I’ll know who to come to if I have a question,” Duncan quipped. Crouching down to the little girl’s level, he went through the motions of a formal introduction. “Hi, Melinda. My name’s Duncan.”

  Like a true little femme fatale in training, Melinda smiled up at him. “Hi. I’m ready to go.”

  Duncan rose to his feet, fighting the urge to tousle her hair. He had a feeling that a lot had gone into giving the little girl that smooth hairstyle.

  “So am I,” he replied. And then Duncan glanced in Noelle’s direction, actually looking at his partner for the first time since he’d walked in. To his credit, he managed to keep the surprise from registering on his face. But not from his mind.

  Damn, she looked good.

  When they rode together, for the most part Noelle showed up in jackets, tailored pants and silk, button-down blouses, all very utilitarian. Her hair was usually worn up and was pinned out of the way.

  Noelle was wearing her hair down now and it fell to her shoulders in an enticing wave that was reddish with golden highlights. Instead of a suit she was wearing a dark green, above-the-knee dress that managed to find every one of her soft curves and clung to them like a long-lost friend.

  “You seen my partner around?” he asked her once he regained the use of his tongue. “I was supposed to meet her here.”

  “Very funny. You want to change your mind about that invitation?” she asked, thinking maybe this was his way of wiggling out of having to take her to the reception.

  “Not a chance
,” he said with feeling. “You clean up nice, O’Banyon,” he told her. His eyes, as they took in every inch of her with slow, languid care, said a great deal more.

  Noelle struggled not to blush.

  “Momma wasn’t dirty,” Melinda informed him, confused.

  He grinned at the little girl. “My mistake,” he said. “All right, ladies, if we’re going to make the wedding, we should get going.”

  Though Melinda looked eager to latch on to him, Duncan paused to offer his arm to the little girl’s great-grandmother instead.

  Lucy slipped her arm through his and then patted his forearm. “Whoever taught you your manners, Duncan, should be commended.”

  “Thank you. My mother would have been happy to hear that,” he said.

  Instant sympathy filled Lucy’s eyes as she seemed to understand the unspoken part of Duncan’s statement.

  The man was a smooth operator, she’d give him that, Noelle thought, locking her door and taking her daughter’s hand.

  And he’d also been right, she decided, catching a glimpse of her grandmother’s profile. This outing was definitely good for Lucy, and for that, she was extremely grateful to him.

  * * *

  “Overwhelmed yet?”

  The amused question came from a pretty young woman who approached her from the side approximately an hour after Duncan had brought her and her family to the wedding. They had arrived in time to watch Duncan’s brother solemnly recite the vows that bound him to Tiana, the woman he’d met while working undercover.

  Once the ceremony was over, it was a signal for the intense partying to begin.

  But for all the raw, unfiltered energy that abounded all around her as far as she could see, the insanity element which was responsible for abject chaos that overtook better judgment at so many of these kinds of parties was notably missing.

  The participants were vibrant, but—possibly because of who they were and what they represented—they were also law-abiding. To a person, Noelle could not help noticing, the people attending this reception were all exemplary partiers.

  Noelle, standing momentarily alone, turned around now in response to the question and saw a young woman smiling at her.

  The moment their eyes met, the young woman was quick to speak. “Hi, I’m Kelly. If it helps you remember, I’m also Brennan and Duncan’s sister,” she added, then laughed at Noelle’s reaction. “Don’t look so worried. There won’t be a quiz at the end of the reception,” she promised. “This can be a pretty overwhelming group the first few times you encounter them, especially in such numbers. But we’re harmless if you remember to feed us. Just kidding,” Kelly quickly assured her.

  “If you’re going to survive this crowd,” Kelly counseled, “you’re going to have to relax. But then,” she amended, “if you’ve survived so far being Duncan’s partner, I guess that I don’t really need to give you any advice, do I?”

  “Actually,” Noelle confided, lowering her voice just a tad, “I’d appreciate any help I can get.” She paused, thinking of Duncan and his behavior these past few hours. “Is he always this, um...”

  “Pushy?” Kelly guessed, supplying the missing word.

  The word wasn’t couched in niceties, but it did sum up what she was trying to express. “Well, yes,” Noelle finally said.

  “No. Actually, he’s toned down some,” Kelly confided. “He used to be worse. Had to have his way in everything,” she confided. “I think becoming a police detective helped him grow up. It was either that or the rest of us were going to kill him.”

  “Then there’s hope for you yet,” Duncan told his sister, coming up behind her and his partner. He had two glasses of punch in his hand. He offered one to Noelle and kept the other. “Thought you might need this right about now,” he said. “By the way,” he confided, inclining his head just a little, “I think your grandmother is charming my grand-uncle, or vice versa,” he allowed, nodding in the couple’s general direction.

  Noelle looked over to where he’d indicated. Sure enough, Lucy was talking to an older man with the thickest mane of silver hair she’d seen in a while. It made her think of a lion, holding court. Lucy appeared to be truly enjoying herself. Coming here had been a good thing, Noelle thought, pleased.

  “Hey, where’s my glass of punch?” Kelly asked.

  “Probably still in the bowl would be my guess,” Duncan anwered, not rising to his sister’s bait. “Better go get it before it’s all gone.”

  “It’s never ‘all gone’ at Andrew’s house,” Thomas Cavanaugh, one of Duncan’s newly discovered relatives said, walking by the two of them. “The man seems to always have this endless supply of whatever it is you’re looking for.” Nodding at Noelle, he introduced himself. “Hi, I’m Thomas.”

  “I’m Noelle.” She flashed a smile at him, but it was easy to see that she was getting very confused by all the faces at the reception. “Is there some huge cloning device hidden on the property somewhere?” she asked Duncan after she took a sip of her punch.

  “I’ll let you field that one,” Kelly told Duncan. “Me, I’ve got a punch bowl to find.” Nodding at her, Kelly took her leave.

  “We do tend to look somewhat alike,” Duncan agreed. “But if you take a really good look at any of us standing side by side, you’ll be able to see the differences,” he assured her.

  Noelle sincerely doubted that.

  “If you say so,” she murmured without much conviction. Right about now, scores of names and faces were all swimming aimlessly in her mind’s eye. “I want to thank you again for inviting Lucy,” she said more seriously. She glanced over at her grandmother and Shamus, the family patriarch she was talking to. The two seemed to be very much in a world of their own. Looking at the duo, Noelle smiled to herself. From this distance, her grandmother looked almost like a young girl, flirting with a boyfriend. “She really does seem to be having a good time.”

  “I figured as much,” he said casually. “Rumor has it that no one’s ever had a bad time at one of these gatherings.” As he spoke to her, Duncan noticed the way Noelle appeared to be scanning the area, her eyes darting from one cluster of kids to another on the wide back lawn. “She’s over there.” He pointed out a rather large group of children playing right next to the gaily decorated gazebo.

  Melinda appeared to be smack in the center of the group. Even at this distance, Noelle could see her daughter was having a very good time.

  “She commands attention,” Duncan commented.

  Noelle wasn’t about to argue that. “She gets that from her great-grandmother,” she told him.

  “And what does she get from her mother?” he asked, surprising her. What he said next surprised her even more. “I mean besides those incredible green eyes and that dazzling grin.”

  Suddenly embarrassed, Noelle demurred, “I don’t have either.”

  Duncan’s expression was incredulous. “They take away all the mirrors in your house, O’Banyon?” he asked. “Because from where I’m standing, that was a pretty accurate assessment on my part.”

  Instead of avoiding his eyes, she did an about-face and met his head-on. “You practicing, Cavanaugh?” she asked him, trying her best to sound distant.

  It would have been all too easy to allow herself to believe he meant what he’d just said, believe that this was a date not with her partner, but with the drop-dead gorgeous guy that he was. And that, she knew would have been a very fatal mistake—for him and most especially, for her. They meshed well as partners. She couldn’t sacrifice that because being with him made her feel an itch she wanted so desperately to scratch.

  He didn’t follow her meaning. “Practicing?” he repeated, waiting for some sort of clarification.

  “For when you go out on a real date,” she supplied. “I realize I’m just a place holder, but I guess you decided to get in a little
practice time on me so the day’s not a total loss.”

  “You were a ‘place holder,’” he allowed. “But place holders are made of cardboard—and you’re not. Moreover, I have to admit, I’m having a pretty good time,” he told her.

  What was left mostly unsaid was that he was having that good time with her.

  But it was understood.

  “Yeah,” she heard herself admitting, her voice sounding a little reedy and high, “me, too.”

  Because looking into his eyes was having a very strange effect on her, Noelle shifted her gaze and looked down into the glass she was holding instead. The late afternoon sunshine danced and shimmered across the surface like trapped sunbeams.

  “I guess that means there’s something in this punch, huh?” she asked, attempting to laugh off what she’d just said.

  “Just juice,” he assured her.

  Noelle took a breath. “I guess I just can’t hold my juice,” she murmured.

  Duncan grinned. “I guess not.” Then, to her surprise, he took the glass he’d recently given her out of her hand and placed it on the nearest table. He put his own right next to it.

  Though she’d surrendered her glass, Noelle watched him rather uncertainly. “What are you doing?”

  “Can’t you hear it?” he asked. When she made no response, he nodded his head toward the speakers. “They’re playing our song.”

  Okay, time to pull back a little. There were boundaries that had to be reaffirmed. Otherwise, working with Cavanaugh might be a problem come Monday morning.

  “We don’t have a song, Cavanaugh,” Noelle needlessly reminded him.

  “Then I guess we’ll have to make it this one,” he said.

  The next thing she knew, Noelle found herself dancing—and having what she could only assess as an out-of-body experience.

  With Duncan.

  Chapter 7

  “But I don’t dance,” Noelle insisted.

  The tune was fast and catchy and there were a fair amount of couples dancing on the makeshift dance floor some of his siblings had put together solely for this occasion.