Oh Danny Boy: A Sweet Contemporary Romance

by Josie Riviera

  Danny took a deep breath. “Clara, who was that man?”

  She pulled from his hold and rubbed her hands along her muddy leggings. “Jack Connor, my ex-boyfriend.”

  Danny nodded slowly. “I assumed so.”

  “How would you know about Jack?”

  “After Seamus finished his interview, we chatted. He told me more about you, including your relationship with Jack.”

  “My brother has a tongue that would clip a hedge. Sometimes, he never stops talking.”

  “Fortunately, I’m a good listener.” Especially, Danny was coming to realize, if the subject involved Clara.

  She chewed her lower lip. “I could’ve headed Jack off if he hadn’t caught me unawares and lifted my purse.”

  “Aye. You’re fearless.” Danny offered a supportive smile. “However, for my peace of mind, will you promise to ring me if you see him again? He’s a dangerous, unpredictable man. You have my number and can put me on speed dial.”

  A pair of mutinous eyes stared back at him and she didn’t reciprocate his smile.

  “Give me your word.”

  No answer.

  “Give me your word,” he demanded sharply.

  Time ticked in charged silence before she finally swung her gaze to the windshield wipers and muttered, “Yeh.”

  She was a stubborn, foolish woman if she believed she could outwit a man as ruthless as Jack Connor. From what Seamus had revealed, Jack was prone to fits of unpredictable rage.

  Danny stared at Clara’s delicate profile, the dogged set of her chin. She was a spirited, splendid woman who needed him, whether she admitted that fact or not. Despite her rebellious gaze, she was as tense as when she’d raced up the rusty stairs to the top of Farthing Bridge.

  She tucked her hands beneath the warmth of his wool coat. “So you offered my brother a job today and then the subject swung around to me.”

  “Something like that.” Danny stroked the damp hair from her forehead. “I’m grateful to Seamus, because I couldn’t have helped you if I didn’t know about your situation with Jack. Now that I do, I can assure you that you should never be afraid again. I’ll protect you.”

  She waved a dismissive hand, although her soulful brown eyes seemed to seek reassurance. “And how will you manage to protect me?”

  His wealth. His resources. He’d garnered respect and influential friends because of his prosperous business. Aye, some enemies in the guise of disgruntled customers too. That was the reason he’d hired Ian.

  Danny paused. He could enlist Ian’s help to ensure Clara’s safety. He hadn’t used Ian as a bodyguard for months. Besides, Danny thought, he was a coffee shop owner, not a head of state. He didn’t need a bodyguard.

  “I’ll protect you the way I manage everything in my life,” he answered. “Every detail is arranged so that nothing will go wrong.”

  A fresh stream of tears slid down her cheeks. “Jack will make certain he can’t be found, and no one will talk. I know how living in the streets works.”

  So do I, Danny wanted to say. And people living in the streets answered questions if the right amount of money was offered.

  He placed his arm around her and she bent her head to his chest, soaking his shirt with her sobs. He let her cry, all the while whispering soothing assurances, hugging her closer. When her tears subsided, she wiped at her eyes. “The judge assured me Jack would be locked in prison and never bother me again.”

  Danny lifted her chin. Solemnly, he said, “I assure you that Jack Connor will be found, then locked away for a very, very long time.”

  Clara drew a long, inward sigh. Danny was offering assurances because he felt sorry for her. She’d known well-meaning people when she’d lived in the Italian orphanage. In the end, she’d fended for herself.

  No doubt Danny pitied her because she’d cried so hard. Her chin trembled. She was pathetic.

  She didn’t know what was worse—false assurances or pity. However, Danny’s conviction that he’d find Jack Connor and send him back to prison was the only promise she had, and whether it was true or not, she clung to it as a lifeline.

  Despite Danny’s calm assertions, his expression had changed from frantic worry when he’d first spotted her, to composed decisiveness. Beneath his quiet exterior, she could sense his anger was simmering, albeit carefully restrained.

  He adjusted the heater on the dashboard. “Comfortable?”

  “Yeh, I’m about dried off.”

  “Care to tell me exactly what happened tonight?” he asked quietly.

  She watched him from beneath her lashes and briefly nodded when it became apparent he was waiting for a response.

  “Did Jack say anything to you?” he pressed.

  She waffled, played with the strap of her purse. “What do you mean?”

  “Did he threaten you?” Danny grabbed her hands and waited until she met his gaze. “Did he say where he was going, or anything that might assist me and the garda in finding him?”

  “I can’t recall specific details. It all happened so fast.”

  Except when Jack had said, You’ll be lookin’ at heaven’s gates for this.

  She feared Danny’s reaction if she told him. He’d most likely find an excuse to drop her off immediately at her flat and then attempt to find Jack himself.

  No, she told herself firmly. She had placed Danny in too much danger already. He owned coffee shops for a living. He wasn’t a private investigator. He’d grown up in Dublin and visited art museums with his elderly aunt on weekends.

  Resolutely, she squared her shoulders.

  Danny leveled her with a bold stare. “Should I believe you?”

  “Of course,” she lied.

  “You’d have no reason to protect Jack, would you?”

  She bridled. “When we were together, he beat me so often that I lost count and he ruined my life for a long spell. Of course I wouldn’t protect him.”

  But she did want to protect Danny.

  She tucked her purse neatly on the floor. She should tell Danny everything. She should. She would. Just not tonight. Her emotions were poised to careen out of control at the slightest prompting.

  “Anything else?” he asked.

  “I told you. No.” She responded louder than she’d intended, torn between her decision to protect him and the pressing, unexplainable fear that her decision, either way, would result in disaster.

  “You’re a magnificent, although imprudent woman if you think I believe for one second that you’re telling me everything. Don’t forget, I’m available anywhere, anytime, whenever you want to talk.”

  She gazed at his face, so recklessly good-looking, nodded briefly, and resumed her absorption of the rhythmic swishing of the windshield wipers.

  With a sigh, Danny pulled his cell phone from his shirt pocket. “Your brother is probably pacing every inch of the coffee shop. He’s waiting there in case you arrived there before I found you. Do you want me to call him?”

  “Seamus,” she groaned. “How could I have forgotten about my dear brother?” Mentally chastising herself, she elected to spend extra time with him over the next few days to make up for her absence.

  Danny punched in Seamus’s number, waited for the phone to ring through, then spoke quickly. “Aye, lad, Clara’s with me and she’s safe. Get yourself into the shop, enjoy some dinner, and we’ll be there in a wee bit. We’ll explain more when we arrive. Aye. Aye.” Danny clicked off. “Be prepared to answer a thousand questions. Should we call your sister next?”

  Clara hesitated, trying to recall Anna’s whereabouts. Her hesitation was punctuated by a wheeze, which Danny politely ignored.

  “Anna’s visiting a university in Wicklow and she’s seeing Ian afterward. I’ll phone her tomorrow morning.” Clara attempted a half smile. “Thank you for everything, Danny.”

  “Please, don’t thank me. I’m excelling in the course, Rescuing Lovely Farthing Damsels in Distress 101 ever since I met you. Besides, I had an ulterior motive tonight. We
can all dine together at the coffee shop. The owner said it’s all right.”

  His joking did exactly what he’d most likely intended and roused her into a full-fledged smile. “I can’t eat. My stomach’s in a knot, and the desserts at your shop are too heavy.”

  His brows rose. “They are?”

  “Yeh, beginning with the Guinness coffee cake my sister devoured yesterday.”

  He chuckled. “Will you join me for a cuppa tea then?” The kindness in his tone, his earnest blue-eyed gaze, made her feel ungrateful and impolite for refusing his dinner offer.

  She nodded. “A cuppa tea sounds brilliant.” The strain of the evening had brought a catch to her voice. “And despite what happened yesterday in your boardroom, I appreciate all you’ve done for Seamus.”

  “It’s no bother. And I admire you because you’ve gone way beyond the definition of a devoted sibling.”

  “You don’t know what Seamus has sacrificed for me.”

  “Care to elaborate or should I speculate?”

  She shifted. “Seamus was devastated after his wife, Fiona, died. And although I knew he was depressed, I didn’t offer him any support. Instead, I was self-absorbed with my own problems because of Jack.”

  “Very understandable,” Danny said.

  Silence settled. He seemed to be waiting for her to say more.

  She continued to stare straight ahead. The wipers were relentless, the Irish rain incessant. “I’d assumed our relationship was over. Then one night, Jack crept through the kitchen window and broke into my flat. I screamed, tried to ring for help … he grabbed the phone from me.”

  “Is he the reason your windows are bolted?”

  “Yeh.” She tightened her hands into small fists. “At the time, I hadn’t seen Jack around Farthing for weeks and I’d started to feel safe again. If Seamus hadn’t arrived when he did …” She squeezed her eyes shut to block the memories.

  “Go on.”

  She stole a peek at Danny’s concerned expression. “I can’t.”

  Danny laced his long fingers around hers. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  She accepted his hold, admiring the quiet authority surrounding him, evident in his deep, calm voice and bold, certain strides. He was a man, a real man, unlike any man she’d ever known.

  She didn’t continue her Jack story, didn’t say that Seamus had rushed her to the hospital because she’d suffered a broken rib and numerous bruises from Jack’s beating. Or that Seamus had hunted down Jack once she was settled in the hospital. Her brother had never revealed the details. Jack had simply disappeared from her life and been locked in a Cork prison soon afterward.

  And now Jack had returned. It couldn’t be possible. Not again, when she’d fought so hard to be rid of him. She shook her head in denial, pulled from Danny’s grip, and clenched her clammy palms together.

  “Your brother told me the same story,” Danny said quietly.

  “Then why did you ask me?”

  “I’m a good listener,” he reminded.

  “And Seamus could talk the teeth out of a saw.” She closed her eyes to stop her weeping. What had started as a conversation about her ex was quickly becoming a crying free-for-all.

  Danny reached across the seat. “I carry paper napkins in the glove department, which I reserve for crying women I’ve rescued,” he said with amusement.

  She gave a self-conscious laugh. “You’ve known that many?”

  The amusement vanished from his face.

  She grimaced. Of course he’d known many women, all of them much prettier and more sophisticated than she.

  “Actually, you’re the first crying woman I’ve ever cared about.” He feigned levity, although his expression had sobered. The sincerity in his voice, the smiling gentleness that returned to his gaze, chipped a piece of the wall away from her fiercely guarded heart.

  He pulled out a paper napkin. Stamped on it were the words “The Ground Café” and the recognizable pot-of-gold logo.

  She dabbed at her eyes and grinned, before tucking the napkin in her purse. “Always the businessman, yeh?”

  He grinned. “I might meet a potential coffee customer passing through the alleyway.”

  She managed a trembling smile. “You should warn them about coffee being bitter.”

  Lightly, he touched her cheek. “Not my coffee.” His hand traveled to her nape, a light, soothing caress. She should push his hand away, she told herself. Her breath felt thick and heavy in her throat, and she didn’t move.

  “Somehow, someway, I’ll convince you to love my coffee.” His arms shifted protectively around her. “You’re an extraordinary woman, Clara.”

  He bent his head. His lips hovered only inches from hers. He smelled of coffee and cream, the scent reassuring. A breath away. She saw the banked fire of desire in his gaze, and deep inside her a response rose, a longing for his strength, the safety of his powerful, gentle embrace.

  She leaned into him, didn’t resist when he kissed her, savoring his hard mouth pressing against hers.

  He lifted his lips a fraction. “I will protect you, luv.” Affection burned in his eyes, deepening them to a rich indigo, the blue specks reminding her of an ocean, deep with complications.

  “I’m glad I came to Farthing,” he said. “I wasn’t supposed to be here. At the last second, one of my managers called in sick, so I drove from Dublin to oversee the grand opening. If I hadn’t, I never would’ve met you.”

  His hair gleamed the color of a rich mahogany, damp with rain. He’d pushed a strand off his forehead, which only accentuated his sharp Irish features. His well-built arms swelled beneath the sleeves of his work shirt.

  Her heart gave a lurch. He was so handsome, so fearless, and he gazed at her with such affection.

  “I’m glad you came too,” she said softly.

  The rain had softened to a light pattering against the windshield. She snuggled closer to him, her cheek touching his chest, and she accepted his comforting embrace.

  Practicality intruded. Danny Brady moved in wealthy circles she could hardly fathom. And she’d pledged to safeguard her heart and never be any man’s fool again.

  Just for tonight, she’d accept his thoughtfulness, his solid arms keeping her secure. Just for tonight she’d focus on the safety he offered, assuring herself that she’d never be imprudent enough to fall for him. She could never love anyone. She’d thought she loved Jack and he’d left her bruised, vulnerable, and ashamed.

  Danny tipped up her chin. “Nor would I have had the pleasure of saving you and your family at every juncture if I’d stayed in Dublin and lived my quiet, uneventful life.”

  She smiled slightly. “Somehow, I’m sure that your life is the opposite of uneventful. And I could’ve handled the dire situations myself.”

  His eyebrows came together in a mild scowl, and she chided herself. She shouldn’t repay his kindness with churlish responses. If Danny hadn’t rescued her in the alleyway, she could’ve ended in the hospital. Or worse.

  The image of a hulking Jack, the unnerving spider tattoo on his neck, prompted her to shiver.

  Danny brushed a kiss on her temples. “You’ll catch a chill if you sit in your damp clothes much longer. Let’s get back to the coffee shop.” With noticeable reluctance, he dropped his arm and started the engine. “I wrote new song lyrics. Would you be interested in hearing them?”

  “You’re trying to take my mind off what happened tonight with a song?”

  “Aye.”

  “Sing away.”

  A combination of affection and incredulity tapped through her. Something as average as writing a song and wanting her to hear it actually gave joy to a successful man like Danny Brady.

  As he merged the car into the traffic on the main street, he sang to the tune of “Irish Rover”: “My lovely Irish damsel would rather eat an English toffee, if she drinks my Irish lattes, she will relent.”

  She laughed out loud. “You changed the words.”

  “Aye, and
the changing of the words was intentional.” He clicked his blinker and passed a slow-moving car. “Are you working this weekend?”

  Now where had that come from?

  “I teach a dance class on Saturday morning. Why?”

  “On Sunday I’m headed to my main office in Dublin to update several computer files. My lawyer’s been researching the specific laws and regulations regarding international franchising, because each country is different. The paperwork is all signed, but I need to reword a couple paragraphs of the agreement and it shouldn’t take long.” He began singing again. “So will you accompany me on our first date? I’m hoping you’ll consent.”

  “I’ve never been asked out on a date to the lyrics of a song before.”

  “Should I switch my Irish charm on high to persuade you?”

  He’d done enough of that for one night, she thought, feeling a funny squeeze in her stomach at his inviting smile. His damp work shirt hugged his strapping shoulders, and the spell of his heavy-lidded gaze kept her eyes riveted to his. He seemed to grow handsomer by the hour.

  “I’d like to go, although I can’t,” she said. “Anna is counting on our weekly picture show outing, and I’m treating.”

  “She can go with Seamus. I’ll treat them both, and that way Seamus won’t be alone. Any other excuses?”

  “Housework?”

  “Your flat is immaculate.” A roguish gleam came to his eyes, and he sang in his baritone voice. “I’ve invited her to Dublin and hope she will consent.” He emphasized the last word with an infuriating grin.

  She gave in. “All right, yeh, I’ll go with you to Dublin. Teresa’s Irish Dancers is a prestigious dance academy in the city centre. Perhaps they’re hiring instructors. I’ve always dreamed of owning my own dancing school and naming the school after myself. Does that sound vain?”

  “On the contrary, I’ve very impressed. If anyone can succeed, you can.”

  “Unfortunately, funding is required to set up and design a studio.” She sighed. “Followed by advertising costs, insurances, permits, leases. Perhaps once Seamus’s gambling debt is repaid, I can apply for start-up financing.”

  “I can lend you the money.”