Across the room Letitia and Jamal sat side by side, hand in hand, drawing comfort from each other the way they should have all these weeks.
“Looks like Letitia has forgiven him already,” he said to Maggie, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice.
“Human beings make mistakes,” Maggie said quietly. “Wise human beings understand that and forgive them.”
“How the hell do you forgive someone for walking out when he’s needed the most?” Ryan demanded, his chin jutting forward.
Maggie regarded him with a penetrating look. “Are we talking about Jamal now, or your parents?”
Ryan ground his teeth. “Jamal, of course,” he said tightly.
“Ryan—”
“Don’t,” he said, shooting to his feet and walking away from the lecture so evidently on the tip of her tongue. He didn’t need anyone, not even Maggie, telling him that there could be any possible justification for what his parents had done to him and his brothers. He certainly wasn’t going to entertain the notion of forgiving them for dumping three boys into the foster care system before taking off to who-knew-where.
He moved to the window and stared outside, only halfway aware that snow was falling, leaving a coating of white on the ground. Christmas was fast approaching, and it was his second most hated holiday of the year, right after Thanksgiving. He never failed to spend the day trying to imagine where his brothers might be, what they might have endured. If their holidays had been anything like his, they must hate the season, as well.
“I take it Maggie dared to say something about your parents,” Father Francis said, coming to stand beside him.
“What makes you think that?” Ryan asked.
“Little else puts such a scowl on your face,” the priest replied. “Besides, it’s natural for you to think of them on a day like this. Seeing Lamar reunited with his father must make you wonder a little about your own father.”
“I am not thinking of my parents,” Ryan insisted. “Or at least I wasn’t until the two of you decided to pester me about them.”
Father Francis waited until Ryan eventually turned to face him, then said, “Are you going to allow two people you claim to have no feelings for, at all, control the way you live the rest of your life?”
“What the devil are you talking about? They control nothing!” Ryan declared.
“Oh, really? Have you given one second’s thought to a future with Maggie?” The priest held up a silencing hand when Ryan would have responded. “And don’t waste your breath telling me you’re not attracted to her, because anyone with eyes can see that you are. Yet you do nothing about it, because in your heart you know it would have to lead somewhere, to a place you won’t allow yourself to go.”
“Shouldn’t you be praying for Lamar, instead of giving me advice on my love life?” he inquired sourly.
“I’m a modern man. I’ve learned to multitask,” Father Francis said.
Despite his irritation, Ryan bit back a laugh. “And who taught you that term? Maggie, I imagine.”
“The girl’s an inspiration, to be sure,” Father Francis said cheerfully. “But then, even you can see that, can’t you?”
Ryan sighed as the priest retreated to sit with Letitia and Jamal, apparently satisfied that he’d gotten his message across. Ryan glanced over at Maggie, saw the worry in her eyes as she watched the door, then the lingering flicker of hurt when she caught him staring at her. Resigned, he went back to her side.
“I’m sorry for snapping your head off before,” he said. “And I’m sorry I keep doing things that necessitate so many apologies.”
“It’s okay,” she said with another display of that ready forgiveness she seemed willing to dispense, no matter how unreasonable he’d been. “We’re all under a lot of stress this morning.”
“That’s no excuse.” He noted the dark circles under her eyes, the strain around her mouth. “Maggie, you must be exhausted. Why not let me drive you home?”
She shook her head. “Not until we hear something.”
“Okay then, at least rest for a bit.” He sat beside her and slipped an arm around her shoulders, giving her a gentle tug. After a moment’s resistance, she gingerly put her head on his shoulder. “That’s better. Now close your eyes. If the doctor comes, I promise I’ll wake you.”
She didn’t respond, and moments later he felt the tension in her shoulders ease. Soon after, her breathing deepened, and something inside him eased, as well. He had only the dimmest memory of feeling this protective toward anyone, quite likely because he hadn’t wanted to remember that, when it was truly important, he hadn’t been able to protect his brothers from the worst hurt of all.
Maggie couldn’t recall when she’d ever felt so safe. In her dream, she was in a house that was being buffeted by a powerful northeast wind, but she was safe and warm, tucked in Ryan’s arms in front of a cozy fire. She had the sense that as long as she was in his embrace, nothing could ever harm her.
She shifted sleepily, cuddling closer to all that strength and heat, only to hear his voice whispering urgently in her ear.
“Come on, Maggie. Wake up, darlin’. The doctor’s here.”
It was the last, more than the term of endearment, that penetrated. Her eyes snapped open, and she immediately spotted the surgeon in his operating room attire standing beside Letitia and Jamal. Her gaze shot to Ryan.
“Have you heard what he’s saying? Is it good news?”
“I can’t hear from here.”
“What about his expression? How did he look?”
Ryan regarded her blankly.
“Was he happy? Sad? What?” she prodded. “You read people’s moods every single night at the pub. Can’t you read his?”
“Maggie, we could find out everything if we went over there,” he suggested with exaggerated patience.
“I don’t want to intrude.”
“Look at it this way—if the news is good, they’d want us to share in it,” he said. “If it’s bad, they’re going to need our support.”
She blinked at that, struck by the fact that a man who professed no emotional entanglements could still have the most amazingly sensitive insights. He should give himself credit for them more often. “Of course you’re right.” She stood up and grabbed his hand, pulling him along with her.
As they reached the small gathering, Letitia turned to them, her eyes brimming with tears. Maggie’s heart stopped. “Oh, no,” she whispered, her hand tightening around Ryan’s.
“No, no,” Letitia said, gathering her into a hug. “It’s good news. He’s going to be fine. My boy’s going to be fine.” She turned to Ryan, hugging him, as well. “And it’s all because of you, not just because you paid for the surgery, but because you got his daddy here. That gave Lamar the will to live. I know it did.”
“Now, it’s still going to be a critical twenty-four to forty-eight hours,” the doctor cautioned. “But I have every reason to believe Lamar will come through this with flying colors.”
“It’s a miracle, that’s what it is,” Letitia declared, her cheeks damp.
“It is, indeed,” Jamal said. He turned to Ryan. “Thank you.”
“I’m glad I was able to help,” Ryan said, clearly uncomfortable with their gratitude. “And now that we know Lamar’s made it through the surgery, I’m going to get Maggie home. She was out with me most of the night trying to find you, Jamal. She’s beat.”
“I’ll come by later, though,” Maggie promised, too tired to waste any breath on a futile argument. “And if you need anything, anything at all, you call me.” She pressed a slip of paper into Letitia’s hands.
“Bless you, girl. You, too, Mr. Devaney.”
Outside in the crisp air, Maggie drew in a deep breath, then turned to Ryan. “I can’t begin to tell you how relieved I am. You must be, too. And if we are, just imagine what Letitia and Jamal must be feeling.”
“They love their son. Of course they’re relieved,” Ryan said.
Maggie r
egarded him intently. “You know, Ryan, it’s possible that your parents did what they did because they loved you and your brothers.”
“Don’t be absurd.”
“How will you ever know if you don’t try to find them and make them explain?”
“Why the hell would I ever want to see them again?”
“So you can put the past to rest.”
“If you knew the whole story, you’d never suggest such a thing,” he said fiercely.
“Then tell me.”
He sighed, a lost, lonely expression on his face. “Maybe one of these days I will.”
“Why not now?” she pushed.
“Because we’re both exhausted.”
“Buy me a strong cup of coffee and I can listen.”
He smiled wearily at that. “Trying to get me when my defenses are down?”
“Absolutely,” she said without hesitation.
He leaned down and covered her mouth with his. The kiss was sweet and all too brief. “Ah, Maggie, what am I going to do with you?”
“Are you seriously asking for suggestions?” she teased.
His gaze captured hers and held, amusement darkening into desire, then giving way to regret. “Maybe one of these days,” he said.
She bit back her own regrets. “I’ll hold you to that, Ryan Devaney.”
He laughed. “I don’t doubt that for a second. In fact, I’m fairly certain you have a whole list of things I’m expected to make good on.”
“None you can’t handle,” she said with confidence.
Chapter Ten
Ryan had absolutely no intention of allowing Maggie to drive all the way home in her current state of exhaustion. Since he wasn’t one bit better off, there was only one answer: she’d have to stay at his place. Proposing that, while making it clear it was an innocent suggestion, was going to be a neat trick.
He pulled to a stop in a parking space down the block from the pub and glanced over at her. She was struggling to keep her eyes open. He left the car and circled to open the passenger door.
“Okay, come with me,” he said, his tone firm.
“My car’s right across the street,” she said, when he steered her toward the pub.
“And if you get behind the wheel and drive as far as the corner, you’re likely to fall asleep and crash into something. I won’t have that on my conscience.”
She tilted her head and regarded him curiously. “Then what are you suggesting?”
“You’ll sleep at my place,” he said, trying to be grimly matter-of-fact about it.
“How intriguing!” A smile tugged at her lips. “Just minutes ago you vetoed that idea.”
Ryan laughed at her typically give-an-inch-take-a-mile response. “No, that is not what I vetoed. You’ll be sleeping in the bed. I’ll be on the sofa.”
A glint of amusement lit her eyes. “Now, where’s the fun in that, Ryan Devaney?”
He managed a severe expression. “Don’t you be tempting me, Maggie O’Brien. What would your fine father and brothers think of that?”
“They have nothing to do with my personal life,” she assured him airily.
“Do they know that?” he inquired with skepticism.
She sighed heavily. “Probably not.”
“Then perhaps we’d best do this my way for now,” he said as he led the way upstairs to his apartment over the pub.
When he walked through the doorway, he tried to view the room through Maggie’s eyes. The windows across the front let in a lot of light and the bare wood floors gleamed softly, but beyond a sofa, a comfortable chair and the television that he never bothered to flip on, there wasn’t much to recommend it.
To the left, the kitchen had new appliances he’d used no more than a handful of times because he took most of his meals downstairs in the pub. Even his coffeemaker was in like-new condition.
“The minimalist style, I see,” Maggie observed, still standing in the entry. “I imagine most people think they get a better sense of you from the pub downstairs.”
Her thoughtful comment made him wary. “And you don’t?”
“No, I think this gives away more. No clutter. No personal objects to give any hint about the man you are. All your secrets are protected here.” She met his gaze. “Is the bedroom any better?”
“Not if you’re looking to unravel any secrets,” he said with an edge of defensiveness.
He showed her the way, then stood back as she surveyed the king-size bed with its dark-green quilt tossed haphazardly over sheets in a paler shade of green, the oak dresser with nothing beyond a pile of loose change on top, the digital clock on the bedside stand and an antique rocker in the corner. She blinked when her gaze fell on that, then turned to him, her face alight with curiosity.
“A family heirloom?” she asked, crossing over to rub her hand over the oak wood with its soft sheen.
“Hardly.”
“You’re fond of antiques, then?”
“Not especially,” he said, the defensiveness back in his voice. He should never have brought her here. He could see that now. She liked digging beneath the surface of things to the raw truths beneath.
“Back problems?” she persisted unrelentingly.
“No, and what does that have to do with having a rocker in my room?”
“They say President Kennedy had a rocker because of chronic back problems. I’ve seen pictures of it.”
Ryan nodded. “Okay, yes, I guess I have heard something about that, but it’s got nothing to do with this. I saw it in a shop and I liked it. End of story.”
Her gaze narrowed with obvious disbelief. “Did your mother rock you when you were little?”
Ryan bit back a curse at the accurate guess. “How the hell would I remember a thing like that?” he asked derisively.
Maggie’s gaze never left his face. “She did, didn’t she? That’s why you bought this chair. It reminds you of one your family had.”
The truth was, he suspected it might have been this chair. On the one occasion he’d ventured back to his childhood neighborhood, he’d found the rocker in a shop not all that far from where they’d lived. He’d been drawn to it at once, and despite his claim that he wanted nothing at all to do with the past, he hadn’t been able to put it out of his mind. He’d gone back the next day and bought the rocker, but only after asking the shop owner what he knew about the original owner. Unfortunately, the man had bought the shop from someone else, and the rocker had been a part of the inventory. He’d known nothing at all about its history, not even the year in which it had been purchased.
“Maggie, drop it, okay? It’s just a chair.”
“And if someone were to take an ax to it, it wouldn’t bother you at all?” she inquired innocently.
Hands jammed in his pockets, he shrugged. “It would be a waste of a beautiful piece of craftsmanship, nothing more,” he asserted.
She sighed at his response. “If you insist.”
“I do.” He gestured toward a door across the hall. “The bathroom’s over there. There are towels in the closet. If you need anything else, let me know.”
“Just a phone. I need to call home and let them know what’s going on.”
He felt guilty for not having suggested it right away. “Given the way they worry, they must be frantic by now.”
She shook her head. “I doubt it. I called them last night and told them I was going to be with you.”
Ryan couldn’t have been more stunned if she’d punched him in the gut. “You told them that? In those words?”
She grinned at his discomfort. “Maybe not those precise words, but that was the gist of it, yes.”
Curious despite himself, he asked, “How did they react?”
“Mother said I need to bring you home to dinner tonight.”
“That’s it?”
“Oh, I imagine she’ll have quite a bit to say when you get there, but last night that’s all she said,” Maggie replied, clearly enjoying herself.
“Then l
et’s postpone that dinner for a while—like maybe ten years from now.”
She laughed. “If you think that will work, you don’t know my mother at all. She’s counting on tonight. No excuses accepted.”
“You’ll just have to extend my apologies,” Ryan insisted. “Tonight’s out of the question.”
“A prior engagement?”
“Nope. Just a healthy desire to live.”
“I don’t think it will come to that,” Maggie said soothingly. “My folks haven’t killed a prospective son-in-law yet. And before you panic—which, by the way, I can see that you’re doing—you should know that they regard any male of an appropriate age as prospective marriage material. It’s not as if they’re getting invitations printed as we speak.”
“I should hope not,” he said fervently.
She frowned at him. “You know, if I were a less confident woman, I might be offended.”
“Maggie, you know where I stand on this. I don’t do commitment. I don’t do love.”
“So you’ve mentioned.”
She didn’t seem particularly dismayed. Either she didn’t care or she didn’t believe him. “It’s not something you should forget,” he told her, to make the point clearer.
“As if you’re likely to let me,” she scoffed.
Ryan still wasn’t at all convinced she was taking him seriously. However, prolonging the subject struck him as a decidedly lousy idea. “Get some sleep,” he muttered, then left the room and closed the door behind him.
The woman was dangerous. As if she couldn’t tempt him with a glance, now she was deliberately taunting him every chance she got. One of these days, his willpower was going to snap and his common sense was going to fly right out the window, and then nothing would keep him from joining her in that bed of his. In fact, right now, with the image of her snuggled beneath his sheets firmly implanted in his brain, it was almost more than he could cope with.
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