This time she laughed, and Daniel, who normally remained as personally removed from his clients as possible, was conscious of a strong desire to make her do it again.
“I don’t think it’s preference. He really has no choice.”
“Do you know him well?” he asked casually.
“Yes. My brother and his sister were married.”
“Were married?”
“They died.”
“I’m terribly sorry.”
“Thank you.” She reached for her purse. “What happens next?”
“I’ll contact Sean O’Malley.” He removed the bill from the table. “Never mind about your tea. We’re not so liberated here in Ireland.”
Again she laughed. “I’ve noticed.”
“Do you approve, or are you one of those women who fights to open her own doors?”
She thought a minute. “I enjoy the small courtesies,” she said carefully, “but I also think people should follow their dreams, no matter what their sex. It goes both ways, don’t you think?”
She was lovely and unusual and completely earnest, and he probably would have agreed to anything she suggested. Collecting himself, he nodded. “A grand philosophy, very sensible.”
Her mouth curved. “Goodbye, Mr. O’Shea.”
Too soon, she was standing up, pulling on her gloves, reaching for her coat. “Are you alone in Galway for the day?”
“Yes. I have Christmas shopping to do.”
He was sensitive enough to recognize a dismissal. Standing, he held out his hand. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Mollie.”
“Thank you. I’ll tell Sean you’ll be contacting him.”
He watched her walk through the door. Then he settled back for one last cup of tea and a brief rerun of their meeting. It was something he always did before he took on a case, assessing the liabilities against the benefits, the defendant’s case against the one he would bring to the court, lining up in his mind the arguments on an imaginary clipboard.
Mollie Tìerney would definitely be an asset. Young but not too young, well spoken, educated, and attractive. The courts were sympathetic to women like that, and they liked Americans. She would definitely be one of his strongest assets.
From what Daniel remembered of Sean O’Malley, he would be one as well. A quiet bloke for the most part, reserved but not self-conscious, bright, with a crooked grin and a dangerous, understated charm capable of reducing its recipient to a state of fawning dementia. Yes, Sean O’Malley would be another asset. Daniel wondered if he’d changed. He pushed back his chair, gathered his belongings, and stood. It was time to find out.
CHAPTER 22
Russ Sanders smelled like pine trees with a touch of spice. Mollie, circling the dance floor of the community center in his arms, inhaled deeply to be sure she’d gotten the combination right. The aftershave was something called Poison or Poseidon. She couldn’t remember which.
Despite their straitened circumstances, the islanders had generously donated what they could to the celebration. Long white-clothed tables groaned under the weight of ham, bacon, and beef. Tantalizing aromas of roasted potatoes and fried chips, soups, bread, scones, and cakes wafted from the kitchen. Foil-wrapped paper bells sat on smaller tables that had been pushed back from the wooden floor to make room for the dancers. Red and green streamers hung from the rafters. Wreaths made of paper, berries, and dry twigs decorated the walls, and an enormous nativity scene covered the length of the entire banquet table. The barren limestone of Inishmore did not provide for Christmas trees. Mollie missed the clean pure scent of pine.
Seated in orange plastic chairs against the wall, women, past the age of dancing, nodded and gossiped while men of the same generation gathered at a corner of the bar downing Guinness and watching the grainy television screen. Young people crowded the dance floor. Sweating bodies swirled to the sounds of drum, flute, banjo, and accordion music, blurring into blue clouds of cigarette smoke. A cruínrúu at Christmas was an all-important event on the island.
Russ was tall, but Mollie could still see over his shoulder. Sean had taken to the floor with Caili. He lifted her against his chest so they were eye-level. Her small gamin’s face was alight with laughter as her uncle dipped and swayed to the melodic music of the local band.
She watched him lean into the little girl’s neck and whisper something into her ear. She saw him look at her, his face alive, on the verge of a laugh, his eyes warm with love. Mollie felt the tightening in her chest. She knew what it was, this breath-stealing feeling, as if the fiddler had increased his tempo and the sedate dance had become the wild toe-pointing, heel-kicking Irish jig she loved to watch but hadn’t the courage to try for herself.
Forcing her eyes away from the man she wanted, she smiled at Russ. He was easy to be with, a pleasant companion, a witty conversationalist, the perfect tenant. Her mother approved of him. Emma fed him gourmet meals, refused his help in the kitchen, and suggested opportunities where he could be alone with Mollie, all of which he accepted with appreciation and good humor.
The fiddler’s fingers flew across the strings. The tempo of the dance increased. She pulled away, and he dropped his arms immediately. “This one isn’t for me,” she said. “Let’s sit it out.”
Obligingly, he followed her back to a table where the group from Scripps had gathered.
Beth, the marine biologist Mollie had met on the beach, moved over for the two of them to sit down. “This is nice,” she remarked when Mollie had settled in beside her. “I was miserable when I found out I wouldn’t be home for Christmas, but this makes up for it.” She lifted her Guinness in a salute. “Cheers. Do you miss being home?”
“I miss the convenience,” Mollie replied, “but my family is here. That makes all the difference.”
Beth nodded, her attention focused on the dancers. “How do you feel about your brother-in-law?”
“Excuse me?” Mollie stammered.
“He’s single and gorgeous. Would you consider setting us up?”
Mollie’s fingers tightened around her glass. Deliberately, she kept her expression neutral. “I don’t think he’s in the market for a relationship right now,” she said carefully.
Beth nodded. “I know that he recently lost his sister and he’s caring for her children, but I’ve heard that you have to snap up the good ones right away or someone else will beat you to it.”
“What makes you think Sean is a good one?”
“Are you saying he isn’t?”
“Of course not.” What was she saying? “I didn’t realize you knew him well enough to make that kind of judgment.”
“I don’t,” Beth said agreeably, “but look at him out there with the little girl. A man like that has to be one of the good ones.”
Instead Mollie looked directly at the attractive American woman. Dark hair and eyes against cream-colored skin were a lovely combination. “I’m afraid you’re on your own where Sean is concerned. I met him for the first time in September. That isn’t long enough for me to orchestrate his love life.”
Beth laughed. “All right. I’ll do the best I can to throw myself in his path now and then.”
Mollie sipped her drink. Her stomach burned with roiling emotions. She forced herself to ask the question. “Do you think you could really live here permanently?”
“Good Lord, no!” Beth appeared genuinely shocked. “Whatever made you think I’d consider it?”
“What about Sean?”
The woman’s eyes widened. “I want to go out with him, Mollie, not marry him.”
Like red flags, the angry color rose in Mollie’s cheeks. “In other words,” she said tightly, “you want to spend time with him, sleep with him, possibly make him fall in love with you, and then leave him.”
“Whoah, Mollie. Relax.” Russ’s calm voice cut through her diatribe. “I don’t think Beth meant that at all.”
“No?” Mollie kept her eyes on Beth’s face. “Tell me what Beth meant.”
“I didn�
��t mean to offend you, Mollie.” Beth’s tone was troubled, conciliatory. “I had no idea your feelings were so involved. I’m sorry.”
Mollie spotted her niece as she crossed the room, weaving her way through the dancers. She smiled warmly as Marni approached the table and spoke to Russ.
“Hello, Mr. Sanders. I’ve come to ask Aunt Mollie to sit with us for a while. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all,” Russ said heartily. “I’ll come, too, if it’s all right.”
Mollie slipped her arm around the little girl’s shoulders. “This is my niece,” she said to Beth. “Her name is Marni. The little girl on the dance floor with Sean is Caili.” She nodded toward Emma, who stood on the other side of the room, holding Luke, tapping her feet to the music. “That woman is my mother, and she’s holding my nephew. My feelings are definitely involved.”
“I’m sorry,” Beth apologized again.
Mollie studied the troubled, pretty face of the American girl and relented. “So am I. I’m being rude. Please, forgive me.”
Beth brushed the words away. “Forget it. There’s no harm done.”
Russ started to get up, but Mollie laid her hand on his arm. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Please, stay here with your friends. I’ll see you later.”
He watched her walk away, a thoughtful expression on his face.
Beth nudged him. “If I were a betting woman, I’d say you didn’t have a chance in that direction.”
“The race isn’t over yet.”
“It’s a race, is it?”
“Yes.”
She lifted her glass. “May the best man win.”
Russ grinned. “And I thought we were friends.”
Beth burst out laughing. “If we weren’t such good friends, I’d be after you myself.”
“Thank God, I’ve been spared that,” Russ said fervently. “You go through men like water.”
Mollie lifted Luke’s limp weight from her mother’s arms. “You look like you need a break.”
Emma nodded. “It’s amazing how he can sleep through this noise.” She tucked a stray strand of hair behind Mollie’s ear. “Are you having a good time?”
“Yes,” Mollie lied. “Are you?”
“Actually, I am. It’s a pleasure to see the children well and enjoying themselves again. What happened to Russ?” she asked casually.
“Nothing.”
“I saw you dancing with him. You make a lovely couple.”
Mollie rested her cheek on the baby’s head. “Do we?”
Emma sighed. “I wish I knew what you’re looking for, Mollie. You’re nearly thirty.”
“Are you trying to get rid of me?” Mollie teased.
“I just want you to be happy.”
“I am happy, Mom. Don’t worry so much. I have a few years left before I’m past hope.”
“Of course you do. I simply don’t understand why you’re so fussy. What on earth could be wrong with Russ Sanders?”
“Nothing. He’s just not for me, that’s all.”
“How do you know? You haven’t given him a chance.”
Mollie opened her mouth and closed it again. How did she know? There were a hundred reasons, but the most obvious one was walking toward her this very minute. She watched him cross the floor. To Mollie, it was as if everyone else had faded away and he was the only one left in all the noisy, smoke-filled room.
What was it about a man that made a woman’s knees go weak and her heart pound and every rational thought in her brain turn to mush? Sean was funny and unassuming and intelligent, but so was Russ. Sean had the children, and she loved them. But she would have wanted him without the children.
“Emma.” He nodded his head at her and reached for Luke. “I’ll take him, Mollie. You don’t want to be missing the dancing, and neither does Russ.”
He’d noticed. “Russ has plenty of partners to choose from,” she said, handing over the baby.
“But not the one he wants.” Sean settled the sleeping baby against his shoulder.
“Why not give Patrick a turn with Luke?” Emma suggested. “He was quite good at it when the girls were small. That way you can dance with Mollie.”
Mollie’s face flamed. “I don’t think—”
Sean interrupted her. “Will you wait for me, Mollie, while I find Patrick?”
“There’s no need,” Emma said. “He’s at the far table with your mother and Alice Duncan. I’ll deliver this young man to him.” She took the baby and left them, standing alone together.
“Will you dance with me, Mollie?”
He was complicated and vulnerable and filled with surprises, and just now there was nothing she would refuse him. “Yes.” The single word, husky and low, was all she could manage to say.
He took her hand, his fingers curling around hers. Every sensation was heightened, the dampness where their palms touched, the strong line of his shoulders under the soft wool of his sweater, the straight, clean blade of his jaw, blending into the bones of cheek and chin, and, when he turned to take her in his arms, the clean soap smell of his skin. The top of her head brushed the tip of his ear. If she turned just so, his lips would touch her forehead.
The music was slower now, the beat melodic, smooth, romantic. Mollie closed her eyes. His arms tightened around her, and all that was left of her awkwardness disappeared. She felt boneless, her body molding to his, filling in the spaces between thigh and hip, chest and waist. He said something, his breath warm against her ear, but she paid no attention, her senses saturated with a combination of desire and need, her mind refusing to go beyond this moment, this man.
Suddenly she felt a blast of cold. The music sounded far away. She opened her eyes. They were just outside the door, no longer dancing. Sean’s arms were still around her. Surprised, she looked up. What he wanted was clear enough in the tense, thin set of his lips and the hard, narrowing eyes. She wanted it, too. They stood there, bodies touching, arms entwined, neither one wanting to move first, a standoff. She searched his face, her eyes missing nothing, settling on his mouth.
He was the first to soften. She saw the curve of his lips, saw reason replace the wild look in his eyes, saw the gentle decline of his head as it lowered to touch his lips to her forehead. She found her breath and lost it again with his words.
“Do you have any idea what you do to me, Mollie Tierney?” he said, his voice a whisper, laced with a hint of regret.
She couldn’t speak, wouldn’t speak. There was no answer she could make that wouldn’t break the magic.
Gently, he pulled her close against his heart, wrapped his arms around her, and rested his cheek against hers. Minutes passed. Her blood pounded in cadence with his.
“Warm enough?” he asked.
She nodded. There was no room for words, only warm arms and hard lines, soft wool and clean-scrubbed skin. It was enough, more than enough, if only he would stay.
He pulled away too soon. Forever would not have been long enough. Mollie gathered what remained of her poise and forced herself to look at him. His eyes were pale, the irises thin and colorless in the white moonlight.
“You’re a comforting sort of lass. Has anyone ever told you that?”
Comforting. He thought of her as comforting. She wanted scorching, sensual, tempting, unforgettable. “No,” she said, “and it doesn’t sound very complimentary/’
“Oh, but it is,” he said softly. “It’s a grand compliment for someone like yourself.”
She was curious. “What does that mean, someone like myself ?”
“Surely you know what a man thinks of when he first sets eyes on you.”
She shook her head.
His voice dropped, warmed, the words sliding off his tongue like warmed whiskey. “You’re the kind of woman a man aspires to, Mollie, the kind he holds up as a standard to measure all others by.”
She would say it and get it over with. He knew her mind anyway. “I would rather be one of the others.”
His eyes twinkled.
“Would you?”
“You know I would. I don’t offer myself to just anyone.”
He was serious again. “I know that.”
She didn’t want it to end, this delicious, temporary taste of forbidden fruit, but it was cold and getting colder by the minute. Soon others would notice their absence. She glanced at the door. Particles of light danced in long rays, illuminating the dusting of snow on the ground. “We should get back.”
“Aye.”
She turned to go, but his hand on her arm stopped her. “I promised you a night in Galway.”
“Never mind. It’s all right,” she said quickly.
“I’d like to take you to Galway, Mollie. Will you go with me?”
She looked at him, at the black pupils taking up the color in his eyes, the black hair falling over his forehead, and the clean, perfectly cut symmetry of his mouth. He would hurt her, badly. She knew it as surely as she knew the tide would be out in Curwin Cove in the morning. “Why?”
“Do we need a reason?”
“Yes.”
He thought a minute. “Christmas presents. I need help with Christmas presents.”
She laughed. The mood was broken. “All right. If you can find the time, I’ll help you with your Christmas presents.”
He held the door for her. “I’ll find it.”
The cottage was lonely without the children. Mollie added several squares of peat to the fire and rubbed her arms.
Emma joined her on the couch with a cup of tea. “I had a very nice time,” she said.
Mollie smiled. “Me, too.”
Emma set down her cup and looked around. “It’s empty without Luke and the girls. I miss them.”
Mollie stretched out, resting her head on her mother’s lap. “We’ll see them tomorrow.” Emma’s fingers played in her hair. “You like Sean, don’t you, Mom?”
The fingers stilled for a moment. “Of course I do.”
Mollie heard the hesitation in her voice. “But?”
“I do,” Emma insisted. “I like him without reservation.”
Mollie sighed and closed her eyes. “I don’t think he would have danced with me if you hadn’t forced him into it.”
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