Ryan's Place (8 page)

“Mr. Devaney, you were the best,” Lamar said dutifully. “Thanks again.”

“Anytime, kid. I’ll see you before you go to the hospital, okay?”

“Okay,” Lamar said, his smile fading. He regarded Ryan fearfully. “You think you’re gonna be able to find my dad by then?”

“I’m working on it,” Ryan assured him. “I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure he’s here with you and your mom before then.”

“Thanks. It’ll be okay if you don’t find him, though. I’m not too scared. And my mom and me will be okay, long as we have each other.”

Maggie had to bite her lip to keep from crying at the boy’s obvious attempt to appear brave.

“I know that,” Ryan told him. “But I’ll try hard, just the same.” He looked at Maggie. “You ready?”

“Sure.” Impulsively, she bent down and gave Lamar a kiss. “You take care of yourself.”

“I will. Come back sometime, okay? I wouldn’t mind hearing you read another story. My mom doesn’t always have the time, and listening is even better than reading to myself.”

“I will. I promise.”

Outside, Maggie drew in a deep breath. “How risky is this surgery of his?”

“It’s heart surgery, so there’s bound to be some risk,” Ryan said, his expression grim. “It’ll go a lot better, though, if he’s feeling optimistic.”

“Which is why you’re trying to track down his dad,” she guessed.

Ryan nodded. “He took off when he found out about the
surgery. Since he quit his job, that cut off their insurance and their income. That’s how they ended up at the shelter.”

“Father Francis turns to you a lot in cases like this, doesn’t he?”

“He knows I’ll do what I can.”

“Does it make up for what happened to you?” she asked.

He frowned at the question. “What are you really asking?”

“I notice you’re eager to help Lamar find his dad. Have you ever looked for your own?”

She could see the tension in his face as his jaw tightened. “Why the hell would I want to?” he asked heatedly.

“For the same reason you’re trying to find Lamar’s father for him—because your dad broke your heart when he abandoned you.”

Ryan shrugged, clearly refusing to concede the obvious. “I got over it.”

“Did you?”

“Yes,”
he said emphatically, his scowl deepening. “And I don’t talk about that time in my life. Not ever.”

“Maybe you should.”

“And maybe you should mind your own damned business!”

He left her on the sidewalk staring after him, stunned by the force of his anger.

“Well, hell,” she muttered, swiping at the tears spilling down her cheeks.

She was still standing in the exact same spot, debating whether to go after him, when Ryan reappeared at the corner. She watched as he sucked in his breath, squared his shoulders and walked toward her.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have bitten your head off like that.”

“No,” she agreed, “you shouldn’t have, even though I understand why you did.”

“My family’s a sore subject.”

“I gathered that.”

“Then you won’t bring them up again, right?”

She met his gaze evenly and shook her head. “I can’t promise that, not when it’s so apparent that what happened with them shaped your whole life.”

He regarded her with obvious exasperation. “Dammit, Maggie, what do you want from me? You come busting into my life and act as if I’m suddenly your personal mission.”

“Maybe that’s exactly what you are,” she said. “There has to be some reason why I keep coming back to see a man as cranky and ill-tempered as you are.”

His lips twitched slightly. “You have a thing for cranky, ill-tempered men?”

“Apparently so,” she said with a deliberate air of resignation.

His lips curved into a full-fledged grin then. “Lucky me.”

She grinned back at him. “Try to remember that.”

“Oh, I imagine you’re going to give me plenty of occasions to question it,” he said.

She nodded. “It is my mission, remember?”

“Maggie—”

She touched a finger to his lips to silence him. “Just accept it. I’m here to stay.”

“But why?” he asked, obviously bewildered.

“It’s that cranky, ill-tempered-man thing,” she reminded him. “I’m a sucker for a challenge.” She hooked her hand around his neck and drew his head down till she could kiss him. “It doesn’t hurt that you’re a great kisser.” She winked
at him. “Gotta get home. You’re invited for Sunday dinner, by the way. Mom insisted.”

He shook his head. “Not today.”

“Better things to do?” she asked, not surprised by the refusal and determined not to push for once.

“Nope. Safer things to do,” he told her.

Maggie laughed. “See you, then.”

She was halfway to her car, rather pleased with herself despite his refusal to come to dinner, when he called after her.

“Hey, Maggie!”

She turned back, regarding him with a questioning look.

“Drive carefully.”

“Always do.”

“And call me when you get home, okay?”

Well, well, well, the man was learning, she thought. “Will do,” she promised.

She noticed he was still standing on the sidewalk, watching her car when she finally turned the corner and drove out of sight. He looked so lonely, she almost went around the block and demanded that he come with her. She could have persuaded him if she’d really tried.

“One step at a time,” she murmured to herself. Right now they were frustrating baby steps, two forward, half a dozen back, but after this morning she had a feeling a giant leap forward was just around the corner.

F
or the next few days Maggie was careful not to push too hard. She didn’t want to risk the progress she’d made so far. That didn’t keep her away from Ryan’s Place, though. She turned up most nights, always finding some way to make herself useful. One of these days Ryan would discover he couldn’t get along without her.

At the same time, she cleverly avoided any further mention of his accounting system. There was no sense in antagonizing him when they were making such nice advances in other areas. Sooner or later he’d trust her enough to listen to her financial advice. She didn’t stop to question why she was so determined to make herself indispensable to a small business when she ought to be out looking for a big corporate position that would make use of her MBA.

In the meantime, there were the books at St. Mary’s to be straightened out. Father Francis had none of Ryan’s reticence when it came to utilizing Maggie’s expertise. In fact, he seemed delighted to have someone take over the task of sorting through the chaotic system the church had been using for decades.

As for the shelter, it had no system at all. If there was a need, donations were found to help. Money came and went in a haphazard manner that would have set an IRS agent’s teeth on edge. Maggie didn’t doubt for a second that not one cent was spent on anything other than legitimate expenses, but there were few records to prove it.

She stared helplessly at the pile of unorganized receipts that had been crammed into a drawer. “What were you thinking?” she asked Father Francis. “Do you have any idea what kind of dangerous path you’ve been following? If there was ever an audit…” She shuddered just contemplating it.

“It’s a bit of a tangle, isn’t it?” Father Francis admitted, seemingly not the least big chagrined. “But I don’t see the need for a lot of fuss. We’ve more important things to do. If the money’s there, we spend it on those who need our assistance. If it’s not, we go out and find what we need. Why complicate things?”

Maggie groaned at his logic. “Have you even filed for nonprofit status?”

“It’s an outreach of the church,” he said, as if that settled the matter.

“But none of the shelter’s funds or activities are on the church’s books.”

He refused to see the point, clearly trusting that the shelter’s mission and good intentions would exempt it from scrutiny.

Maggie tried again. “You might increase the level of giving if people could claim a tax deduction. Instead, you’re relying on special collections at the church. Why not reach out to the entire community? Why not build up a solid bank account so there are funds available for an emergency? If you’d had such a fund, you wouldn’t have had to turn to Ryan to help with Lamar’s surgery. And Ryan could have claimed that money as a deduction on his taxes.”

“Ryan doesn’t help for the rewards,” the priest insisted, his expression set stubbornly.

“I know that,” Maggie said, totally exasperated. “But it could be a win-win situation.”

“Is that an improvement over an unselfish act of kindness?” the priest asked reasonably.

Maggie sighed. How could she argue with the logic of that? “You won’t even consider letting me set up a system?” she asked, then sighed again when he shook his head. “You’re turning out to be as impossible as Ryan.”

That, apparently, was an accusation he couldn’t ignore. Father Francis’s sigh was just as deep as Maggie’s. “You really think it’s important?”

“I do.”

“Who’s going to take care of all the record keeping it will entail?”

“I will.”

For the first time since they’d begun, he beamed. “Well then, if you’re promising to take charge, go ahead. The shelter can always use a volunteer.” He gave her one of those canny looks that she’d come to consider suspect. “Perhaps you’d like to help a few of the children with their math, while you’re here. The math tutor we had recently moved away.”

“I didn’t offer—” she began, but the priest cut off her protest.

“I know you didn’t offer,” he conceded. “I’m asking. Your help would be a blessing for the children.”

Maggie shook her head at his clever manipulation. “No wonder the shelter hasn’t needed a formal fund-raising drive. I’ll bet you could single-handedly squeeze money out of Scrooge.”

“Actually, it’s the Lord who provides,” he said with pious innocence. “I just give a gentle nudge here and there to point the way. Will you help the children?”

“When?” Maggie asked, resigned.

“I find after school on Tuesday is good for tutoring. Many of their tests are later in the week. And they haven’t yet grown bored with studying, as they have by Thursday or Friday.”

“Fine. I’ll be here on Tuesdays. I’ll come early and work on the books.”

He feigned a troubled expression. “That won’t interfere with your work, will it? I wouldn’t want to interfere with your need to earn a living.”

“I’m not working now, as you perfectly well know. Once I do find a job, we’ll make whatever adjustments we must.”

“You’re a good girl, Maggie O’Brien.”

“Or an idiot,” she murmured.

He grinned at her. “Never that. You’ve had the good sense to fall in love with Ryan Devaney, haven’t you?”

She regarded him with dismay. “Nobody said anything about me falling in love with Ryan.”

“Nobody had to. The look is shining in your eyes whenever you’re in the same room.”

“If that’s the case, no wonder he panics when he sees me
coming,” she said, no longer making any attempt to deny the obvious. She’d fought against putting a label on her feelings, more for Ryan’s sake than her own. Maybe it was time she admitted that fascination had turned to something deeper.

The priest patted her hand. “The panic will wear off in time. Ryan’s no more a fool than you are. He’ll see what’s staring him in the face eventually.”

“From your lips to God’s ear,” Maggie said fervently.

Father Francis regarded her serenely. “Aye, child, that’s the way of it.”

Ryan was beginning to get used to having Maggie turn up at the pub every evening just before suppertime. Sometimes she sat at the bar, blatantly flirting with him. Sometimes she huddled in a booth with Father Francis, scolding him about the church’s accounting methods and casting surreptitious glances Ryan’s way. And increasingly, whenever it was especially busy, she grabbed an apron off the hook in the kitchen and waited on tables, refusing to accept anything more than whatever tips were left by the customers. Rory and Maureen considered her part of the staff. Juan and Rosita thought she was an angel. As for him, he was still struggling with what to make of her.

“Are you independently wealthy?” Ryan inquired one night a week before Christmas, when she’d turned down his offer of money yet again.

“Hardly, but I have some savings. Besides, this isn’t a job,” she insisted once again. “I have time on my hands right now, anyway. I enjoy being here. Your customers are the friendliest people I’ve ever met. And as long as I am here, I may as well pitch in. It’s obvious you can use the help.”

“I can’t deny that,” he said.

She looked into his eyes in an expectant way that had his knees going weak and the rest of him going hard.

“If you were to steal a kiss from time to time, it would go a long way toward making it worth my while to be here,” she taunted.

The woman could tempt a saint, he thought as she held his gaze. Unable to resist, Ryan tucked an arm around her waist and dragged her close. “Now, that is something I can do,” he said, covering her mouth long enough to send a shudder rippling through them both.

It was a risky game they were playing, though. He wanted so much more. His yearning for her had deepened each day, until every minute was a struggle not to haul her up to his apartment.

He’d vowed, though, that he wouldn’t let her tempt him into making a mistake they’d both regret. No matter how she got under his skin, he was going to be the sensible one and keep his hands to himself. Still, he couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to strip away those thick, soft sweaters she wore, to peel away her skintight jeans and the lacy panties he fantasized about, and bury himself deep inside her. He hadn’t wanted to experience that kind of closeness with a woman—real intimacy that went beyond sex—in a long time, if ever.

Instead, he settled for the occasional kiss, deliberately keeping them brief enough to permit him to cling to sanity. For once in his life, he was trying to do the right thing.

Not that Maggie did anything to help. She had absolutely no reservations about using her own hands to torment him. She was always skimming a caress across his knuckles, patting his cheek and on one especially memorable occasion, linking her fingers through his and pressing an impulsive kiss on their joined hands, while gazing deeply into his eyes in a
way that had him losing track of everything, including his own name. Oh, yes, Miss Maggie was a toucher, and it was driving him flat-out crazy.

Father Francis clearly found the whole situation highly amusing. Whenever he thought Ryan might not be tormented enough, he drew Ryan’s attention back to Maggie with one observation or another meant to remind him of just how desirable she was. The priest had turned into a determined matchmaker, who had absolutely no shame about the methods he used. Rory was just as bad. And even Maggie’s family seemed to have bestowed their approval on the match, turning up singly or a few at a time to sit at the bar or in a booth. They seemed to have adopted Ryan as one of them without waiting for the link between him and Maggie to be formalized.

With so many people giving their blessing, Ryan might even have been tempted to get involved in a fling with Maggie-of-the-roving-hands…if she’d been another kind of woman. But Maggie was all about happily-ever-after. One look at her family was evidence enough of that.

Unfortunately, Ryan knew better than anyone that there was no such thing. Someday a man would let her down and she’d know the truth, but it wasn’t going to be him.

Besides, he couldn’t help thinking that she’d adopted him as she might a bedraggled kitten she pitied. One day she’d tire of him and move along to a man whose heart wasn’t cast in stone. Since abandonment had been a sore subject with him for some years now, he didn’t intend to risk it a second time.

None of that kept him from his yearning, though. Right now, she was across the room, chatting with a customer, her auburn hair flowing to her shoulders in shiny waves, her face devoid of any makeup beyond a touch of pale lipstick, and
beautiful just the same. Ryan stared at her and barely managed to contain a sigh.

“You wouldn’t be so frustrated, lad, if you’d make a move on the lady,” Rory observed.

“You’ve hit on the problem,” Ryan responded, his gaze not shifting away from Maggie. “She’s a
lady.
”

“But I think you’d find her more than willing.”

Ryan didn’t doubt it. In fact, there were so many signals and unspoken invitations sizzling in the air, it was a wonder half his customers didn’t wind up singed. “That’s not the point,” he said testily.

“There won’t be any rewards for saintliness in this instance,” Rory said.

“I’m not looking for rewards. I’m trying to be sensible. I have nothing to offer a woman like Maggie.”

“She seems to think otherwise.”

“Because she doesn’t know me that well,” Ryan said. She didn’t know that he had no heart, no love at all to give. Quite likely, even with what she did know, she’d dismissed the possibility that he would never allow himself to fall in love, would never marry and risk disappointing a family as his parents had disappointed him. She was deluding herself, because she wanted to believe the best of him.

“Again, I say she thinks otherwise,” Rory said. “She seems to know all she needs to.”

“Then it’s up to me to protect her from herself.”

“She won’t thank you. Women seldom appreciate a man doing their thinking for them.”

Ryan gave him a rueful look. “It’s not her thanks I’m after. A man protects a woman he cares about because it’s the right thing to do.”

“We’re back to that bloody try for sainthood again,” Rory chided. “You’re a mere mortal, Ryan. Why not act like one?”

“Is that what you do? Is that why any woman who crosses the threshold in here is fair game to you?”

“Whatever happens between me and any woman is a mutual decision,” Rory countered. “That’s because I think of them as equals and respect that they know their own minds. Perhaps you should give Maggie some credit for knowing hers.”

There was sense to what Rory said. Ryan could admit that, but he couldn’t dwell on it. If he did, the game would be lost. He and Maggie would have their momentary pleasure, but the regrets would pour in on its heels.

No, his way was better…even if he was having the devil’s own time remembering why.

Lamar’s surgery was scheduled for Friday morning. As of midnight on Thursday, Jack Reilly had had absolutely no luck in finding the boy’s father. Ryan decided he was going to have to take matters into his own hands. If there was even a chance that Monroe was anywhere around the Boston harbor, he was going to find him before that boy went into the operating room in the morning.

“You can’t be serious,” Jack said when Ryan asked him to describe every single place he’d already searched. “If I haven’t found him, he’s not there.”

“I refuse to accept that,” Ryan said, aware that Maggie had joined them and was blatantly eavesdropping. “Now, are you going to tell me and save me some time, or do I have to spend the entire night covering ground you’ve already covered?”

Jack sighed. “Never mind. I’ll come with you. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

“I’m coming, too,” Maggie announced, running to grab her coat and purse.

Ryan stopped her in her tracks, frowning at her. “It’s late. You have no business wandering around down there at this hour.”

“You’re going, aren’t you?” She scowled right back at him. “And if you point out that you’re a man, I’m going to have to dump a pitcher of ale over your head.” She was already reaching for it to emphasize the point.

“Maggie,” Ryan protested, then sighed in the face of her determined expression and her firm grip on the pitcher. “Okay then, let’s go. We don’t have the time to waste arguing.”