boil. For a man who didn’t believe in love, he certainly knew how to get a woman’s attention. A couple of sizzling glances like that and she’d be begging for air-conditioning.
“I really appreciate this,” she told him again. “I know it’s an imposition.”
“Ryan’s happy to do it,” Father Francis insisted from the back seat as they pulled to a stop in front of a brownstone town house next to a church. Lights were blazing from the downstairs windows, and smoke curled from a chimney. “I’ll say good-night now. It was a pleasure meeting you, Maggie O’Brien. St. Mary’s is right next door, as you can see. Don’t be a stranger.”
“Thanks for all your help, Father.”
“What did I do? Nothing that any Irishman wouldn’t do for a lady in distress. Happy Thanksgiving, Maggie. Be sure to count your blessings tomorrow. Ryan, you do the same.”
“Don’t I always, Father?”
“Only when I remind you, which I’m doing now.” He paused before closing the door and cast a pointed look in Maggie’s direction. “And don’t forget to count this one.”
Maggie had to bite back a chuckle at Ryan’s groan.
“Good night, Father,” Ryan said firmly.
He waited as the priest trudged slowly up the steps and went inside, then turned to Maggie. “I’m sorry. My love life has become one of Father Francis’s pet projects. He’s determined to see me settled with babies underfoot. I apologize if he made you uncomfortable.”
“I think it’s wonderful that he cares so much,” Maggie said honestly. “You’re obviously very special to him.”
“And vice versa,” Ryan admitted.
“He told me you’ve known each other for a long time,” she continued, hoping to open the door to the story that the priest had declined to share.
“A very long time,” Ryan confirmed, then looked away to concentrate on roads already slippery from the now-steady snowfall.
Or was he simply avoiding sharing something painful from his past? Maggie suspected it was the latter, but she recalled the priest’s advice about not pushing for answers. Impatient and curious by nature, she found this difficult. It went against everything in her to keep silent, but she managed to bite her tongue.
She turned away and looked out the window just as the car slowed to a stop.
“Maggie?”
She turned and met Ryan’s gaze. “Yes?” she said, a little too eagerly. Was it possible that he was going to share the story, after all? Or perhaps suggest another drink before they made the trip to her family’s home in neighboring Cambridge?
“It’s going to be a long night unless you give me some idea where I’m headed,” he said, laughter threading through his voice.
“Oh, my gosh, I am so sorry,” she said, feeling foolish. She rattled off the directions to her parents’ home, not far from Massachusetts Institute of Technology, where her mother was a professor.
Ryan nodded. “I know the area. I’ll have you there in no time. And I can arrange to have your car towed out on Friday, if you like.”
Maggie balked at the generous offer. “Absolutely not. It’s not your problem. I’ll take care of it.”
Even as the protest left her mouth, she realized that her stranded car was her only sure link to seeing Ryan Devaney again. She stole a look at him and felt her heart do an unexpected little flip. Such a reaction was not to be ignored. Not that she believed in destiny—at least the way Father Francis interpreted it—but just in case there was such a thing, she didn’t want to be too quick to spit in its eye.
Chapter Two
Ryan liked a woman who knew when to keep silent. He truly admired a woman who knew better than to pry. To her credit, Maggie O’Brien was earning a lot of respect on this drive, thanks to her apparent understanding of those two points.
He’d seen the flare of curiosity in her eyes earlier. No telling what Father Francis had seen fit to share with her, but there was little doubt in his mind that the priest had done his level best to whet her interest in Ryan. A lot of women would have seized the opportunity of a long drive on a dark night to pester him with an endless barrage of personal questions, yet Maggie seemed to enjoy the silence as much as he did.
Of course, there could be too much of a good thing, he concluded finally. Any second now he was going to start filling the conversational lull with a litany of questions that had been nagging at him ever since she’d