"Maybe she should do the girl's part," Lamar said. "You sound kind of funny doing it."

"Hey," Ryan protested, "is that any way to treat a man who has humiliated himself to keep you entertained?"

Maggie sat down and reached for the book. "Allow me," she said with a wink at Lamar. She finished reading the last few pages, then sighed as she read, "The end."

"You were real good," Lamar said, approval shining in his eyes.

"Better than me?" Ryan demanded.

Maggie rolled her eyes at the question, causing Lamar to giggle. "Tell him he was better or he'll be grumbling all day," Maggie advised him.

"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 a.s.sured 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 h.e.l.l 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." 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 d.a.m.ned business!"

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

"Well, h.e.l.l," 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.

Chapter Eight.

For 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 a.s.sistance. 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."