"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. "n.o.body said anything about me falling in love with Ryan."

"n.o.body 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 G.o.d'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 surrept.i.tious glances Ryan's way. And increasingly, whenever it was especially busy, she grabbed an ap.r.o.n 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 s.e.x-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. 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 b.l.o.o.d.y 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."

"Such a gracious capitulation," she noted as she set the pitcher back on the bar and swept past him.

Jack gave him a pitying look. "She's a woman with a mind of her own, isn't she?"

"Tell me about it," Ryan said dryly.

Together, the three of them combed the bars along the waterfront. They spoke to fishermen and dockworkers as they began to arrive for work in the predawn hours. When people seemed reluctant to talk to them, Maggie stepped in and charmed them into opening up. Despite her best efforts, though, no one recalled a man fitting Jamal Monroe's description.

"Dammit, that boy cannot go into surgery thinking that his own father doesn't care enough to be there," Ryan said when they'd retreated to a small, crowded cafe filled with the raucous banter of men who spent their lives on the water. He cupped his hands around a mug of strong coffee, grateful for the warmth after being out for hours in the damp, cold air.

"We're going to make sure that doesn't happen," Maggie soothed with unwavering confidence.

Suddenly a shadow fell over the table. Ryan glanced up into chocolate-brown eyes that glinted with anger and suspicion. The man was dressed warmly, in worn yet clean clothes, but he was too thin. And undeniable exhaustion and strain were evident on his dark face.

"I hear you've been asking a lot of questions about Jamal Monroe," he said. "Why?"

Ryan suspected that this was Lamar's father, though the man hadn't admitted it outright. He gestured toward the fourth chair at their table. "Join us. How about a cup of coffee and some breakfast?"

The man hesitated, but the lure of the hot drink and food apparently won him over. With a respectful nod toward Maggie, he sat down, though he kept his jacket on as if he wanted to be ready to take off at once if the need arose.

Ryan didn't say anything until the waitress had brought coffee and taken the man's order. Then he looked him directly in the eye. "We've been b.u.mping up against a brick wall for hours now. I don't suppose you have any idea how we can find Monroe?"

"Could be," the man said cautiously. "But you still haven't said why you're so anxious to find him. You friends of his?"

"No, we've never met," Ryan admitted, keeping his gaze locked on the man's face. "It's about his son, Lamar."

There was a definite flicker of recognition, maybe even something else. Fear, perhaps.

"You know his boy?" the man asked.

Ryan nodded. "And his wife. They've been staying at the St. Mary's homeless shelter."

This time there was no mistaking the reaction. "Why are they there?" he asked with more emotion in his voice. "They had a halfway decent apartment when I-" He looked fl.u.s.tered at the telling slip and hurriedly corrected it. "When he he left." left."

At Ryan's nod, it was Maggie who continued, her tone gentle. "They needed help. Without Mr. Monroe at home, they couldn't make it. And Lamar needs surgery, but once Mr. Monroe quit his job, their insurance was cut off."

The man's shoulders slumped, and his eyes filled with tears. "d.a.m.n, I never meant it to come to that," he said, his voice thick. "I thought I'd be back in time to make things right. I just needed some time away to think."

Ryan and Jack exchanged a look.

"Then you are Jamal," Ryan said gently.

He nodded. "Even if I am a sorry excuse for a husband and a father, I love those two."

"Then why did you take off?" Ryan asked, barely managing to keep an accusatory note out of his voice.

"If you know about the surgery, then you probably know Lamar's medical condition is hereditary. He got it from me," Jamal said, his tone filled with guilt.

"Through no fault of your own," Maggie insisted fiercely, resting her hand on his. "You didn't know you had the problem, so how could you know you could pa.s.s it along to your son? n.o.body is blaming you."

"I blame myself," Jamal said heatedly, "'cause the honest truth is, I did know. Soon as that doctor started talking, I remembered the problems I had when I was a kid."

"You had a heart problem that required surgery?" Ryan asked, stunned.

Jamal nodded. "I was younger than Lamar is now, and I spent a lot of time in the hospital. My folks never explained much about what was going on, and I was too little to understand if they had. I wasn't even in school yet, so I must have been three, maybe four years old. Once I had the surgery, I could do anything I wanted. Didn't take me long to put all of the bad times out of my head. Years go by, and it's like it happened to some other person, if you remember at all. Never crossed my mind that I could pa.s.s it along to a child of mine."

"That's perfectly normal," Maggie rea.s.sured him, shooting a warning look at Ryan. "People don't always consider all the genetic ramifications before having kids. They fall in love, get married and start a family. Unless they've had to confront a congenital illness all their lives, it's the last thing on their minds. Let.i.tia doesn't blame you for Lamar being sick. Lamar certainly doesn't blame you. If they don't, how can you go on blaming yourself? And it's time to forgive yourself, too, for being human and running out. The important thing is to be there for Lamar now."

Jamal shook his head. "Let.i.tia's bound to be fit to be tied. That woman has a temper when she's riled, and she has every right to be furious with me. She probably won't let me anywhere near the boy."

"You're wrong," Ryan said. "The only thing on her mind now is what's best for Lamar, and he needs to see his daddy before he goes into surgery."

Jamal seemed startled. "Thought you said he couldn't have it, because they lost their insurance."

Ryan carefully avoided Maggie's gaze. "The shelter was able to help," he explained. "The surgery's this morning. If you're willing, we can take you to see him. I know if I were a father, there's nowhere else I'd be today."

Maggie gave Jamal's hand a squeeze. "Please. Lamar needs you. He's scared. Having you there will go a long way toward rea.s.suring him that everything's going to turn out all right, especially once you tell him that you had the same surgery a long time ago."

Jamal seemed to struggle with himself, but he finally nodded and pushed back from the table. "Take me to see my boy."

Ryan paid the check and led the way back to the car. It was still early enough that they didn't get tangled up in rush hour as they made their way to the children's hospital where Lamar's surgery was scheduled for eight o'clock. He pulled up at the front entrance.

"Maggie, why don't you take him to Lamar's room while I park the car? I'll be up in a few minutes."

She regarded him with a penetrating look. "You are coming in, though, aren't you? Lamar will want to see you, too."

"I'll be there," he said, overcoming his reluctance to give her the answer she was all but demanding.

She bent down to whisper in his ear. "Five minutes, Devaney. If you're not there, I'm going to come looking for you."

Ryan didn't doubt for a second that she would do just that. "I gave you my word," he said.

"And promises mean as much to you as they do to me?" she asked.

He gazed into her eyes. "I don't make them unless I mean to keep them. If anyone knows the devastation of broken promises, it's me."

She rested her hand against his cheek. "I'll see you inside, then."

Ryan watched her walk away with Jamal.

"She's a remarkable woman, isn't she?" Jack noted.

"Yeah, she certainly is."