Reunited

CHAPTER FIVE

"RUM AND COKE, two drafts and a-a-" Keely looked down at her notepad. "A pina colada?"

Seamus chuckled and wagged his finger at her. "We don't make fruity drinks here," he said. "They're just givin' you the business because you're new, lass. Who wanted the pina colada?"

Keely turned and pointed to a burly, bearded man sitting in a booth, wearing a motorcycle jacket and red bandanna. "I think his name is Art."

"Art's a good Irish lad. He drinks nothing but Guinness. And when it's Christmas Eve and the Guinness is free, he drinks a lot." Seamus drew a pint and set it on her tray. "You tell him this is a pina colada. And if he's looking for a fruit garnish, he can look in the mirror." Seamus chuckled at his own joke as he filled the rest of her order.

Meanwhile, Keely slipped off her shoes and stretched her toes. She was not cut out to be a waitress, much less a waitress who slung drinks in an Irish pub. It wasn't difficult to remember the orders-nearly every patron preferred Guinness. But avoiding the wandering hands of customers, the slippery puddles of beer on the floor and the blinding clouds of cigarette smoke took the athletic ability of an Olympian.

She'd noticed the Help Wanted sign when she'd paid another visit to Quinn's in November and decided if the job was still available when she returned in December, she'd take it. She'd been a waitress at Quinn's for a week now, and here she was spending Christmas Eve with the Quinns-her family. It had been a perfect plan.

And she wasn't such a bad waitress. So far, she hadn't made too many major mistakes-beyond dumping an entire tray of drinks on herself the first night. And then there had been the second night, which had been capped with a practical joke from Liam. He had secretly pasted a sign on her back with the words Pinch Me printed in big letters. She'd gone home so jumpy she hadn't been able to sleep. By the third night, she'd gotten wise to their tricks. It had only taken her two hours to realize the customers wiping drops of beer off her face actually had black marker on their fingertips. But the tricks made her feel even more a part of the family.

As soon as her tray was filled, she hustled over to the booth and delivered the drinks. Ed, a good-natured regular at Quinn's Pub, handed her a ten for the round and told her to keep the change-a three-dollar tip with the free Guinness. Keely quickly checked in with the rest of her tables, then took a spot at the end of the bar where Liam had poured her a diet soda.

As she sipped at the cold drink, her mind wandered to where it had so many times over the past week-Rafe. It felt odd to be in the same city as him, yet not know where he was or what he was doing. She'd thought about contacting him but had always come up with an excuse not to-the holidays, her job at Quinns, her confusion over what they'd shared. And the realization that if she saw him again, she'd probably fall victim to his charms once more.

Though just the thought of sex with Rafe Kendrick caused her pulse to quicken and her toes to curl, there were more important things on her agenda than wildly passionate intercourse and earth-shattering orgasms. Still, she couldn't help but look up each time another patron entered the bar, wondering if it might be Rafe…and wondering what she'd do if it was.

Keely turned her mind to more somber thoughts. Though the pub was filled with Christmas cheer-colored lights, a dancing Santa, and holiday music-she couldn't help but think of her mother, home alone. To make up for her first Christmas away, Keely had treated Fiona to a nightly phone call with little tidbits of news about the Quinn brothers. In her heart, Keely hoped that next Christmas all the Quinns could celebrate under one roof.

She'd come as close as she could this Christmas. Sean and Liam had been working the bar since early afternoon, doing double duty ladling out free bowls of Irish stew and drawing free pints of Guinness. Conor had arrived at three with his new wife, Olivia, and moments after that, Dylan had burst in with his fiancee, Meggie, and her brother, Tommy. Now they all waited for Brendan's arrival, though no one was sure that he'd put in an appearance.

Keely was anxious to meet the last of her brothers. She already knew Dylan was a fireman and Meggie owned a coffee shop. And Conor and Olivia had been married on Thanksgiving weekend. Brendan was a writer and Seamus kept copies of his books behind the bar. And just last night, everyone in the bar had gathered around the television as Brian did his first on-air segment in his capacity as a reporter for one of the Boston television stations.

As for Liam and Sean, they worked when they could, Sean as a private investigator and Liam as a freelance photographer for the Boston Globe. The three youngest brothers were still unabashed bachelors and from what she could glean from the pub's female patrons, they didn't lack for feminine companionship. They had quite a reputation with the opposite sex, so Keely kept her distance, unwilling to explain why she was single, but unavailable.

Keely took another sip of her soda then let her gaze wander from one brother to another. This would be the perfect night to tell them. Once they were all here, she could make her announcement and hope that the holiday spirit would carry her through. And what better Christmas present than to find a little sister under their tree?

"And there's the man of the hour! Come on, Bren, we've been waiting for you!"

Keely spun around on her stool as Dylan shouted, her heart leaping in anticipation. There he was! Brendan Quinn. The last of her six brothers stood in the doorway with a pretty woman on his arm. He took the woman's hand and drew her over to the group gathered at the bar. Keely kept her gaze on her newest brother, anxious to learn more about him, to gather information to tell her mother when they spoke later that night.

The big news came almost immediately when Brendan introduced his companion, Amy, as his fiancee. As good wishes were given all around, Keely's heart twisted. Another family moment she'd never share. And another reason not to come forward with her own news. It wouldn't be fair to steal Brendan and Amy's thunder.

Keely looked over at Seamus and noticed he was the only one not celebrating. He sat on a bar stool a few feet from Keely, sipping at a small glass of Guinness. Brendan walked over and slipped his arm around Seamus's shoulders. "Well, Da. What do you think?"

Seamus shook his head. "Ah, geez. Not another one. Have I taught you boys nothing? Our Quinn ancestors are rolling over in their graves, they are."

Suddenly, the night which had begun with such anticipation turned into a vivid reminder of the fact that she was not a part of the Quinn family. They all shared a camaraderie that she might never know, an ease that came with having a history together. Keely's attention turned to the three women in the group-Olivia, Meggie and Amy. They'd come into the family as strangers, but they'd been accepted. Could she hope for the same?

"Keely!" Seamus called. "You've got some folks out there with empty glasses. Step lively, girl."

Keely grabbed her tray and hurried over to the row of booths on the far side of the bar. Over the next few minutes, she didn't have time to think about her family until Conor asked her to deliver a bottle of champagne to Brendan and Amy. As Keely approached the newly engaged pair, she smiled at her brother and his fiancee, making sure she didn't stare too hard. Brendan was as handsome as the other five Quinns with his dark hair and his golden-green eyes.

"Conor sent this over," she murmured. She set the champagne flutes on the pool table and handed Brendan the bottle. "Congratulations. I hope you two will be very happy."

"Thank you," Brendan said, sending her a warm smile.

Keely nodded then hurried away. But she stopped halfway back to the bar when Seamus pointed impatiently to a new patron at one of the booths. She fumbled with her pad and pencil and when she finally looked up, ready to take the order, her heart came to a dead stop. "Rafe."

He was just as stunned to see her. "Keely. What are you doing here? And why are you carrying a tray?"

Keely's heart fell. How was she supposed to explain this? She'd never expected Rafe to return to Quinn's, especially after their last encounter. "I-I took a job as a waitress." She tried to remember what she'd told him about her work. She decorated cakes and she owned a bakery. Why would she sell her business, move to Boston and take a job in a pub? "I-I-"

"I thought you lived in Brooklyn and worked in your family's bakery."

"I did," Keely said, relieved. "But I quit and decided to move here. You know, I needed to get out on my own. I've been trying to find a job in a bakery, decorating cakes, but it's been tough. So I took this job."

Rafe didn't seem to be buying her story. "Why Boston?"

"Why not?" She paused. "Oh, I didn't come here for you if that's what you're worried about."

He smiled. "I'm not. After our last meeting, I've been avoiding this place. But I guess I didn't expect to find you here on Christmas Eve."

"Can I get you a drink? What would you like? We have free Guinness and free Irish stew."

"Scotch on the rocks," Rafe said. "The best you've got."

As she walked over to the bar, Keely tried to calm her racing pulse. She'd thought about him so many times since the last time she'd seen him. But each time she'd stubbornly put those fantasies out of her head, determined to focus on her new family. But now that he was here, Keely couldn't help but be pleased. He was really the only person she knew in Boston. And he didn't seem angry at her anymore. In truth, he was acting almost pleasant. "Holiday spirit," Keely murmured.

When she returned, she placed his drink in front of him. "Can you sit down for a while?" Rafe asked.

Keely glanced around the bar. "I really shouldn't. We're getting pretty busy."

"What time do you get off?"

"The pub closes at five."

Rafe nodded. "I suppose you'll be heading back to New York to spend the holidays with your family."

"No, I'm spending Christmas here. Alone. Just me, a cup of hot cocoa and a good book."

"No," Rafe said. "You're coming out with me. I'll treat you to dinner. As an apology for my behavior the last time we met."

"If that's the offer, then we should probably go dutch. I was as much to blame as you were. But you must have plans with your family."

"No plans."

Keely considered his invitation for a moment or two, then nodded. "All right. I'd like that. I'd like that a lot."

As she went back to work, Keely couldn't keep herself from smiling. Though she'd tried to ignore her attraction to Rafe, seeing him again had only proved how fruitless that effort had been. Maybe it was only a physical thing, but what was wrong with that? There was something to be said for really great sex.

And if, by some chance, it led to something more, then she'd deal with that when it came. Right now, she had plans for Christmas Eve and that was enough.

RAFE SLOWLY SIPPED his Scotch, his gaze fixed on Keely as she moved around the bar from table to table. Every now and then, she'd look over at him and smile and he found himself lost in idle contemplation of her beauty.

In this atmosphere of rather overblown feminine pulchritude-of big hair and red lips and artificially enhanced bosoms-she stood out as something special. She wore very little makeup and her hair was cut short in a tousled style that made it appear as if she'd just crawled out of bed. Rafe couldn't quite figure out her clothes. They were fashionable with a funky edge, causing a few raised eyebrows in the rather conservative atmosphere of the pub.

Tonight, she wore a lime-green sweater and a little black skirt that gave every man in the place a tempting view of her legs. Knee-high boots made the look even sexier. God, he loved black boots, Rafe mused.

A loud shout from the bar drew his attention to Seamus Quinn, and Rafe's mood immediately darkened. Everything was in place. The day after Christmas, Seamus was going to learn that his mortgage on the pub had been sold. A building inspector would visit the day after that and discover the pipes and heating system in the place were covered with asbestos. Quinn's Pub would need to be closed down until the removal was completed. And the day after that, a fisherman who'd been on board the Mighty Quinn the day Sam Kendrick died would go to the police with a story of murder on the North Atlantic.

Ken Yaeger had told the story many years ago. He'd visited Rafe's mother shortly after the funeral and told her how her husband had really died. Rafe had heard the tale from his mother in disjointed pieces, always with Seamus Quinn painted as the villain. Over time, Rafe had managed to figure out the truth of the story. And when he found Yaeger a few months ago, that story was confirmed. Seamus Quinn was responsible for Sam Kendrick's death. He'd gotten away with murder.

If all went as planned, by the start of the New Year, Seamus Quinn would be sitting in jail and there'd be nothing any of the Quinn boys would be able to do to rescue their father from justice. Rafe leaned back and took another sip of his drink. His only regret was that Keely would lose her job. But then, she didn't belong in a place like this. He'd have to find a way to make it up to her, beyond a Christmas Eve dinner.

By the time Rafe finished his Scotch, Seamus had made last call. Keely hurried from table to table to settle tabs, and when she finished, she tossed her apron behind the bar and met him at the door. When they got outside, she looped her arm through his as they walked to Rafe's car.

"Tired?" he asked.

"I've only been working since noon. A five-hour shift isn't so bad."

"How do you like your new job?"

"It's nice. A little hard on the feet. And when I leave, I smell like cigarette smoke and stale beer. But the customers are nice. Very Irish."

"And the people you work for?" Rafe probed.

"I don't know them very well," Keely said offhandedly. "But I like them so far. Where are we going?"

"I have one stop to make before we get dinner. I have to deliver a Christmas gift. But I should only be a few minutes."

They spent the rest of the drive chatting, Rafe hardly able to keep his eyes on the road with Keely in the car. He wasn't the kind of guy to believe in fate, but something had brought him to Quinn's that night. He had to believe he was meant to satisfy this craving he'd had for Keely over the past few months.

Now that he knew what she expected, he wasn't going to make the same mistakes twice. She wanted a physical relationship, wild and uninhibited, with no strings attached. Any expectations for a relationship beyond pure pleasure were to be checked at the bedroom door. Hell, that's all he'd ever really wanted from the opposite sex and now he'd found the perfect woman to provide it.

They chatted about her job as Rafe turned off the highway into Cambridge. A few minutes later, he swung the car into the Oak Terrace Convalescent Hospital and pulled into a parking spot near the front door.

"Why are we stopping here?" Keely asked.

"My mom lives here. I won't be long."

Keely gasped. "But it's Christmas. You should spend some time with her."

"Lately she hasn't even recognized me," Rafe said. "She has some problems and she kind of drifts in and out. Around the holidays, she always seems to be worse. I think she misses my dad."

"He's dead?"

Rafe nodded. "For almost thirty years. But to her it was just yesterday. Emotionally, she's been a little…fragile since he died." He reached into the back seat for an elaborately wrapped Christmas gift. "I'll be back in a minute."

"I'd like to come with you," Keely said softly. "I'd like to meet your mother."

Stunned by her offer, Rafe wasn't sure what to say. His mother was hard enough for him to handle; he couldn't imagine a complete stranger taking that on. But then Keely continually surprised him with the depth of her character. "All right."

He hopped out of the car and circled to Keely's door to pull it open for her. She stepped out and gave him a smile. "I'll have to thank her for teaching you such good manners."

Though decorated festively, the home was quiet when they entered. Rafe nodded to the nurse at the front desk, then started down the long hall. Keely stayed at his side, unfazed by the residents who stared at her with vacant gazes and expressionless faces. When they reached Lila's room, Rafe turned to her. "Sometimes she gets a little upset, so feel free to leave if her behavior bothers you."

"I'll be fine," Keely assured him.

Rafe wasn't sure where the urge came from, but he leaned forward and kissed her gently, their lips barely touching before he drew away. He couldn't find the words to tell her how sweet she was, so he'd chosen to show his appreciation. He turned and knocked softly on the door.

Lila didn't look up as they entered. She sat in a chair near the window, staring out into the winter darkness with a strange smile on her face. Rafe crossed the room and kissed her on the top of her head. "Hi, Ma. Merry Christmas."

"He should be home by now," Lila said. "He's never so late."

"He will be home soon, Ma. Until he gets here, would you like to open this present?"

She finally glanced up at him, her gaze taking in the gift. But then it shifted to Keely and her smile faded slightly. "Are you my nurse?" she asked.

Keely slowly approached the chair, then bent down until she stood at Lila's level. "No, I'm not. I'm a friend of Rafe's. Merry Christmas, Mrs. Kendrick."

Lila stared at Keely for a long time, her expression melting into a frown. "I know you," she said.

"No, Ma, you don't."

"I know you. You have those eyes."

"You have very pretty eyes," Keely said, deftly changing the subject. "And beautiful hair. Would you like me to fix your hair for you?"

Rafe watched as Keely fussed with his mother's hair, all the while talking softly to her, chatting about fashions and perfume and all the things that ladies enjoyed. Lila seemed to relax in her presence and she even laughed once or twice. For the first time in many years, Rafe saw the mother he'd once known-the mother who had taught him to dance to old 45s playing on the console stereo in their living room, the mother who had been proclaimed "hot" by all his friends at school; the mother who told him he could be anyone, do anything, he set his mind to.

And now he'd set his mind to ruining the Quinns. "You did so much for me," Rafe murmured to himself. "And now I'm going to do this for you, Ma."

Nearly an hour had passed before Rafe decided it was time to leave. His mother was getting tired and when she grew tired, she became even more irrational. He motioned to Keely and she took the responsibility of announcing their departure. But she assured Lila that she'd enjoyed their chat and hoped to visit her again soon.

As she walked out to the hall, Rafe sat down across from his mother. "It was nice to see you again, Ma."

She reached out and held on to his hand, so tightly that his fingers hurt. "Christmas is coming soon," Lila said. "You will come to see me at Christmas-time, won't you?"

"I will. I love you, Ma." Rafe bent forward to kiss her goodbye, but she suddenly grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him closer, her gaze turning wild.

"Tell her I'm sorry," she pleaded. "Tell her I didn't mean it. She doesn't have those eyes. He has those eyes. Seamus Quinn does. Evil eyes. I made a mistake. Be sure you tell her. Promise me."

He gently untwisted her fingers from his shirt. "I will, Ma."

When he joined Keely in the hall, he gave her a hesitant smile. Then he took her hand and drew it to his lips, pressing a kiss just above her wrist. "Thank you," he said.

"For what?"

"For giving me my mother. She doesn't wander back to reality very often. It was the best Christmas gift I've gotten in many years."

Keely stared at him, her expression tinged with confusion. Then she gave him a small smile and started down the hall. Rafe watched her, struck dumb by the flood of emotion that raced through him. What bit of luck had brought Keely McClain into his life? And what would he have to do to keep her there?

"I DIDN'T EXPECT all my favorite restaurants to be closed on Christmas Eve," Rafe said.

"That's all right," Keely replied. "We can have dinner another time."

"I promised you dinner and I'm going to deliver," Rafe said. "There's one more place we can try. And it's just a few blocks away."

Keely snuggled down in the heated front seat of Rafe's Mercedes. She was glad they'd have a dinner table between them because, right now, all she could think about was kissing him again. The brief kiss in the hallway outside his mother's room had done nothing to satisfy the need building inside her. She felt as if every nerve in her body crackled with electricity. And if he touched her in just the right way, she might spontaneously burst into flames.

If she didn't want to get herself into trouble tonight, she might do best to make her dinner selection on the basis of the quantity of garlic in it. Keely frowned as Rafe reached up to his visor and pressed the control for the door of an underground garage. "What kind of food does this restaurant serve?" Keely asked.

"It's not exactly a restaurant. It's a kitchen with a great view."

"You live here, don't you?" Keely said.

Rafe smiled and shrugged. "I make a mean omelette."

Keely groaned inwardly. She knew exactly where this would lead. When it came to Rafe she had absolutely no control over her desires. There must be something in the air here in Boston, she mused. Something that turned a nice Catholic girl into a raging sexaholic. Or maybe it was her Quinn genes asserting themselves. Her brothers weren't known for self-control when it came to the opposite sex, so why should she?

They rode up the elevator, Keely keeping her gaze fixed on the numbers as they flashed higher and higher. They finally stopped at the top floor and Keely stepped out. "How did you get the top floor?"

Rafe slipped his key into the door of his apartment. "I built the building."

He lived in understated luxury, the imprint of an interior designer evident in every perfect accessory, in the colors and the textures of the European-style furniture. Compared to her little bohemian loft in the East Village, Keely felt as if she'd stepped into a spread in Architectural Digest.

She fought the urge to turn around and leave. There were times when she felt completely out of her league with Rafe. He was wealthy and sophisticated, and he held an undeniable power over her desire that she couldn't explain. But, at the same time, Keely trusted Rafe.

The apartment was dimly lit and Keely was immediately drawn to the wall of wide windows on the far side of the living room. She stood in front of them and looked down on the harbor, the shape of the shore outlined by the lights of the city. "It's beautiful," she said.

"Would you like something to drink? A glass of wine, perhaps?"

"That would be nice," Keely said.

Rafe disappeared into the kitchen. Keely wrapped her arms around herself, trying to calm a shiver. The first time they'd been together had been so spontaneous, she hadn't had time to think. Now, she had all the time in the world to consider her actions. There would be no chance for impulsive decisions this time.

And the one-night stand excuse wouldn't work tonight. If she fell into bed with him, she'd have to deal with the consequences in the morning. Keely closed her eyes and tipped her head back. She couldn't deny her attraction to Rafe. Images of him constantly invaded her waking thoughts and plagued her dreams.

She turned at the sound of his footsteps and forced a smile. He held a bottle of champagne in one hand and two flutes in the other. "I thought maybe this time we'd have the real thing." He poured Keely a glass, then handed it to her. Their hands touched for a moment and it was as if she'd touched lightning, a dangerous current racing through her body. She clutched the glass, afraid she might drop it. Even after all this time she remembered the exact feel of his hands on her body, the way his mouth trailed after, searching and exploring.

He filled his own flute, then held it out. "Merry Christmas, Keely McClain."

"Merry Christmas," she said, touching her glass to his.

Rafe watched as she took a sip of her champagne. He reached out and drew his finger along her jawline, a caress that was both tantalizing and overwhelming. "Are you hungry?"

Somehow, she didn't think he was talking about food. But she was willing to play along. "I am. Can I help?"

Rafe nodded and she followed him through the dining area and into the kitchen. He flipped on the lights and the room came alive, all smooth granite and stainless steel and halogen lighting. Keely looked around at all the high-tech gadgetry. She pointed to a professional-grade mixer, the kind she used to make icing at the bakery. "Have you ever used that?"

Rafe chuckled. "No. But I guess the decorator thought it was important." He grabbed a saute pan from the rack above the cooktop. "I'll need eggs and bacon," he said. "And there should be a green pepper in the fridge. And some cheese."

Keely pulled open the refrigerator door, expecting to find it thinly stocked, but it was full of both staples and snack food. "Wow. You must do a lot of cooking at home."

"Not much. My housekeeper does the shopping. And since omelettes are the extent of my cooking skills, the shopping list isn't very long."

She set the ingredients next to him on the counter, then leaned back and watched. But when he reached for the eggs, he had to reach around her. As if it were the most natural thing in the world, he bent closer and brushed his mouth over hers. This time he lingered, teasing and tasting before moving away.

As he cracked the eggs into a bowl, Rafe smiled. "I needed to do that."

"I wanted you to do that," Keely said. "Maybe you could do it again sometime?"

She stared at him, already resigning herself to complete and unconditional surrender. Good Lord, how long had it taken her to capitulate-five or ten minutes?

Rafe dropped the fork into the bowl of half-scrambled eggs. "Maybe I could."

With exquisite care, he wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her up to sit on the edge of the counter. Then he pushed her knees apart and stepped between them, all the time looking deep into her eyes. Keely felt every nerve in her body ready itself for the sensation of his touch. And when he ran his hands along her thighs and brought her legs up around his waist, she slowly released a breath.

"I like these boots," he said, running his hands from her knees to her ankles.

His hands shifted in the other direction, all the way up her legs as he bunched up her short skirt around her hips. He hooked a finger around her panties and tugged at the lace. "And I like these, too."

His exploration moved on to her waist and he grabbed the hem of her sweater and slowly tugged it over her head. After tossing it aside, he smoothed his palms over her shoulders. A flood of desire coursed through her body, making her heart pound with the effort.

Rafe toyed with her bra straps, but he couldn't seem to settle in one place. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice deep and raw. He ran his tongue along the crease of her lips, then drew away. "I love the way you taste. Better than champagne."

With a slow and deliberate pace, he moved from spot to spot, the base of her neck, the skin beneath her ear, the swell of her breast and then her nipple. And each time his tongue touched her, she shuddered with pleasure. But then he moved lower to her belly and then to the inside of her thigh. "Let me taste you," Rafe murmured. "All of you."

Keely leaned back onto the counter, closing her eyes and bracing her arms behind her, anticipating his assault. He moved up her thigh and she moaned, knowing the next stop on his tour of her body. When he slipped his hands beneath her skirt and tugged at her panties, Keely sighed. He stepped away for a moment as the lace made its way over her boots and then to the floor.

The lights of the kitchen blazed. Rafe parted her legs and Keely turned her head toward the windows. This corner of his apartment looked out on another high-rise directly across the street, so close that she could see people in their apartments. Rafe glanced over at the windows. "Are we going to have an audience? Or would you like me to shut the blinds?"

He didn't give her a chance to answer. Instead, he hooked her legs over his shoulders, bent lower and took his first taste. The touch of his tongue sent shock waves through her body, causing her to cry out in surprise. Keely was sure anyone looking in the window would know what they were doing. But she didn't care. The sensation of his mouth on her sex was devastating, crumbling the last of her inhibitions.

Again and again he penetrated her with his tongue, then withdrew to tease and suck. She wasn't sure when she lost the ability to think clearly, or when reason was replaced by desperate gasps and soft moans. But suddenly the sensations intensified and her mind cleared. Her need for release grew more acute, the tension setting her nerves on edge, every flick of his tongue nearly unbearable. Keely wanted to make it last, but the only way to do that was to make Rafe stop. And making him stop was beyond her capability. She was so close…he was so good…so-

It hit her quickly, the tension snapping like a taut rubber band. One moment, she was on her way there, and then her need exploded in a powerful orgasm. Keely cried out, her arms collapsing beneath her. Spasms rocked her body, but he didn't stop. He took the last ounce of her release, bringing her down slowly, giving her a chance to recover.

Rafe was ready to begin all over again, but Keely sat up, then raked her hands through his hair and drew him away. He knew what she wanted the moment he looked up at her. He straightened and, without a word, pulled her off the counter and wrapped her legs around his waist, carrying her toward the door.

As they passed the window they both looked out and noticed a few figures in the apartments across the street watching them. Keely felt a blush warm her cheeks and she buried her face in the curve of his neck.

Rafe chuckled softly. "I think we gave them a good show, don't you?"

He took her to the bedroom and slowly undressed her in front of windows that overlooked the harbor. When he'd stripped off his own clothes, he joined her in bed and they made love, slowly, gently, until they both shared their release, two bodies arching against each other, two strangers giving in to an attraction that couldn't be denied anymore.

HOURS LATER, they were still awake, talking softly across a pillow. Rafe toyed with the necklace she always wore, rubbing the pendant between his fingers as he stared into her golden-green eyes. He was surprised at how easy it was to open his soul to her. They talked about everything and nothing, the subject of their conversation of no consequence. It was enough just to listen to the sound of her voice, to see her smile at a joke or to hear her laugh. "So tell me, Keely McClain. What's the real reason you came to Boston?"

She pushed up on her elbow, reaching over to brush a lock of hair from his eyes. "I told you. I wanted a new start."

"Is that all?"

"No," Keely said. "There is another reason, but I'm not sure I should talk about it."

"Secrets should be nothing after what we just shared," Rafe teased.

She hesitated for a moment. "Well, it would be nice to talk to someone about it."

He had wanted to believe that she'd come back to see him, but that was wishful thinking. Now that he knew the reason she'd given him earlier was false, his curiosity was piqued. "Tell me."

"I'm here to find my real family."

"Your family? Aren't they in New York?"

"My mother is. But my father and my brothers are here in Boston. My parents separated when I was just a baby and I never knew my father or my siblings. We're kind of alike that way. We both lost our fathers early on."

But Keely's father was still alive. And he hadn't bothered to go into the truth behind his own father's death.

"So you're working at the bar until you find them?"

"Oh, no, I've already found them," Keely said. "I just haven't introduced myself yet. That's why I'm working at the bar." She rubbed a hand over her eyes and then yawned into her palm.

Rafe started to get an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. "You're working at Quinn's Pub."

Keely nodded and nestled into his body. She closed her eyes and sighed softly. "Seamus Quinn is my father. And his sons are my brothers."

Rafe froze, afraid she might sense his reaction. He kept his voice quiet and indifferent. "So your name isn't Keely McClain. It's Keely Quinn."

"Umm. Keely Quinn," she murmured drowsily.

He closed his eyes and cursed inwardly, rage surging up inside of him. Christ, this couldn't be happening to him. He'd been planning his revenge for months and everything had been set in motion just a few days ago. He couldn't stop now. Seamus Quinn had murdered his father and he'd have to pay!

But Seamus wouldn't be the only one to pay. Keely would barely meet her father before he'd be carted off to prison where he'd spend the rest of his life. Rafe turned to gaze into her face. She'd fallen asleep, her lashes dark against her pale skin, her lips still swollen from his kisses.

He'd kept the details of his father's death from her for a reason-he didn't want her to hear the anger in his voice, to catch a glimpse of his dark purpose. But how could he possibly continue, all the while knowing how she'd feel once she learned the truth? But wasn't that all part of the plan, for the Quinns to know exactly who had done this to their family and why?

Keely was a Quinn. And, with the exception of his mother, she was also the first woman he'd ever cared about. Rafe carefully slipped out of bed and walked to the windows. Streetlights still twinkled around Boston Harbor as the deep-blue sky gave way to blazing orange and pink. He pressed his palms against the cold glass as he tried to bring order to the chaos raging in his head.

He had thought finding Keely again had been an incredible stroke of luck. But now, after her rather startling revelation, Rafe could only wonder if falling into bed with her was poetic justice. He'd just made love to the daughter of his father's killer. And now he felt himself wavering in his resolve to destroy Seamus Quinn.

He'd lived with this anger for so long, his need to set things right consuming his life lately. How could he put it aside? The truth had to be told and the guilty had to pay. But that had been easy to justify when Seamus was nothing more than the shadowy figure behind Sam Kendrick's death. Now, he was a father with a daughter who wanted nothing more than a future with him.

Even if Rafe wanted to stop it all, he couldn't do it without making it look like he was covering up a crime. And it wasn't as if he'd fabricated evidence. Everything he was doing was legal and aboveboard. He had a witness who had a story to tell. So why not leave it up to the law? If Seamus wasn't responsible, then he'd be exonerated. If he was, then he'd serve his time.

Rafe turned and looked at Keely, curled up in his bed, the sheets twisted around her slender body. She looked so naive, so innocent, her hand splayed over his pillow-such a stark contrast to the woman who had driven him mad with lust just hours before. He'd come to crave that contrast, the sexy siren trapped inside an innocent's body.

But how much longer could she possibly want him? How much time did he have to make her want him more than she wanted her own family?