Ryan's Place Part 14

"Maggie, we could find out everything if we went over there," he suggested with exaggerated patience.

"I don't want to intrude."

"Look at it this way-if the news is good, they'd want us to share in it," he said. "If it's bad, they're going to need our support."

She blinked at that, struck by the fact that a man who professed no emotional entanglements could still have the most amazingly sensitive insights. He should give himself credit for them more often. "Of course you're right." She stood up and grabbed his hand, pulling him along with her.

As they reached the small gathering, Let.i.tia turned to them, her eyes br.i.m.m.i.n.g with tears. Maggie's heart stopped. "Oh, no," she whispered, her hand tightening around Ryan's.

"No, no," Let.i.tia said, gathering her into a hug. "It's good news. He's going to be fine. My boy's going to be fine." She turned to Ryan, hugging him, as well. "And it's all because of you, not just because you paid for the surgery, but because you got his daddy here. That gave Lamar the will to live. I know it did."

"Now, it's still going to be a critical twenty-four to forty-eight hours," the doctor cautioned. "But I have every reason to believe Lamar will come through this with flying colors."

"It's a miracle, that's what it is," Let.i.tia declared, her cheeks damp.

"It is, indeed," Jamal said. He turned to Ryan. "Thank you."

"I'm glad I was able to help," Ryan said, clearly uncomfortable with their grat.i.tude. "And now that we know Lamar's made it through the surgery, I'm going to get Maggie home. She was out with me most of the night trying to find you, Jamal. She's beat."

"I'll come by later, though," Maggie promised, too tired to waste any breath on a futile argument. "And if you need anything, anything at all, you call me." She pressed a slip of paper into Let.i.tia's hands.

"Bless you, girl. You, too, Mr. Devaney."

Outside in the crisp air, Maggie drew in a deep breath, then turned to Ryan. "I can't begin to tell you how relieved I am. You must be, too. And if we are, just imagine what Let.i.tia and Jamal must be feeling."

"They love their son. Of course they're relieved," Ryan said.

Maggie regarded him intently. "You know, Ryan, it's possible that your parents did what they did because they loved you and your brothers."

"Don't be absurd."

"How will you ever know if you don't try to find them and make them explain?"

"Why the h.e.l.l would I ever want to see them again?"

"So you can put the past to rest."

"If you knew the whole story, you'd never suggest such a thing," he said fiercely.

"Then tell me."

He sighed, a lost, lonely expression on his face. "Maybe one of these days I will."

"Why not now?" she pushed.

"Because we're both exhausted."

"Buy me a strong cup of coffee and I can listen."

He smiled wearily at that. "Trying to get me when my defenses are down?"

"Absolutely," she said without hesitation.

He leaned down and covered her mouth with his. The kiss was sweet and all too brief. "Ah, Maggie, what am I going to do with you?"

"Are you seriously asking for suggestions?" she teased.

His gaze captured hers and held, amus.e.m.e.nt darkening into desire, then giving way to regret. "Maybe one of these days," he said.

She bit back her own regrets. "I'll hold you to that, Ryan Devaney."

He laughed. "I don't doubt that for a second. In fact, I'm fairly certain you have a whole list of things I'm expected to make good on."

"None you can't handle," she said with confidence.

Chapter Ten.

Ryan had absolutely no intention of allowing Maggie to drive all the way home in her current state of exhaustion. Since he wasn't one bit better off, there was only one answer: she'd have to stay at his place. Proposing that, while making it clear it was an innocent suggestion, was going to be a neat trick.

He pulled to a stop in a parking s.p.a.ce down the block from the pub and glanced over at her. She was struggling to keep her eyes open. He left the car and circled to open the pa.s.senger door.

"Okay, come with me," he said, his tone firm.

"My car's right across the street," she said, when he steered her toward the pub.

"And if you get behind the wheel and drive as far as the corner, you're likely to fall asleep and crash into something. I won't have that on my conscience."

She tilted her head and regarded him curiously. "Then what are you suggesting?"

"You'll sleep at my place," he said, trying to be grimly matter-of-fact about it.

"How intriguing!" A smile tugged at her lips. "Just minutes ago you vetoed that idea."

Ryan laughed at her typically give-an-inch-take-a-mile response. "No, that is not what I vetoed. You'll be sleeping in the bed. I'll be on the sofa."

A glint of amus.e.m.e.nt lit her eyes. "Now, where's the fun in that, Ryan Devaney?"

He managed a severe expression. "Don't you be tempting me, Maggie O'Brien. What would your fine father and brothers think of that?"

"They have nothing to do with my personal life," she a.s.sured him airily.

"Do they know that?" he inquired with skepticism.

She sighed heavily. "Probably not."

"Then perhaps we'd best do this my way for now," he said as he led the way upstairs to his apartment over the pub.

When he walked through the doorway, he tried to view the room through Maggie's eyes. The windows across the front let in a lot of light and the bare wood floors gleamed softly, but beyond a sofa, a comfortable chair and the television that he never bothered to flip on, there wasn't much to recommend it.

To the left, the kitchen had new appliances he'd used no more than a handful of times because he took most of his meals downstairs in the pub. Even his coffeemaker was in like-new condition.

"The minimalist style, I see," Maggie observed, still standing in the entry. "I imagine most people think they get a better sense of you from the pub downstairs."

Her thoughtful comment made him wary. "And you don't?"

"No, I think this gives away more. No clutter. No personal objects to give any hint about the man you are. All your secrets are protected here." She met his gaze. "Is the bedroom any better?"

"Not if you're looking to unravel any secrets," he said with an edge of defensiveness.

He showed her the way, then stood back as she surveyed the king-size bed with its dark-green quilt tossed haphazardly over sheets in a paler shade of green, the oak dresser with nothing beyond a pile of loose change on top, the digital clock on the bedside stand and an antique rocker in the corner. She blinked when her gaze fell on that, then turned to him, her face alight with curiosity.

"A family heirloom?" she asked, crossing over to rub her hand over the oak wood with its soft sheen.

"Hardly."

"You're fond of antiques, then?"

"Not especially," he said, the defensiveness back in his voice. He should never have brought her here. He could see that now. She liked digging beneath the surface of things to the raw truths beneath.

"Back problems?" she persisted unrelentingly.

"No, and what does that have to do with having a rocker in my room?"

"They say President Kennedy had a rocker because of chronic back problems. I've seen pictures of it."

Ryan nodded. "Okay, yes, I guess I have heard something about that, but it's got nothing to do with this. I saw it in a shop and I liked it. End of story."

Her gaze narrowed with obvious disbelief. "Did your mother rock you when you were little?"

Ryan bit back a curse at the accurate guess. "How the h.e.l.l would I remember a thing like that?" he asked derisively.

Maggie's gaze never left his face. "She did, didn't she? That's why you bought this chair. It reminds you of one your family had."

The truth was, he suspected it might have been this this chair. On the one occasion he'd ventured back to his childhood neighborhood, he'd found the rocker in a shop not all that far from where they'd lived. He'd been drawn to it at once, and despite his claim that he wanted nothing at all to do with the past, he hadn't been able to put it out of his mind. He'd gone back the next day and bought the rocker, but only after asking the shop owner what he knew about the original owner. Unfortunately, the man had bought the shop from someone else, and the rocker had been a part of the inventory. He'd known nothing at all about its history, not even the year in which it had been purchased. chair. On the one occasion he'd ventured back to his childhood neighborhood, he'd found the rocker in a shop not all that far from where they'd lived. He'd been drawn to it at once, and despite his claim that he wanted nothing at all to do with the past, he hadn't been able to put it out of his mind. He'd gone back the next day and bought the rocker, but only after asking the shop owner what he knew about the original owner. Unfortunately, the man had bought the shop from someone else, and the rocker had been a part of the inventory. He'd known nothing at all about its history, not even the year in which it had been purchased.

"Maggie, drop it, okay? It's just a chair."

"And if someone were to take an ax to it, it wouldn't bother you at all?" she inquired innocently.

Hands jammed in his pockets, he shrugged. "It would be a waste of a beautiful piece of craftsmans.h.i.+p, nothing more," he a.s.serted.

She sighed at his response. "If you insist."

"I do." He gestured toward a door across the hall. "The bathroom's over there. There are towels in the closet. If you need anything else, let me know."

"Just a phone. I need to call home and let them know what's going on."

He felt guilty for not having suggested it right away. "Given the way they worry, they must be frantic by now."

She shook her head. "I doubt it. I called them last night and told them I was going to be with you."

Ryan couldn't have been more stunned if she'd punched him in the gut. "You told them that? In those words?"

She grinned at his discomfort. "Maybe not those precise words, but that was the gist of it, yes."

Curious despite himself, he asked, "How did they react?"

"Mother said I need to bring you home to dinner tonight."

"That's it?"

"Oh, I imagine she'll have quite a bit to say when you get there, but last night that's all she said," Maggie replied, clearly enjoying herself.

"Then let's postpone that dinner for a while-like maybe ten years from now."

She laughed. "If you think that will work, you don't know my mother at all. She's counting on tonight. No excuses accepted."

"You'll just have to extend my apologies," Ryan insisted. "Tonight's out of the question."

"A prior engagement?"

"Nope. Just a healthy desire to live."

"I don't think it will come to that," Maggie said soothingly. "My folks haven't killed a prospective son-in-law yet. And before you panic-which, by the way, I can see that you're doing-you should know that they regard any male of an appropriate age as prospective marriage material. It's not as if they're getting invitations printed as we speak."

"I should hope not," he said fervently.

She frowned at him. "You know, if I were a less confident woman, I might be offended."

"Maggie, you know where I stand on this. I don't do commitment. I don't do love."

"So you've mentioned."

She didn't seem particularly dismayed. Either she didn't care or she didn't believe him. "It's not something you should forget," he told her, to make the point clearer.

"As if you're likely to let me," she scoffed.

Ryan still wasn't at all convinced she was taking him seriously. However, prolonging the subject struck him as a decidedly lousy idea. "Get some sleep," he muttered, then left the room and closed the door behind him.

The woman was dangerous. As if she couldn't tempt him with a glance, now she was deliberately taunting him every chance she got. One of these days, his willpower was going to snap and his common sense was going to fly right out the window, and then nothing would keep him from joining her in that bed of his. In fact, right now, with the image of her snuggled beneath his sheets firmly implanted in his brain, it was almost more than he could cope with.

Just to be sure he didn't give in to the desire swirling through him, he left the apartment and locked the door securely behind him. Of course, short of his tossing the key in the river, there was nothing to prevent him from unlocking the door and going right back in there an hour from now and struggling with the same neediness. To prevent any chance of that, he went downstairs in search of coffee and Rory's company.