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  “I’m happy to see you too, Mom.”

  Mary felt a large, powerful hand brush her shoulder. Another one brushed Abbey’s. Both women looked up to see Sloan standing beside them. Mary wrapped her arm around him and squeezed. “Hello again, son. It’s good to see you.”

  “It’s good to see you too, Mom,” Sloan purred in his thick, Irish brogue.

  Mary looked past them to watch those who had come from the plane. “I understand why you insisted I not come to get you in my Beetle. I couldn’t have fit the four of you in my car.”

  Sloan laughed. “Yes, that’s why. And there are five of us.”

  Mary stepped to the side to see who Sloan was referring to behind him. Her heart skipped a beat as her eyes fell on a tall, well-built man with the warmest brown eyes she had ever seen. His salt and pepper hair was neatly trimmed. And for—she guessed, sixty years old—he clearly had a chiseled physique beneath his suit. The man stalked toward the three of them. “Sloan, there is no protection here—”

  Sloan stopped him. “Gordon, I would like to introduce you to Mary, Abbey’s mother.”

  Gordon stopped short. With a curious look, he took Mary’s hand and placed a tender kiss against it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mary,” he greeted.

  Mary giggled, and then realizing she did so, felt her face grow warm. Sloan chuckled as he continued, “Mary, this is Gordon.”

  “Nice to meet you, Gordon,” Mary squeaked. She took a deep breath to steady herself before addressing the young couple. “The house isn’t furnished yet, is it?”

  “No,” Sloan answered. “I have rooms on hold at the motel in town until everyone finds a place of their own.”

  “Nonsense,” Mary interjected. “I have two guest rooms, Abbey’s old room, and a couch. You all can stay with me.”

  “Mary, it may be awhile,” Sloan objected. “We don’t want to impose…”

  Mary’s hazel eyes flashed in warning. She heard Abbey fight back her giggles as he stared at her in surprise. No one must have shut down the great Sloan O’Riley in quite some time.

  Slowly a grin crept across his face. “Very well. Thank you, Mom.”

  “Good,” Mary agreed. “You two can have Abbey’s room.”

  »»•««

  The house was surprisingly quiet despite the fact that six people were currently living there. The only things that streamed through the aged windows were the warm summer morning sun and the buzz of a lawn mower.

  Abbey trotted down the staircase, blinking the sleep from her eyes as she grasped the oak banister. Her suspicions about staying in her childhood room proved correct—she didn’t sleep. The bed was a double. It was hardly big enough for two full-size adults, especially a man the size of her husband.

  With such close quarters on the mattress, the last thing Sloan wanted was sleep. The feel of skin-on-skin obviously set him on fire. It truly was a challenge to keep quiet so her mother couldn’t hear them. Her room was on the other side of the wall.

  Abbey stopped short as her gaze rested on something seriously out of place. Gordon paced the small backyard in just a pair of jeans, the summer sun kissing his bare chest and arms as he mowed the grass. Abbey blinked her eyes and then shook her head. It was like watching a proud lion play with a ball of yarn.

  Abbey slipped out the front door to find Mary sitting on the porch, sipping on a glass of fresh lemonade.

  “Good morning, Abbey,” she greeted.

  “Good morning, Mom.” Abbey glanced around the yard. “Where is everyone?”

  “Sloan left to meet the contractors at your house. Maggie borrowed my car, and she and Bartholomew drove to Iowa City so she could enroll in medical school at the university and they could find jobs at the hospital.” A lazy, content smile spread across her mother’s lips. “Gordon is mowing for me.”

  Both women fell silent as the mower grew louder. Mary leaped from her seat and grasped a second glass of lemonade. Like an excited teenage girl, she stood on the edge of the porch steps.

  Gordon accepted the glass Mary held out to him and took a sip. “Thank you, lass,” he whispered softly. Mary blushed.

  Abbey watched her mom quizzically. Never in her life had she seen Mary behave this way. The older woman twirled an auburn curl around her finger as she talked. Abbey smiled. She could understand why. For a man in his sixties, Gordon was incredibly sexy. He was nearly as tall as Sloan, with the body of Zeus. Truthfully, he looked a lot like the man he was put in charge of protecting. He could easily pass as Sloan’s father.

  Mary settled into her chair as Gordon continued mowing. Abbey watched her love-struck mother for a few moments. “You like Gordon,” she accused.

  Looking baffled, Mary stared at Abbey. “He’s being a gentleman, helping with the yard. Can’t I be appreciative?”

  Abbey grinned. “Yeah, sure. Appreciative. Mom, I think there’s something you should know about Gordon.”

  Mary’s face fell. “He’s married?”

  Abbey laughed. “No, Mom. Do you know anything about The Troubles in Northern Ireland?”

  Mary’s eyes lit up. “Yes. My friend, Lynne, is a political science professor at Cornell. She’s done a great deal of research on Northern Ireland. I think she’s still writing papers about the Irish Republican Army and Sinn Fein and the war and everything.”

  Abbey paused for a moment. “Well, Mom. You have a real-life commander of the IRA mowing your yard right now.”

  Mary stared at her in shock. “Abbey, that is not funny. That’s a serious accusation.”

  “I’m not kidding, Mom. It’s the truth.”

  “Why in the world would a member of the IRA come to the United States to be the chauffeur of a billionaire?”

  “Gordon left Northern Ireland as the handler to a young IRA member accused with a horrible crime he didn’t commit. Murder. He was sent to protect the young man from other terrorist organizations, who wanted to exploit his charge.”

  “What happened to the young man he was sent to protect? How did Sloan get in the middle of this mess?”

  Abbey laughed softly. “Sloan is Gordon’s charge. The young man Gordon was sent to guard is hopefully getting me granite countertops in my new kitchen.”

  “Sloan?”

  “Yes. Sloan was a member of the IRA too. He was an errand boy. He started to experiment with detonators on bombs. Someone duplicated what he did and used it on a marketplace in London.”

  Mary was silent for a moment. “And these men coming after him?”

  “I don’t know exactly who they are. All I know is that they are very bad and very determined to find them. And kill them.”

  “And you? What would happen to you?”

  This time Abbey was quiet. “I try not to dwell on it. It doesn’t change what I feel about Sloan.

  Mary smiled. “Then it doesn’t change how I feel, either.”

  Abbey returned the smile. “I didn’t want you to. I just wanted you to know before you say, well, ‘I do.’”

  “No one is saying ‘I do.’ And you didn’t know before you married Sloan?”

  “When I married Sloan, I thought he was gay. I certainly didn’t know I was marrying an IRA terrorist. Not that it bothered me, either.”

  The sound of the mower grew louder again. And, once again, her mother leaped to her feet a swooning lovesick mess with the glass of lemonade. Gordon met her at the edge of the steps again.

  He took a sip then looked up at Abbey. “Good morning, Abigail,” he greeted.

  “Good morning,” Abbey answered happily.

  Abbey watched the couple chatting in the morning sun. Gordon and my mom? Dating? She smiled. I could live with that.

  »»•««

  It was a phenomenon that Mary’s kitchen hadn’t experienced in ages—family dinner.

  For years, it had just been Mary and Abbey cooking soup and grilled cheese. They never sat at the long, oak dining room table that could seat twelve. It was depressing. They had chosen to dine in front of t
he television in the living room. The wood plank floor still bore the tomato stains. The dining table was used instead to hold stacked books, bank statements, and the frequent unfinished art project.

  Of course, there had been the occasional faculty mixer Mary would host. But it hadn’t been family. It had been a bunch of stuffed shirts from the college talking about the latest in cataloging, storing, and preservation.

  Mary would take the box she kept in the garage and shove the piles on the dining room table into it. Then, she would hide it under the table and drape an extra-long tablecloth over the top. When her last co-worker left, the contents would be dumped back on the table.

  But not today. Today was about family—a big one. Mary spent the afternoon to herself. She listened to National Public Radio as she sorted each and every paper and shelved each and every book. She shredded papers she no longer needed. She filed ones that she did. She felt a twinge of shame when she found Abbey’s second, third, and fourth grade report cards.

  Mary’s newfound family had left in their own directions. Abbey took lunch to Sloan at the new house. Gordon said he had an appointment he had to keep, but refused to tell anyone with whom it was. He would only wink at Mary, which sent her heart fluttering. Bartholomew and Maggie had yet to return from Iowa City.

  By five o’clock, Sloan and Gordon were on their way in Mary’s car to get steaks at the grocery store. Abbey joined her in the kitchen, slicing red potatoes and wrapping them in foil to be put on the grill.

  “Have you heard from Bartholomew and Maggie yet?” Mary asked.

  Abbey carefully rolled the foil closed and then pinched the ends to seal it. “They’re on their way back.”

  Mary kept her eyes forward as she felt her daughter examine the flowing, scoop-neck blouse and the pair of jeans that she wore. Abbey peered a little closer as she reached for the cutting board and the tomato sitting on it.

  “Mom, are you wearing makeup?” Abbey sounded astonished.

  Mary felt her face heat from her cheeks. Didn’t have to wear blush after all… “Maybe a little.”

  “You never wear makeup. I’ve never seen you wear makeup. Unless, of course, it’s a wedding or a funeral.”

  “Maybe I’m trying for a new look.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Both women turned as they heard the sound of footsteps join them. Maggie bounced into the kitchen, her blue eyes flashing with excitement. “Hello!” she greeted.

  Maggie wasn’t the only one thrilled. With the young woman’s arrival, Mary could change the subject of conversation. “Hello, Maggie. How was Iowa City?”

  “Fantastic. I’m enrolled to start classes toward my medical degree, and I interviewed for a position as a nurse in the emergency room of the university’s hospital. As soon as I can get my license, I will start.”

  “How are you going to manage school and work?”

  “It’s part-time. I’ll add hours if I can keep up with my studies. Plus it’ll make my internships easier. Anyway, I was done at the hospital, so I had lunch with Bartholomew and dragged him all over to find an apartment.”

  “Did you find one?”

  “Yes. It’s a cute little studio downtown. It’s all ready to move into. I am so excited!”

  “That’s great news.” Mary pulled open the drawer beside her and pulled out a paring knife. Then, she picked up the damp, recently washed celery from the sink and began chopping it into pieces.

  “So, what were you two talking about?”

  “Mom,” Abbey answered. “And her new look. The makeup, the clothes, the jewelry. She never wears makeup or jewelry. And that blouse. I didn’t even know you owned that blouse, Mom. That’s more cleavage than you’ve shown since I’ve known you.”

  “Maybe she’s changed since you left for New York,” Maggie suggested.

  “The Mary Wright I knew was the one who met us at the airport last night. This one,” Abbey motioned toward her mother, “this one is brand new.”

  “You don’t like it?” Mary demanded.

  “It’s not that. I think it’s wonderful, really. It’s shocking, that’s all. But what the hell caused it?”

  Mary watched as the ebony-haired Irish girl scanned her head to toe before giggling. “She’s in love.”

  “I’m not in love,” Mary protested.

  “She’s been mooning over Gordon.” Abbey sighed and shot Maggie a puzzled look. “How do you know she’s in love?”

  “Because I see that look on a lass’s face every day.”

  “Really? Who?”

  Maggie smiled silently as she nodded behind Abbey. Mary watched as Abbey turned around to find her sinfully sexy husband leaning on the counter.

  “Abigail, do you have those potatoes?” he questioned, his lips curling in a smile.

  “Yes.” Abbey picked up the foil pouch and handed it to him.

  “Thank you, luv.” Sloan pressed a kiss to her cheek before stepping back outside.

  Mary grinned as she watched Abbey shake herself back to reality. Abbey spun to face her and the laughing Maggie. “What?” she demanded.

  “The same look your mother has on her face is the same one you now have after my brother showed up on the scene.” Abbey’s cheeks burned red. Maggie continued, “But with you, Abbey, it’s creepy. Sloan’s my brother and all and…yuck!”

  Abbey shot Maggie a mischievous glare as she picked up the bowl of salad and carried it to the table. Mary opened the refrigerator door to grasp the pitcher of lemonade and followed her daughter to the dining room.

  The three women looked up as the front door opened and the men filed inside, carrying plates full of thick grilled steak. Each member of the new family found their place at the table. Mary bit her lip nervously as Gordon took the seat opposite her, smiling as he poured lemonade into his glass and took a sip.

  After Gordon led them in a prayer of grace, the bowls and plates were passed in a flurry. Sloan sliced free a chunk of steak and popped it in his mouth as he scrutinized his sister. “You enrolled in medical school,” he asked, his question more a demand than a request.

  “Yes, big brother,” Maggie answered. “I also applied for a nurse’s position in the ER.”

  Mary watched Bartholomew, who hovered despondently over his meal. “Did you find work at the hospital too, Bartholomew?”

  “The only job available is the same ER position. They didn’t feel I was qualified,” he growled.

  Gordon set his fork down. “Did you tell them about your experience as a field medic? You’ve taken the physician’s assistant training. They gave you an officer’s rank after it. Bloody hell. Doesn’t that matter to them?”

  “Unfortunately, no.” Bartholomew exhaled slowly. “They weren’t too favorable about the dishonorable discharge.”

  Maggie turned toward him, her brow knotted with concern. “Dishonorable discharge?” she whispered.

  Bartholomew looked away, refusing to answer. He turned his attention back to Gordon. “There were openings with the ambulance service. They snatched me right up. I’m a paramedic. I’ll be working with the hospital Maggie is with.”

  “That’s not so bad,” Mary consoled. “That’s a great job.”

  Bartholomew huffed in response. “Yeah.”

  “And Maggie,” Sloan continued, shifting focus. “Have you found an apartment? Or are you going to live with Abbey and me?”

  “No, I’m not living with the newlyweds. Not in a million years. Yes, I put a deposit on a little studio apartment in the downtown area.”

  “And Bartholomew is in the same building?”

  “Nope.”

  “No?” Sloan roared.

  “I’m just a few blocks away, Sloan,” Bartholomew interjected. “I’m close by if Maggie needs me.”

  Mary noticed the fury coursing through Sloan at the idea of his baby sister living unprotected in a new city. It’s time to change the subject. “So how did your appointment go, Gordon?” she asked.

  “Fantastic.” Gordon wiped his
mouth with a paper napkin and set it on the table. “I met with a realtor. Bought a house.”

  “You bought a house?” Sloan stared at the older Irishman. “I didn’t realize you planned on staying.”

  “I do. I need to stay and keep you out of trouble. Besides, I think I enjoy it here.”

  Mary sighed wistfully as her eyes caught Gordon’s. She took a sip of her lemonade as she fought to ignore Abbey’s amused laughter.

  Chapter Three

  Bartholomew grasped the handle of the door as he took a deep breath and held it. He really didn’t want to do this. Slowly letting the air go, he slammed it shut and then settled next to the gurney. He signaled to the driver to take off.

  “Hey there, little fella,” Bartholomew half-heartedly greeted the freckled, redheaded ten-year-old. The boy tucked his arm against his stomach like a broken wing. “My name is Bartholomew. I’m here to check your heart rate and your temperature. What’s your name?”

  “Austin,” the boy grumbled.

  “Austin…” Bartholomew prompted. He glanced up at the child’s mother. Dressed in a tight fitting navy dress, the woman typed frantically on her phone, ignoring him and her son as she did her best to steady herself in the speeding vehicle. He fought back an eye roll before he looked back to the kid. You called nine-one-one for a broken arm? You couldn’t take your own kid to the emergency room? Sure hope you have fantastic insurance.

  “Franklin,” the boy huffed.

  “Well, my name is Bartholomew. It’s great to meet you.” Bartholomew offered his hand to the boy. Austin just stared at him. He picked up the blood pressure cuff. “First, let’s start with your blood pressure.”

  Bartholomew reached across the gurney, carefully wrapping the cuff around Austin’s good arm while doing his best to avoid the wounded limb. He strapped it closed and then pressed the cool metal of the stethoscope into the crook of Austin’s elbow. Gently pumping air into the apparatus, he listened intently for the pulse.

  “Are you a doctor?” Austin demanded.

  Bartholomew stared at the little boy, startled. Then he smiled. “No. I’m a paramedic. My friends and I are going to take you to the doctor.”