Zach was, and in a few bars awkward became a touch of magic. Music was a language that always connected people. When he was playing, Zach could forget almost anything. At one point, his fingers caressing the strings, he looked up at Caer, who had moved to the front of the stage to watch him. Her smile was dazzling as she swayed with the music. There was a second, just a split second, when it was possible to imagine that they were more than wary strangers. That life could be like this, being in a place where a welcome was as expected as the sun rising come the morning, and where he felt as if the most striking and enigmatic woman in the world was doing nothing but waiting. For him.
He loved music. It was like breathing for him. He kept his hand in with the studios he owned and the small label he ran, but these days his main focus was on pulling his weight in the investigations business he ran with his brothers.
And with that thought, reality came crashing back.
When the number ended, he undid the guitar strap and waited for the guitarist to retrieve his instrument—a top-of-the-line Fender—then started to step down. But Eamon, Mary’s son, stopped him, handing him the Irish drum. “It’s yours, man.”
“I couldn’t take it,” Zach said.
“You must. I make them. Maybe you can send some new customers my way.”
Eamon grinned and went back to the standard set of drums that also sat on the stage.
“That was great,” Caer told Zach with enthusiasm.
“And I have an Irish drum now,” he said ruefully. “I didn’t mean to take it.”
“But you must always accept a gift from the Irish,” she told him gravely. “You’re not offered a gift unless it’s really meant, and it’s considered churlish to refuse it.”
“Then I’ll just be grateful to have it,” he told her.
Mary had taken their food back to the kitchen to keep it warm, but she brought their plates to them as soon as they sat back down at the bar. Since the pub was busy, she only had a moment now and then to stop by and check on them. As they ate, Caer told him more about the city she so clearly loved. He found himself listening to her, enjoying the sound of her voice as much as—maybe more than—her tales of a history he had known, at least to a degree, but perhaps never really appreciated.
She broke off suddenly, as if aware of the way he was looking at her, and he quickly turned his attention back to his pot roast.
She asked him wistfully, “What will it be like, in America?”
He paused, his fork halfway to his mouth, surprised to hear something that sounded suspiciously like anxiety in her tone.
“You’ll love the O’Riley place. Sean’s grandfather built the house. He bought the land when you could still afford to buy on the coast. The house is on a hill, with a view of the sea that’s beautiful on a good day and even better on a stormy one. And you’ll love Bridey, Sean’s aunt. You’ll like Kat, too. She’s already home for Christmas…. You’ll have to take a tour of the mansions, which are amazing, especially when they’re all decked out for Christmas. Newport’s not as old as Dublin, but it’s still got a lot of history. You’ll enjoy your visit, I promise.” He shrugged, grinning. “Marni—she’s married to Cal, the other partner—can be a witch, but just ignore her. Kat and Bridey will adore you. And Bridey…well, she might have left Ireland, but as the saying goes, Ireland never left her.”
She looked up at him, a slight shadow in her eyes and something vulnerable in her expression, but the look was quickly gone. “We should head out. Tomorrow will be a long day.”
“Yes, you’re right.”
They didn’t linger over their goodbyes. Mary gave Caer a huge hug, and Caer returned it warmly. Zach told himself he had to be mistaken. There was nothing suspicious about Caer Cavannaugh.
Except…there was.
They walked back to the hotel, where he ran upstairs to get her bags, then assured her that he would call a car and get her home safely.
She told him not to bother, and when he insisted, she said, “I want to go back to the hospital and check on Sean.”
“Then we’ll go together.”
“That’s not necessary. You must be exhausted, and you said you have an associate there watching over him.”
“Right. So you don’t need to go, either. But if you do, then I’ll go with you,” he said firmly, wondering why he felt so strongly about the subject.
She stared at him in frustration.
What was she afraid of? he wondered. What would he discover if he did take her home?
Maybe she had come from poverty and didn’t want him knowing.
Maybe, but she had to be doing all right now; the shopping bags she carried were from high-end stores.
“To the hospital then,” she said.
They were long past visiting hours, he assumed, but there were no questions asked. Caer merely said good evening to the guard on duty, who stared at her, smiled slowly, then watched without protest as they headed to the elevator.
They passed the nurses’ station with equal ease and headed down the quiet hallway to Sean’s room. Just as they reached the door, an orderly stepped out of the shadows. He was tall, heavily muscled, and his face was rough-hewn and showed the signs of a hard life.
“Flynn?” the man asked.
“Travis?”
“Aye.”
Zach introduced Caer, but Will Travis smiled and said, “Of course. I’ve seen Miss Cavannaugh with Mr. O’Riley.”
He took Caer’s hand and appeared loath to let it go. She was polite, but she retrieved her hand decisively.
“A quiet evening?” Zach asked.
“Oh, aye.” The man’s eyes lingered on Caer.