“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Mary said, and instead of shaking Briana’s hand politely, she pulled her in for a rib-crushing hug. “Patrick thinks the world of you, you know. He’s lucky to have you.”

“Thank you,” Briana said faintly, wondering if she’d bruise.

“This is Patrick’s father, my husband, Caleb,” Mary said, jabbing her husband in the belly with her elbow to get his attention.

Caleb was tall-about six foot five-and probably weighed in about three hundred pounds. Even though he was completely bald, he was a handsome man, with the same gorgeous blue eyes and thick black lashes as Patrick.

Not certain she could survive a hug if he was as enthusiastic as his wife, Briana was relieved when he shook her hand heartily with his own work-roughened hand. “Patrick’s lucky to have such a pretty little thing in his office,” the older man said with an appreciative spark in his eye.

“You are so politically correct, Dad,” Shannon said, rolling her eyes at him.

Caleb only laughed, a big booming laugh. “I know Briana’s excellent at her job, because my son told me so. Don’t see why me thinking she’s pretty is a crime.”

Briana was dazed rather than offended. At five feet ten she didn’t often get called a “pretty little thing,” but the O’Sheas all seemed to dwarf her. She decided she liked Caleb with his humorous gaze and hearty laugh, so she smiled up at him. “I’m not offended. Thank you for the compliment.”

Shannon was summoned away by John, so her father took it upon himself to introduce the rest of his clan, which included Brian O’Shea, Patrick’s grandfather, Sean O’Shea, Patrick and Shannon ’s brother, who was a smoke jumper with the fire department, and his wife, Linda.

Even though it was a family party, the O’Sheas put Briana at ease, and she was soon enjoying herself more than she’d imagined she would.

Dylan roared past with a “Hi, Briana,” giving her his soon-to-be-chick-magnet grin and racing on to the next game with his crew of equally noisy friends. He seemed delighted to see her, but no more so than he was happy to see everyone else.

Fiona also had a friend over, the younger sister of one of Dylan’s pals, and the two little girls were sitting cross-legged on a quilt under a leafy tree, playing dolls. Briana walked over and paused to watch the girls. She couldn’t believe the difference between the orderly, low-key girls’ play and the rambunctious antics of the older boys.

She didn’t want to interrupt Fiona and her friend, but couldn’t stop herself from enjoying the scene for a few minutes.

“Sugar and spice and everything nice?” a deep male voice said softly behind her.

Since her body immediately perked to attention, it was obvious who was speaking. She turned to find Patrick altogether too close and looking more relaxed now.

She smiled at him, wishing she had the right to put her arms around him and kiss him. Wishing he didn’t look at her in a way that put the idea into her head.

“Will Fiona and her little friend be that noisy when they’re Dylan’s age?” she asked.

She ought to take a couple of steps back, Briana thought, but her body wouldn’t obey the dictates of her more sensible brain. He was so close she could see the black flecks in his eyes, the lines of both laughter and tragedy endured that radiated from the corners of his eyes, the darker patch of stubble on one side of his jaw where he’d missed a spot shaving. She could even smell him, the clean laundry smell of his T-shirt and the earthy and so-familiar scent of his skin. It took her back to the dark elevator, when she’d been surrounded by his scent, the feel of his skin, the sound of his voice.

The pull she felt was like a physical tug.

“I doubt it. I think boys are just rowdier.”

And which gender would he have ended up having more of, she wondered, if his wife hadn’t died? Boys or girls? It was a sad thought for a sunny day, but the information was so new to her that she needed to digest it. She wished she could ask Patrick, encourage him to open up and talk to her about that awful time. But she didn’t have the right. She already felt an intimacy she didn’t want to feel, and to encourage it at this point was crazy.

“You look like you’re miles away,” Patrick said.

“Sorry. I think I’m in shock. I had no idea Dylan and his friends had so much energy.”

He chuckled. “He’ll sleep tonight. They all will. And I’m sorry I didn’t give you much of a welcome. You caught me in the middle of a panic.”

She smiled, thinking how much she liked the carefree sound of his laughter, and how rare that laughter was these days. “As I believe I told you, I love to cook.”

“The salad looks great. Thanks for helping me out.”

“What are friends for?”

“Is that what we are, Briana? Friends?”

Briana had asked the question idly, and his reply stunned her. She blinked and stared at Patrick, so serious and so handsome with the sunlight glinting off his black hair, his blue eyes intent on her.

“I-I’d like to think we are.”

He gazed at her as though there was a lot more he wanted to say, and couldn’t. He merely nodded, and she noted the tense set of his shoulders as he turned and strolled over to his brother Sean, who was helping John flip burgers.

She didn’t see Patrick again until it was time for cake and presents. Since there were no kids in her own life-most of her friends being young, childless professionals-she was ridiculously nervous about her gift for Dylan. Was it too old? Too…artistic? She didn’t want to disappoint Dylan with a lame gift, and now she wondered if she’d been wise to include her small present for Fiona.

Oh, well, she’d done it with the best of intentions. Quietly she handed the little girl the wrapped package when Dylan opened his. Fiona was delighted, and her dainty little fingers made surprisingly short work of the wrapping.

“It’s a book!” Fiona showed it to Briana as though it would be a surprise for her, as well. She’d asked at the bookstore and hoped she had something age-appropriate, and the story was about a small black dog who got lost and had to find his way home. It seemed to be a hit with Fiona.

Dylan ripped the wrapping paper off his gift. “Wow. Cool,” he said as he opened the case and spied all the art supplies. “Thanks. I’ll draw you the first picture.” He flashed her that grin again, then opened his book and pumped his fist in the air. “Yes!”

He opened his other gifts, but the biggest excitement was saved for his father’s present-a black mountain bike with a glossy black helmet to match.

“Sweet!” Dylan yelled. “Now we can go biking together, Dad.”

Briana only hoped life in Courage Bay would calm down enough that the father and son could enjoy plenty of weekend bike rides.

She smiled to herself. While they were doing that, she and Fiona could spend some quality girl time making cookies, doing manicures, decorating the doll’s house she’d spied in the little girl’s room. Briana was dying to get her hands on it. And when Fiona was a little older, she imagined the four of them out riding together.

Abruptly she yanked her daydreams back to reality. What was she thinking? She never should have come here today and allowed herself to fall into the fantasy that she was part of the O’Shea clan.

Until she’d cleared her uncle’s name, she needed to keep her distance from the O’Sheas-all of them. If by some slim chance Patrick had been a party to hurting her family, the two of them could never have a future together.

Briana forced herself to drink coffee and chat to Mary O’Shea as though she weren’t counting the seconds until she could leave.

Then, suddenly, nine of the boisterous young boys were being taken home, and relative quiet descended on Patrick’s home. Good. Her moment to escape had arrived.

After a short conversation with Patrick and John, Shannon clapped her hands. “Do the birthday boy and his sister want to come have a sleepover at Auntie Shannon’s?”