Unlikely Hero

“I’m on my way to work.” She reminded herself of why she’d come. “Let’s just set another time to get together about the wedding.”

“Sure thing.” He flipped open a desk calendar and slid on a pair of black-rimmed glasses to consult it. “But I still want to talk with Gabe and Nolie about this first.”

Obviously he didn’t intend to take her word for what Nolie wanted. “Fine.” She bit off the word. “I’ll give Nolie a call after I get to the office. Maybe we can get this cleared up today, so I can get going on things.”

She turned, then hesitated and reversed. It wouldn’t hurt to ask. “How’s Stacy? Did you find a place for her last night?”

“Yes. She stayed at my aunt and uncle’s house.”

She might have known. The Flanagan clan seemed to stick together on everything. “Have you had that talk with her yet?”

“Not exactly.” Something wary and cautious shadowed his eyes, making them look more gray than green.

She could interpret that look. “Something went wrong. What?”

“Nothing. Well, not exactly.” He so clearly didn’t want to tell her that it was almost funny. “Aunt Siobhan called. When they got up this morning, Stacy was gone. So was fifty dollars from my uncle’s wallet.”

She’d been that desperate once. The memory of it made her stomach churn. She forced the feeling away, angry at Brendan for making her remember. “I hate to say I told you so, but—”

He frowned. “Look, sometimes these kids have to test the boundaries. She’s trying to figure out if we’re people she can count on. She’ll come back.”

“I hope you’re right about that, Pastor.”

But she didn’t think he was. In Stacy’s position, she probably would have used the money to run. Or maybe she’d have gone right back into the bad situation. That had happened more often than she wanted to recall.

“But you think I’m wrong.” He studied her face intently, as if he’d looked beneath the skin to her inner heart. “Why are you so sure?”

The sick feeling was back. Being around Brendan brought out all kinds of strong feelings, and she didn’t want any of them.

“That’s just another situation where you and I don’t agree, I’m afraid.” She pushed the subject away. “I’d better get going.”

“Wait a second.” He held out one hand, smiling at her. “I’ll make a deal with you.”

She frowned, searching for immunity to the masculine wallop that easy smile contained. The Flanagan men seemed to have more than their fair share of male magnetism.

“What kind of a deal?”

“We both think we know what Gabe and Nolie want. If you’re right about Nolie really wanting a big wedding, I’ll help you pull it off.”

She looked at that. She didn’t see a catch. “A deal has to have two sides. What’s the other one?”

“If I’m right about Stacy, then you’ll give me a hand with my teens.”

She stared at him blankly. “Your teens?”

“The kids you saw last night.” Sudden enthusiasm made his eyes sparkle. “I’m trying to help some of them learn to apply for jobs. You’re an expert at the business world. Seems as if you were made for the project.”

“Oh, no.” Words couldn’t express how little she wanted to do that. “I’m not a do-gooder. Besides, I’ll be too busy with the wedding.”

“Not if you’re right. If you’re right, I’ll be helping you with the wedding.”

She was right. So what did she have to lose?

“What do you say?” His eyebrows lifted in a challenge. “Do we have a deal?”

“All right. We have a deal.”

“Fine.” He held out his hand, as if to seal the bargain. She took it, and his fingers closed on hers, generating a wave of warmth that dumbfounded her. For an instant Brendan looked startled, as if that warmth had hit him, too.

She pulled her hand free and looked at her watch. “I have to go. I’m going to be late for work.” That was something else to chalk up against him.

The less she saw of Pastor Brendan, the better. He had a way of upsetting her equilibrium, and she didn’t like things getting out of her control.

So why had she just made a deal to work with him on the wedding arrangements? And with his group of juvenile delinquents, too?

Well, that part of it wasn’t going to happen. Unfortunately, she knew she was right about Stacy.

As for Brendan— She took a deep breath. Whatever effect the man had on her, she’d just have to ignore it until it went away.

Chapter Two

Claire frowned at her computer screen. The report she was compiling seemed to have lost its charm. The dry recital of statistics and probabilities faded into a background for Stacy’s troubled face.

Or maybe for Brendan’s, looking at her with that quizzical smile of his.

She swung away from the screen, exasperated. It was bad enough that Brendan had made her late for work for the first time in—well, ever. It was worse that he kept intruding on her concentration now that she was here. Work was too important to let anything else interfere with it.

No woman had ever risen to the level of assistant to the president of Gray Enterprises, until she’d managed it. She wasn’t about to stop there, either. CEO. That had a nice sound to it. Harvey Gray wouldn’t want to stay active in the company he’d founded forever. There was no reason why his trusted right hand shouldn’t become his successor, if she played her cards right. Then she’d be safe.

Safe? She rethought her choice of words, appalled. Safety had nothing to do with it. She would never let herself be a victim again, regardless of her position. It was just that encounter with Stacy that upset her.

She glanced around her office, with its Berber carpeting and built-in walnut shelves. When she moved up the ladder, she’d have mahogany, and the door with the frosted-glass window would be replaced by a solid one.

Those little nuances spelled out one’s relative importance to the company. She didn’t have to be content with a cubicle any longer, and if the frosted glass served to isolate her from colleagues, that was just part of success.

A tap at the door startled her. She frowned at the shadow behind the frosted glass before taking a quick look into her pocket mirror. It was probably just her secretary, but it wouldn’t do to be caught looking less than her best.

“Come in.”

But it wasn’t her secretary. Brendan Flanagan, his clerical collar looking decidedly out of place in the capitalist confines of Gray Enterprises, popped his head around the door.

“Hope I’m not disturbing you.”

He was, but she could hardly say so. “How did you find me?” Actually, that was silly. He could have asked Nolie, if he wanted to know anything about her.

He let the door swing shut and crossed to the desk. “I knew you worked for Harvey Gray. Harvey is one of my parishioners.”

So maybe he wasn’t as out of place here as she’d assumed.

“I didn’t realize.” She gestured to the visitor’s chair, which was placed at a distance from her desk—a careful calculation to preserve her air of authority. “Sit down.”

Instead of taking the seat she’d indicated, Brendan propped himself against her desk, intruding into her space. She edged her chair back an inch.

“What brings you here?”

And why was she letting his presence make her feel uncomfortable in her own office? She glanced around the room, mentally contrasting its elegance with the Spartan surroundings of Brendan’s office. This room never failed to assure her that she had it made.

He pulled something out of his suit pocket and put it on her pristine blotter. A fifty-dollar bill.

She stared at it, uncomprehending. “What’s that?”

“It’s from Stacy.”

“Stacy.” That brought her gaze to search his face. “She’s turned up?” She hadn’t realized until that moment that she’d actually been worrying about that ungrateful kid.

Brendan leaned toward her across the desk, his smile inviting her to join him in celebrating. “An hour ago she walked into the church, apologizing. I told her she owed my aunt and uncle the apology, not me.”

“All of you, I think.” She was more relieved than she’d have thought possible. After all, she barely knew the girl, and that was the way she planned to keep it. “I guess that means she’s going to let you help her.”

He lifted an eyebrow, as if she should know the answer to that. “Not exactly.”

“What do you mean, not exactly?” A sense of foreboding gripped her.

“Stacy wants to talk. I figure she can be your first project.”

She could only stare at him, appalled at the very idea. “Project? What on earth are you talking about?”

He waved the bill again. “Our deal. Remember? You agreed that if I was right to trust Stacy, you’d help out with my teens.”

She couldn’t have agreed to any such thing, could she? “I didn’t.”

“You did.” His lips twitched. “You’re not by any chance trying to get out of our deal, are you, Ms. Delany?”

Of course she was. Her mind scrambled frantically for an excuse he’d accept. “You asked me to help them prepare for jobs, that’s all.”

Not deal with abuse. Her stomach clenched.

“If Stacy thought she could get along all right on her own, she’d be less likely to stay in a bad relationship.”

He was more right about that than he probably knew, but that didn’t mean she could do this.

“Stacy wouldn’t want to talk to me. I wasn’t even nice to her.”

“Oddly enough, that seems to have made an impression on her. She said you were real.” He shrugged. “As opposed to me, apparently.”

“Does that bother you?” She jumped at the chance to turn the subject toward him, but he just shook his head.

“This isn’t about me. It’s about Stacy. And the agreement you made.” He leaned toward her across the desk again, his eyes so intent they seemed to probe her soul.

She drew back, putting a few more inches between herself and that magnetic gaze. “I’m not a social worker. I can’t help her.”

“You don’t know that. For some reason, Stacy seems to relate to you.”

Because the girl sensed that Claire had once been where she was? Nonsense. She couldn’t possibly.

“That’s very flattering, but I’ve got my hands full already with my work and the wedding. I can’t take on anything else.”

“You said you would.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but he had her, and they both knew it.

There was still a way out of this. If she told Brendan about her past, he’d trip all over himself apologizing for trying to involve her in something so painful to a person with her history.

She wouldn’t. She wouldn’t give him a reason to look at her with pity. Nobody got to pity her.

She came to a reluctant conclusion. “I just have to talk to her, right?”

He shrugged. “I think your conscience will tell you what to do from there.”

If he only knew. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that, Pastor. My conscience is pretty elastic after a number of years in the business world.”

“I trust you.”

Really, that smile of his ought to be outlawed.

“If I do this, you’re going to owe me big-time.”

“What do you want?”

“We both know that. You cooperate with my plans for the wedding.”

“Only if Nolie and Gabe agree. That’s the other part of our deal, remember?”

“Fine. They’ll agree.” She was confident she knew what Nolie wanted, and Gabe was so in love that he’d do anything that made Nolie happy.

“Then I guess you have a deal, Ms. Delany.” Brendan held out his hand, his face serious but with a smile lurking in those changeable eyes.

She put her hand in his, her apprehension stirring. That wave of warmth hit again. Being prepared didn’t seem to prevent it.

She had to catch her breath before she could speak evenly. “All right, a deal. When do you want me to get together with Stacy?”

“I told her you’d be at the church tonight around nine. Usually some of the kids stop by then, and that’ll make her feel safer.” He got off her desk. “And we’re having dinner with Gabe and Nolie at the Flanagan house at six. We can find out then what kind of wedding they want.”

She glared at him. “You were taking an awful lot for granted, weren’t you?”

“We both get what we want. What’s wrong with that?” He gave her an innocent look she didn’t buy.

“For a minister you’re something of an opportunist, you know that?”

He grinned. “For a businesswoman, you’re something of a do-gooder, Ms. Delany. Maybe we bring out the best in each other.”

“Or the worst.”

He headed for the door. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

Brendan had been trying to figure out Claire’s opinion of the Flanagan family throughout the whole meal, and he didn’t quite have it pegged yet. He forked a bite of his Aunt Siobhan’s excellent apple crumb pie into his mouth and watched while Claire parried Uncle Joe’s questions about the inner workings of Gray Enterprises.

Claire’s polish and sophistication would probably make her at home anywhere, but she definitely hadn’t wanted to attend this family dinner. She’d come, because he hadn’t given her much choice if she wanted his cooperation with the wedding, but she seemed to be doing a great job of resisting the famous Flanagan charm.

He glanced around the long oval table that had been the scene of countless family dinners over three generations of Flanagans. The crowd was smaller than usual tonight, out of deference to the fact that Gabe and Nolie were supposed to be having a quiet evening to plan their wedding.

Only Seth, the brother who came next after Gabe, sat at the table, coaxing his toddler son to try a bite of apple. Davy grinned, snatched the apple slice, and rubbed it through his fine, red-gold hair.

This had been home to Brendan for so long that he sometimes managed to forget his earlier life. Sometimes, but not for long. His father had been Uncle Joe’s brother, after all, and an innocent phrase or gesture could bring that past surging back.

Joe held center stage at the moment, as he so often did, while Siobhan watched him, quietly smiling. He’d turn soon to his favorite subject.

“And did you know that all the Flanagans were members of the Suffolk Fire Department, Ms. Delany?”

“I’ve heard something about that, yes.” Claire’s gaze met Brendan’s. “I guess Brendan broke the family tradition, didn’t he?”

“You’d think that, but you’d be wrong,” Joe said triumphantly. “Brendan might be a minister, but he’s also the chaplain of the fire department.”

Claire’s eyebrows lifted. “Yes, he told me. He’s talented, isn’t he?”

“That’s our Brendan. And he doesn’t just go through the motions. He’s a fully qualified firefighter, too. I’d count on him to take the hose in just as much as I would Gabe or Seth or Ryan.”

“Leave me out of it,” Gabe said. He smiled at Nolie, and the love that shone between them was so bright it hurt to look. “I’ve got another full-time job now.”

“And a good one it is, too,” Joe said quickly.

After an accident on the job left Gabe prone to seizures that ended his career, they’d all feared he’d never be himself again. Then Nolie and the service animals she trained had given him a new purpose in life.

Max, Gabe’s seizure alert dog, lay beside his chair. Gabe and Nolie were totally involved in expanding her services to give more people a fresh start.

They all owed a great deal to Nolie. Brendan wondered, not for the first time, at the strong bond between Nolie and Claire. They seemed such total opposites. Nolie was all warmth and caring, more comfortable in jeans working with her animals than anywhere else.

Claire didn’t look as if she ever wore anything as casual as jeans. Even the clothes she’d chosen for a simple family dinner, black slacks and cream silk shirt, declared that. Against the shirt, her hair was a helmet of burnished copper.

He’d have guessed Claire was the type of woman to have few women friends, obsessed as she seemed to be with her career. Whatever the secret to her bond with Nolie was, Gabe probably knew it, but Gabe wasn’t telling.

“Let’s take our coffee into the living room and be comfortable,” Siobhan suggested. “We can talk about the wedding there.”

Brendan slid his arm around his aunt’s waist as they got up. “That was a wonderful meal.” He kissed her cheek. “As always.”

“You should know,” Seth gibed. “You’re always here.”

“I’m invited,” he retorted. “What’s your excuse?”

Since young Davy chose that moment to throw a bit of apple at his father, Seth didn’t respond. Brendan escaped to the living room.

Seth would get his revenge at some point, of course. That was part of being more like brothers than cousins.

Joe was giving Claire the grand tour of the wall that was covered with fire department photos and citations. He glanced at Gabe, who rolled his eyes. There was no sidetracking Uncle Joe when he got started on his favorite topic.

“That picture is me and my two brothers when we joined up, more years ago than I care to remember,” Joe said, gesturing to a faded black-and-white photo. “We thought we were pretty hot stuff the first time we put those uniforms on.”

Claire leaned closer, studying the picture as if she really were interested in Flanagan family history. “Which one is Brendan’s father?”

His stomach clenched, but at least she’d asked Joe, not him. Joe pointed.

“That’s my brother John, Brendan’s dad. He was a year younger than me.”

And a million miles different in temperament. But probably his uncle was able to remember some of the good things about his little brother.

Claire took a step or two along the wall, looking at one citation after another. Nobody could fault the Flanagans when it came to courage. They had more than their share of citations attesting to that.

“Distinguished Fire Service Award,” Claire read. “John Patrick Flanagan.” She glanced at him. “This was your father’s.”

He nodded. “The highest award given by the department.” He was pleased that his voice sounded so level.

“I should think you’d want to have this in your office,” she said. “Or your home.”

How he kept his expression steady he wasn’t sure. What was it with this woman? How could she manage to put her finger right on the sore spot and push?

“Aunt Siobhan keeps the awards,” he said lightly. “I wouldn’t want to leave a hole in her display.”

He carried his coffee to a chair and sat, only to discover that Gabe was watching him with concern. Okay, maybe he wasn’t hiding his feelings as well as he thought, at least not from Gabe, who knew him better than anyone. But Claire would never guess.

He glanced at his watch. “I’m sorry to interrupt the grand tour, Uncle Joe, but maybe we’d better get started on the wedding arrangements. I have to be back at the church by nine.”

Uncle Joe nodded, but Gabe gave him a quizzical look. “I thought we’d already decided. A simple, quiet ceremony, just family and a few friends. Nolie and I are too busy with the expansion project to do anything else.”

Some of his tension eased. Surely Claire would see that they had to do this Gabe and Nolie’s way.

“Claire has some other ideas—” he began, but Claire interrupted him.

“I’m the closest thing Nolie has to family.” Her voice was determined. “I want to give her a real wedding with all the trimmings. She’s only going to do this once. It should be a day to remember.”

He waited for Nolie to insist that what she wanted was the simple ceremony Gabe had talked about.

“Claire, I can’t let you do that,” Nolie said, her blue eyes troubled. “It’s too expensive, and besides, we just don’t have enough time. We’re so busy with the farm we can’t take care of all those arrangements.”

“That’s why I want you to let me do it.” The firm set of Claire’s jaw suggested that neither money nor time would deter her. “You should have a perfect wedding.” Her look softened. “You and Gabe deserve it. Let me do this for you—it would be my gift to you both. Please.”

Gabe looked horrified for just one instant. Then he looked at Nolie and obviously saw what they all saw— that moment of sheer longing before she closed the door on the idea and shook her head.

“I agree,” Siobhan said unexpectedly. “So there’s not much time. So what? Goodness knows we’ve put on plenty of parties on a moment’s notice in the past. A wedding’s far more important.”

If Aunt Siobhan had gone over to the enemy, they were really in trouble.

“The ceremony is the important thing,” Brendan said, but he had the sinking feeling no one was listening to him.

Siobhan, Claire and Nolie were suddenly all talking at once, and words like “shower,” “flowers” and “lace” floated to the surface like spray tossed up by a wave.

He met Gabe’s gaze. Gabe gave a rueful grin. “Forget it, Bren,” he said. “We’ve been outvoted. I guess it’s going to be a wedding with a capital W.”

“I guess so.”

Claire cast him a triumphant look, as if she’d heard his capitulation over the babble of voices.

It appeared he’d be spending a great deal of time with Claire over the next month. That idea seemed to be making him feel ridiculously cheerful.

Claire walked slowly from the church parlor, where she and Stacy had been talking, toward Brendan’s study. She shouldn’t feel so at home in the church after only a few days. After all, she hadn’t been in a church before that for twenty-some years.

Nevertheless, here she was going in search of the pastor, just like any one of his faithful parishioners. Brendan would probably be as horrified at that thought as she was.

But she wasn’t really looking for his advice, was she? After all, she knew more about what Stacy was going through than he ever could. Still, she felt compelled to check in with him.

The study door was propped open, and as soon as he saw her, Brendan came toward her, hand outstretched in welcome. “How did it go? Is there anything I can do?”

She didn’t want to admit the pleasure she felt at the sight of him. “At least she’s given up the attacking door story and admitted Ted hit her.”

“That’s good.” He studied her face. “You look all in. Takes something out of you, doesn’t it?”

She nodded. He couldn’t know just how much. “I don’t know how you manage to do this all the time. Of course, I suppose your regular congregation doesn’t present problems like this very often.”

He gave a short bark of laughter. “You don’t know much about congregations if you think that.” He gestured her toward a chair and opened the small refrigerator under a microwave on the opposite wall. “A cold soda?”

“Sounds good.” She watched as he popped the lids on two soda cans. Some tall men were awkward, but she’d already noticed that Brendan went about the simplest tasks with an easy economy of movement. He carried the soda to her, then folded himself into the chair opposite her, rather than going back to his seat behind the desk.

“So every day you get up and come to work and deal with other people’s problems,” she said, unaccountably curious as to what made him tick. She understood people who were motivated by ambition. What motivated Brendan?

“Pretty much.” He took a gulp of the soda. “That’s what being a minister means. Of course, it also means I get to share their joys.”

“Does it balance out?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes.”

“You’re a fount of information.”

He grinned. “Sorry. You’re asking me to evaluate my whole ministry in a few words. I don’t think I can do it that easily. Can you describe your job that way?”

Could she? “I think so. Basically my job is to help Harvey Gray run the corporation. Anything he wants, I get. Any problem he wants solved, I solve.”

“You sound like a guardian angel. I don’t suppose you’d like to come work for me, would you?”

“I doubt you could meet the salary requirements.”

“Probably not. Is that why you do it? The money?”

“In part.” She’d always prided herself on being honest about what drove her. She wouldn’t change just because Brendan might think less of her. “Partly it’s the challenge. And mostly because it’s the way to the top.”