Nancy Warren - Aftershocks

“This is a very inappropriate conversation,” Briana said, trying hard not to blush. Since she knew she was going a deeper red by the second, she stuck her head over the pot and started taking out potatoes. She shoved a couple Shannon ’s way. “Here. Peel these.”

“Ow,” her companion said. “They’re hot.”

“You’re a firefighter. You’re supposed to be able to take the heat.”

“Not in the kitchen,” Shannon grumbled. But she dug in and peeled potatoes, hot or not.

The sliding door opened and a huge man entered. The way he and Shannon looked at each other, Briana didn’t have to be introduced. Obviously, this was John Forester.

“Now that’s a sight for sore eyes-you being domestic,” he teased Shannon.

She laughed and introduced John and Briana.

“What are you doing in here?” Shannon asked.

“I’m hungry.”

“You’re always hungry. The food will be up in a minute. Go help Sean with the barbecue or something.”

With some good-natured muttering, John left and the two women went back to their potato salad.

Briana once more found herself raiding Patrick’s fridge and pantry for the ingredients she needed. There was lots of mayonnaise in the fridge, luckily, and some gourmet oil and vinegar dressing, which she threw in. No green onions, but she chopped up some celery and carrots. Patrick hadn’t boiled any eggs, so she decided to do without them. She got creative with some spices, mixed the whole thing together and found a pretty glass bowl to put the salad into. When she and Shannon were done, they had a very respectable-looking potato salad, and when they tasted it, they both approved.

“At least you’re a good cook,” Shannon said, helping herself to another scoop of potato salad, before Briana ruthlessly pulled it away and put it in the fridge.

Shannon started to wipe down the counter. “Look, I haven’t told many people this yet, but I’m thinking of moving to New York to be with John.”

“Wow. The family will miss you.”

“I know. Anyhow, I guess that’s why I was hard on you. I won’t be around to keep an eye on Patrick and the kids, so I have to get my licks in now.”

“I understand.” And she did. Family loyalty could make a person do some crazy things.

Now that Shannon had leveled with her, she seemed to loosen up around Briana, which was good. The only thing was, she didn’t want to be the great hope for Patrick’s future any more than she wanted to be the woman who brought him down with a sexual harassment charge.

Briana wanted a chance to get to know this man her body craved, who he really was, without the rest of the world looking on.

In a crowd of O’Sheas, that wasn’t likely to happen.

Surprisingly, as it turned out, Briana did get to know more about him that afternoon. She saw him with his family, relaxed in a sunny backyard with the smell of grilling burgers in the air.

They were a gregarious lot, the O’Sheas, and those she didn’t know, she soon met. Shannon made sure of it. She dragged Briana by the hand to meet her parents.

“Mom,” Shannon said, interrupting the older woman’s conversation, “this is Patrick’s new admin assistant, Briana Bliss. Briana, this is our mom, Mary.”

Mary O’Shea was as tall as her daughter. She looked about fifty, when Briana knew she had to be at least ten years older. She wasn’t a beautiful woman, but she was a striking one, with the most amazing cloud of long, white curly hair that floated around her head and shoulders in a way that was far too angelic for the expression in her twinkling hazel eyes. She looked like a woman who enjoyed a good joke and could keep her crew of men in line with no trouble at all.

“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.