Page 43 of Calling on the Matchmaker
He swiped at it with his thumb, trying not to notice the smoothness of her skin. “Enya’s a smart girl, and she would have gotten past your father too.”
Finola held his gaze as though his words were like a rope saving her from drowning.
“You’re not to blame for Enya’s actions.”
“I could have done more, to be sure.”
“Are your parents blaming you? If so, that’s not fair.”
“They haven’t said anything.”
“Good. Because then I’d have to go over and tell them to stop being daft, blathering idiots.”
Her eyes rounded, but the tears were gone. “You wouldn’t dare do such a thing.”
“Watch me.” He made a move as though he intended to go.
She grabbed his arm. “Riley Rafferty, you’ll not be doing anything of the sort.”
He smiled. “Are you worried about what would happen to me, Finola?”
“Not a wee bit.”
He let his smile widen. “I think you are.”
She just shook her head, but she was fighting back a smile.
He wanted to see her smile, knew it would be beautiful.
But she ducked her head, and her expression turned serious again. What else could he say or do to make her see she wasn’t at fault, that Enya was a grown woman who’d made her own choice?
“Any ideas of where she went?”
For a few minutes, she shared all that she knew about Bryan, how he’d recently moved to St. Louis, was working as a clerk for a local merchant, and had plans to open his own business soon. Enya had met him at a party during the Christmas season and had obviously fallen for him quickly.
Riley stuffed his hands into his pockets to keep from reaching for Finola. “How about if I head out around town and check with the connections I have to see if they’ve heard anything about Enya or seen her?”
“No, Riley. That’s too much, and you have your work.”
“I don’t mind.”
“I didn’t come here to make you feel like you have to get involved.”
Oh, he wanted to get involved with her in every way possible. But he bit back the overzealous words and shrugged.
At the same time, she bumped the shelf behind her, and an old axle wobbled.
He reached past her to steady the item and keep it from falling on her. As he did so, his body brushed against hers. Instead of backing away, as her version of a propergentlemanwould, he made a show of situating the axle, pushing it away from the edge, leaning against her even more. He couldn’t seem to help himself.
It wasn’t much contact, but it was enough to draw a soft intake from her.
At the sound of her reaction and the tantalizing feel of her body, every inch of his flesh that touched hers heated with sharp need, just like it had the night of the kiss. He closed his eyes and let his chin graze her cheek. Sweet saints above, Finola Shanahan would be his undoing.
He paused with his mouth by her ear.
She drew in another breath, this one quicker and sharper.
She was like a fire burning down a building. And he was walking straight into the flames. The pain of a failed marriage with Helen had been enough. If he wasn’t careful, he would get hurt again, maybe even incinerated.
