Over the shrieks of glee and the pleas, “Can you make pancakes in the morning? Can we take Cleo for a walk?” Briana felt her stomach contract.

Damn that interfering, matchmaking Shannon O’Shea. Briana had liked her better when she was threatening her than she did now that the woman was trying to foster a relationship between Briana and Patrick that was both inappropriate and fraught with potential heartache.

Briana knew perfectly well that the sleepover was a ploy to give her and Patrick time alone. It had to be the least subtle ploy she’d ever seen, and in front of his whole family, too! Not that anyone seemed to mind. Mary, for one, had a complacent smile on her face, and she saw the older woman reach for her husband’s hand and give it a quick squeeze.

Oh, no.

Briana didn’t want time alone with Patrick. Well, okay, she did, but not while everything was such a mess, and she was so confused.

No. She couldn’t and wouldn’t be manipulated like this. As well-meaning as his sister was, Shannon was also, as she’d warned Briana, pushy. For some reason, Patrick’s sister had now decided to sanction the romance, but Briana needed to let it be known to every O’Shea in Courage Bay that she made her own decisions. And being offered a night alone with Patrick on a silver platter was more tempting than she liked to admit, but she wasn’t ready for that delicacy quite yet.

In the pandemonium of the kids getting ready to go, and before Patrick’s family had a chance to leave, she retrieved her coat. Her color was high, she knew, but she couldn’t help that. Maybe they’d think she’d caught a touch of sun.

“Thank you for a lovely party,” she said to Dylan, who was running around the kitchen with his sleeping bag, shouting something about not needing a toothbrush.

Patrick didn’t seem to agree on the toothbrush situation and was down in the bathroom, she presumed, yelling something about cavities.

“Thanks for the present,” Dylan said. “I mean, thanks for coming.”

“I had a good time. You enjoy your sleepover.”

Then she gave Shannon her blandest smile, wished every O’Shea in the vicinity a pleasant evening, and headed out while the O’Shea she most cared about was down the hall in his children’s bathroom.

And take that, Shannon, she said to herself as she scooted into her car and drove home.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

BRIANA STARED at the grainy photocopy of the newspaper story and photo that had destroyed her uncle’s chance at being mayor and felt a surge of irritation. Uncle Cecil should hire a lawyer and a private investigator and find out once and for all who’d planted the false story and evidence. Her uncle insisted he wouldn’t have her aunt hurt, but he didn’t seem to consider that this whole mess was hurting his niece.

As much as she wanted to help her uncle, she was putting her own career in jeopardy. She’d come to Courage Bay so angry on her aunt and uncle’s behalf that she couldn’t see straight, never mind think straight. But she’d had two months to gain some perspective and she’d also discovered that she loved Courage Bay, enough that she wanted to put down some roots and stay awhile. Maybe forever. She could no longer contemplate a political hit-and-run operation.

Once Briana had done as much of the legwork as she could to find the culprit behind this story, she’d insist Uncle Cecil launch a formal investigation or drop his vendetta. That was a more honorable course than trying to destroy Patrick’s career.

Even as she tried to focus on the photo, her sneaky mind kept transporting her to that house in Jacaranda Heights, where, even now, Patrick was cleaning up after the party, or maybe doing some quiet activity of his own, since he had the house to himself.

All night long.

Lust grabbed at her with sharp claws and she gritted her teeth to stop herself from driving back over to his place. But maybe once she’d left, Shannon had reneged on the invitation to the kids, and Patrick and his family were all playing one of the new video games Dylan had received for his birthday.

No. Shannon wouldn’t back out of her invitation, not when Fiona and Dylan had been so excited. Patrick was on his own all right, unless he’d decided to use his freedom to do some socializing. She didn’t like how that thought made her feel, but then she’d had her chance to be the one “socializing” with Patrick, and she’d declined the treat.

But her restlessness didn’t abate.

She put the newspaper article down on her kitchen counter. What was she thinking? It was Saturday night. She should have gone out. One of the girls at work was having a party tonight. She could go. But having already turned down a dinner invitation from a man who might now be there, she’d decided to stay home.

Sometimes, being single sucked.

Having decided that, she wandered into the kitchen. She wasn’t starving exactly, since she’d had a burger for lunch, but cooking always soothed her. There was a nice bottle of Pinot Gris in the fridge, which she opened. She put Sarah McLachlan on the CD player, took out salad greens and a free-range chicken breast and started cooking.

She was humming, her salad dressing half-made, when there was a knock at her door.

Odd. Everyone she knew would call before coming over. Maybe it was someone canvassing for some cause or a neighbor looking for a lost cat.

She opened the door and Patrick stood on her doorstep, apparently as surprised to be there as she was to see him. And she was far too happy to see him.

“Hi,” she said, noting that his eyes were almost navy in the dim evening light.

“Hi.” He didn’t make a move to come in and didn’t seem to have much to say for himself.

Wanting to help him out, she asked, “Did I forget something at Dylan’s party?”

“Yes.” It must have been her sweater. But he wasn’t carrying anything, and then she remembered she’d draped her sweater over a chair in the kitchen.

“Okay. What?”

“You forgot to say goodbye.”

“I said goodbye to Dylan. He’s the one who invited me.”

“Right. But I’m the one who missed you when you left.”

“Oh, Patrick. You mustn’t say things like that.” He was playing right into her uncle’s hands and she didn’t want him to.

“I know.” She opened the door wider and he leaned his shoulder against the jamb. “I don’t want to want you this much. I said I’d give you a month, and it hasn’t even been two weeks.”

She nodded. She could count the days as well as he could. And she had been.

“But I have a problem.” He glanced up at her, so solemn, his blue eyes frank and intense. “I’m crazy about you.”

Her heart did a perfect somersault. “Oh, Patrick.”

“Do you think I could come in for a minute?”

She nodded and let him in. Without bothering to ask if he wanted one, she poured him a glass of wine and led him into her tiny living area, where she took a seat and gestured him into the one opposite her.

He fiddled with the stem of his glass. Sipped. Put the glass down on the rattan coffee table. She was irrationally glad she’d bought some fresh red tulips today and put them in a vase, not that he appeared to notice them.

“We never should have made love,” he said almost savagely.

Her mouth opened, but he went on before she could speak.

“No. That’s not true. I never should have hired you. I saw your résumé and I knew you were overqualified for the job. If I hadn’t hired you, I’d have met you some other way. I’ve tried so hard to stay away, Briana, but after the night in the elevator, I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Her heart was pounding at a ridiculous rate. “I…Oh, Patrick.”

“Honey, I don’t think I can wait a month for you.”

“But you promised me-”

“I know I did. I’ve considered resigning as mayor.”

She blinked. He was handing her the answer to all her troubles on a silver platter. If he resigned, then her uncle would have achieved his goal. Maybe Uncle Cecil could have another shot at the job himself. Except that, family loyalty aside, she knew Patrick was doing the right thing for Courage Bay, and now was not the time for change.