woman he’d been looking for. As if there’d ever been a doubt.
“I said it was a shame you don’t know the name of your own father.”
An imperceptible pause and then, “I don’t have a father. I don’t have any family.”
“Ah, but you’re wrong.”
He opened the manila envelope he’d brought with him and took out the snapshot. He stared at it for a moment before pressing it against the screening. The dog growled again, but the lure pulled the woman closer.
The sun shifted a little higher, catching her in a beam that penetrated the screen and illuminated a delicate face with large gray eyes. Sean stared at her, stunned by the feeling that cut through him. She was familiar—not just because he’d known her when they’d been children living in Ireland. It was more than that. The sight of her lovely face, those soulful eyes, roused an awareness that went deeper than mere familiarity. It was harsh and yet intimate, and it confounded him completely.
In one arm she held the vicious little canine, the other hung at her side, fingers clenching and unclenching nervously. She cast him a guarded glance and caught him staring, mouth open. He forced himself to shut it.
There was something perplexing in her expression—as if she’d had the same bewildering sense of recognition as he. As if she knew who he was and what he really wanted. As if she knew him . The realization unsettled Sean long after she’d turned her attention to the photograph he held.
She stared at the picture as if entranced then brought her fingers up to touch it through the screen. “Where did you get this?” she murmured.
“It was taken in Ballyfionúir, Ireland, where you’re from. Where I live.” He waited a half beat before saying softly, “’Tis your family.”
She made a low sound and pressed her palm over the image in a gesture that at once caressed and denied. He swallowed back his conscience and asked, “Would it be possible to speak with you, Danni Jones? Without the door between us, perhaps?”
He felt her eyes boring into him through the screen and warring desires pounded in his head. There was something fragile about her that he hadn’t expected. Something defenseless, despite the stiff back and level gaze. He didn’t want to deceive her, and he certainly didn’t want to draw her into the hell that was about to become her life.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“Sean Ballagh, as I said. I’m sent from Ireland to find you. For your family.”
“Do you have ID?”
He nodded, fumbled out his passport, and placed it where he’d held the photograph against the door. The passport picture was old and grainy, and she studied it for a long time, her eyes moving back and forth as she compared his staid mug shot to his real being. Again, the recognition flickered in her eyes as she looked at him. She’d been only five and he barely a teenager when they’d last seen one another. It was unlikely she’d remember him at all, let alone place the gangly boy he’d been as the man he’d become, yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that she had.
“You’re very young in this picture,” she said with a frown. “How old is it?”
“Old,” he answered. “I need to get a new one taken.”
At last she gave a nod, then the lock snicked back and she opened the door. The dog squirmed in her arms like a wild boar but Danni managed to keep hold of it.
“Bean, no,” she scolded.
Close up, Sean was able to determine that Bean couldn’t be all dog. Somewhere in its lineage there most definitely had been a badger. The writhing, snarling animal had a long nose, pointed ears, and no tail. There were terrier genes in there somewhere and possibly Rottweiler, too, baffling though that idea was.
“She’s very protective of me,” Danni said, putting her fingers around its muzzle to silence the mutant dog. “I rescued her when she was a puppy and I’m the only family she has. She doesn’t like people very much as a