Smoothing her palms over the wool jacket she wore, she started toward the entrance to the bar. "Hi, my name is Keely Quinn and I'm your daughter." She groaned. "I can't just blurt it out like that. I have to have a more subtle approach. Maybe I can get him talking about his family. I'll ask him about his wife and then when I see an opening, I'll take it."

Her stomach did a little flip, but she refused to allow it to get the better of her. Instead, she paused and took a deep breath until the nausea passed. She hadn't had any coffee for a whole week, choosing milk instead to stave off the threat of throwing up in public. Gritting her teeth, she yanked open the door of the pub and stepped inside.

The place was crowded, noisy and hazy with cigarette smoke. No one bothered to look at her as she walked over to the bar. And she tried not to look at the patrons, wanting to stay as anonymous as possible. An empty stool near the end of the bar beckoned and she quickly took a seat, placing her purse in front of her.

She held her breath, waiting for someone behind the bar to notice her. Seamus was there, along with two younger men she knew were two of her brothers. The resemblance was striking, the same dark hair that she had, the same golden-green eyes. She saw her mother in each of them, in the playful way their mouths quirked up when they smiled. Seamus was the one who approached and she sat up straight and prayed that her voice wouldn't tremble when she spoke.

"What can I get ya, lass?"

Even now she could see the man that her mother had fallen in love with. If he had been half as handsome as the other two behind the bar, then he must have been irresistible. Keely swallowed hard. "I'd like a beer."

"A Guinness, then?"

"Yes. A Guinness would be fine."

He returned a few moments later with a huge glass of dark brown brew, topped by a head of pale foam. With a flick of his fingers, he tossed a coaster down in front of her and set the glass on top of it. "That's a lot of beer," Keely said with a weak smile.

"It's a pint. You look like a lass who can handle it," he said, his Irish accent thick. "Drink up now."

He made to walk away and Keely scrambled to find something to say to keep him at her end of the bar. "So is this your place?" she asked.

"That it is," Seamus said. He grabbed a towel from behind the bar and began to polish a rack of glasses. "Quinn's Pub. That's me. Quinn." He cocked his head at the two younger men at the other end of the bar. "My sons. They help me out."

"Have you always had the pub?"

He shook his head. "I used to captain a long-liner. Fished for sword on the Grand Banks."

"A fishing boat," Keely said. "That must have been dangerous."

"It was a good life for a younger man," he said in a wistful tone.

"Hey, Seamus, ya ol' gombeen! Gimme a pint!"

Seamus glanced over his shoulder, then walked away from Keely without another word. She sighed softly before taking a long sip of her Guinness. "Well, that went pretty well," she murmured. He didn't seem like such a bad guy. After her mother had painted a picture of a dissolute, irresponsible husband, Keely wasn't sure what to expect. But Seamus seemed like the kind of man who might welcome her arrival. After all, she was his only daughter.

Irish music blared from the jukebox and Keely gradually felt more comfortable in her surroundings. She drank her Guinness as fast as she could so that she could order another glass. Sean and Liam prowled the length of the bar-she'd gleaned their names from shouting patrons anxious for a refill. Liam was the youngest, the closest to Keely in age, and she felt a special connection to him. Had they spent a childhood together, they may have become best friends.

"Another?" Liam asked.

Keely pushed her glass toward him. "Make it a half-pint this time." If she didn't slow down, she'd be drunk before she said another word to Seamus.

But when Liam returned, he wasn't carrying a glass of Guinness. Instead, he placed a champagne flute in front of her and filled it with sparkling water. "What's this?" Keely asked, an uneasy feeling settling in her stomach.

"That guy down there wanted to buy you a drink." Liam shrugged. "This is what he said you'd like."

Keely leaned over the bar and looked down the length of it. Her heart stopped the moment her gaze met his. "Oh, God." She quickly leaned back and cursed softly. Rafe Kendrick was the last person she expected to see.

Her heart slammed in her chest and for a moment she wasn't sure what to do. A decision didn't come quickly enough. A few seconds later, Rafe slipped into the narrow space next to her stool, his body brushing up against hers. A tremor raced through her and she closed her eyes as she remembered the feel of his hands on her body.

Why hadn't she ever considered this possibility? She had met Rafe outside Quinn's Pub that night a month ago. It didn't take a rocket scientist to realize that he might show up again. But she'd been so focused on meeting her father and brothers that she'd completely ignored the prospect that she might see Rafe there.

"So are you going to pretend that I'm not standing here?" he asked.

Keely felt a flush creep up her cheeks. The scent of his cologne touched her nose and she recognized it immediately. Her pillow had smelled of it the morning after he'd left. "Hello, Rafe. How are you?"

"Hello, Keely. I'm fine. And how are you?"

His voice was deep, his mouth so close to her ear she could feel his breath on her neck. Still, she couldn't bring herself to look at him. "Fine." Her voice cracked and Keely winced inwardly. She wondered what would happen if she turned to him. Judging by the sound of his voice, that would put her lips about an inch from his. Maybe they wouldn't have to go through this uneasy conversation. Maybe they could just lose themselves in a very long and very deep kiss. All she'd have to do was lean forward and-

"I'm surprised to see you."

She caught a trace of anger in his voice and suddenly she felt as if he were playing a little game with her. "Why is that?"

"Oh, maybe because that note you left said you'd call the next time you were in Boston. And here you are, without a word to me."

Now Keely was sure he was toying with her. His tone dripped with sarcasm, setting her nerves on edge. What did he want? An apology? An explanation? A long silence spun out between them, filled with the raucous sounds of bar music and loud patrons. She'd imagined seeing him again, but the fantasy had never been colored with animosity; it had always been rife with passion and lust.

"I didn't expect to see you here tonight," Keely finally said.

"That's your explanation?"

She looked up at him, surprised at the hard gaze that met hers. She felt her defenses rise. Rafe was spoiling for a fight. "Are you angry at me?"

"I'm not used to being stood up," he said.

Keely forced a laugh. "Is that what this is about? Your ego?"

Oh, wasn't that exactly like a man. It was fine for him to walk out and never call again, but let her do it and he felt as if she'd sliced off his manhood. His attitude tweaked her temper. She knew the prudent choice would be to get up and walk away, but impulse told her otherwise. Keely turned on him, answering in a low voice, "It was a one-night stand. That's all. If you're trying to make me feel guilty that I left, it's not going to work. You know better than I do that it began and ended in that hotel room. You may have come back that night and we may have had dinner and another romp in bed, but it would have ended shortly after that. I just saved you the trouble."

He reached out and smoothed his fingers over her face. Her pulse quickened and her breath caught in her throat. To a casual observer, it might look like a seductive caress. But Keely knew exactly what he wanted. He wanted to prove that his touch still affected her, that all he had to do was remind her of that night and she'd want him again. Well, she wasn't going to fall into his trap! Not this time. She regarded him with a bland expression, ignoring the desire that surged up inside of her.

"Tell me, Keely. How many times have you thought about that night? I'd wager you're thinking about it right now." His voice dropped to a low tone, still rife with mockery. "And wishing for a repeat performance."

Keely grabbed the champagne flute and tossed the sparkling water into his face. "We had sex! It was incredible. End of story. Are you satisfied now?"

Only after the words came out of her mouth, did she realize the impromptu beverage toss had rendered the patrons sitting at the bar silent-silent enough to hear her evaluation of their night together.

Liam moved from a spot a few feet away, ready to intercede. Mortified, Keely laid some money on the bar, grabbed her purse and headed toward the door. The last thing she wanted was to cause a scene, especially in front of her father and brothers. They'd think she was some low-class hussy before they even got to know her.

When she reached the street, she drew a shaky breath and tried to keep her hands from trembling. How dare he? Both of them knew what they were getting into that night. If he had any illusions about her feelings, she'd done nothing to confirm them.

Keely heard the door open behind her and turned around. Rafe stood on the top step. She swallowed hard. Why did he have to be so incredibly sexy? Why couldn't she have had a one-night stand with an ordinary guy? "Stay away from me," she warned.

He slowly walked toward her, his hands held out in mock surrender. "I'm sorry. I don't know why the hell I said that. Go ahead-go back inside. I'm leaving. End of story."

"What's wrong with you?" Keely demanded. "What gives you the right to be so angry at me? We shared a pleasant evening together and that's all. I'm sure you've spent pleasant evenings with lots of women before." Even so, Keely wanted to believe that their evening together had ranked right up there near the top.