Read Online Night Of The Blackbird by Heather Graham - Free Book Online

in?”
    â€œThirty minutes ago. You?”
    â€œEarlier this afternoon. Have you seen Patrick yet?”
    â€œNo, but he’s down here, right?”
    â€œWith the band. Along with Danny.”
    Moira jerked her head around. She’d heard the band playing since she’d come in, but Jeff Dolan had been doing the singing—she’d heard Jeff play and sing at least a third of her life, and she knew the sound of his voice like the back of her hand. Now she saw that her brother was indeed up with the group, playing bass guitar.
    And Danny was there, as well, sitting in for the drummer this time. As if he had known the exact moment she would look his way, he suddenly stared across the room, meeting her eyes.
    He smiled slowly. Just a slight curl of his lips. He didn’t miss a beat on the drums. Ah, yes, Moira, love, I’m here. Was that part of his appeal? The slow grin that could slip into a soul, amber eyes that seemed always to be a bit mocking, and a bit rueful, as well? She tried to stare at him analytically. He was a tall man, which seemed oddly apparent even as he sat behind the drums. His hair, a sandy shade that still carried a hint of red, was perpetually unruly, an annoyance to him when it fell low on his brow, but somehow rakish and sensual to the female gender.
    His shoulders, she assured herself, were not as broad as Michael’s. Michael was quintessentially tall, dark and handsome. And more. He was decent. Kind, entertaining, courteous and concerned with the well-being of those around him. When she’d first met Michael, right after the Christmas holidays, she’d thought he was definitely appealing, sexy. Then she’d thought he was intelligent, bright and witty. Then she’d started becoming emotionally involved with him. But with Danny…
    He had just been there. A whirlwind in her life, coming and going, visiting her folks with his uncle when he’d been young, coming on his own once he’d turned eighteen. He was Patrick’s age, three years older than she was, and he’d been someone she’d adored when she’d been ten and he’d been thirteen, the first time he had arrived. He’d come back when she was fourteen, fifteen, sixteen and then eighteen, and it had been that year when she’d realized there was nothing in the world that she wanted as badly as she wanted Dan O’Hara. Maybe he’d resisted at first. He’d just graduated from college with a degree in journalism. He had a passion to write; to change the world, and she was still wet behind the ears, not to mention the fact that she was also the child of his good American friends. So she’d set out to have what she wanted. She was enthralled, in awe, and being with him changed none of that. Neither did it change Danny. He’d told her that he was bad for her, that she was young, that she needed to see the world, know the world. And still, year after year, she had waited, going to school, loving the learning, looking, always looking, hoping for someone who could make her forget Danny was in the world somewhere. Danny, with his passion and, always, a level of energy about him that was electric. She knew that he cared for her; perhaps in his way he loved her. Just not as much as he loved the rest of the world—or at least his precious Ireland. As she’d gotten older, she’d begun to understand him in a way. She was an American, and she loved being an American. And she had her own dreams and aspirations. They weren’t meant to be together, but that had never stopped her from wanting him.
    But now she had found someone. Michael. She inhaled deeply, forced a casual smile. So you’re here, Danny. Good for you, nice to see you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a great life that I’m living….
    She meant to turn away, but Danny’s smile deepened as the number ended, and in the midst of the applause, she saw him lean over to whisper to