silken blond hair that came just to her cheekbones. “I just thought I’d pay a little social call. You don’t mind?”
Tara stared at him in surprise. “Mister . . . ”
“Detective, actually. Bryant. But call me James.”
“Mister—er, Detective Bryant, I was just about to close the office. My supervisor has already gone home. Was there something urgent you needed?”
“There’s a delightful little place over on Leeson Street where they’re selling 1900 Bordeaux by the glass. Excellent vintage. You’ll join me? As they say, all work and no play.”
She didn’t answer but turned her eyes down to her paperwork. “I’m afraid I’m not in the mood for socialising right now, Detective Bryant, but if there’s anything you need in the stationery line, then I’ll be happy to oblige before I go home.”
“Oh, come now.” He perched himself on the edge of her desk. “You don’t have to drink the wine. How about a coffee? And I know for a fact that they do heavenly lemon soufflés.”
“I said no, Detective. Now if you really don’t need anything else . . . ”
She wasn’t warming to his overtures, he realised with some alarm, for they usually did. Indeed, she looked thoroughly miserable. “I say, I didn’t mean any offence. Just trying to be friendly. You look like you could do with a friend at the moment.”
She glanced at him. “What?”
“I mean, you don’t look so full of the joys of life. Anything I can help you with?”
She shook her head slowly. “You don’t understand.”
“Try me.”
“No. It’s personal, I don’t want to—”
“I can handle it. I’m a detective, my dear. I’ve got pretty big shoulders to cry upon.”
Brief encouragement showed in her eyes. “So you’re really a detective?”
“Are you in need of one?”
“I-I don’t know.”
He stood up. “Come on. Get your coat and close up this place. It’s only a five-minute walk. Let’s see if we can’t lift these burdens and put a smile back on that splendid face of yours.”
Perhaps it was the warmth of the tavern, the mellowing effect of its pastels and shades, or the blond perfection of the man sitting across from her, but Tara found herself doing what she would never normally do—pouring out her heart to a complete stranger. And it was surprisingly liberating. Since arriving in Dublin, she hadn’t breathed a word of her past to anyone. She had hidden it all far away, deep down inside. Tonight, for the first time ever, a painful weight was lifting.
James listened attentively, having dropped the ready quips and flirtatious smiles. Now his face mirrored his genuine concern. There was a glass of wine each in front of them, barely touched.
“An awful story.” He shook his head. “Truly awful. To have lost your entire family in one go—it doesn’t bear thinking of.”
She dabbed her eyes and took a sip from the glass. “One gets up. One goes on.”
“Yes. But there’s something you should probably know, Tara. This Mulligan fellow, the man you say murdered your family, well, he was involved in an incident last Friday night. So my sources report.”
“Oh?”
“He was found on a roadside with a serious gunshot wound. We don’t know who was behind it. He managed to survive, however.”
“I know.”
“I’m sorry?”
“I mean, I heard you speaking earlier. In the kitchen.”
“Oh dear, my apologies. I didn’t mean you to find out like that. His local henchmen looked after him that night and spirited him away, but we’ll smoke him out, I can assure you. And deal with him too.”
“Then I hope you’ll do a better job than I did,” she murmured.
“What’s that?”
“How is your aim with a gun, Detective? Mine is not so great.”
He frowned. “You have me on the back foot, I’m afraid. I don’t understand your meaning.”
“You were wrong to assume that it was a man who shot Larry Mulligan.” Why am I telling a policeman this , she thought in alarm. And yet the urge
Tara stared at him in surprise. “Mister . . . ”
“Detective, actually. Bryant. But call me James.”
“Mister—er, Detective Bryant, I was just about to close the office. My supervisor has already gone home. Was there something urgent you needed?”
“There’s a delightful little place over on Leeson Street where they’re selling 1900 Bordeaux by the glass. Excellent vintage. You’ll join me? As they say, all work and no play.”
She didn’t answer but turned her eyes down to her paperwork. “I’m afraid I’m not in the mood for socialising right now, Detective Bryant, but if there’s anything you need in the stationery line, then I’ll be happy to oblige before I go home.”
“Oh, come now.” He perched himself on the edge of her desk. “You don’t have to drink the wine. How about a coffee? And I know for a fact that they do heavenly lemon soufflés.”
“I said no, Detective. Now if you really don’t need anything else . . . ”
She wasn’t warming to his overtures, he realised with some alarm, for they usually did. Indeed, she looked thoroughly miserable. “I say, I didn’t mean any offence. Just trying to be friendly. You look like you could do with a friend at the moment.”
She glanced at him. “What?”
“I mean, you don’t look so full of the joys of life. Anything I can help you with?”
She shook her head slowly. “You don’t understand.”
“Try me.”
“No. It’s personal, I don’t want to—”
“I can handle it. I’m a detective, my dear. I’ve got pretty big shoulders to cry upon.”
Brief encouragement showed in her eyes. “So you’re really a detective?”
“Are you in need of one?”
“I-I don’t know.”
He stood up. “Come on. Get your coat and close up this place. It’s only a five-minute walk. Let’s see if we can’t lift these burdens and put a smile back on that splendid face of yours.”
Perhaps it was the warmth of the tavern, the mellowing effect of its pastels and shades, or the blond perfection of the man sitting across from her, but Tara found herself doing what she would never normally do—pouring out her heart to a complete stranger. And it was surprisingly liberating. Since arriving in Dublin, she hadn’t breathed a word of her past to anyone. She had hidden it all far away, deep down inside. Tonight, for the first time ever, a painful weight was lifting.
James listened attentively, having dropped the ready quips and flirtatious smiles. Now his face mirrored his genuine concern. There was a glass of wine each in front of them, barely touched.
“An awful story.” He shook his head. “Truly awful. To have lost your entire family in one go—it doesn’t bear thinking of.”
She dabbed her eyes and took a sip from the glass. “One gets up. One goes on.”
“Yes. But there’s something you should probably know, Tara. This Mulligan fellow, the man you say murdered your family, well, he was involved in an incident last Friday night. So my sources report.”
“Oh?”
“He was found on a roadside with a serious gunshot wound. We don’t know who was behind it. He managed to survive, however.”
“I know.”
“I’m sorry?”
“I mean, I heard you speaking earlier. In the kitchen.”
“Oh dear, my apologies. I didn’t mean you to find out like that. His local henchmen looked after him that night and spirited him away, but we’ll smoke him out, I can assure you. And deal with him too.”
“Then I hope you’ll do a better job than I did,” she murmured.
“What’s that?”
“How is your aim with a gun, Detective? Mine is not so great.”
He frowned. “You have me on the back foot, I’m afraid. I don’t understand your meaning.”
“You were wrong to assume that it was a man who shot Larry Mulligan.” Why am I telling a policeman this , she thought in alarm. And yet the urge
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