The Irishman's Christmas Gamble
Page 24

The remembered happiness of that day sent a jab of loss through her. “I know Liam from Dublin.”
“I hear good things about him as a coach. I wish him luck.” Luke smiled. “Wrong kind of football, but I won’t hold that against him.”
“He said the same thing about you,” Frankie said.
“What did you think of Suicide Hill?” Nathan asked. “Was it as dangerous as it sounds?”
“Suicide Hill?” Gavin asked.
“That’s what they call the sled run at Riverside Park and 91st,” Nathan explained.
Gavin’s gaze turned to Frankie. His gray-green eyes saw too much. “Frankie Hogan went sledding?”
“I was reliving my childhood in Ireland.” A lie. She’d never once ridden a sled in Finglas.
“Ah, childhood. A dangerous time. No wonder you chose Suicide Hill to relive it on.” Gavin’s voice had turned sardonic.
“Let the lady enjoy her sledding,” Luke said. “Not everyone has such a jaundiced view as you do.
“Because your youth was idyllic. All those picturesque longhorns and bouncy, blond cheerleaders,” Gavin needled.
“I’m no more a poster child for a happy past than you are,” the quarterback said.
Nathan swirled his Scotch in his cut crystal glass. “I suspect that our childhoods brought us to where we are, so maybe we shouldn’t regret them. We certainly can’t change them.”
“I detect the hand of a woman in this sudden philosophical bent,” Gavin said.
The CEO remained unruffled. “Chloe helped me make peace with my father. Now I can move forward.”
“Can you?” Frankie asked, her voice sharp. “Can you leave your past behind?”
She felt the weight of their gazes.
Luke frowned as he considered her question. “You can learn to live with it. Not to let it make your decisions for you.”
“How do you do that?” Frankie asked.
“Face it,” Nathan said. “Understand how it formed you, so you can control your reactions now.”
Gavin made an abrupt gesture with his hand. “Pretty words, but the past can be a slippery beast, slithering out of its cage and winding its coils around you like a boa constrictor.”
He was a writer so it shouldn’t surprise Frankie that he described her feelings so vividly.
“That’s when you reach out.” Luke’s famous icy blue eyes warmed, and Frankie knew he was thinking of the woman he had declared his love for on national television. “The past is tough to handle without an outside perspective.”
“And there you have it.” Gavin lifted his glass high, his eyes flat with cynicism. “Love conquers all.”
Frankie touched her glass to Gavin’s before she swallowed the entire contents, hoping the burn of the liquor would counteract the chill that ran through her.
She loved Liam with every ounce of her being, but even he couldn’t save her from her past.
 
 
Chapter Ten

“Ms. Hogan, there’s a gentleman here to see you.” Vincent’s voice came from behind her where she stood at the French doors in her office, feeling the cold seep through the plate glass as she stared at the swirling snow. “On Christmas Eve?” She turned to catch a look of concern on her security chief’s usually impassive face.
“He didn’t want me to give his name, but it’s Mr. Keller,” Vincent said. “I’ll escort him off the premises if you say the word.”
“I’d like to see you try.” Liam’s voice came from the doorway, his tone pure gutter Finglas. He strode into the room, his long legs encased in charcoal gray trousers, his wide shoulders outlined by an open-necked shirt of the same deep blue as his eyes. A long, snow-dusted overcoat billowed around his legs.
She’d heard that a heart could leap, but she’d never felt it until now.
“We look down on brawling at the Bellwether Club.” She kept her voice cool and controlled, despite the frantic dance of her pulse. “It’s fine, Vincent.”
As he left, her head of security threw Liam a look that would chill a lesser man’s blood, but Liam shrugged it off as he focused on her.
“I’m sorry I left without saying good-bye to Owen,” Frankie said, standing behind her desk.
“What about me?” Liam pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. “Did you think this was enough?” His voice had an edge like a razor blade.
She crossed her arms over her chest and looked away from the blaze of his blue eyes. “It was the best I could do at the time.”
A flash of movement made her glance back at him to find he was circling around the desk. She stepped to the other side of her chair to keep something between them.
He stopped as he saw her withdrawal and ran a hand through the thick auburn waves of his hair in a gesture of frustration. “What made you run?”
“Ghosts.” She shuddered as the memory clawed its way out of the dark corner where she’d shoved it.
“I’m your friend, even if you won’t let me be anything more,” he said. “I can help if you’ll talk to me.”
Despair dulled her voice. “The ghosts are here because of you.”
She hated herself as soon as she saw the stricken look cloud the concern on his face. Her honesty was cruel but necessary.
“We’ll fight them together then,” he said.
She shook her head. “I lied to you about why I didn’t let you know I was leaving Dublin twenty-three years ago. I wasn’t afraid that you’d screw up your chances by leaving the training academy. I was afraid that if I saw you again, I wouldn’t be able to go to America. You were my one weakness.”
He shoved the chair aside and wrapped his fingers gently around her upper arms, his eyes alight with hope. “It’s not a weakness to love someone.”
She kept her arms crossed, even as the warmth of his touch infused the silk of her blouse.
He gave her the tiniest shake. “Give me your ghosts and I’ll drag them out into the sunlight so they can never frighten you again.” His gaze went a little wild as she stood silent. “Frankie, tell me!”
Maybe she owed him that. So she would let them rise up in her mind for his sake. “My sisters and brothers. We didn’t have enough food because Da drank all his money and my mother was so broken she let him drink up hers too. All of us were always hungry.” Their desperate voices echoed in her mind, begging her for something to eat. “I couldn’t do anything. I felt powerless.”