Mabel chuckled as the people waiting at the front of the line began moving down the row toward her and Mabel. “They are, aren’t they?”
“Any fun holiday plans?” Mabel asked.
“Nope. Just a quiet night for me.”
“Is your family coming to see you?”
Kara shook her head. “My mom died five years ago, and my dad passed just this year. It’s only me now.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. You could come with me to my daughter’s house if you want.” Mabel smiled invitingly. “We always have plenty of room.”
“Thanks, Mabel. I appreciate the offer, but I’ll be okay.”
It wasn’t exactly a lie, but wasn’t exactly the truth, either. Her mother had died five years ago from a sudden brain aneurysm.As for her father… Kara had never met him. Both of her parents were Irish and had lived in Ireland when they met. Her mother had fled Dublin the moment she learned she was pregnant, because the father was the infamous mobster, Sean O’Brien. O’Brien had wanted the child—and that prospect had been scary enough that her mother had fled to America and worked endlessly to keep Kara hidden from her father.
Kara had lived her entire life on the run… the specter of a father she didn’t know and his men always two steps behind her. He’d died six months ago in Ireland, and she had thought she would be safe then, but her mother had warned her years ago that she might never be safe.
“You are Sean O’Brien’s only child. He’ll never let you escape. You can be used as a bargaining tool. His second-in-command will want you to justify his claim to take over your father’s empire. Trust me. That’s how it works.”
The warning had terrified Kara. She had wanted no part of her father’s life. He’d run the Irish mobs on both sides of the ocean from Dublin and the Irish Westies in New York.
“Keep moving,” her mother had always said. “Never stay put too long, or he’ll find you.”
It hadn’t been an easy life. She always had a fake ID in her purse, and she kept herself mostly off the grid. She didn’t even own a cell phone. It wasn’t like in the movies where someone could get a fake ID and an entire life all set up with bank accounts. That wasn’t reality. The less paper trail she left behind the better, and that kept her off the police radar. Most of the big cities in the northeast had someone on the inside who fed information to O’Brien. If her name ever came up in a report, someone would find out, and then O’Brien would find out. She had debating even going to Chicago, given the large Irish population, but she’d also known that a red-headed Irish girl would stick out more in a rural town than it would in a town fullof Irish descendants. It was the whole hide in plain sight idea that she was hoping would keep her safe.
“You okay, hon?” Mabel nudged Kara’s elbow, pulling her out of her thoughts.
“Sorry, I was just thinking.” Kara put a cookie on a man’s plate. He gave her a smile, though his eyes held a broken world behind them. She passed out a dozen more cookies before the bell above the volunteer entrance at the back of the soup kitchen jingled. She turned to see who’d come in.
There, amidst the eddies and currents of glittering snow dancing through the doorway from the dark night beyond, a man stepped into the light. His tousled dark hair glinted with melting snow. His eyes, a brilliant, honey-brown shade seemed to glow when he smiled at Paul. Underneath his coat the man wore a cream fisherman’s sweater that draped over his broad shoulders. And his face… he was like a bronzed god with a strong jaw and cheekbones cut from stone.
“Holy shit!” she gasped before she could stop herself.
Mabel’s mouth fell open at Kara’s unexpected curse.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean… but wow… he’s… wow. Who is he?” Kara asked utterly stunned.
She simply couldn’t look away.
Even Mabel blushed. “That is Angelo Vertucci. He owns the Italian Village restaurant that donates the food every week. He’s our biggest contributor to the soup kitchen.”
Angelo was laughing at something Paul said and Angelo’s eyes seemed to sparkle with a life and vitality that Kara envied.
“Tell me he’s an arrogant jerk, that he’s just there to do community service or something. He is, right? I mean, no one can bethatperfect, can they?” Kara was only half kidding.
Mabel laughed and patted her hand. “Oh honey, theycanbe that perfect. And trust me, Mr. Vertucciis.”
When the man… Angelo, what a fitting name for a man who looked like an angel, turned to join the volunteer line, Kara hastily focused on handing out cookies again. For a moment she felt his gaze settle upon her, like a gentle touch or a curious caress, before he looked away again.
A strange, heated pulse burned through her body, warming up her fingers and toes. That single gaze from a man she’d never met had changed something inside her, something she couldn’t quite pinpoint. She only knew that after seeing him, nothing could ever be the same again. She clamped her mouth shut so he wouldn’t see her gawking at him and turned away before he looked at her again.
Once the crowds of been served, Mabel suggested the volunteers sing some Christmas carols. Within minutes, “Silent Night” was echoing through the room while people ate. Kara drifted toward the side of the room in her usual desire to keep under the radar. She was content to listen to Paul and Mabel sing the loudest because they had the best voices.
She saw Angelo at the back of the room, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, but in a relaxed rather than a brooding way. The volunteer apron he wore only enhanced his physique, the strings tied tight at his trim waist. His lips were curved up just at the ends as though he was unaware that he was smiling. Somehow that warmed her even more, the thought of a single subtle smile from this man.
The last thing Kara should do right now was make a fool of herself, or worse… actually start something with a man like him. But she couldn’t stop herself from moving toward him.
She swallowed against the sudden dryness she felt in her mouth and throat. Then she joined him and couldn’t help but smile when he turned that gorgeous face her way.
