Night Of The Blackbird. Heather Graham

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СКАЧАТЬ Christ, Siobhan, get off it!”

      Then Siobhan’s voice, so low that Moira couldn’t catch the words.

      “I’m not involved in anything.”

      Siobhan again, still too soft to hear.

      “No, it’s not going to lead to anything else. It’s a cause for children, for God’s sake!”

      Siobhan must have spoken, though Moira didn’t even hear her voice.

      “Baby, baby, please, believe me, believe in me….”

      His voice trailed off. A few seconds later, she heard her parents’ old bed squeak.

      Standing alone in the hallway, she flushed so hotly that she felt her face flame. Great. First she’d been standing there eavesdropping on her brother and sister-in-law, and now she was listening to them have sex.

      “At least someone is getting some.”

      She jumped and almost screamed at the sound of her sister’s soft whisper.

      “Colleen,” she managed to say.

      Colleen covered a giggle, dragging her down the hall.

      “I didn’t even hear your door open,” Moira said.

      “I wasn’t in my room. I was on the phone.”

      “The phone?”

      “It’s only eleven in California.”

      “Business at eleven?” Moira asked.

      Colleen waved a hand in the air.

      “A guy. A new guy, nothing deep or heavy or anything like that. I mean, I wouldn’t crawl all over him in Dad’s own pub in front of Dad the way you did with your Michael tonight.”

      “Do you crawl all over him when Dad isn’t around?”

      Colleen laughed. “What have you become suddenly? The moral conscience of the family?” she said teasingly.

      “I didn’t mean to be eavesdropping. I just…I heard voices on the way to my room.”

      “Voices, yeah, right.”

      “Seriously, Colleen, they were arguing. And I really didn’t mean to listen.”

      “But since you did, you’re about to ask me if I know if anything is wrong between them.”

      “Well?”

      “Not that I know about. But I just came in today, too. Speaking of which, should we make tea? No, no, way too late, and you’re here working, right? We’ll have to talk tomorrow. I’m dying to hear. He’s good-looking—your Michael, that is. Tall, broad-shouldered. Big feet. And you know what they say about men with big feet.”

      “That’s an old wives’ tale.”

      “I’m sorry to hear that.”

      “Damn it, Colleen, what about asking me how the show is going, what’s coming up next—”

      “I watch television, and the show is doing just fine. And if I had anything good to tell you, I’d give you all the juicy details.”

      “More so than I’d need to know,” Moira agreed.

      “I was wondering, with Danny here and all…”

      “Danny has nothing to do with anything.”

      “Oh, you liar.”

      “He’s an old friend.”

      “Come on, big sister, your nose will grow,” Colleen warned her. “The heat waves used to bounce off you two. And tonight…it was like one of those static electricity things. Wow, come to think of it, I don’t envy you. Tall, dark and handsome on the one side, wild wicked past with the bad boy of Eire on the other.”

      “Colleen, be quiet, will you? Mum and Dad never knew—”

      “They’re Catholic, Moira, not stupid. And not even a deaf, dumb and blind female would be immune to Mr. Daniel O’Hara. I think he’s as tall, or maybe taller, than your new love. Hmm. Taut muscles, great buns. Wow, choices, choices, kid.”

      “Danny is ancient history, Colleen.”

      “Sure he is,” Colleen said skeptically.

      “You just said that Michael—”

      “Yeah, he’s pretty damn perfect. Great voice. But then again, Danny’s got that wee touch of an accent….”

      Moira groaned. “This coming home thing isn’t easy. I expect to be tortured by my parents, but you’re worse than they are.”

      “I’m your sister, the only one you’ve got, and you’re supposed to thank Mum and Dad daily for giving you a sister,” Colleen informed her.

      “I get that speech, too. But enough about me. What about this guy in California? What’s his name? Is he tall? Big feet? You can check out that anatomy equation for yourself.”

      “His name is Chad Storm, and yes, he’s tall.”

      “Chad Storm?” Moira rolled her eyes. “Is he an actor? Couldn’t he have made up a better name?”

      “He’s a graphic arts designer, and he didn’t make up the name, it’s the one he was born with,” Colleen said indignantly.

      “Shush! We’re going to wake up the house.”

      “All right, all right, we don’t want our cherubic little rug rats waking up. Patrick and Siobhan will kill us. I mean…well, they’d really kill us! I’m going to bed, and I’ll let you get your beauty rest. But tomorrow I want details. Down and dirty, graphic and—”

      “Go to bed, Colleen.”

      “You’re going to confess all, you know.”

      “Good night, Colleen.”

      “Yeah, yeah, good night.” They exchanged a warm, brief hug and started down the long corridor to their doors, opposite one another at the end of the hallway.

      As they passed the master bedroom, they could still hear the bed creaking. They looked at one another, burst into laughter and quickly slipped into their own rooms.

      

      Daniel thoughtfully dried the last of the glasses and glanced at the nineteenth-century clock at the rear of the bar.

      Nearly two. He’d taken his time picking up the place, feeling distracted and wounded. Tense night. Naturally. Here he was, closing in on Saint Patrick’s Day.

      He’d scoured a number of the pubs in the city, СКАЧАТЬ