Reunited by Kate Hoffmann

commented.
    Rafe sent her a stern look. "Just do it. And take these shoes. Give them to your husband. If they don't fit him, give them to the Salvation Army. Just get them out of my sight."
    She grabbed the box and tucked it under her arm. "Right away, Mr. Kendrick."
    But before she got to the door, Rafe stopped her. "One more thing. They're having a party at my mother's hospital," he lied. "I told the staff that I'd arrange for the refreshments. I thought a cake might be nice. And some of that...you know, you put it in a big bowl and--"
    "Punch?" Sylvie asked.
    "Right." He paused. "And I was reading about this person in New York who makes unusual cakes for parties. I think the name was McClain. I'm pretty sure her bakery is located in Brooklyn. Can you see if you can track down a number? But don't call--let me. I'd like to discuss what she can do."
    Sylvie's eyebrow shot up. "Since when do you talk to cake decorators?"
    "Just find out more," Rafe ordered. "And if I were you, I'd think about taking that promotion. Before I fire you for insubordination."
    "You've been offering me a promotion for five years and I've been giving you crap for twice as long. And you haven't fired me yet."
    Rafe held out his hand and wiggled his fingers. "Ten dollars. If damn is a curse word then so is crap. "
    She slapped a ten into his hand, then stalked out of the office. He was glad Sylvie didn't want another job. He wasn't sure he'd be able to get along without her. Rafe leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. But a few seconds later, his intercom buzzed. He reached over and punched the button. "Yes, Mrs. Arnold. What is it?"
    "I have a number. I found a McClain's Bakery in Brooklyn and they do make party cakes."
    Rafe sat up straight. He wasn't sure whether he wanted Keely's number. Just a few minutes ago, he'd decided to move on, to find another woman to occupy his thoughts.
    "Mr. Kendrick?"
    "Just hold on to it for a while," Rafe finally said. "I'll let you know if I need her--I mean, it. The number."
    He sighed, then raked his fingers through his hair. His gaze fell on a stack of file folders sitting on the corner of the desk. "Quinns," he murmured. He'd collected all the information he needed to put his plan into action, yet in the past month he hadn't done anything to further his aims.
    From now on, he intended to keep his eye on the ball. Nothing, not even Keely McClain, would keep him from his plans this time.

    K EELY FINGERED the claddagh pendant hanging around her neck, running her thumb over the emeralds as if they might bring her good luck. She'd come back to Boston to meet her family and tonight she'd do just that. She'd walk into Quinn's Pub, have a beer and introduce herself. And no matter what happened, she'd live with the consequences.
    Smoothing her palms over the wool jacket she wore, she started toward the entrance to the bar. "Hi, my name is Keely Quinn and I'm your daughter." She groaned. "I can't just blurt it out like that. I have to have a more subtle approach. Maybe I can get him talking about his family. I'll ask him about his wife and then when I see an opening, I'll take it."
    Her stomach did a little flip, but she refused to allow it to get the better of her. Instead, she paused and took a deep breath until the nausea passed. She hadn't had any coffee for a whole week, choosing milk instead to stave off the threat of throwing up in public. Gritting her teeth, she yanked open the door of the pub and stepped inside.
    The place was crowded, noisy and hazy with cigarette smoke. No one bothered to look at her as she walked over to the bar. And she tried not to look at the patrons, wanting to stay as anonymous as possible. An empty stool near the end of the bar beckoned and she quickly took a seat, placing her purse in front of her.
    She held her breath, waiting for someone behind the bar to notice her. Seamus was there, along with two younger men she knew were two of her brothers. The resemblance was striking,