Shiver of Fear by Roxanne St. Claire Read Free Book Online Page B

private,” she replied, turning her head enough to escape the heat. “There’s a difference.”
    “Still beautiful.”
    “Thank you.” She felt a flush rise to her face as the voice of the woman who’d raised her echoed in her head.
    Beauty is skin-deep.
    It wasn’t until Devyn used her considerable resources to find out her real bloodline that she learned exactly whyher adopted mother loved that phrase. Because under the skin is the blood… and the blood in her veins was not Hewitt. It was
     MacCauley, and there was nothing beautiful about it.
    The thought reminded her of why she was here—not to sightsee with charming strangers. Still, she’d made the rash decision—that
     bloodline acting again—and now she had to live with the consequences.
    She pointed to a main highway. “That’s the M2, I believe, that circles Belfast. Take it a little west, then go east up to
     Ballyclare.” She gave him a forced smile. “Sounds lovely, doesn’t it? Have you been to Ireland before?”
    “I have, but I spend most of my time in Dublin. Never been up this far.”
    “Me neither.”
    His smile wasn’t forced or unnatural. It was just… inviting.
    “I know you don’t want a barrage of personal questions, but I have to ask one, since I don’t see a ring. Single as well?”
    “I am now,” she said, looking away, out the window.
    “Ah, divorced, too, then?”
    She waited a beat. “No, actually, I’m a widow.”
    “I’m sorry. How long has it been?”
    “About two…”
Months
. “Years.”
    “Kids?”
    “No,” she said quickly. “What about you?”
    Maneuvering onto the highway stole his attention momentarily. “Not yet,” he replied, a hint of something like wistfulness
     in his voice.
    “But you want them?”
    He glanced at her. “What was the clue?”
    “The word ‘yet’ and the sound of longing in your tone.”
    “Wow.” He laughed, shooting her an admiring look. “Private, beautiful, intuitive. Look how much I learned about you in just
     this little bit of time.”
    Reminding her that she’d better keep the conversation about him or she’d be telling him far too much. “We’re even, then. I’ve
     learned you’re open, charming, and, oh, let me guess, the oldest in your family.”
    “You got all that out of ‘not yet’? Amazing. But I hate to ruin your perfect record. I’m the second out of seven, not quite
     the oldest.”
    “
Seven?
That’s a huge family.”
    “Now we’re even,” he said.
    “Excuse me?”
    “I hear longing in your voice.”
    Was it that obvious? “I was a lonely only,” she admitted. “Seven kids sounds like pure heaven.”
    “With moments of hell. To be fair, there were only five kids and two cousins raised with us. Plus a grandfather, Uncle Nino.”
    “You call your grandfather Uncle Nino?”
    “Mostly we just called him Nino, which became his de facto grandfather title, like, you know Boompa or Gramps. My cousins
     came to live with us and he’s their great-uncle, so they call him Uncle Nino.”
    “Sounds like a great way to grow up. Rossi, right? So this must be an Italian family. Where in New York?”
    But he just shook his head. “You know, Devyn, I have only a day with you, and an overview of my huge family—and yes, we are
     Italian—could take up most ofour time. Unless, of course, you promise me I can have more time until your friend gets here. What day does he arrive?”
    “Thursday and… it’s a she.”
    He lifted a brow, his dark eyes glittering with a tease. “Well, that’s encouraging. Not a romantic rendezvous, then.”
    Damn, he was good at the conversation volley. She purposely shifted in her seat and avoided eye contact. “It’s two more miles
     to the turn to Ballyclare. You know, I just like saying that, such an Irish word. Have you noticed how different the accent
     is up here? More British than brogue, don’t you think?”
    “You know, Devyn,” he said, gently placing his hand over hers on the console. “This will