Hobbs rose as well. “From the time, effort, and money they’ve spent trying to find you, I’d say it was a combination of all three. And perhaps more. But I’ll tell them.” He offered a hand, surprising Shannon into taking it. “If you have second thoughts, or any questions come to mind, you can reach me at the number on the card. I’ll be flying back to New York tonight.”

His cool tone stung. She couldn’t say why. “I have a right to my privacy.”

“You do.” He nodded. “I’ll see myself out, Ms. Bodine. Thanks for the time, and the coffee.”

Damn him, was all she could think as he walked calmly out of her kitchen. Damn him for being so dispassionate, so subtly judgmental.

And damn them. Damn Thomas Concannon’s daughters for searching her out, asking her to satisfy their curiosity. Offering to satisfy her own.

She didn’t want them. Didn’t need them. Let them stay in Ireland with their cozy lives and brilliant husbands. She had her own life, and the pieces of it needed to be picked up quickly.

Wiping at tears she hadn’t realized were falling, she stalked over and snatched up the phone book. She flipped through quickly, ran her finger down the page, then dialed.

“Yes, I have a house I need to sell. Immediately.”

A week later Shannon was back in New York. She’d priced the house to sell, and hoped it would do so quickly. The money certainly didn’t matter. She’d discovered she was a rich woman. Death had given her nearly a half a million dollars in the investments her father had made over the years. Added to her earlier inheritance, she would never have to worry about something as trivial as money again.

She’d only had to become an orphan to earn it.

Still, she was enough Colin Bodine’s daughter to know the house had to be sold, and that it would bring in considerable equity. Some of the furnishings she hadn’t had the heart to sell or give away were in storage. Surely she could wait a little longer before deciding what to do with every vase and lamp.

Shannon had boxed only a few sentimental favorites to bring back with her to New York. Among them were all of the paintings she’d done for her parents over the years.

Those, she couldn’t part with.

Though her supervisor had offered her the rest of the week off, she’d come back to work the day after returning from Columbus. She’d been certain it would help, that work was the answer she needed.

The new account needed to be dealt with. She’d hardly begun to work on it when she’d been called away. She’d barely had two weeks to become used to her promotion, the new responsibilities and position.

She’d worked most of her adult life for that position, for those responsibilities. She was moving up the ladder now, at the brisk and steady pace she’d planned for herself. The corner office was hers, her week-at-a-glance was tidily filled with meetings and presentations. The CEO himself knew her name, respected her work, and, she knew, had an eye on her for bigger things.

It was everything she’d always wanted, needed, planned for.

How could she have known that nothing in her office seemed to matter. Nothing about it mattered in the least.

Not her drafting table, her tools. Not the major account she’d snagged on the very day she’d received the call from Columbus, and had been forced to turn over to an associate. It simply didn’t matter. The promotion she’d broken her back to secure seemed so removed from her just then. Just as the life she’d led, with all its tidiness and careful planning, seemed to have belonged to someone else all along.

She found herself staring at the painting of her father sleeping in the garden. It was still propped against the wall rather than hung. For reasons she couldn’t understand, she simply didn’t want it in her office after all.

“Shannon?” The woman who poked her head in the door was attractive, dressed impeccably. Lily was her assistant, a casual friend among what Shannon was beginning to realize was a lifetime of casual friends. “I thought you might want a break.”

“I haven’t been doing anything I need a break from.”

“Hey.” Lily stepped in, crossing over to her desk to give Shannon’s shoulders a brisk rub. “Give yourself a little time. You’ve only been back a few days.”

“I shouldn’t have bothered.” In an irritable move she pushed back from the desk. “I’m not producing anything.”

“You’re going through a rough patch.”

“Yeah.”

“Why don’t I cancel your afternoon meetings?”

“I have to get back to work sometime.” She stared out the window, at the view of New York she’d dreamed would one day be hers. “But cancel the lunch with Tod. I’m not in the mood to be social.”

Lily pursed her lips and made a note of it. “Trouble in paradise?”

“Let’s just say I’m thinking that relationship isn’t productive, either—and there’s too much backlog for lunch dates.”

“Your call.”

“Yes, it is.” Shannon turned back. “I haven’t really thanked you for handling so much of my work while I was gone. I’ve looked some things over and wanted to tell you that you did a terrific job.”

“That’s what they pay me for.” Lily flipped a page in her book. “The Mincko job needs some finishing touches, and nothing’s satisfied the suits at Rightway. Tilghmanton thinks you can. He sent down a memo this morning asking you to look over the drafts and come up with something new—by the end of the week.”

“Good.” She nodded and pushed up to her desk again. “A challenge like that might be just what I need. Let’s see Rightway first, Lily. You can fill me in on Mincko later.”

“You got it.” Lily headed for the door. “Oh, I should tell you. Rightway wants something traditional, but different, subtle, but bold, sexy but restrained.”

“Of course they do. I’ll get my magic wand out of my briefcase.”

“Good to have you back, Shannon.”

When the door closed, Shannon let out a deep breath. It was good to be back, wasn’t it.

It had to be.

Rain was pelting the streets. After a miserable ten-hour day that had concluded in a showdown with a man she’d tried to convince herself she’d been in love with, Shannon watched it from the cab window on the way back to her apartment.