Cara O'Shea's Return Read Online Free Page A

collecting people the way other women collected shoes, and whenever possible, took steps to see everyone else did the same. However, her tactics never worked with Cara.
    “Relax, mommy. I have plenty of friends and I’m home to stay.”
    Erin’s forehead wrinkled with a sheepish smile. “I’m hovering again, aren’t I?”
    Cara patted her hand where it rested on top of her tote. “Yes, you are, but I love you anyway.”
    Her sister chattered her excitement while Cara inhaled a deep breath to relax. Though wired from this morning’s meeting with Maive, she was also tired, and the idea of seeing Daddy tonight had her more anxious than she wanted to admit. And running into Finn in Maive’s parlor hadn’t helped.
    What the hell was an ex-pro quarterback with a Super Bowl ring, a recurring spot on the Sunday morning sports shows, and a half dozen lucrative marketing contracts doing fixing an old lady’s steps? A tool belt, for crying out loud! The man looked like a six-foot five Mr. June in a hunk-of-the-month calendar.
    His thick, black hair was longer than she ever remembered it being, finger-combed back from his broad forehead. The rough shadow of his chiseled jaw, darkened with a day’s growth of stubble, only increased the piercing blue of his eyes. Much to her chagrin, his body hadn’t gone to pot since he retired from professional sports. He still sported the superbly muscled form that had always made her heart flutter and throb.
    And what was she doing, noticing how well his jeans fit his tight butt when he leaned to brush a kiss on Maive’s forehead? God, she must have some kind of hormonal imbalance when it came to Michael Finnegan. She was as bad as the countless women, hanging all over him on the covers of those rag magazines.
    And damn it, she knew better. She hadn’t talked to Daddy in years for precisely the same reason she shouldn’t be noticing the breadth of Finn’s shoulders, straining the material of his T-shirt. She’d witnessed firsthand the kind of man he was and what he thought of his wedding vows that night she bumped into him in Manhattan.
    Well, she had become a master at ignoring big, hunky men. Hadn’t Charles told her so on more than one occasion? All she had to do was make it through the rehearsal dinner tonight, and the wedding tomorrow, and then she’d be home free.
    A group of men were tossing a football on the lawn of Ryan’s parent’s sprawling ranch house when they arrived. She heaved a relieved sigh that Finn wasn’t among them. Ryan broke away from the impromptu game to jog over and pull his fiancée from the passenger side.
    His light blond hair glinted in the afternoon sunlight and his hazel eyes gleamed with love as he smiled down into Erin’s beaming face. Sweeping her into his arms, he kissed her hungrily to the hoots and whistles of the other men.
    Cara grabbed Erin’s bag and climbed from the vehicle as the men wandered over. Ducking her head, she busied herself by tucking her keys inside her purse. God, she hated this kind of thing, but remaining invisible in the face of strange men had never been possible and the need to do so was a behavior she’d fought long and hard to overcome. A few days back in Palmerton and she was reverting to form. That wouldn’t do. With a deep breath, she lifted her chin and rounded the hood of the Jeep.
    Ryan dropped his arm from Erin’s shoulders to hug Cara in greeting. She’d worn her flats tonight and looked her sister’s six-foot fiancé in the eye. A wide grin spread across his handsome face.
    “Welcome to the family.”
    “Isn’t that my line?” Cara teased with a small smile.
    A towering wall of males suddenly surrounded Erin, passing her from one to the next for sloppy kisses. When they began to pass her around for seconds, Ryan snatched her to his side.
    “Get your own,” he growled in false affront.
    Cara couldn’t help but smile, even as four sets of laughing male eyes turned to her. There was a time when,