An unpredictable man he might be, full of starts and stops and quick turns, but she knew him. Of all the men she had known, she had loved no one with the full thrust of her heart as she loved Tom Concannon.
She said nothing, crossed to him, sat and rested her head on his shoulder.
Love for him rose up in her, a fire that warmed doen to the bone but never burned. His arm came from around the chair and wrapped her closer. His lips brushed across her temple.
When the song was done, she took his hand in hers and kissed it. “I knew you’d be here.”
“How did you know I was thinking of you, Maggie, my love?”
“Must be I was thinking of you.” She sat back to smile at him. He was a small man, but toughly built. Like a runt bull, he often said of himself with one of his rolling laughs. There were lines around his eyes that deepened an fanned out when he grinned. They made him, in Maggie’s eyes, all the more handsome. His hair had once been gloriously red and full. It had thinned a bit with time, and the gray streaked thorugh the fire like smoke. He was, to Maggie, the most dashing man in the world.
He was her father.
“Da,” she said. “I have news.”
Well my friend, could you say where is this text from?… poooooooooooooooooo BORN IN FIRE by Nora Roberts…
It’s the book that I’m reading now (when I got tired from my urban affairs…) and poooooooooooooo Maggie is like me! Yeah yeah right!… as Maggie I have been in love and admired all my life to my father. And also he has loved me since I was born; I never needed words to know it, just looking at his eyes has been always enough. I like this foto... the water was cold for someone born in fire... but there was the eyes of my father, his face... enough...