“There’s no harm in it, is there?” Cara was saying, with a glance at first her sister, then Jefferson. “Why shouldn’t you take a good look at each other?”
“Pay no attention to my sister,” Maura told him with a shake of her head.
“Why?” he asked. “She’s not wrong.”
“Maybe not, but she doesn’t have to be so loud about it, does she?”
“Ah Maura, you worry too much,” her sister told her and patted her arm.
The music suddenly shifted, jumping into a wild, frenetic song with a beat that seemed to thrum against the walls and batter its way into a man’s soul. Jefferson found himself tapping his fingers on the tabletop in time with the quickening rhythm.
“Oh, they’re playing ‘Whiskey in the Jar!’ Come on, Maura, dance with me.”
She shook her head and resisted when Cara tried to pull her to her feet. “I’ve worked all day and I’m in no mood for step dancing. Most especially not with my bigmouthed sister.”
“But you love me and you know it. Besides, it’ll do you good and you know you adore this song.” Cara grinned again and gave her sister’s arm a good yank.
On her feet, Maura looked at him, almost embarrassed, Jefferson thought, then with a shrug she followed her sister into the cleared-away area in front of the tables. A few people applauded as Cara and Maura took their places beside each other, then, laughing together, the Donohue sisters leaped into action. Their backs were arrow straight, their arms pinned to their sides and their feet were flying.
Jefferson, like most everyone else in the world, had seen the Broadway show with the Irish dancers and he’d come away impressed. But here, in this tiny pub in a small village on the coast of Ireland, he was swept into a kind of magic.
Music thundered, people applauded and the two sisters danced as if they had wings on their feet. He couldn’t tear his eyes off Maura. She’d worked hard all day at a job that would have exhausted most of the men he knew. Yet there she was, dancing and laughing, as graceful as a leaf on the wind. She was tireless. And spirited. And so damned beautiful, he could hardly draw a breath for wanting her.
Without warning, Jefferson’s mind turned instantly to the stories he’d heard about his great-grandfather and how he’d fallen in love at first sight with an Irish girl in a pub just like this, on one magical night.
For the first time in his life, he completely understood how it had happened.
Cara left the pub soon after, claiming she was going to drive into Westport, a bustling harbor city not five miles from the village of Craic.
“I’ll be at Mary Dooley’s place if you need me,” she said as she left, giving Jefferson a wink and her sister a kiss and a smile. “Otherwise, I’ll see you sometime tomorrow.”
When her sister was gone in a blur of motion, Maura looked at Jefferson and laughed shortly. “She’s a force of nature,” she said. “Always has been. The only thing that came close to slowing her down was our mother’s death four years ago.”
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I know what it’s like to lose your parents. It’s never easy no matter how old you are.”
“No, it’s not,” Maura admitted, feeling the sting of remembrance and how hard it had been for her and her sister in those long silent weeks after their mother had passed away. Smiles had been hard to come by and they’d clung to each other to ease their pain.
Eventually though, life had crowded in, insisting it be lived.
“But my mother had been lonely for my father for years. Now that she’s joined him, she’s happy again, I know.”
“You believe that.”
A statement, not a question, she thought. “Aye, I do.”
“Are you born with that kind of faith, I wonder, or do you have to work to earn it?”
“It just…is,” Maura said simply. “Haven’t you ever sensed the presence of one you lost and felt better for knowing it?”
“I have,” he admitted quietly. “Though it’s not something I’ve ever talked about before.”
“Why should you?” She smiled at him again. “It’s a private thing, after all.”
Jefferson looked at her for a long moment and she tried to read what thoughts might be rushing through his mind. But his eyes were cool, shadowed with old pain, so she was forced to wait until he spoke.
“Ten years ago, my parents died together in a car accident that nearly killed one of my brothers, too.” He finished the last of his beer in one swallow, set the glass down and said, “Later, once my three brothers and I had lived through the grief, we all realized that if they’d had a choice, our folks would have elected to go together. Neither of them would have been complete without the other.”
“I know just what you mean.” Maura sighed through a sad smile. Music played on in the background and dozens of voices rose and fell in waves of conversation. Yet here in the shadow-filled booth, she felt as if she and Jefferson were alone in the room. “My father died when Cara was small and my mother was never the same without him. She tried, for our sakes of course, but for her, there was always something missing. A love like that, I think, is both blessing and curse.”
He lifted his beer glass in a toast. “You might be right about that.”
He smiled, too, and she thought how odd it was that they would find this mutual understanding in memories of pain. But somehow, sitting in the near dark with Jefferson, sharing stories of loss made her feel closer to him than she had to anyone in a long time.
“Still,” she said, her voice soft and low, “even knowing your parents were together, it must have been hard on you and your brothers.”
“It was.” A slight frown creased his features briefly. “I’d finally recovered from…” He stopped, caught himself and said instead, “Doesn’t matter. The point is, when we needed it the most, my brothers and I had each other. And we had to help Justice recover.”
She wondered what he’d been about to say. What he’d thought better of sharing with her. And wondered why, if it was so many years ago, that thought could have left a shadow of pain flashing in his eyes. His secret, whatever it was, had hit him deeply, cutting him in his heart and soul. So much so that even now, he didn’t talk about it.
Maura buried her curiosity for the moment and said only, “Justice? An interesting name.”
“Interesting man,” Jefferson told her with a quick smile that was filled, she thought, with a bit of gratitude for her ignoring his earlier slip of the tongue. “He runs the family ranch.”
Delighted by the image, she smiled. “So he’s a cowboy, then?”
“Yeah, he is.” He grinned suddenly, though sorrow still glittered in his eyes. “And he’s married now, with a son and another baby on the way.”
“Lovely,” she said, envying him his large family. “And your other brothers?”
“The youngest, Jesse, is married, too. His wife just had a baby boy a few months back.” He stopped and grinned. “Jesse passed out during the delivery. We love to remind him of that.”
“What a wonderful story,” Maura said. “His love and worry for his wife making him faint. He must be a lovely man.”
“Lovely?” Jefferson thought about it and shrugged. “I’m sure his wife Bella thinks so.”
The sorrow in his eyes was fading, the longer he talked about his brothers, and Maura realized she thought even more of him now that she knew how close he was to his family. “And your other brother?”
“Jericho is in the Marines. He’s serving in the Middle East right now.”
“That’s a worry for you.” She saw the truth of that in the way his jaw clenched briefly.
“Yeah, it is. But he’s doing what he loves, so…”
“I understand.” Maura drew a fingertip through the ring of damp her beer glass had left behind on the table. “When Cara first left home to go to London and be an actor, I wanted to lock her in the closet.” She laughed, remembering how panicked she’d been at the thought of Cara alone in the big city. “Oh, it’s no
t the same kind of worry you must feel, I know, but at the time I thought for sure she’d be eaten alive by all manner of terrible monsters in that city.”
“Worry’s worry, Maura,” he told her, “and it probably drove you nuts to be so far away from her.”
Maura nodded and laughed to herself. “I shouldn’t have bothered making myself crazy, of course. Cara sailed ahead, claiming the city as her own and making a good start to the career she wants.”
“What about you?”
“What about me?” she asked.
“Your career,” he said, his eyes locked on her. “Did you always want to be a sheep farmer?”
Maura gave him a half grin. “Well now, what little girl wouldn’t dream of sheep dip and shearing time and lambing emergencies. It’s the glamour, you see, that drew me.”
Now he laughed and she thought it a wonderful sound. She was glad to see that the sadness in his eyes had all but disappeared, as well.
“So then, what made you choose to be what you are?”
“I like my life being my own. I’ve always worked the farm. I answer to no one. No clock to watch, no boss to kowtow to. No harried rushing about to drive into the city.”
He nodded as if he understood exactly what she was saying. But that couldn’t be, because the man made his living in one of the busiest cities in the world. He’d no doubt schedules to keep, people to answer to and hordes of employees clustering about him.
“I can see the appeal of that,” he admitted.
“Oh, sure you can,” Maura teased. “Look at yourself. Flying all around the world, looking for places to put your cameras. I’d wager you’ve never spent a full day away from a telephone or an Internet modem in years.”
“You’d be right about that,” he said with a grudging smile. “But to the travel, I do it because I enjoy it. Take Ireland for example…”
“Why don’t we?”
Still smiling, he said, “The studio has location scouts, but I wanted to come here for myself. I’ve always enjoyed travel, seeing new places. It’s the best part of the job. So I had my scout find two or three suitable properties online, then I flew over to check them out.”
“Two or three?” she asked, curious now. “And which was the Donohue farm? Where did I figure on your list?”
“You were the second place I looked at—and I knew the minute I saw your farm that it was the one I wanted.”
“Which brings us back to your offer.”
“Isn’t that handy?”
She had to give it to him. He was as stubborn as her, with a mind that continually returned to the goal no matter how many distractions got in the way. She could admire that.
Just as she could admit silently that it was time to act. To accept his offer, sign his contract and let him be off, back to his real life before she became so attached her heart would break at his leaving. Besides, she’d gotten her sister’s warning glare earlier and knew that Cara would never forgive her if Maura didn’t sign on the dotted line, allowing her sister to earn a small part in a big-budget American movie.
“So what’s it going to be, Maura?” he asked a moment later. “Are we going to strike a deal or am I going to have to revisit those other properties?”
In the sudden silence, Maura gave a quick look around the Lion’s Den. But for Michael behind the bar and a few straggling patrons nursing a final beer, she and Jefferson were alone. The crowd had gone off and the Flanagans had packed up their instruments and left for home and she hadn’t even noticed. She’d been so wrapped up in talking with Jefferson, watching his smile, listening to the rumble of his voice, the whole world could have come to an end and she’d have sat through it all without a care.
Which told her she was in very deep danger of losing her heart to a man who wouldn’t be interested in keeping it. Yes, best all around to have their business be done so he could leave and her life could settle back into its familiar pattern.
She held her right hand out to him then and there. “We’ve a deal, Jefferson King. You’ll make your movie on my farm and we’ll both get what we want.”
He took her hand in his, but instead of shaking it as she’d expected, he simply held on to it, stroking his thumb across her slender fingers. Her stomach jittered and her mouth went dry. Suddenly, she wished she’d ordered another beer because something cool and frothy would no doubt ease her parched throat.
“I have the papers at the inn,” he said. “Why don’t you come to my room now and we can get them signed.”
She slipped her hand from his and chuckled. “Oh, no thank you. If I’m seen going into your hotel room at this hour, the village wags will be talking about us for weeks.”
“How would anyone know?”
“In a village, there are no secrets,” she told him. “Frances Boyle runs a tight ship at her inn. Believe me when I tell you she knows every person that steps across her threshold.”
“Okay,” he said, “then why don’t we order another round, I’ll go to the hotel, gather the papers and bring them back here for you to sign?”
Maura considered it, chewing at her bottom lip. She did want the deed done, but it was already late and she’d have to be up with the sun and—
“I thought you said you didn’t have to run your life by the clock,” he reminded her.
“Touché,” she said with a nod, amused that he’d rightly guessed what she’d been thinking about. “All right then, I’ll order the beer while you get your paperwork.”
When he left, Maura’s gaze dropped to his behind and she gave herself a stern talking-to. You’ll have a drink, sign his papers and say thanks very much and goodbye. There’ll be no loitering in the moonlight, Maura Donohue. He’s a man you can’t have, so there’s no point in wishing things were different. Don’t be a fool about this, Maura, or you’ll surely regret it.
All very rational, she thought. Too bad she wasn’t listening.
Three
H e wasn’t gone long.
The truth was, Jefferson hadn’t wanted to leave her at all. He’d hoped to get her back to the hotel where he could try to slide her into his bed and seal the deal in a way that would ease the ache he’d been carrying for the last few days. But typically enough, Maura had managed to shatter his quickly thought-up plan with a simple “no.” So, adjusting his plan on the fly, he thought he could maneuver her into letting him take her home and maybe he could slide himself into her bed instead.
When he walked into the quiet pub, Michael the barman gave him a nod of welcome, then went back to watching the news on the television. There was only one other customer left at the bar and Maura at the table where he’d left her. The single candle flickering on their table threw dancing shadows across her face and its faint light seemed to shimmer in the rich thickness of her hair.
The need he’d been carrying around inside him burst into flame. Instantly, his mind filled again with the image of her dancing. Her smile. Her regal yet somehow wild bearing. The rhythm in her body, the fast fury of her small feet, and he wanted with a desperation he’d never known before.
“That was quick,” she said when he stopped at the edge of their table.
“No point in wasting time, is there?”
“None at all,” she agreed, sliding out of the booth to stand beside him. “But I think we should go back to the farm so Michael can close the pub and go home. I’ve some wine in the fridge. We can toast the signed contract if you like.”
Jefferson was silent for a moment, simply because he couldn’t believe she’d suggested the very thing he’d been about to recommend. She seemed to be one step ahead of him and that was an unusual enough happening that he could enjoy the sensation. He wondered, though, if she wanted what he did. Was she simply being nice, or was she as anxious as him for them to be alone together?
He’d find out soon enough.
“Good idea.” He laid one hand at the small of her back and guided her across the room. When she called out good-night to Michael, the barman merely w
aved a towel at them.
Then they were outside, in the stillness. The village was quiet—houses dark, streets empty. There was a hush in the air that felt as if the world had taken a breath and held it. Or maybe, Jefferson told himself, his time in Ireland had been enough to make any man—even him—fanciful.
The trip to the Donohue farmhouse was a quick one, yet it felt like forever to Jefferson. With Maura beside him in the car, her scent seemed to wrap itself around him, taunting him, arousing him to the point where simply sitting still became an act of torture.
At the house he parked the car in the driveway, what Maura would call “the street,” and walked beside her in silence to the front door. Neither of them had much to say, mainly he thought, because there was too much to say. So where was a man supposed to start?
Sign the contract?
Take off your clothes?
He knew which he’d prefer, but he had a feeling it wouldn’t be that easy.
Inside the house, Maura flipped light switches on as they moved through the silent rooms to the kitchen. There, she tossed her keys onto the table and walked to the fridge. Looking at him over her shoulder, she said, “Will you take down a couple of glasses from the far cupboard?”
“Sure.” Jefferson laid the envelope containing the contract on the table and went for the glasses. A moment later, she was filling them with a cold, straw-colored wine that shone almost gold in the overhead light.
He’d been in this room before, though those visits had been in broad daylight. The old kitchen was clean and tidy, its ancient appliances gleaming with the care she took with them. The counter was bare of all but a set of canisters and a teapot and the wood floor was scarred from wear but polished to a high shine.
“I suppose I should sign the papers first,” she was saying and Jefferson turned his attention to her.
“Good idea. We take care of business first.”
“First. And then what?” Her blue eyes glittered as she turned them up to him and Jefferson’s body stirred like a hungry dog on a short leash.
Wedding at King's Convenience Page 3
