Having a lover like Sean was really a slippery slope.

Georgia wasn’t interested in trusting another man. Giving her heart over to him. Giving him the chance to crush her again. Sure, Sean was nothing like her ex, but he was still male.

“What do you say, Georgia?” he asked, reaching down to take her hands in his and give them a squeeze. “Will you pretend marry me?”

She couldn’t think. Not with him holding on to her. Not with his eyes staring into hers. Not with the heat of him reaching for her, promising even more heat if she let him get any closer. And if she did that, she would agree to anything, because the man could have her half out of her mind in seconds, she well knew.

With him holding on to her, the beat of his heart beneath her ear, Georgia was tempted to do all sorts of things, so she looked away from him, out the window to the rain-drenched evening. Lamps lining the drive shone like diamonds in the gray. But the darkness and the incessant rain couldn’t disguise the beauty that was Ireland.

Just as, she thought, looking up at Sean, a lie couldn’t hide what was already between the two of them. She didn’t know where it was going, but she had a feeling the ride was going to be much bumpier than she had planned.

Dear Reader,

As most of you know, I love Ireland. The gorgeous countryside, the incredible views everywhere you look and especially the warm generosity of the Irish people.

The village of Dunley, where this story is set, is fictional, but I used elements of the many different villages I’ve stayed in to create the town itself and its citizens.

In the first book of my Irish duet, Up Close and Personal, you met Ronan Connolly and Laura Page, the woman who knocked his feet out from under him.

In An Outrageous Proposal you’ll find the story of Ronan’s cousin Sean Connolly and Georgia Page, Laura’s sister.

These two were so much fun to write about. Sean’s life is just as he wants it, and to make sure nothing changes he’s willing to do whatever he has to. Georgia, on the other hand, is desperate to make changes in her life.

When these two collide, sparks fly and no one’s life will ever be the same.

You’ll also find a sprinkling of Gaelic in this book—a good friend of mine provided the translations. But if I’ve made mistakes, they’re mine alone.

Thank you all so much for your continued support and the wonderful letters you write. I’m delighted to be able to spend my days writing stories for Mills & Boon® Desire™, and it’s a pleasure for me to hear that you enjoy reading them!

You can visit me on Facebook, or stop in at my website, www.maureenchild.com.

Happy reading!

Maureen

About the Author

MAUREEN CHILD is a California native who loves to travel. Every chance they get, she and her husband are taking off on another research trip. An author of more than sixty books, Maureen loves a happy ending and still swears that she has the best job in the world. She lives in Southern California with her husband, two children and a golden retriever with delusions of grandeur. Visit Maureen’s website, www.maureenchild.com.

An Outrageous Proposal
Maureen Child

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For two wonderful writers

who are fabulous friends,

Kate Carlisle and Jennifer Lyon.

Thank you both for always being there.

One

“For the love of all that’s holy, don’t push!” Sean Connolly kept one wary eye on the rearview mirror and the other on the curving road stretching out in front of him. Why the hell was he the designated driver to the hospital?

“Just mind the road and drive, Sean,” his cousin Ronan complained from the backseat. He had one arm around his hugely pregnant wife, drawing her toward him despite the seat belts.

“He’s right,” Georgia Page said from the passenger seat. “Just drive, Sean.” She half turned to look into the back. “Hang on, Laura,” she told her sister. “We’ll be there soon.”

“You can all relax, you know,” Laura countered. “I’m not giving birth in the car.”

“Please, God,” Sean muttered and gave the car more gas.

Never before in his life had he had reason to curse the narrow, winding roads of his native Ireland. But tonight, all he wanted was about thirty kilometers of smooth highway to get them all to the hospital in Westport.

“You’re not helping,” Georgia muttered with a quick look at him.

“I’m driving,” he told her and chanced another look into the rearview mirror just in time to see Laura’s features twist in pain.

She moaned, and Sean gritted his teeth. The normal sense of panic a man felt around a woman in labor was heightened by the fact that his cousin was half excited and half mad with worry for the wife he doted on. A part of Sean envied Ronan even while the larger part of him was standing back and muttering, Aye, Ronan, better you than me.

Funny how complicated a man’s life could get when he wasn’t even paying attention to it. A year or so ago, he and his cousin Ronan were happily single, each of them with an eye toward remaining that way. Now, Ronan was married, about to be a father, and Sean was as involved in the coming birth of the next generation of Connollys as he could be. He and Ronan lived only minutes apart, and the two of them had grown up more brothers than cousins.

“Can’t you go any faster?” Georgia whispered, leaning in toward him.

Then there was Laura’s sister. Georgia was a smart, slightly cynical, beautiful woman who engaged Sean’s brain even while she attracted him on a much more basic level. So far, he’d kept his distance, though. Getting involved with Georgia Page would only complicate things. What with her sister married to his cousin, and Ronan suddenly becoming insanely protective about the women he claimed were in “his charge.”

Damned old-fashioned for a man who had spent most of his adult years mowing through legions of adoring females.

Still, Sean was glad to have Georgia along. For the sanity she provided, if nothing else. Georgia and Sean would at least have each other to turn to during all of this, and he was grateful for it.

Sean gave her a quick glance and kept his voice low. “I go much faster on these roads at night, we’ll all need a room in hospital.”

“Right.” Georgia’s gaze fixed on the road ahead, and she leaned forward as if trying to make the car speed up through sheer force of will.

Well, Sean told himself, if anyone could pull that off, it would be Georgia Page. In the light from the dashboard, her dark blue eyes looked fathomless and her honey-colored hair looked more red than blond.

He’d first met her at Ronan and Laura’s wedding a year or so ago, but with her many trips to Ireland to visit her sister, he’d come to know Georgia and he liked her. He liked her quick wit, her sarcasm and her sense of family loyalty—which he shared.

All around them, the darkness was complete, the headlights of his car illuminating the narrow track winding out in front of them. This far from the city, it was mainly farmland stretching out behind the high, thick hedges that lined the road. The occasional lighted window in a farmhouse stood out like beacons, urging them on.

At last, a distant glow appeared and Sean knew it was the lights of Westport, staining the night sky. They were close, and he took his first easy breath in what felt like hours.

“Nearly there,” he announced, and glanced at Georgia. She gave him a quick grin, and he felt the solid punch of it.

From the backseat, Laura cried out and just like that, Sean’s relief was cut short. They weren’t safe yet. Focusing on the task at hand, he pushed his car as fast as he dared.

What felt like days—and was in reality only hours and hours later—Sean and Georgia walked out of the hospital like survivors of a grueling battle.

“God,” Sean said, as they stepped into the soft rain of an Irish afternoon in winter. The wind blew like ice, and the rain fell from clouds that looked close enough to touch. He tipped his face back and stared up into the gray. It was good to be outside, away from the sounds and smells of the hospital. Even better to know that the latest Connolly had arrived safely.

“That was the longest night and day of my life, I think,” he said with feeling.

“Mine, too,” Georgia agreed, shrugging deeper into the navy blue coat she wore. “But it was worth it.”

He looked over at her. “Oh, aye, it was indeed. She’s a beauty.”

“She is, isn’t she?” Georgia grinned. “Fiona Connolly. It’s a good name. Beautiful, but strong, too.”

“It is, and by the look of her, she’s already got her da wrapped around her tiny fingers.” He shook his head as he remembered the expression on his cousin’s face as Ronan held his new daughter for the first time. Almost enough to make a jaded man believe in—never mind.

“I’m exhausted and energized all at the same time.”

“Me, as well,” Sean agreed, happy to steer his mind away from dangerous territory. “Feel as though I’ve been running a marathon.”

“And all we did was wait.”

“I think the waiting is the hardest thing of all.”

Georgia laughed. “And I think Laura would disagree.”

Ruefully, he nodded. “You’ve a point there.”

Georgia sighed, stepped up to Sean and threaded her arm through his. “Ronan will be a great father. And Laura … she wanted this so much.” She sniffed and swiped her fingers under her eyes.

“No more crying,” Sean said, giving her arm a squeeze. “Already I feel as though I’ve been riding a tide of tears all day. Between the new mother and father and you, it’s been weepy eyes and sniffles for hours.”

“I saw your eyes get a little misty, too, tough guy.”

“Aye, well, we Irish are a sentimental lot,” he admitted, then started for the car park, Georgia’s arm still tucked through his.

“It’s one of the things I like best about you—”

He gave her a look.

“—the Irish in general, I mean,” she qualified.

“Ah, well then.” He smiled to himself at her backtracking. It was a lovely afternoon. Soft rain, cold wind and new life wailing in the hospital behind them. “You’ve been to Ireland so often in the last year, you’re very nearly an honorary Irishman yourself, aren’t you?”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” she admitted. They walked up to his car, and Sean hit the unlock button on his keypad.

“What’s that then?” he asked, as he opened the passenger door for her and held it, waiting. Fatigue clawed at him, but just beneath that was a buoyant feeling that had him smile at the woman looking up at him.

“About being an honorary Irishman. Or at least,” she said, looking around her at the car park, the hospital and the city beyond, “moving here. Permanently.”

“Really?” Intrigued, he leaned his forearms on the top of the door. “And what’s brought this on then? Is it your brand-new niece?”

She shrugged. “Partly, sure. But mostly, it’s this country. It’s gorgeous and friendly, and I’ve really come to love being here.”

“Does Laura know about this?”

“Not yet,” she admitted, and shifted her gaze back to him. “So don’t say anything. She’s got enough on her mind at the moment.”

“True enough,” he said. “But I’m thinking she’d be pleased to have her sister so close.”

She flashed him a brilliant smile then slid into her seat. As Sean closed the door after her and walked around the car, he was forced to admit that he wouldn’t mind having Georgia close, either.

A half hour later, Georgia opened the door to Laura and Ronan’s expansive stone manor house and looked back over her shoulder at Sean. “Want to come in for a drink?”

“I think we’ve earned one,” he said, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. “Or even a dozen.”

She laughed and it felt good. Heck, she felt good. Her sister was a mother, and Georgia was so glad she had made the decision to come to Ireland to be present for the baby’s birth. She hated to think about what it would have been like, being a half a world away right now.

“Ronan’s housekeeper, Patsy, is off in Dublin visiting her daughter Sinead,” Georgia reminded him. “So we’re on our own for food.”

“It’s not food I want at the moment anyway,” Sean told her.

Was he flirting with her? Georgia wondered, then dismissed the notion. She shook her head and reminded herself that they were here for a drink. Or several.

As he spoke, a long, ululating howl erupted from deep within the house. Georgia actually jumped at the sound and then laughed. “With the rain, the dogs have probably let themselves into the kitchen.”

“Probably hungry now, too,” Sean said, and walked beside her toward the back of the house.

Georgia knew her sister’s house as if it were her own. Whenever she was in Ireland, she stayed here at the manor, since it was so huge they could comfortably hold a family reunion for a hundred. She opened the door into a sprawling kitchen with top-of-the-line appliances and what looked like miles of granite countertops. Everything was tidy—but for the two dogs scrambling toward her for some attention.

Deidre was a big, clumsy English sheepdog with so much hair over her eyes, it was a wonder she didn’t walk into walls. And Beast—huge, homely—the best that could be said about him was what he lacked in beauty he made up for in heart. Since Beast reached her first, Georgia scratched behind his ears and sent the big dog into quivers of delight. Deidre was right behind him, nudging her mate out of her way.

“Okay then, food for the dogs, then drinks for us,” Georgia announced.

“Already on it,” Sean assured her, making his way to the wide pantry, stepping over and around Beast as the dog wound his way in and out of Sean’s feet.

Within a few minutes, they had the dogs fed and watered and then left them there, sleeping on their beds in front of the now cold kitchen hearth. Cuddled up together, the dogs looked snug and happy.

Then Georgia led the way back down the hall, the short heels of her shoes clicking against the wood floor. At the door to the parlor, Sean asked, “So, Patsy’s in Dublin with her daughter. Sinead’s doing well then, with her new family?”

“According to Patsy, everything’s great,” Georgia said.

Laura had told her the whole story of the pregnant Sinead marrying in a hurry. Sinead was now the mother of an infant son and her new husband was, at the moment, making a demo CD. He and his friends played traditional Irish music and, thanks to Ronan’s influence with a recording company, had a real chance to do something with it. “She misses Sinead living close by, but once they get the demo done, they’ll all be coming back to Dunley.”

“Home does draw a body back no matter how far you intend to roam,” Sean mused, as he followed her into the front parlor. “And yet, you’re thinking of leaving your home to make a new one.”

“I guess I am.”

Hearing him say it aloud made the whole idea seem more real than it had in the past week or so that it had been floating around in her mind. But it also felt … right. Okay, scary, but good. After all, it wasn’t as if she was giving up a lot. And the plus side was, she could leave behind all of the tension and bad memories of a marriage that had dissolved so abruptly.

Moving to Ireland was a big change, she knew. But wasn’t change a good thing? Shake up your life from time to time just to keep it interesting?

At that thought, she smiled to herself. Interesting. Moving to a different country. Leaving the familiar to go to the … okay, also familiar. Since Laura had married Ronan and moved to Ireland, Georgia had made the long trek to visit four times. And each time she came, it was harder to leave. To go back to her empty condo in Huntington Beach, California. To sit at her desk, alone in the real estate office she and Laura had opened together.

Not that she was feeling sorry for herself—she wasn’t. But she had started thinking that maybe there was more to life than sitting behind a desk hoping to sell a house.

In the parlor, Georgia paused, as she always did, just to enjoy the beauty of the room. A white-tiled hearth, cold now, but stacked with kindling that Sean was already working to light against the chill gloom of the day. Pale green walls dotted with seascapes and oversize couches facing each other across a low table that held a Waterford crystal bowl filled with late chrysanthemums in tones of russet and gold. The wide front windows looked out over a sweep of lawn that was drenched with the rain still falling softly against the glass.

When he had the fire going to his satisfaction, Sean stood up and brushed his palms together, then moved to the spindle table in the corner that held a collection of crystal decanters. Ignoring them, he bent to the small refrigerator tucked into the corner behind the table.

“Now, about that celebratory drink,” he muttered.

Georgia smiled and joined him at the table, leaning her palms on the glossy top as she watched him open the fridge. “We earned it all right, but I wouldn’t have missed it. The worry, the panic—” She was still smiling as he glanced up at her. “And I was seriously panicked. It was hard knowing Laura was in pain and not being able to do anything about it.”

“Would it make me seem less manly to you if I admitted to sheer terror?” he asked, as he reached into the refrigerator.

“Your manhood is safe,” Georgia assured him.

In fact, she had never known a man who needed to worry less about his manhood than Sean Connolly. He was gorgeous, charming and oozed sex appeal. Good thing, she thought, that she was immune. Well, nearly.

Even she, a woman who knew better, had been tempted by Sean’s charms. Of course, it would be much better—safer—to keep him in the “friend” zone. Starting up anything with him would not only be dangerous but awkward, as well. Since her sister was married to his cousin, any kind of turmoil between them could start a family war.

And there was always turmoil when a man was involved, she thought with an inner sigh. But she’d learned her lesson there. She could enjoy Sean’s company without letting herself get … involved. Her gaze skimmed over his tall, nicely packed yet lanky body, and something inside her sizzled like a trapped flame struggling to grow into a bonfire. She so didn’t need that.

Nope, she told herself, just enjoy looking at him and keep your hormones on a tight leash. When he sent her a quick wink and a wild grin, Georgia amended that last thought to a tight, short, leash.

To divert herself from her own thoughts, Georgia sighed and asked, “Isn’t she beautiful? The baby?”

“She is indeed,” Sean agreed, pulling a bottle of champagne from the fridge and holding it aloft like a hard-won trophy. “And she has a clever father, as well. Our Ronan’s stocked the fridge with not one but three bottles of champagne, bless him.”

“Very thoughtful,” she agreed.

He grabbed two crystal flutes from the shelf behind the bar, then set them down on the table and worked at the champagne wire and cork. “Did you get hold of your parents with the news?”

“I did,” Georgia said, remembering how her mother had cried over the phone hearing the news about her first grandchild. “I called from Laura’s room when you took Ronan down to buy flowers. Laura got to talk to them and they heard the baby cry.” She smiled. “Mom cried along with her. Ronan’s already promised to fly them in whenever they’re ready.”

“That’s lovely then.” The cork popped with a cheerful sound, and Sean poured out two glasses. Bubbling froth filled the flutes, looking like liquid sunshine. “So, champagne?”

“Absolutely.”

She took a glass and paused when Sean said, “To Fiona Connolly. May her life be long and happy. May she be a stranger to sorrow and a friend to joy.”

The sting of tears burned Georgia’s eyes. Shaking her head, she took a sip of champagne and said, “That was beautiful, Sean.”

He gave her a grin, then took her free hand in his and led her over to one of the sofas. There, he sat her down and then went back to the bar for the bottle of champagne. He set it on the table in front of them, then took a seat beside Georgia on the couch.

“A hell of a day all in all, wouldn’t you say?”

“It was,” she agreed, then amended, “is.” Another sip of champagne and she added, “I’m tired, but I don’t think I could close my eyes, you know? Too much leftover adrenaline pumping away inside.”

“I feel the same,” he told her, “so it’s lucky we can keep each other company.”

“Yeah, I guess it is,” Georgia agreed. Kicking her shoes off, she drew her feet up onto the sofa and idly rubbed her arches.

The snap and hiss of the fire along with the patter of rain on the window made for a cozy scene. Taking a sip of her champagne, she let her head fall back against the couch.

“So,” Sean said a moment or two later, “tell me about this plan of yours to move to Ireland.”

She lifted her head to look at him. His brown hair was tousled, his brown eyes tired but interested and the half smile on his face could have tempted a saint. Georgia took another sip of champagne, hoping the icy liquor would dampen the heat beginning to build inside.

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” she admitted, her voice soft. “Actually since my last visit. When I left for home, I remember sitting on the airplane as it was taxiing and wondering why I was leaving.”

He nodded as if he understood completely, and that settled her enough to continue.

“I mean, you should be happy to go home after a trip, right?” She asked the question more of herself than of Sean and answered it the same way. “Looking forward to going back to your routine. Your everyday life. But I wasn’t. There was just this niggling sense of disappointment that seemed to get bigger the closer I got to home.”

“Maybe some of that was just because you were leaving your sister,” he said quietly.

“Probably,” she admitted with a nod and another sip of champagne. “I mean, Laura’s more than my sister, she’s my best friend.” Looking at him, she gave him a small smile. “I really miss having her around, you know?”

“I do,” he said, reaching for the champagne, then topping off their glasses. “When Ronan was in California, I found I missed going to the pub with him. I missed the laughter. And the arguments.” He grinned. “Though if you repeat any of this, I’ll deny it to my last breath.”

“Oh, understood,” she replied with a laugh. “Anyway, I got home, went to our—my—real estate office and stared out the front window. Waiting for clients to call or come in is a long, boring process.” She stared down into her champagne. “And while I was staring out that window, watching the world go by, I realized that everyone outside the glass was doing what they wanted to do. Everyone but me.”

“I thought you enjoyed selling real estate,” Sean said. “The way Laura tells it, the two of you were just beginning to build the business.”

“We were,” she agreed. “But it wasn’t what either of us wanted. Isn’t that ridiculous?” Georgia shifted on the couch, half turning to face Sean more fully.

Wow, she thought, he really is gorgeous.

She blinked, then looked at the champagne suspiciously. Maybe the bubbles were infiltrating her mind, making her more susceptible to the Connolly charm and good looks. But no, she decided a moment later, she’d always been susceptible. Just able to resist. But now …

Georgia cleared her throat and banished her wayward thoughts. What had she been saying? Oh, yeah.

“I mean, think about it. Laura’s an artist, and I was an interior designer once upon a time. And yet there we were, building a business neither of us was really interested in.”

“Why is that?” He watched her out of those beautiful brown eyes and seemed genuinely curious. “Why would you put so much of yourselves into a thing you’d no interest in?”

“Well, that’s the question, isn’t it?” she asked, gesturing with her glass and cringing a little when the champagne slopped over the brim. To help fix that situation, she sipped the contents down a bit lower. “It started simply enough,” she continued. “Laura couldn’t make a living painting, so she took classes and became a real estate agent because she’d rather be her own boss, you know?”

“I do,” he said with a knowing nod.

Of course he understood that part, Georgia thought. As the owner of Irish Air, a huge and growing airline, Sean made his own rules. Sure, their situations were wildly different, but he would still get the feeling of being answerable only to oneself.

“Then my marriage dissolved,” she said, the words still tasting a little bitter. Georgia was mostly over it all, since it had been a few years now, but if she allowed herself to remember… “I moved out to live with Laura, and rather than try to build up a brand-new business of my own—and let’s face it, in California, you practically stumble across an interior designer every few steps, so they didn’t really need another one—I took classes and the two of us opened our own company.”

Shaking her head, she drank more of the champagne and sighed. “So basically, we both backed into a business we didn’t really want, but couldn’t think of a way to get out of. Does that make sense?”

“Completely,” Sean told her. “What it comes down to is, you weren’t happy.”

“Exactly.” She took a deep breath and let it go again. What was it about him? she wondered. So easy to talk to. So nice to look at, a tiny voice added from the back of her mind. Those eyes of his seemed to look deep inside her, while the lilt of Ireland sang in his voice. A heady combination, she warned herself. “I wasn’t happy. And, since I’m free and on my own, why shouldn’t I move to Ireland? Be closer to my sister? Live in a place I’ve come to love?”

“No reason a’tall,” he assured her companionably. Picking up the champagne bottle he refilled both of their glasses again, and Georgia nodded her thanks. “So, I’m guessing you won’t be after selling real estate here then?”

“No, thank you,” she said on a sigh. God, it felt wonderful to know that soon she wouldn’t have to deal with recalcitrant sellers and pushy buyers. When people came to her for design work, they would be buying her talent, not whatever house happened to be on the market.

“I’m going to open my own design shop. Of course, I’ll have to check everything out first, see what I have to do to get a business license in Ireland and to have my interior design credentials checked. And I’ll have to have a house …”

“You could always stay here,” he said with a shrug. “I’m sure Ronan and Laura would love to have you here with them, and God knows the place is big enough …”

“It is that,” she mused, shifting her gaze around the parlor of the luxurious manor house. In fact, the lovely old house was probably big enough for two or three families. “But I’d rather have a home of my own. My own place, not too far. I’m thinking of opening my shop in Dunley …”

Sean choked on a sip of champagne, then laughed a second later. “Dunley? You want to open a design shop in the village?”

Irritated, she scowled at him. And he’d been doing so nicely on the understanding thing, too. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Well, let’s just say I can’t see Danny Muldoon hiring you to give the Pennywhistle pub a makeover anytime soon.”

“Funny,” she muttered.

“Ah now,” Sean said, smile still firmly in place, “don’t get yourself in a twist. I’m only saying that perhaps the city might be a better spot for a design shop.”

Still frowning, she gave him a regal half nod. “Maybe. But Dunley is about halfway between Galway and Westport—two big cities, you’ll agree—”

“I do.”

“So, the village is centrally located, and I’d rather be in a small town than a big one anyway. And I can buy a cottage close by and walk to work. Living in the village, I’ll be a part of things as I wouldn’t if I lived in Galway and only visited on weekends. And,” she added, on a roll, “I’d be close to Laura to visit or help with the baby. Not to mention—”

“You’re right, absolutely.” He held up both hands, then noticed his champagne glass was nearly empty. He refilled his, and hers, and then lifted his glass in a toast. “I’m sorry I doubted you for a moment. You’ve thought this through.”

“I really have,” she said, a little mellower now, thanks not only to the wine, but to the gleam of admiration in Sean’s gaze. “I want to do this. I’m going to do this,” she added, a promise to herself and the universe at large.

“And so you will, I’ve no doubt,” Sean told her, leaning forward. “To the start of more than one new life this day. I wish you happiness, Georgia, with your decision and your shop.”

“Thanks,” she said, clinking her glass against his, making the heavy crystal sing. “I appreciate it.”

When they’d both had a sip to seal the toast, Sean mused, “So we’ll be neighbors.”

“We will.”

“And friends.”

“That, too,” she agreed, feeling just a little unsettled by his steady stare and the twisting sensation in the pit of her stomach.

“And as your friend,” Sean said softly, “I think I should tell you that when you’re excited about something, your eyes go as dark as a twilight sky.”

Two

“What?”

Sean watched the expression on her face shift from confusion to a quick flash of desire that was born and then gone again in a blink. But he’d seen it, and his response to it was immediate.

“Am I making you nervous, Georgia?”

“No,” she said and he read the lie in the way she let her gaze slide from his. After taking another sip of champagne, she licked a stray drop from her lip, and Sean’s insides fisted into knots.

Odd, he’d known Georgia for about a year now and though he’d been attracted, he’d never before been tempted. Now he was. Most definitely. Being here with her in the fire-lit shadows while rain pattered at the windows was, he thought, more than tempting. There was an intimacy here, two people who had shared a hellishly long day together. Now, in the quiet shadows, there was something new and … compelling rising up between them.

He knew she felt it, too, despite the wary gleam in her eyes as she watched him. Still, he wanted her breathless, not guarded, so he eased back and gave her a half smile. “I’m only saying you’re a beautiful woman, Georgia.”

“Hmm …” She tipped her head to one side, studying him.

“Surely it’s not the first time you’ve heard that from a man.”

“Oh, no,” she answered. “Men actually chase me down the street to tell me I have twilight eyes.”

He grinned. He did appreciate a quick wit. “Maybe I’m just more observant than most men.”

“And maybe you’re up to something,” she said thoughtfully. “What is it, Sean?”

“Not a thing,” he said, all innocence.

“Well, that’s good.” She nodded and reached down absently to rub at the arch of her foot. “I mean, we both know anything else would just be … complicated.”

“Aye, it would at that,” he agreed, and admitted silently that complicated might be worth it. “Your feet hurt?”

“What?” She glanced down to where her hand rubbed the arch of her right foot and smiled ruefully. “Yeah, they do.”

“A long day of standing, wasn’t it?”

“It was.”

She sipped at her champagne and a log shifted in the fire. As the flames hissed and spat, she closed her eyes—a little dreamily, he thought, and he felt that fist inside him tighten even further. The woman was unknowingly seducing him.

Logic and a stern warning sounded out in his mind, and he firmly shut them down. There was a time for a cool head, and there was a time for finding out just where the road you found yourself on would end up. So far, he liked this particular road very much.

He set his glass on the table in front of them, then sat back and dragged her feet onto his lap. Georgia looked at him and he gave her a quick grin. “I’m offering a one-night-only special. A foot rub.”

“Sean …”

He knew what she was thinking because his own mind was running along the same paths. Back up—or, stay the course and see what happened. As she tried to draw her feet away, he held them still in his lap and pushed his thumbs into her arch.

She groaned and let her head fall back and he knew he had her.

“Oh, that feels too good,” she whispered, as he continued to rub and stroke her skin.

“Just enjoy it for a bit then,” he murmured.

That had her lifting her head to look at him with the wariness back, glinting in those twilight depths. “What’re you up to?”

“Your ankles,” he said, sliding his hands higher to match his words. “Give me a minute, though, and ask again.”

She laughed as he’d meant her to, and the wariness edged off a bit.

“So,” she asked a moment later, “why do I rate a foot rub tonight?”

“I’m feeling generous, just becoming an uncle and all.” He paused, and let that settle. Of course, he and Ronan weren’t actually brothers, but they might as well have been. “Not really an uncle, but that’s how it feels.”

“You’re an uncle,” she told him. “You and Ronan are every bit as tight as Laura and I are.”

“True,” he murmured, and rubbed his thumb into the arches of her small, narrow feet. Her toes were painted a dark pink, and he smiled at the silver toe ring she wore on her left foot.

She sighed heavily and whispered, “Oh, my … you’ve got great hands.”

“So I’ve been told,” he said on a laugh. He slid his great hands a bit higher, stroking her ankles and then up along the line of her calves. Her skin was soft, smooth and warm, now that the fire had chased away the chill of the afternoon.

“Maybe it’s the champagne talking,” she said softly, “but what you’re doing feels way too good.”

“’Tisn’t the champagne,” he told her, meeting her eyes when she looked at him. “We’ve not had enough yet to blur the lines between us.”

“Then it’s the fire,” she whispered, “and the rain outside sealing us into this pretty room together.”

“Could be,” he allowed, sliding his hands even higher now, stroking the backs of her knees and watching her eyes close as she sighed. “And it could just be that you’re a lovely thing, here in the firelight, and I’m overcome.”

She snorted and he grinned in response.

“Oh, yes, overcome,” she said, staring into his eyes again, as if trying to see the plans he had, the plans he might come up with. “Sean Connolly, you’re a man who always knows what he’s doing. So answer me this. Are you trying to seduce me?”

“Ah, the shoe is on the other foot entirely, Georgia,” he murmured, his fingertips moving higher still, up her thighs, inch by inch. He hadn’t thought of it earlier, but now he was grateful she’d been wearing a skirt for their mad ride to the hospital. Made things so much simpler.

“Right,” she said. “I’m seducing you? You’re the one giving out foot rubs that have now escalated—” her breath caught briefly before she released it on a sigh “—to thigh rubs.”

“And do you like it?”

“I’d be a fool not to,” she admitted, and he liked her even more for her straightforwardness.

“Well then …”

“But the question remains,” she said, reaching down to capture one of his hands in hers, stilling his caresses. “If you’re seducing me, I have to ask, why now? We’ve known each other for so long, Sean, and we’ve never—”

“True enough,” he murmured, “but this is the first time we’ve been alone, isn’t it?” He set her hand aside and continued to stroke the outsides of her thighs before slowly edging around to the inside.

She squirmed, and he went hard as stone.

“Think of it, Georgia,” he continued, though his voice was strained and it felt as though there were a rock lodged in his throat. “‘Tis just us here for the night. No Ronan, no Laura, no Patsy, running in and out with her tea trays. Even the dogs are in the kitchen sleeping.”

Georgia laughed a little. “You’re right. I don’t think I’ve ever been in this house alone before. But …”

“No buts,” he interrupted, then leaned out and picked up the champagne bottle. Refilling her glass and then his own, he set the bottle down again and lifted his glass with one hand while keeping her feet trapped in his lap with the other. “I think we need more of this, then we’ll … talk about this some more.”

“After enough champagne, we won’t want to talk at all,” she said, though she sipped at the wine anyway.

“And isn’t that a lovely thought?” he asked, giving her a wink as he drained his glass.

She was watching him, and her eyes were filled with the same heat that burned inside him. For the life of him, Sean couldn’t figure out how he’d managed to keep his hands off of her for the past year or more. Right now, the desire leaping inside him had him hard and eager for the taste of her. The feel of her beneath his hands. He wanted to hear her sigh, hear her call his name as she erupted beneath him. Wanted to bury himself inside her heat and feel her surrounding him.

“That look in your eyes tells me exactly what you’re thinking,” Georgia said, and this time she took a long drink of champagne.

“And are you thinking the same?” he asked.

“I shouldn’t be.”

“That wasn’t the question.”

Never breaking her gaze from his, Georgia blew out a breath and admitted, “Okay, yes, I’m thinking the same.”

“Thank the gods for that,” he said, a smile curving his mouth.

She chuckled, and the sound was rich and full. “I think you’ve got more in common with the devils than you do with the gods.”

“Isn’t that a lovely thing to say then?” he quipped. Reaching out, he plucked the champagne flute from her hand and set it onto the table.

“I wasn’t finished,” she told him.

“We’ll have more later. After,” he promised.

She took a deep breath and said, “This is probably a mistake, you know.”

“Aye, probably is. Would you have us stop then, before we get started?” He hoped to hell she said no, because if she said yes, he’d have to leave. And right now, leaving was the very last thing he wanted to do.

“I really should say yes, because we absolutely should stop. Probably,” she said quietly.

He liked the hesitation in that statement. “But?”

“But,” she added, “I’m tired of being sensible. I want you to touch me, Sean. I think I’ve wanted that right from the beginning, but we were being too sensible for me to admit to it.”

He pulled her up and over to him, settling her on his lap where she’d be sure to feel the hard length of him pressing into her bottom. “You can readily see that I feel the same.”

“Yeah,” she said, turning her face up to his. “I’m getting that.”

“Not yet,” he teased, “but you’re about to.”

“Promises, promises …”

“Well then, enough talking, yes?”

“Oh, yes.”

He kissed her, softly at first, a brush of the lips, a connection that was as swift and sweet as innocence. It was a tease. Something short to ease them both into this new wrinkle in their relationship.

But with that first kiss, something incredible happened. Sean felt a jolt of white-hot electricity zip through him in an instant. His eyes widened as he looked at her, and he knew the surprise he read on her face was also etched on his own.

“That was … Let’s just see if we can make that happen again, shall we?”

She nodded and arched into him, parting her lips for him when he kissed her, and this time Sean fed that electrical jolt that sizzled between them. He deepened the kiss, tangling his tongue with hers, pulling her closer, tighter, to him. Her arms came up around his neck and held on. She kissed him back, feverishly, as if every ounce of passion within her had been unleashed at once.

She stabbed her fingers through his hair, nails dragging along his scalp. She twisted on his lap, rubbing her behind against his erection until a groan slid from his throat. The glorious friction of her body against his would only get better, he thought, if he could just get her out of these bloody clothes.

He broke the kiss and dragged in a breath of air, hoping to steady the racing beat of his heart. It didn’t help. Nothing would. Not until he’d had her, all of her. Only then would he be able to douse the fire inside. To cool the need and regain his control.

But for now, all he needed was her. Georgia Page, temptress with eyes of twilight and a mouth designed to drive a man wild.

“You’ve too many clothes on,” he muttered, dropping his hands to the buttons on her dark blue shirt.

“You, too,” she said, tugging the tail of his white, long-sleeved shirt free of the black jeans he wore. She fumbled at the buttons and then laughed at herself. “Can’t get them undone, damn it.”

“No need,” he snapped and, gripping both sides of his shirt, ripped it open, sending small white buttons flying around the room like tiny missiles.

She laughed again and slapped both palms to his chest. At the first touch of her skin to his, Sean hissed in a breath and held it. He savored every stroke, every caress, while she explored his skin as if determined to map every inch of him.

He was willing to lie still for that exploration, too, as long as he could do the same for her. He got the last of her buttons undone and slid her shirt off her shoulders and down her arms. She helped him with it, and then her skin was bared to him, all but her lovely breasts, hidden behind the pale, sky-blue lace of her bra. His mouth went dry.

Tossing her honey-blond hair back from her face, Georgia met his gaze as she unhooked the front clasp of that bra and then slipped out of it completely. Sean’s hands cupped her, his thumbs and forefingers brushing across the rigid peaks of her dark pink nipples until she sighed and cupped his hands with her own.

“You’re lovely, Georgia. More lovely than I’d imagined,” he whispered, then winked. “And my imagination was pretty damned good.”

She grinned, then whispered, “My turn.” She pushed his shirt off and skimmed her small, elegant hands slowly over his shoulders and arms, and every touch was a kiss of fire. Every caress a temptation.

He leaned over, laying her back on the sofa until she was staring up at him. Firelight played over her skin, light and shadow dancing in tandem, making her seem almost ethereal. But she was a real woman with a real need, and Sean was the man to meet it.

Deftly, he undid the waist button and the zipper of the skirt she wore, then slowly tugged the fabric down and off before tossing it to the floor. She wore a scrap of blue lace panties that were somehow even more erotic than seeing her naked would have been. Made him want to take that elastic band between his teeth and—

“Sean!” She half sat up and for a dark second or two, Sean was worried she’d changed her mind at the last. The thought of that nearly brought him to his knees.

“What is it?”

“Protection,” she said. “I’m not on the pill, and I don’t really travel with condoms.” Worrying her bottom lip with her teeth, she blurted, “Maybe Ronan’s got some old ones upstairs …”

“No need,” he said and stood. “I’ve some in the glove box of the car.”

She just looked at him. “You keep condoms in the glove compartment?”

Truthfully, he hadn’t used any of the stash he kept there for emergencies in longer than he cared to admit. There hadn’t been a woman for him in months. Maybe, he thought now, it was because he’d been too tangled up in thoughts of twilight eyes and kissable lips. Well, he didn’t much care for the sound of that, so he told himself that maybe he’d just been too bloody busy getting his airline off the ground, so to speak.

“Pays to be prepared,” was all he said.

Georgia’s lips twitched. “I didn’t realize Ireland had Boy Scouts.”

“What?”

“Never mind,” she whispered, lifting her hips and pulling her panties off. “Just … hurry.”

“I bloody well will.” He scraped one hand across his face, then turned and bolted for the front door. It cost him to leave her, even for the few moments this necessary trip would take.

He was through the front door and out to his car in a blink. He hardly felt the misting rain as it covered him in an icy, wet blanket. The night was quiet; the only light came from that of the fire within the parlor, a mere echo of light out here, battling and losing against the darkness and the rain.

He tore through the glove box, grabbed the box of condoms and slammed the door closed again. Back inside the house, he staggered to a stop on the threshold of the parlor. She’d moved from the couch, and now she lay stretched out, naked, on the rug before the fire, her head on one of the countless pillows she’d brought down there with her.

Sean’s gaze moved over her in a flash and then again, more slowly, so he could savor everything she was. Mouth dry, heartbeat hammering in his chest, he thought he’d never seen a more beautiful picture than the one she made in the firelight.

“You’re wet,” she whispered.

Sean shoved one hand through his rain-soaked hair, then shrugged off his shirt. “Hadn’t noticed.”

“Cold?” she asked, and levered herself up on one elbow to watch him.

The curve of her hip, the swell of her breasts and the heat in her eyes all came together to flash into an inferno inside him. “Cold? Not likely.”

Never taking his gaze from hers, he pulled off the rest of his clothes and simply dropped them onto the colorful rug beneath his feet. He went to her, laser-focused on the woman stretched out beside him on the carpet in the firelight.

She reached up and cupped his cheek before smiling. “I thought we’d have more room down here than on the couch.”

“Very sensible,” he muttered, kissing her palm then dipping to claim her lips in a brief, hard kiss. “Nothing more sexy than a smart woman.”

“Always nice to hear.” She grinned and moved into him, pressing her mouth to his. Opening for him, welcoming the taste of him as he devoured her. Bells clanged in his mind, warning or jubilation he didn’t care which.

All that mattered now was the next touch. The next taste. She filled him as he’d never been filled before and all Sean could think was Why had it taken them so bloody long to do this?

Then his thoughts dissolved under an onslaught of sensations that flooded his system. He tore his mouth from hers to nibble at the underside of her jaw. To drag lips and tongue along the line of her throat while she sighed with pleasure and slid her hands up and down his back.

She was soft, smooth and smelled of flowers, and every breath he took drew her deeper inside him. He lost himself in the discovery of her, sliding his palms over her curves. He took first one nipple, then the other, into his mouth, tasting, suckling, driving her sighs into desperate gasps for air. She touched him, too, sliding her hands across his back and around to his chest and then down, to his abdomen. Then further still, until she curled her fingers around his length and Sean lifted his head, looked down into her eyes and let her see what she was doing to him.

Firelight flickered, rain spattered against the windows and the wind rattled the glass.

Her breath came fast and heavy. His heart galloped in his chest. Reaching for the condoms he’d tossed to the hearth, he tore one packet open, sheathed himself, then moved to kneel between her legs.

She planted her feet and lifted her hips in invitation and Sean couldn’t wait another damn minute. He needed this. Needed her as he’d never needed anything before.

Scooping his hands beneath her butt, he lifted her and, in one swift push, buried himself inside her.

Her head fell back, and a soft moan slid from her lips. His jaw tight, he swallowed the groan trying to escape his throat. Then she wrapped her legs around his middle, lifted her arms and drew him in deeper, closer. He bent over her and kissed her as the rhythm of this ancient, powerful dance swept them both away.

They moved together as if they’d been partners for years. Each seemed to know instinctively what would most touch, most inflame, the other. Their shadows moved on the walls and the night crowded closer as Sean pushed Georgia higher and higher.

His gaze locked with hers, he watched her eyes flash, felt her body tremble as her release exploded inside her. Lost himself in the pleasure glittering in her twilight eyes and then, finally, his control snapped completely. Taking her mouth with his, he kissed her deeply as his body shattered.

Georgia felt … fabulous.

Heat from the fire warmed her on one side, while Sean’s amazing body warmed her from the other. And of the two, she preferred the heat pumping from the tall, gorgeous man laying beside her.

Turning to face him, she smiled. “That was—”

“Aye, it was,” he agreed.

“Worth waiting for,” she confessed.

He skimmed a palm along the curve of her hip and she shivered. “And I was just wondering why in the hell we waited as long as we did.”

“Worried about complications, remember?” she asked, and only now felt the first niggling doubt about whether or not they’d done the right thing. Probably not, she mused, but it was hard to regret any of it.

“There’s always complications to good sex,” he said softly, “and that wasn’t just good, it was—”

“Yeah,” she said, “it was.”

“So the question arises,” he continued, smoothing his hand now across her bottom, “what do we do about this?”

She really hadn’t had time to consider all the options, and Georgia was a woman who spent most of her life looking at any given situation from every angle possible. Well, until tonight anyway. Now, her brain was scrambling to come up with coherent thoughts in spite of the fact that her body was still buzzing and even now hoping for more.

Still, one thing did come to mind, though she didn’t much care for it. “We could just stop whatever this is. Pretend tonight never happened and go back to the way things were.”

“And is that what you really want to do?” he asked, leaning forward to plant a kiss on her mouth.

She licked her lips as if to savor the taste of him, then sighed and shook her head. “No, I really don’t. But those complications will only get worse if we keep doing this.”

“Life is complicated, Georgia,” he said, smoothing his hand around her body to tug playfully at one nipple.

She sucked in a gulp of air and blew it out again. “True.”

“And, pretending it didn’t happen won’t work, as every time I see you, I’ll want to do this again …”

“There is that,” she said, reaching out to smooth his hair back from his forehead. Heck, she already wanted to do it all again. Feel that moment when his body slid into hers. Experience the sensation of his body filling hers completely. That indescribable friction that only happened when sex was done really well. And this so had been.

His eyes in the firelight glittered as if there were sparks dancing in their depths, and Georgia knew she was a goner. At least for now, anyway. She might regret it all later, but if she did, she would still walk away with some amazing memories.

“So,” he said softly, “we’ll take the complications as they come and do as we choose?”

“Yes,” she said after giving the thought of never being with him again no more than a moment’s consideration. “We’ll take the complications. We’re adults. We know what we’re doing.”

“We certainly seemed to a few minutes ago,” he said with a teasing grin.

“Okay, then. No strings. No expectations. Just … us. For however long it lasts.”

“Sounds good.” He pushed himself to his feet and walked naked to the table where they’d abandoned their wineglasses and the now nearly empty bottle of champagne.

“What’re you doing?”

He passed her the glasses as she sat up, then held the empty bottle aloft. “I’m going to open another of Ronan’s fine bottles of champagne. The first we drank to our new and lovely Fiona. The second we’ll drink to us. And the bargain we’ve just made.”

She looked up at him, her gaze moving over every square inch of that deliciously toned and rangy body. He looked like some pagan god, doused in firelight, and her breath stuttered in her chest. She could only nod to his suggestion because her throat was so suddenly tight with need, with passion, with … other things she didn’t even want to contemplate.

Sean Connolly wasn’t a forever kind of man—but, Georgia reminded herself as she watched him move to the tiny refrigerator and open it, she wasn’t looking for forever. She’d already tried that and had survived the crash-and-burn. Sure, he wasn’t the man her ex had been. But why even go there? Why try to make more out of this than it was? Great sex didn’t have to be forever.

And as a right-now kind of man, Sean was perfect.

Three

The next couple of weeks were busy.

Laura was just settling into life as a mother, and both she and Ronan looked asleep on their feet half the time. But there was happiness in the house, and Georgia was determined to find some of that happy for herself.

Sean had been a big help in navigating village society. Most of the people who lived and worked in Dunley had been there for generations. And though they might like the idea of a new shop in town, the reality of it slammed up against the whole aversion-to-change thing. Still, since Georgia was no longer a complete stranger, most of the people in town were more interested than resentful.

“A design shop, you say?”

“That’s right,” Georgia answered, turning to look at Maeve Carrol. At five feet two inches tall, the seventy-year-old woman had been Ronan’s nanny once upon a long-ago time. Since then, she was the self-appointed chieftain of the village and kept up with everything that was happening.

Her white hair was piled at the top of her head in a lopsided bun. Her cheeks were red from the wind, and her blue eyes were sharp enough that Georgia was willing to bet Maeve didn’t miss much. Buttoned up in a Kelly green cardigan and black slacks, she looked snug, right down to the soles of her bright pink sneakers.

“And you’ll draw up pictures of things to be done to peoples’ homes.”

“Yes, and businesses, as well,” Georgia said, “just about anything. It’s all about the flow of a space. Not exactly feng shui but along the same lines.”

Maeve’s nose twitched and a smile hovered at the corners of her mouth. “Fing Shooey—not a lot of that in the village.”

Georgia smiled at Maeve’s pronunciation of the design philosophy, then said, “Doesn’t matter. Some will want help redecorating, and there will be customers for me in Westport and Galway …”

“True enough,” Maeve allowed.

Georgia paused to take a look up and down the main street she’d come to love over the past year. There really wasn’t much to the village, all in all. The main street held a few shops, the Pennywhistle pub, a grocer’s, the post office and a row of two-story cottages brightly painted.

The sidewalks were swept every morning by the shop owners, and flowers spilled from pots beside every doorway. The doors were painted in brilliant colors, scarlet, blue, yellow and green, as if the bright shades could offset the ever-present gray clouds.

There were more homes, of course, some above the shops and some just outside the village proper on the narrow track that wound through the local farmers’ fields. Dunley had probably looked much the same for centuries, she thought, and liked the idea very much.

It would be good to have roots. To belong. After her divorce, Georgia had felt so … untethered. She’d lived in Laura’s house, joined Laura’s business. Hadn’t really had something to call hers. This was a new beginning. A chapter in her life that she would write in her own way in her own time. It was a heady feeling.

Outside of town was a cemetery with graves dating back five hundred years or more, each of them still lovingly tended by the descendants of those who lay there. The ruins of once-grand castles stubbled the countryside and often stood side by side with the modern buildings that would never be able to match the staying power of those ancient structures.

And soon, she would be a part of it.

“It’s a pretty village,” Georgia said with a little sigh.

“It is at that,” Maeve agreed. “We won the Tidy Town award back in ‘74, you know. The Mayor’s ever after us to win it again.”

“Tidy Town.” She smiled as she repeated the words and loved the fact that soon she would be a part of the village life. She might always be called “the Yank,” but it would be said with affection, she thought, and one day, everyone might even forget that Georgia Page hadn’t always been there.

She hoped so, anyway. This was important to her. This life makeover. And she wanted—needed—it to work.

“You’ve your heart set on this place, have you?” Maeve asked.

Georgia grinned at the older woman then shifted her gaze to the empty building in front of them. It was at the end of the village itself and had been standing empty for a couple of years. The last renter had given up on making a go of it and had left for America.

“I have,” Georgia said with a sharp nod for emphasis. “It’s a great space, Maeve—”

“Surely a lot of it,” the older woman agreed, peering through dirty windows to the interior. “Colin Ferris now, he never did have a head for business. Imagine trying to make a living selling interwebbing things in a village the size of Dunley.”

Apparently Colin hadn’t been able to convince the villagers that an internet café was a good idea. And there hadn’t been enough of the tourist trade to tide him over.

“’Twas no surprise to me he headed off to America.” She looked over at Georgia. “Seems only right that one goes and one comes, doesn’t it?”

“It does.” She hadn’t looked at it that way before, but there was a sort of synchronicity to the whole thing. Colin left for America, and Georgia left America for Dunley.

“So you’ve your path laid out then?”

“What? Oh. Yes, I guess I have,” Georgia said, smiling around the words. She had found the building she would rent for her business, and maybe in a couple of years, she’d be doing so well she would buy it. It was all happening, she thought with an inner grin. Her whole life was changing right before her eyes. Georgia would never again be the same woman she had been when Mike had walked out of her life, taking her self-confidence with him.

“Our Sean’s been busy as well, hasn’t he?” Maeve mused aloud. “Been a help to you right along?”

Cautious, Georgia slid a glance at the canny woman beside her. So far she and Sean had kept their … relationship under the radar. And in a village the size of Dunley, that had been a minor miracle. But if Maeve Carrol was paying attention, their little secret could be out.

And Maeve wasn’t the only one paying attention. Laura was starting to give Georgia contemplative looks that had to mean she was wondering about all the time Georgia and Sean were spending together.

Keeping her voice cool and her manner even cooler, Georgia said only, “Sean’s been great. He’s helped me get the paperwork going on getting my business license—” Which was turning out to be more complicated than she’d anticipated.

“He’s a sharp one, is Sean,” Maeve said. “No one better at wangling his way around to what he wants in the end.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Maggie Culhane told me yesterday that she and Colleen Leary were having tea at the pub and heard Sean talking to Brian Connor about his mum’s cottage, it standing empty this last year or more.”

Georgia sighed inwardly. The grapevine in Dunley was really incredible.

“Yes, Sean was asking about the cottage for me. I’d really like to live in the village if I can.”

“I see,” Maeve murmured, her gaze on Georgia as sharp as any cop’s, waiting for a confession.

“Oh, look,” Georgia blurted, “here comes Mary Donohue with the keys to the store.”

Thank God, she thought, grateful for the reprieve in the conversation. Maeve was a sweetie, but she had a laser like focus that Georgia would just as soon avoid. And she and Sean were keeping whatever it was between them quiet. There was no need for anyone else to know, anyway. Neither one of them was interested in feeding the local gossips—and Georgia really didn’t want to hear advice from her sister.

“Sorry I’m late,” Mary called out when she got closer. “I was showing a farm to a client, and wouldn’t you know he’d be late and then insist on walking over every bloody blade of grass in the fields?”

She shook her mass of thick red hair back from her face, produced a key from her suitcase-sized purse and opened the door to the shop. “Now then,” she announced, standing back to allow Georgia to pass in front of her. “If this isn’t perfect for what you’re wanting, I’ll be shocked.”

It was perfect, Georgia thought, wandering into the empty space. The floor was wood, scarred from generations of feet tracking across its surface. But with some polish, it would look great. The walls were in need of a coat of paint, but all in all, the place really worked for Georgia. In her mind, she set up a desk and chairs and shelves with samples stacked neatly. She walked through, the heels of her boots clacking against the floor. She gave a quick look to the small kitchen in the back, the closet-sized bath and the storeroom. She’d already been through the place once and knew it was the one for her. But today was to settle the last of her nerves before she signed the rental papers.

The main room was long and narrow, and the window let in a wide swath of daylight even in the gray afternoon. She had a great view of the main street, looking out directly across the road at a small bakery where she could go for her lunch every day and get tea and a sandwich. She’d be a part of Dunley, and she could grow the kind of business she’d always wanted to have.

Georgia breathed deep and realized that Mary was giving her spiel, and she grinned when she realized she would never have to do that herself, again. Maeve wandered the room, inspecting the space as if she’d never seen it before. Outside, two or three curious villagers began to gather, peering into the windows, hands cupped around their eyes.

Another quick smile from Georgia as she turned to Mary and said, “Yes. It’s perfect.”

Sean came rushing through the front door just in time to hear her announcement. He gave her a wide smile and walked across the room to her. Dropping both hands onto her shoulders, he gave her a fast, hard kiss, and said, “That’s for congratulations.”

Georgia’s lips buzzed in reaction to that spontaneous kiss even while she worried about Maeve and Mary being witnesses to it. Sean didn’t seem to mind, though. But then, he was such an outgoing guy, maybe no one would think anything of it.

“We used handshakes for that in my day,” Maeve murmured.

“Ah, Maeve my darlin’, did you want a kiss, too?” Sean swept the older woman up, planted a quick kiss on her mouth and had her back on her feet, swatting the air at him a second later.

“Go on, Sean Connolly, you always were free with your kisses.”

“He was indeed,” Mary said with a wink for Georgia. “Talk of the village he was. Why when my Kitty was young, I used to warn her about our Sean here.”

Sean slapped one hand to his chest in mock offense. “You’re a hard woman, Mary Donohue, when you know Kitty was the first to break my heart.”

Mary snorted. “Hard to break a thing that’s never been used.”

No one else seemed to notice, but Georgia saw a flash of something in Sean’s eyes that made her wonder if Mary’s words hadn’t cut a little deeper than she’d meant. But a moment later, Sean was speaking again in that teasing tone she knew so well.

“Pretty women were meant to be kissed. You can’t blame me for doing what’s expected, can you?”

“You always did have as much brass as a marching band,” Maeve told him, but she was smiling.

“So then, it’s settled.” Sean looked from Georgia to Mary. “You’ll be taking the shop.”

“I am,” she said, “if Mary’s brought the papers with her.”

“I have indeed,” that woman said and again dipped into her massive handbag.

Georgia followed her off a few steps to take care of business while Sean stood beside Maeve and watched her go.

“And just what kind of deviltry are you up to this time, Sean Connolly?” Maeve whispered.

Sean didn’t look at the older woman. Couldn’t seem to tear his gaze off of Georgia. Nothing new there. She had been uppermost in his mind for the past two weeks. Since the first time he’d touched her, Sean had thought about little else but touching her again. He hadn’t meant to kiss her like that in front of witnesses—especially Maeve—but damned if he’d been able to help himself.

“I don’t know what you mean, Maeve.”

“Oh, yes,” the older woman said with a knowing look, “it’s clear I’ve confused you …”

“Leave off, Maeve,” he murmured. “I’m here only to help if I can.”

“Being the generous sort,” she muttered right back.

He shot her a quick look and sighed. There was no putting anything over on Maeve Carrol. When they were boys, he and Ronan had tried too many times to count to get away with some trouble or other only to be stopped short by the tiny woman now beside him.

Frowning a bit, he turned to watch Georgia as she read over the real estate agent’s papers. She was small but, as he knew too well, curvy in all the right places. In her faded blue jeans and dark scarlet, thickly knit sweater, she looked too good. Standing here in this worn, empty store, she looked vivid. Alive. In a way that made everything else around her look as gray as the skies covering Dunley.

“Ronan says you haven’t been by the house much,” Maeve mentioned.

“Ah, well, I’m giving them time to settle in with Fiona. Don’t need people dropping in right and left.”

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