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Books by Maureen Child
One “Y ou think I’m charming,” Jefferson King said with a smug smile. “I can tell.” “Charming, is it?” Maura Donohue straightened up to her full, if less-than-imposing height. “Do you believe I’m so easily swayed by a smooth-talking man?” “Easily?” Jefferson laughed. “We’ve known each other for the better part of a week now, Maura, and I can say with certainty there’s nothing ‘easy’ about you.” “Well now,” she countered with a smile of her own. “Isn’t that a lovely thing to say.” She was pleased. Jefferson read the truth on her features. No other woman he’d ever known would have been complimented by knowing that a man thought her difficult. But then, Maura Donohue was one in a million, wasn’t she? He’d known it the moment he met her. In Ireland scouting locations for an upcoming movie from King Studios, Jefferson had stumbled across Maura’s sheep farm in County Mayo and had realized instantly that it was just what he’d been searching for. Of course, convincing Maura of that fact was so
Two I n the village of Craic, Jefferson King was big news and Maura had half the town nagging her to sign his silly papers so they could all “get famous.” Not a moment went by when she didn’t hear someone’s opinion on the subject. But she wasn’t going to be hurried into a decision. Not by her friends, not by her sister and not by Jefferson. She’d give him her answer when she was ready and not before. She should have thought twice about suggesting to him they go to the village pub for supper. Should have known that her friends and neighbors would pounce on the opportunity to engage Jefferson in conversation while managing to give Maura a nudge or two at the same time. But, the truth was, she had been feeling far too…itchy to trust herself alone in her house with him. He was a fine-looking man after all, and her hormones had been doing a fast step-dance since the moment she’d first laid eyes on him. Now, Maura had to wonder if coming into the Lion’s Den pub for a meal hadn’t been a bad i
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 agai
Four S he wasn’t over him. It had been two months and she still thought of Jefferson King nearly every day. Her only hope was that he was being haunted by memories, as well. That would make this whole thing more fair. The problem was, she had too much alone time, she told herself. Too much empty time to spend in thoughts she shouldn’t be indulging in anyway. But with Cara off making a film in Dublin, Maura was alone at the farmhouse with nothing more to talk to than the dog she’d recently acquired. Unfortunately, King, named for a certain man she was still feeling fondness for when she purchased the dog, was not much of a conversationalist. Now, along with her wild thoughts, her misery at missing the man she never should have let into her heart, the work building up to lambing season and her new dog, she was also feeling a bit off physically. Her stomach was queasy most of the time and she’d been so dizzy only that morning in the barn, she’d had to sit down before she fell down. “I was
Five J efferson stopped in the village to book a room at the small inn that he’d stayed in on his last trip. He was jetlagged, hungry and well past the breaking point. So when the innkeeper, Frances Boyle, was less than welcoming when she opened her bright red front door and gave him a grim glare, Jefferson’s hackles went up. “Well,” she said, crossing her thick arms over a prodigious chest covered by a shawl the color of mustard. “If it isn’t himself, come back to the scene of the crime.” “Crime?” One black eyebrow lifted. “Excuse me?” “Hah! A fine time to be beggin’ pardon and if it’s pardon you’re asking I’m not the one it should be aimed at.” He closed his eyes briefly. The older woman’s brogue was so thick, and she spoke so quickly, he’d thought for a moment she was speaking Gaelic. Then her words sunk in and he realized he was being scolded as if he were a five-year-old who’d thrown a rock through her window. “Mrs. Boyle,” Jefferson said, gathering the reins on his simmering temp
Six S he slammed the door an instant later. Eyes wide, heart pounding in her chest, Maura leaned back against the door and tried to catch her breath. She shivered slightly and couldn’t be sure if it was the bitter spring weather or the ice in Jefferson’s pale blue eyes that had made her feel cold down to the bone. She only knew that seeing him again had shaken her. Shaken her so badly she couldn’t afford to let him see it. Bad enough he’d shown up on her doorstep without so much as a phone call in warning. “But then,” she murmured aloud, “the man obviously doesn’t know how to use a bloody phone now, does he, since I’ve been calling him for more than three months now with no success.” And yet here he was. At her front door, looking half-drowned and furious with it and still so tempting everything in her wanted to shout for glee at seeing him again. Even though she knew better, Maura felt that familiar need for him rise up inside her. She should have been prepared for this. Somehow, she
Seven A few hours later, Cara asked, “Then what did he do?” “He left.” Maura lifted a week-old lamb, cradled it against her chest, then held a baby bottle out for it. Instantly, the tiny, black-and-white creature latched on to the rubber nipple and began tugging at it. Maura smiled even as she tried to ignore her sister’s interrogation. Naturally, Cara wouldn’t leave the thing alone even when Maura insisted she didn’t want to speak about it. The only thing she could do now was hope to finish the conversation as quickly as possible. “He just left? He didn’t propose?” Maura laughed at that notion, more to cover up her own disappointment than anything else. Until that very afternoon, she’d had dreams. Fantasies you might say, during the weeks when she was trying so futilely to get hold of the Great One himself. She’d imagined him going down on bended knee, here in this very barn. She’d pictured him proposing and, in her frustration with his ignoring her or so she’d thought, she’d pictured
Eight T wo days later, Maura felt like a caged animal. Oh, she had the run of the farm, but she remained under the watchful eye of Jefferson King. He was everywhere she turned. She hadn’t had a moment to herself since he’d arrived during the last storm. If she stepped outside the house, there he was. If she was feeding the lambs, he turned up to help. If she walked into the village, he went with her. She’d reached the point now where she was looking for him, expecting him. Blast the man, that had most likely been his plan all along. Though she’d set the village to rights and her friends and neighbors had once again opened their businesses to the film crew, Jefferson remained in the trailer parked outside her home. He didn’t go back to the inn. Didn’t move to a comfortable hotel. Oh, no. He stayed in that too-small trailer so that he could badger Maura and tell her what their future was going to be, like it or not. “What kind of world is it when a woman has to sneak out of her own house
Nine B right and early the next morning, Maura stepped outside, braced for the next confrontation with Jefferson. She glanced around and blew out a breath that misted in front of her face in the cold damp. Dawn was just painting the sky with the first of a palette of colors. Gray clouds rolled in from the sea and she smelled another storm on the air. “Maybe the coming storm will keep him in the trailer,” she told herself, even though she didn’t believe it for a moment, and truth be told, she didn’t wish for it, either. Even as annoying as the man could become, she liked having him about. Which only went to prove she really was a madwoman. What woman in her right mind would torture herself so willingly by being around a man she couldn’t have? But what choice did she have? It wasn’t as if asking him to leave her be had gotten her anywhere. Jefferson would stay until he left. Period. Nothing she could say would move him along any faster. He’d made that clear enough. There would be no way
Ten I n the bedroom, she saw the balcony doors were open, a soft, cold breeze sliding into the room, ruffling lacy white sheers. From the street below came the muted sounds of pub music, riding the wind. One lamp in the room was on, spilling enough golden light to chase away shadows. Then he stopped alongside the wide bed and helped her out of the sweater she wore. Beneath was a plain white shirt that he quickly unbuttoned and tossed aside. He unhooked her bra with a surprising agility and then dispensed with her boots, jeans and underwear. In moments, she was unclothed before him and feeling just a bit hesitant about her changing body. He hadn’t seen her naked since the night they’d made their child. And since then, she’d gained a little weight and her belly was rounded with the growing baby. She watched him as he gazed at her and she saw his eyes soften when he looked at her abdomen. Suddenly uneasy, she said, “I’ve changed, I know.” “Yes,” he said, lifting his gaze to hers even as h
Eleven “W hat was so damned important I had to come all the way out to the ranch?” Jefferson slammed his car door and faced down his brother. “Just a few things we need to discuss,” Justice told him. “But first, I’ve got to get that yearling back in his stall.” He followed Justice out to the paddock and watched as his brother hopped the rail fence and loped across the dirt enclosure without so much as a limp. Months after the accident that had brought Justice and Maggie back together again, his brother’s leg was as good as new. “Hey, you’re here!” Jefferson turned around to spot his youngest brother, Jesse, headed toward him. A former professional surfer, Jesse was a successful businessman now, running King Beach, surf and sportswear. And by rights, he should have been in Morgan Beach. So what was he doing at the ranch? Suspicion flitted through Jefferson’s mind, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what the trouble might be, so he let it go. For now. “What are you doing here?” Jeff
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