Wedding at King’s Convenience (3 page)

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 not 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.

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 waved 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.

“Then,” he said, “we’ll toast to the success of our joint venture.”

A smile tugged at her lips. “Venture, is it? A fine word for it, anyway.”

She took the pen he offered her and sat down to read through the short contract. He liked that about her, too. He thought a lot of people might have just taken him at his word and signed where he indicated. Not Maura though. She was careful. Not going to take his word for it that her interests were being looked after.

Was there anything sexier than a smart woman?

Her teeth pulled at her bottom lip as she read and he heard the ticking of the wall clock behind him in the strained quiet. Her head was bent over the paperwork and he had to force himself not to touch her. Not to stroke his fingers through the shining black hair that was only inches from him.
Soon,
he promised himself, reaching for the self-control that had always been a part of him.

But even as that thought rattled through his mind, he had to smile. His self-control had been mostly absent since the first moment he’d seen Maura. She tripped something inside him. Something he hadn’t even been aware of in years. Something he hadn’t felt since—

The scratch of a pen on paper broke the silence and
he came out of his thoughts in time to watch her put the pen down and pick up the now-signed contract.

“It’s done,” she said.

“It’ll be good doing business with you, Maura.”

“Ah, I’ll wager you say that to all of the people you rent locations from.”

“No,” he said, sliding the contract back into the envelope then tossing them on the table. “I don’t. You’re…different.”

“Is that so?” She picked up the wineglasses, handed one to him and took a sip of her own. “And how might that be?”

“I think you know the answer to that.”

“I might at that,” she mused and set her glass down again to take off the cream-colored Irish sweater she wore. Pulling it up and over her head, she shook her hair back and smiled up at him.

Jefferson sucked in a gulp of air, then chased it with a swallow of cold, crisp wine. All she’d been wearing under that sweater of hers tonight was a white silk camisole that clung to her skin and displayed her pebbled nipples with fine clarity.

“You must have been freezing tonight,” he muttered.

“A bit,” she admitted, “though inside the pub was warm enough and I’ll admit, I thought perhaps we might end up back here tonight and I wanted to see the look on your face when I took off the sweater.”

“And was it worth it?” he managed to ask.

“Aye, it was.” She reached up, hooked one hand behind his head and threaded her fingers through his hair. “I’ve been wanting you, Jefferson.”

His body jumped into overdrive, his erection painfully pushing against his slacks. “Have you?”

“I have. I think you’ve been wanting me, as well,” she added, moving in closer to him.

“Aye,” he mimicked. “I have.”

Her fingers at the back of his neck felt seductive and sure and he suddenly wanted that touch all over him. He needed to feel her hands on him, to get his hands on her.

He set his glass down and reached for her. Holding her pressed tightly against him, he felt her nipples pushing into his chest and damn near groaned. Then he had to smile. “You know, I’d planned to seduce you tonight.”

She grinned up at him. “Well, isn’t it a fine thing indeed when two plans come together so nicely?”

“Indeed,” he murmured and bent his head to take a kiss. The first of many. His mouth covered hers and she sighed into him, parting her lips eagerly, hungrily. She matched his need and as their tongues twisted and danced together, the flames they built erupted into an inferno.

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her pressed tightly to him and still it wasn’t close enough. Couldn’t feel enough of her. He needed her naked. Needed to feel skin to skin, rough to smooth. He needed to slide his body into hers and feel her heat surround him.

And he needed it
now.

Quickly, he swept her up, turned around and plopped her down onto the kitchen counter. She whooped in surprise, but recovered quickly enough. Wrapping her legs around his middle, she clung to him, her tongue
tangling with his, their breaths combining into a symphony of sighs that filled the quiet of the old house with the desperate sounds of passion.

Again and again, he kissed her, long, deep, short, fast. He loved the taste of her. Richer than any wine, headier than any intoxicant could be. She was all. She was everything. The world spun about her and he was pulled into her orbit with the deliberate tug of a gravity too fierce to fight.

He yanked up the hem of that silken camisole, tore it up over her head, then tossed it behind him without missing a beat. Her breasts were bared to him and he inhaled sharply as he fed the need to admire her. Full, ripe breasts with dark pink nipples, peaked now as if just awaiting his pleasure.

Jefferson cupped those milk-white globes in his hands and sighed himself with her whispered approval. His thumbs and forefingers tweaked and pulled gently at her nipples and when she writhed into him, he dipped his head, taking first one, then the other into his mouth. He licked, he sucked, he nibbled and the sounds she made urged him on, encouraged him to take all he wanted.

Her hands fisted in his hair and held his head to her breasts as if she were worried he’d stop. But stopping wasn’t in the game plan. In fact, he couldn’t have stopped now if his life depended on it. God help him if she were to suddenly change her mind and show him the door. He’d never live through it.

He pulled back, looked up into misty blue eyes and returned the grin she had aimed at him.

“Let’s have your shirt off, Jefferson,” she said. “I’ve a need to feel your skin beneath my hands.”

He obliged her quickly, tearing off his own sweater and the shirt he wore beneath it. Then he groaned as her palms swept over his shoulders and along his back. The warmth of her touch slid into him and sent bolts of fresh need shooting through his system. Her short nails scraped at his skin. Her breath came in hard, brief pants and when she slid her hands down his arms, they were both gasping for air.

“Help me with these,” she said, her voice low and tight as though she’d had to force the words from her throat.

“What?”

“My jeans, man.” She had them unsnapped and was whipping the zipper down as she spoke. She’d already kicked off her shoes. “Help me out of them before I lose my mind for the wanting.”

“Right, right.” His head was full and spinning. All he could think about was the next touch, the next kiss. So he helped her out of her pants, lifting her off the counter so she could scoot around and free herself of both jeans and white cotton bikini underwear.

Jefferson had one shining moment of clarity when he realized that her simple, plain panties were more erotic than any scraps of black lace he’d ever seen. Then the moment was gone and he was lost in the glory of looking at her. Her milk-white skin was soft and smooth and he ached to touch her all over. Explore every curve, every line of her body until he knew her more intimately than any other man ever had.

“Now yours,” she said, reaching for his belt buckle.
She grinned, tossed her hair back over her shoulder and met his eyes with her own. She was strong and sure of herself, and the sexual ache he felt went a notch higher. “I’ve a powerful need for you, Jefferson, and I’m not a patient woman as you might have noticed.”

“Believe me, I’m grateful to hear it,” he muttered, stepping out of his clothes and standing naked in front of her. His body leaped to attention, hard and thick and aching to ease itself inside her. But Jefferson had one more quick moment of reason show itself, so he said, “We should go upstairs. To your bedroom.”

“Later,” she countered, reaching for him, wrapping her arms around his neck even as she parted her legs and scooted forward to the counter’s edge. “If I don’t have you inside me this moment, Jefferson King, I’ll not be responsible for what happens next.”

“My kind of woman,” he growled with a smile. “I knew it the moment I saw you.”

Her hands cupped his cheeks again. “Then fill me, Jefferson, ease the ache.”

He did.

She was hot and wet and so ready for him he almost exploded the moment he entered her. Only his immense self-control kept him from hurtling too soon over an edge he craved like a dying man wished for a few more moments of life. She threw her head back, baring her throat for him and he kissed her there, along the line of her lovely throat, lips and tongue sliding across her skin until she shivered in his arms.

He pushed himself deep as her legs locked around his hips, then pulled out and did the same again. Over and
over, as he set a rhythm she raced to follow, their bodies came together, melding, meshing, sliding into a dance they had been building toward for what seemed like forever.

Her soft pants and muted sighs fueled him, fed the images in his mind, the sensations in his body. Never before had Jefferson so lost himself in a woman. He wasn’t sure where he ended and she began and he knew with a blinding flash of insight that it didn’t matter.

All that mattered was this moment. This one heart-stopping, mind-numbing moment in time.

Pulling his head back, he watched her as he moved one hand to the spot where their bodies joined and touched the pad of his thumb to the most sensitive flesh at her core. She gasped, trembled in his arms and shrieked out his name as her body whipped into a frenzied release.

And no more than a heartbeat later, Jefferson gave himself up, at last, to the crashing need and surrendered himself into her keeping.

Hours later, Maura stretched out on her bed and felt blissfully languid. Every cell in her body was replete. Satisfied. And even as she lay there, just an arm’s reach from her lover, she felt hunger begin to stir inside again.

She turned her head on the pillow to look at Jefferson and smiled to herself. He’d been well worth the agonizing wait, she told herself even as a small voice in the back of her head warned her against feeling too much. Wanting too much.