An Outrageous Proposal

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.