An Outrageous Proposal. Maureen Child
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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,”