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
