by Donna Fasano
“And that is why it is with great pride—”
Julia perked up. That sounded like the beginning of the end of one insufferably long speech.
“That we have chosen a director to oversee this project—”
Finally, Julia said to herself as she stretched her neck up just a bit to get a better view through the crowd, something interesting.
“Who embodies the goals of our generous corporation towards ending the blight of homelessness in our city—”
Just say it already, she mused.
“Former Interpol agent and hero in his home country and locally—”
Julia’s heart stopped. Don’t say what I think you’re going to say. Not even her pulse registered in her ears as the new director’s name echoed through her mind and body.
“Cameron O’Dea.”
Sunlight glinted off the golden curls on Cameron’s head as he moved from the blur of the crowd to shake the CEO’s hand. He exchanged some pleasantries with the businessman beyond the reach of the microphone then stepped up to acknowledge the enthusiastic applause with a wave.
Stunned, Julia could neither think nor react. She just stood there with her mouth gaping wide, as the man with the brilliant green eyes fixed his gaze on her and came to take his place at her side.
He smiled down at her.
She blinked. Her muscles were as limp as rags and yet her posture was rigid. She wanted to ask him how or why or what was going on, but the connection between her brain and her lips failed. She just stared.
“And now, let us break ground on this new and worthwhile project!” the CEO announced.
Every other golden spade crunched into the barren ground. The air filled with the scent of fresh earth. A cheer went up.
Julia just stared.
“Sweet Julia?” Cameron whispered.
She smiled her gaze caressing his cheeks, his lips, his eyes. “It’s really you, isn’t it? You’re really here.”
“I’m really here. And I’m really here to stay. I’ve resigned my position with Interpol, and I want to make Cincinnati my home.” He reached over and helped her push down on the ceremonial spade.
The blade cut into the soft soil, crumbling the ground into dirt and clods.
Julia kept her eyes on him. She inhaled the scent of him, savored the heat of his body and the way he made her feel protected and safe.
“Cameron?”
“Hmm?” He met her gaze.
Those eyes spoke to her just as they had the very first day. She saw in them goodness and humor and just enough human frailty to make him the perfect man for the job he had taken and for…
“I’m glad you’re back,” she said.
“I’m glad to be back.”
“No, I mean I’m really glad that you’re back.”
“And I’m really glad to be back, sweet Julia. Whatever the future brings, I’m won’t regret coming back to… to do what needs to be done.
“I agree,” she whispered. “We’ll do what we can with what we’re given and as for the rest—we’ll just have to let go.”
“There are some things, sweet Julia, that a man can’t let go of."
“Like what?”
“His principles, his heart’s desire, and a woman who shares them both. And it doesn’t hurt if that woman is strong, and smart, and beautiful, and—”
He took her in his arms and kissed her. A proper kiss. The way a man kisses the woman he had waited a life time to find and almost lost to his own foolish pride and pursuit of all the wrong things.
The crowd cheered.
Julia pulled away, gasped softly and ducked her head to hide the warm blush washing over her face.
Cameron nodded to thank the crowd for their support.
“I hate to be a spoilsport, but can I ask you all to lift another spade of dirt?” A photographer gestured to the group. “We didn’t get the picture the first time.”
The shovel brigade gladly obliged, and as the spades hit the dirt, someone called out.
“Hey, Mr. O’Dea, what do we do if one of us hits buried gold like Miss Reed did?”
“If anyone digs up a pot of gold on this lot—”
The hushed attention of the crowd fixed on the man with the velvet voice and the sparkling Irish eyes.
“He can keep it.” He gave one hand a dismissive flick, while the other held Julia close. “I’ve got the only treasure I’ll ever need right here.”
Epilogue
Why, I do believe that this is the second St. Patrick’s Day in a row that you haven’t worn green, sweet Julia.”
“That just goes to show how much you know, Cameron O’Dea.”
Julia placed her slippered foot on the edge of a chair. With the most delicate of care, she gathered the hem of her dress in her fingers. The lace and taffeta skirt rustled as she drew it up slowly to reveal the blue satin and lace garter above her knee. A vivid green four-leaf clover encased in a gold-trimmed bubble dangled against her white-stockinged leg.
“Why, Mrs. O’Dea,” Cameron murmured as appreciation glimmered in his green eyes.
She smiled back at him, a quiet, sly smile.
He reached for the garter, in accordance with the American bridal custom, and eased it slowly down her long leg.
The gathered guests, so many that they had decided to hold the reception in the cafeteria at St. Patrick’s Shelter, murmured, laughed, and applauded at the couple’s display.
Julia lowered her lashes. She felt a warm blush tingle on her cheeks. Her foot came to rest on the tile floor, her wedding dress swaying gently as it fell back into place.
Beside her, Cameron swirled the garter around on his finger and then flung it to the waiting bachelors.
A shuffle ensued. Craig Davis emerged with the trophy. The crowd cheered but none more loudly than his longtime, long-suffering girlfriend.
The party fell back into its merry revelry.
“Now that I’ve removed that wee bit of green, you’re once again flaunting the tradition of my favorite holiday,” Cameron warned.
“How do you know?” She cocked an eyebrow at him. “I could still be wearing green—in a place hidden by all this fluff and finery.”
He pulled her close to him and bent his head to whisper against her temple. “Are you now, lass?”
Joy radiated through her entire body. She cherished the feel of her husband’s arms around her. She giggled.
Julia Reed O’Dea, the grim girl who thought she alone could save people from themselves, giggled. Julia marveled at the changes she had undergone in the past year. She placed a hand on Cameron’s shoulder and murmured into his ear, “I guess you won’t know for sure how much green I’m wearing—or not wearing—until we get out of here.”
“How long did you say we have to stay at this reception?”
She laughed again and gave him a quick kiss. “And to think, a year ago we hadn’t even shared a kiss, and now—”
“Yes we did,” he argued. “We had our first kiss a year ago this very day, my dear.”
“No.” She shook her head, her sheer veil flowing over the black coils of her hair. “We almost kissed, but we were rudely interrupted by a couple of phone calls.”
“That’s right.” He frowned at the memory. “Which reminds me, I know you promised not to answer your phone while we’re gone but you didn’t give Craig the phone number of our hotel, did you?”
“Nope.” She wrapped her arms around him and leaned her head back. “I trust him. He’s very capable and I know he can handle things on his own.”
Cameron smiled, no doubt, at the change he’d helped bring about in her.
“And what about you, sir?” She poked a finger into his chest.
“If my staff needs to get in touché with me--”
“Nu-uh.” She wrapped her fingers around his gold and green necktie and gave a tug. “For the next week, dear husband, the only one getting in touch with you is me.”
His green eyes flashed.
“
As I was saying…” He plucked up her hand and grazed a kiss over her knuckles. “My workers don’t need to get in touch with me.”
She laughed and stroked the soft waves of hair on his bent head.
Across the room Fiona and Devin waved at her. She smiled at her new family.
“Happy, my dear?” Cameron asked his new bride.
“More than I could ever have imagined myself being.”
She rested her hand against his cheek and sighed, content to know that she would spend the rest of her days gazing into those heart-stopping Irish eyes.
The End
Every coin has two sides, Even ill gotten ones. Michael Shaughnessy is not done with the O’Dea family. The story of stolen gold, fool hardy folk heroes and love unfulfilled is not finished yet. Find out what happens with Michael Shaughnessy has paid his debt to society but still has a score to settle… and a long ago love to re-ignite.
A Note from the Author
I hope you enjoyed IRISH EYES. If you did, please let others know. If you want more books by Annie Jones, here are some to consider.
About the Author
USA Today bestselling author, Annie Jones specializes in character driven stories that make you laugh and warm your heart. She lives in Kentucky countryside with her husband, her children, three dogs and two cats... at least that was the last count but you never know when another kitty may show up.
Contact Information
Annie Jones can be found at:
http://theanniejones.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/anniejones.author
Twitter: @TheAnnieJones
Other Books by Annie Jones
The Christmas Sisters for All Seasons Series
The Dorsey Sisters have returned to Persuasion. Alabama, and nothing will be the same.
The Christmas Sisters
The Summer Sisters
A Christmas Sisters Wedding.
The Belles Will Be Belles Series
Friends are the family you give yourself.
Sister Belles
Christmas Belles