An Outrageous Proposal

by Maureen Child

  “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.

  “You’ve your heart set on this place, have you?” Maeve asked.

  Georgia grinned at the older woman then shifted her gaze to the empty building in front of them. It was at the end of the village itself and had been standing empty for a couple of years. The last renter had given up on making a go of it and had left for America.

  “I have,” Georgia said with a sharp nod for emphasis. “It’s a great space, Maeve—”

  “Surely a lot of it,” the older woman agreed, peering through dirty windows to the interior. “Colin Ferris now, he never did have a head for business. Imagine trying to make a living selling interwebbing things in a village the size of Dunley.”

  Apparently Colin hadn’t been able to convince the villagers that an internet café was a good idea. And there hadn’t been enough of the tourist trade to tide him over.

  “’Twas no surprise to me he headed off to America.” She looked over at Georgia. “Seems only right that one goes and one comes, doesn’t it?”

  “It does.” She hadn’t looked at it that way before, but there was a sort of synchronicity to the whole thing. Colin left for America, and Georgia left America for Dunley.

  “So you’ve your path laid out then?”

  “What? Oh. Yes, I guess I have,” Georgia said, smiling around the words. She had found the building she would rent for her business, and maybe in a couple of years, she’d be doing so well she would buy it. It was all happening, she thought with an inner grin. Her whole life was changing right before her eyes. Georgia would never again be the same woman she had been when Mike had walked out of her life, taking her self-confidence with him.

  “Our Sean’s been busy as well, hasn’t he?” Maeve mused aloud. “Been a help to you right along?”

  Cautious, Georgia slid a glance at the canny woman beside her. So far she and Sean had kept their…relationship under the radar. And in a village the size of Dunley, that had been a minor miracle. But if Maeve Carrol was paying attention, their little secret could be out.

  And Maeve wasn’t the only one paying attention. Laura was starting to give Georgia contemplative looks that had to mean she was wondering about all the time Georgia and Sean were spending together.

  Keeping her voice cool and her manner even cooler, Georgia said only, “Sean’s been great. He’s helped me get the paperwork going on getting my business license—” Which was turning out to be more complicated than she’d anticipated.

  “He’s a sharp one, is Sean,” Maeve said. “No one better at wangling his way around to what he wants in the end.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Maggie Culhane told me yesterday that she and Colleen Leary were having tea at the pub and heard Sean talking to Brian Connor about his mum’s cottage, it standing empty this last year or more.”

  Georgia sighed inwardl
y. The grapevine in Dunley was really incredible.

  “Yes, Sean was asking about the cottage for me. I’d really like to live in the village if I can.”

  “I see,” Maeve murmured, her gaze on Georgia as sharp as any cop’s, waiting for a confession.

  “Oh, look,” Georgia blurted, “here comes Mary Donohue with the keys to the store.”

  Thank God, she thought, grateful for the reprieve in the conversation. Maeve was a sweetie, but she had a laserlike focus that Georgia would just as soon avoid. And she and Sean were keeping whatever it was between them quiet. There was no need for anyone else to know, anyway. Neither one of them was interested in feeding the local gossips—and Georgia really didn’t want to hear advice from her sister.

  “Sorry I’m late,” Mary called out when she got closer. “I was showing a farm to a client, and wouldn’t you know he’d be late and then insist on walking over every bloody blade of grass in the fields?”

  She shook her mass of thick red hair back from her face, produced a key from her suitcase-sized purse and opened the door to the shop. “Now then,” she announced, standing back to allow Georgia to pass in front of her. “If this isn’t perfect for what you’re wanting, I’ll be shocked.”

  It was perfect, Georgia thought, wandering into the empty space. The floor was wood, scarred from generations of feet tracking across its surface. But with some polish, it would look great. The walls were in need of a coat of paint, but all in all, the place really worked for Georgia. In her mind, she set up a desk and chairs and shelves with samples stacked neatly. She walked through, the heels of her boots clacking against the floor. She gave a quick look to the small kitchen in the back, the closet-sized bath and the storeroom. She’d already been through the place once and knew it was the one for her. But today was to settle the last of her nerves before she signed the rental papers.

  The main room was long and narrow, and the window let in a wide swath of daylight even in the gray afternoon. She had a great view of the main street, looking out directly across the road at a small bakery where she could go for her lunch every day and get tea and a sandwich. She’d be a part of Dunley, and she could grow the kind of business she’d always wanted to have.

  Georgia breathed deep and realized that Mary was giving her spiel, and she grinned when she realized she would never have to do that herself, again. Maeve wandered the room, inspecting the space as if she’d never seen it before. Outside, two or three curious villagers began to gather, peering into the windows, hands cupped around their eyes.

  Another quick smile from Georgia as she turned to Mary and said, “Yes. It’s perfect.”

  Sean came rushing through the front door just in time to hear her announcement. He gave her a wide smile and walked across the room to her. Dropping both hands onto her shoulders, he gave her a fast, hard kiss, and said, “That’s for congratulations.”

  Georgia’s lips buzzed in reaction to that spontaneous kiss even while she worried about Maeve and Mary being witnesses to it. Sean didn’t seem to mind, though. But then, he was such an outgoing guy, maybe no one would think anything of it.

  “We used handshakes for that in my day,” Maeve murmured.

  “Ah, Maeve my darlin’, did you want a kiss, too?” Sean swept the older woman up, planted a quick kiss on her mouth and had her back on her feet, swatting the air at him a second later.

  “Go on, Sean Connolly, you always were free with your kisses.”

  “He was indeed,” Mary said with a wink for Georgia. “Talk of the village he was. Why when my Kitty was young, I used to warn her about our Sean here.”

  Sean slapped one hand to his chest in mock offense. “You’re a hard woman, Mary Donohue, when you know Kitty was the first to break my heart.”

  Mary snorted. “Hard to break a thing that’s never been used.”

  No one else seemed to notice, but Georgia saw a flash of something in Sean’s eyes that made her wonder if Mary’s words hadn’t cut a little deeper than she’d meant. But a moment later, Sean was speaking again in that teasing tone she knew so well.

  “Pretty women were meant to be kissed. You can’t blame me for doing what’s expected, can you?”

  “You always did have as much brass as a marching band,” Maeve told him, but she was smiling.

  “So then, it’s settled.” Sean looked from Georgia to Mary. “You’ll be taking the shop.”

  “I am,” she said, “if Mary’s brought the papers with her.”

  “I have indeed,” that woman said and again dipped into her massive handbag.

  Georgia followed her off a few steps to take care of business while Sean stood beside Maeve and watched her go.

  “And just what kind of deviltry are you up to this time, Sean Connolly?” Maeve whispered.

  * * *

  Sean didn’t look at the older woman. Couldn’t seem to tear his gaze off of Georgia. Nothing new there. She had been uppermost in his mind for the past two weeks. Since the first time he’d touched her, Sean had thought about little else but touching her again. He hadn’t meant to kiss her like that in front of witnesses—especially Maeve—but damned if he’d been able to help himself.

  “I don’t know what you mean, Maeve.”

  “Oh, yes,” the older woman said with a knowing look, “it’s clear I’ve confused you…”

  “Leave off, Maeve,” he murmured. “I’m here only to help if I can.”

  “Being the generous sort,” she muttered right back.

  He shot her a quick look and sighed. There was no putting anything over on Maeve Carrol. When they were boys, he and Ronan had tried too many times to count to get away with some trouble or other only to be stopped short by the tiny woman now beside him.

  Frowning a bit, he turned to watch Georgia as she read over the real estate agent’s papers. She was small but, as he knew too well, curvy in all the right places. In her faded blue jeans and dark scarlet, thickly knit sweater, she looked too good. Standing here in this worn, empty store, she looked vivid. Alive. In a way that made everything else around her look as gray as the skies covering Dunley.

  “Ronan says you haven’t been by the house much,” Maeve mentioned.

  “Ah, well, I’m giving them time to settle in with Fiona. Don’t need people dropping in right and left.”

  “You’ve been dropping in since you were a boy, Sean.” She clucked her tongue and mused, “Makes a body wonder what you’ve found that’s kept you so busy.”

  “I’ve got a business to run, don’t I?” he argued in a lame defense, for Maeve knew as well as he did that his presence wasn’t required daily at the offices of Irish Air. There was plenty of time for him to stop in at Ronan’s house as he always had. But before, he hadn’t been trying to cover up an affair with his…what was Georgia to him? A cousin-in-law? He shook his head. Didn’t matter. “I’ll go to the house, Maeve.”

  “See that you do. Ronan’s wanting to show off his baby girl to you, so mind you go to there soon.”

  “I will and all,” he assured her, then snatched at his ringing cell phone as he would a lifeline tossed into a churning sea. Lifting one finger to Maeve as if to tell her one moment, he turned and answered, “Sean Connolly.”

  A cool, dispassionate voice started speaking and he actually felt a ball of ice drop into the pit of his stomach.

  “Repeat that if you please,” he ordered, though he didn’t want to hear the news again. He had to have the information.

  His gaze moved to Georgia, who had turned to look at him, a question in her eyes. His tone of voice must have alerted her to a problem.

  “I understand,” he said into the phone. “I’m on my way.”

  He snapped the phone closed.

  Georgia walked up to him. “What is it?”

  Sean could hardly say the words, but he forced them out. “It’s my mother. She’s in hospital.” It didn’t sound real. Didn’t feel real. But according to the nurse who’d just hung up on him, it was. “She’s had a heart att
ack.”

  “Ah, Sean,” Maeve said, sympathy rich in her voice.

  He didn’t want pity. More than that though, he didn’t want to be in a position to need it. “She’s in Westport. I have to go.”

  He headed for the door, mind already racing two or three steps ahead. He’d get to the hospital, talk to the doctors, then figure out what to do next. His mother was hale and hearty—usually—so he wouldn’t worry until he knew more. An instant later, he told himself Bollocks to that, as he realized the worry and fear had already started.

  Georgia was right behind him. “Let me come with you.”

  “No.” He stopped, looked down into her eyes and saw her concern for him and knew that if she were with him, her fears would only multiply his own. Sounded foolish even to him, but he had to do this alone. “I have to go—”

  Then he hit the door at a dead run and kept running until he’d reached his car.

  * * *

  Ailish Connolly was not the kind of woman to be still.

  So seeing his mother lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to machinery that beeped and whistled an ungodly tune was nearly enough to bring Sean to his knees. Disjointed but heartfelt prayers raced through his mind as he reached for the faith of his childhood in this time of panic.

  It had been too long since he’d been to Mass. Hadn’t graced a church with his presence in too many years to count. But now, at this moment, he wanted to fling himself at the foot of an altar and beg God for help.

  Sean shoved one hand through his hair and bit back the impatience clawing inside him. He felt so bloody helpless, and that, he thought, was the worst of it. Nothing he could do but sit and wait, and as he wasn’t a patient man by nature…the waiting came hard.

  The private room he had arranged for his mother smelled like her garden, since he’d bought every single flower in the gift shop. That was what he’d been reduced to. Shopping for flowers while his mother lay still and quiet. He wasn’t accustomed to being unable to affect change around him.

  Sean Connolly was a man who got things done. Always. Yet here, in the Westport hospital, he could do not a bloody thing to get action. To even get a damned doctor to answer his questions. So far, all he’d managed to do was irritate the nurses and that, he knew, was no way to gain cooperation. Irish nurses were a tough bunch and took no trouble from anyone.