Page 2 of Against Ebony Irish Seas

Kathleen shot her a look Sophie couldn’t interpret before shifting her attention back to them. “Wait until you see Angie’s work in person. It’s absolutely terrific.”

“I can’t wait,” she responded, clearing her throat as Jamie’s quiet gaze held hers again. “You were the only member of the board without a photo on the website.”

“He’s such a shy baby,” Kathleen teased, reaching up and playfully ruffling his curly mop of hair. “And modest. He’s also in charge of our arts program for the kids.”

“I remember.” She smiled as Greta looked up at her. “I’m excited about that. I can’t wait to hear more.”

“They’re building the shed as we speak,” Ellie said, miming a hammer pounding. “The Irishlovetheir sheds as you’ll find out. Jamie’s still working on a formal plan.”

“Now’s not the time for those details,” he said, rolling his eyes playfully at the two women. “I’m meeting my new student. Hello, Greta. I hear you’re six, eh?”

“Yes, and I like it a lot better than being five so far.” Her daughter pulled her tiny hand free and held it out. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Fitzgerald. Thank you for coming to welcome me.”

Then Greta smiled fully, the kind of rare smile she reserved for people she knew she could trust. Sophie clutched the luggage handles for support as he gave a heart-stopping smile back, the kind that could end world conflict, she thought. Her mind captured the moment, and her artist’s eye wanted to draw its tenderness. Greta usually hid behind her when new people came around, and she’d spent most of the plane ride with her little face buried against Sophie’s side. But this man had won her over in a hot second because he’d made a point of including her from the start. Getting down to her level too. Clearly they had chosen the right person to plan the arts center’s program for children.

“You must be an incredible teacher, Mr. Fitzgerald.”

He raised those cobalt eyes to her. “Jamie, please. Or I’ll have to call you Ms. Giombetti. It would be a pity since Sophie is such a pleasant name to say.”

Her heart flipped when he gave a sexy wink. Well, at least she thought it was sexy. But it had been a while, so a man’s sweet attention would seem sexy to her.

“Greta, a few of your classmates made you welcome cards,” he said, withdrawing a few small envelopes from his pocket and holding them out to her daughter. “You’ll get to meet them when school starts, but they wanted you to know you have friends here.”

Her throat caught at the thoughtfulness as Greta took them and pressed them to her chest like she would a bunch of fresh-picked flowers. “Oh, thank you! Mama, can I open them the minute we get to the car?”

“Absolutely! What a wonderful gesture. You’re very kind, Mr. Fitzgerald.”

“Jamie,” he repeated, rising, making her aware of how tall he was. She was five-seven. She gauged him at six-two. And while he was thin, she could see the definition of muscles under his shirt. His masculinity enthralled her, and she became aware of the strong angles of his face, the defined lines of his neck and shoulders, and the sturdiness of his legs. His sexuality was understated, as quiet as his demeanor, but she suddenly felt like she was swimming in it, like smooth waters lapping on her bare skin.

The warmth in her chest changed to pressure, and she could feel something inside her gathering, tightening, ready to be ushered forth. She took a breath and paused before saying his name. “Jamie.” She knew she would remember her first utterance for a long time.

He nodded crisply and then gave another showstopper of a smile. “That’s the way of it. Sophie.”

She felt the sound of her name and his subsequent pause all the way to her toes. Yeah, she was going to remember this.

“Come,” he said, “and we can discuss the driving arrangements. I drove on my own, knowing how these two like their girl time.”

“We just don’t get it as much as we used to,” Ellie declared, “what with Brady and Declan being around. Which is great. I mean we married them, right? But girl time is sacred.”

“Sacred, yes,” Kathleen said, “but Jamie’s right about us talking. You might be better off riding with him, especially since Ellie’s a madwoman who has dreams about driving in the Indianapolis 500.”

“Do not!” Ellie exclaimed.

“Even Linc is terrified of her driving,” Kathleen continued, “and he’s her father.”

Sophie laughed, charmed by them. “That’s saying something since nothing makes Linc’s knees tremble.”

“Except his woman,” Ellie said with a grin, stepping out of the way as an eager passenger nearly lost control of their baggage cart. “Daddy said you knew there was something between him and Bets when they visited you in Provence.”

They’d come to convince her to join the arts center—and she’d been of a mind to be convinced. There’d been an electric energy between Linc and the director of the arts center. She’d noticed it at once. Lifting a shoulder, she said, “I’m a pretty quick study of human nature, like most artists. Linc texted me that he’s driving up to another town on the sea an hour-plus away to buy crabs for our welcome party this evening. That’s just like him.”

“Daddy loves a good crab boil, and Ireland has great crabs,” Ellie said brightly. “And don’t listen to Kathleen about my driving. She’s from Boston and wouldn’t know good driving if it bit her in the—”

“Ahem,” Jamie interrupted, clearing his throat.

“Right.” Ellie winced. “Sorry, Greta.”

“You can say butt,” her daughter replied shyly. “It’s the A-word you can’t say.”

---