Page 41 of Against Ebony Irish Seas

She pressed back and studied him. “You didn’t say anything. Is that because I freaked you out?”

His mouth lifted. “Do I look concerned? I don’t have words like you. Our Irish sea isn’t warm, so I can’t describe my feelings on entering it in this very moment. But I can tell you how I felt as I was walking toward my house, seeing you and Greta waiting for me. Like I was truly coming home—not only to where I live but to the women I already treasure.”

She lifted her hand to his cheek, her face breaking into a smile so warm he was sure it could compete with the sun itself. “You’re not so bad with words, Mr. Fitzgerald.”

The praise had him kissing her cheek. “Perhaps we can go out to dinner again on Friday night once I’m finished with everything?”

“I’d love that.” She kissed his jaw. “What shall we do until Sandrine drops Greta off?”

Heated visions came to mind—too soon for him to realize them. He supposed he should ask her for media tips. “About the interview…”

“Just be yourself,” she said, touching his arm. “I know that sounds corny, but it’s true. Taylor is a friend and a great reporter. She knows how to make the person she’s interviewing comfortable. She’ll probably ask you to tell her a story about teaching or something to soften you up. Just talk to her. Like you would someone you wanted to get to know better. That’s what makes her special.”

“Except she’ll be the one asking the questions,” he said, wondering what story he could possibly tell.

“Sure, but you can ask her some too, if you want. Only they won’t be in the article,” she said with a laugh. “Trust me, this is going to be great.”

He was still going to look up some online tips about interviewing. “How about we have another cup of tea, and you can tell me more about your mischievous side? It’s not every woman who gives her mother a naked monkey orchid for a gift.”

“Right? But my mother is internationally known for her nudes, especially the male ones. Women who draw naked men dip into the taboo, especially back then. I was tortured at school for being the daughter of a perv. Or a slut.”

“But that’s outrageous!”

She made a face. “Yep! That flower was my own kind of snarky statement, and she knew it. But it was also my way of telling her I was mostly over it. Still, in my mind, the male form was always linked to my mother’s paintings and the controversy over them. Not exactly a healthy perspective for a young girl. But don’t worry. I’m mostly over thinking about my mother when it comes to nude men.”

He couldn’t laugh, although he knew she was trying to joke. Instead, he hugged her close, soothing her with slow caresses to her spine. “This is a side of you I really want to hear more about. I’ll bet you have some great stories, and you know us Irish love a good story.”

“Which side?” she asked with a twinkle in her eyes. “The wacky side? Or the messed-up side? They’re two sides of the same coin.”

“It’s the Sophie you don’t share with just anyone,” he told her quietly. “That’s the one I want to hear more about.”

Shock rained over her face before she pressed her heart against his chest. “That Sophie is very happy to have someone want to listen.”

He smiled softly to himself, knowing he’d be happy to do that for the rest of his days.

CHAPTERTEN

Sophie had always believed good news came in threes.

Bets told her that made her part Irish as they watched Linc’s mobile home being reconnected on Friday afternoon, one week after it had been hauled away. She’d already packed her things and Greta’s, including January the sheep. Jamie had told her daughter that she’d been chosen by the sheep and they couldn’t be parted—he’d get another one for his niece.

“I honestly thought it was going to take longer,” the petite woman exclaimed, bundled up in a puffy aubergine winter coat.

“So did I, honestly,” Linc replied, resting against his Rover in a long leather jacket that was reminiscent of the Old West. “But apparently Donal and I have the right people on speed dial now, although that seems like a small victory after all the hullaballoo Malcolm caused.”

“I still say it’s win number one,” Sophie said, holding up a finger. “Two is Hans formally agreeing to join us next year. And three is the article coming out inThe New York Timeson Sunday.”

She didn’t include her date with Jamie tonight, although she could scarcely wait. They’d seen plenty of each other this week, and it had only made her more eager for some time alone with him. There’d been school pickups and drop-offs, of course, and he’d swung by midweek to get some more clothes and pick up her final comments on his arts program. On Thursday, she’d included him at the tail end of her interview with Taylor after deciding he’d be more comfortable with her present. He’d been visibly relieved by Taylor’s laid-back attitude and friendliness.

And her friend had followed up in pure reporter fashion after the interview by texting,Do I sense romance in the air?To which Sophie had responded,No commentwith a winky emoji.

Truthfully, her mind was full of Jamie. While she would have loved to have an earlier date, waiting until tonight had seemed wise. She’d wanted to be home for Greta after school, and truth be told, she’d balanced a lot of balls in the air this week, her first in a new country and at a new job.

Being alone with him tonight while Sandrine and Eoghan took care of Greta was going to be blissful. They could flirt and gaze at each other like soon-to-be lovers. Her body was alive with desire for him, and after so long a drought, the feelings were marvelous.

They’d be able to explore those feelings more readily now that he’d be returning to his cottage, and she to this home. When they were ready, they had the space now for what was next. Romance. Lovemaking. She was liquid as glass with the possibilities, and she wrapped her arms around herself, wanting to sway in the cold breeze.

“You want my gloves?” Linc asked her, frowning as he misinterpreted her movements. “They’re in the back.”

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