Wedding at King's Convenience / Bedding the Secret Heiress. Maureen Child
Wedding at King’s Convenience
Maureen Child
Bedding the Secret Heiress
Emilie Rose
MILLS & BOON
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Wedding at King’s Convenience
by
“Why’re you here?”
“You mean, why am I standing in the rain in front of a hardheaded woman who isn’t honoring the contract she signed?”
“Your people are littering the street in front of my house at this very moment,” she challenged, “so I’m thinking I’m honoring what was between us a good deal more than you have.”
“You know,” he said, “I’ve been back in Ireland about an hour and in that short amount of time, I’ve been rained on, had a flat tire, got mud in my shoes and been insulted by everyone I’ve spoken to. So I’m not in the mood to listen to more obscure references to what a bastard I am. If you’ve got a problem with me, then tell me what it is so I can fix it.”
Her eyes narrowed on him. She crossed her arms over her chest, lifted her chin and said, “I’m pregnant. Fix that.”
MAUREEN CHILD is a California native who loves to travel. Every chance they get, she and her husband are taking off on another research trip. The author of more than sixty books, Maureen loves a happy ending and still swears that she has the best job in the world. She lives in Southern California with her husband, two children and a golden retriever with delusions of grandeur. Visit Maureen’s website at www.maureenchild.com.
To Kate Carlisle
A great friend, a terrific writer, and the one person I want to share a latte with before RWA meetings!
Can’t wait to see your first Desire™ book in print, Kate!
Dear Reader,
Thank you so much for coming along for the ride in this latest from the KINGS OF CALIFORNIA series! I can’t tell you how much fun I’m having with the Kings and I’m delighted you’re enjoying them, too!
In this third book, you’ll meet Jefferson King. He’s the head of King Studios in Hollywood, but he’s not a man to sit behind a desk every day. He prefers going out into the field, scouting locations for the movies his company produces.
And it’s on a location hunt that he meets Maura Donohue, owner of a sheep farm in County Mayo, Ireland. Maura is his match in every way and Jefferson is more intrigued than he wants to admit even to himself.
Sparks fly and passion simmers as these two hardheaded people are forced to find common ground.
Ireland is one of my favorite places in the world. And this little slice of that country, in County Mayo, is where my husband and I stayed the last time we visited.
The country’s as beautiful as its people are warm and welcoming, and personally, I can’t wait to go back! I really hope you enjoy this latest KINGS OF CALIFORNIA book—just as I hope you love the peek at Ireland!
I would love to hear from you—to e-mail me just go to my website at www.maureenchild.com or, if you prefer, my mailing address is PO Box 1883, Westminster, CA 92684-1883.
And happy reading!
Maureen
Chapter One
“You think I’m charming,” Jefferson King said with a smug smile. “I can tell.”
“Charming, is it?” Maura Donohue straightened up to her full, if less-than-imposing height. “Do you believe I’m so easily swayed by a smooth-talking man?”
“Easily?” Jefferson laughed. “We’ve known each other for the better part of a week now, Maura, and I can say with certainty there’s nothing ‘easy’ about you.”
“Well now,” she countered with a smile of her own. “Isn’t that a lovely thing to say.”
She was pleased. Jefferson read the truth on her features. No other woman he’d ever known would have been complimented by knowing that a man thought her difficult. But then, Maura Donohue was one in a million, wasn’t she?
He’d known it the moment he met her.
In Ireland scouting locations for an upcoming movie from King Studios, Jefferson had stumbled across Maura’s sheep farm in County Mayo and had realized instantly that it was just what he’d been searching for. Of course, convincing Maura of that fact was something else again.
“You know,” he said, leaning one shoulder against the white-washed stone wall of the barn, “most people would be leaping at the chance to make some easy money.”
She flipped her long black hair behind her shoulder, narrowed sea-blue eyes on him and countered, “There you are again, using the word ‘easy,’ when you’ve already admitted I’m not a woman accustomed to taking the easy way.”
He sighed and shook his head. The woman had an answer for everything but damned if she wasn’t intriguing enough that he was enjoying himself. As the head of King Studios, Jefferson was more accustomed to people falling all over themselves to accommodate him. When he rolled into a town looking to pay top dollar for the use of a location, those he dealt with were always eager to sign on the dotted line and collect their cash.
Not Maura, though.
For days now, he’d been coming to the Donohue farm to talk to its stubborn owner/operator. He’d plied Maura with compliments, tempted her with promises of mountains of money he knew damn well she could ill afford to turn down and in general had tried to make himself too amiable to resist.
Yet she’d managed.
“You’re in my way,” she said.
“Sorry.” Jefferson stepped aside so she could walk past him carrying a sack of God-knew-what. His every instinct told him to snatch the heavy load out of her arms and carry it for her. But she wouldn’t accept or appreciate his offer at help.
She was fiercely independent, with a quick wit, sharp tongue and a body that he’d spent far too much time thinking about. Her thick black hair fell in soft waves to the middle of her back and he itched to gather it up in his hands to feel its sleekness sliding across his skin. She had a stubborn chin that she tended to lift when making a point and a pair of dark blue eyes fringed by long, inky-black lashes.
She was dressed in worn jeans and a heavy Irish knit sweater that covered most of her curves. But winter in Ireland meant damp, cold weather so he could hardly blame her for bundling up. Still, he hoped she invited him into her house for a cup of tea, because then she’d strip that sweater off to reveal a shirt that gave him a much better peek at what she kept hidden.