Free Wedding at King’s Convenience by Maureen Child Page A

expected to solve this problem with ease.
    He’d had friends here, damn it. What could have happened to change that so completely? And why was Maura the key?
    He fired up the engine and steered the small sports car down the narrow road leading out of town and toward Maura. It was time to get some answers.
    The muddy track was familiar, and despite the carefully banked anger inside him, there was something else within, too. A curl of anticipation at the thought of seeing Maura again. He didn’t want it. Had fought the very memory of her for months. But being here again fed the flames he’d been trying to extinguish.
    Now wasn’t the time for that, though. He wasn’t here to indulge in his desire for a woman who’d made no secret of the fact that she wasn’t interested. He wasn’t going to walk blindly back down a path he’d already traveled.
    Besides, he was wet, tired and just this side of miserable when he pulled the rental car into Maura’s drive. Through the heavy mist and low-hanging clouds, the manor house sat like a beacon of light. Its whitewashed walls, dark green shutters and bright blue door belied the gray day and the jewel-colored flowers bursting from pots on either side of the door valiantly stood against an icy wind.
    On the far side of the yard, three RVs, a tent and the equipment that made up a film shoot were staggered. People bustled about, though Jefferson knew the actorswould be tucked inside their trailers, waiting out the weather. Between the rain and the delays caused by an uncooperative Maura and friends, Jefferson could practically hear money being flushed down the drain.
    Frustrated with the entire situation, Jefferson opened the car door to a fresh wall of wet, and once he was standing on the sodden gravel drive slammed the door closed again.
    Heads turned. Worker bees, the PA, Harry the director, all looked at him, but when Harry made to walk toward him, Jefferson held him back with one upraised hand. He wanted to talk to Maura before he got any more information.
    “And she’d better have some damn answers,” he muttered, soles of his shoes sliding on the wet gravel.
    With anger churning in his gut, he started for the house. He didn’t notice the charm of the place now. Paid no attention to the half-dozen or so spring lambs chasing each other through the fenced front yard.
    He didn’t even slow down when someone shouted a warning, so he was taken by surprise when a black dog as big as a small bear charged from the corner of the house and made straight for him.
    “Jesus Christ!” Jefferson’s shout of surprise was raw and hoarse, scraping from his throat loud enough to carry over the deranged barking filling the air.
    Instantly, the front door flew open. Maura stepped into the rain and said sharply, “King!”
    The dog skidded to a stop on the gravel, its momentum carrying it into Jefferson, who swayed, but held his ground against the heavy impact. Still startled, Jeffersonlooked down into a smiling dog face, complete with sharp black eyes and a tongue the size of a flag lolling out the side of its mouth.
    The dog’s huge head was waist high on Jefferson, and the dog had to weigh at least a hundred pounds.
    “It is a pony,” he said, remembering Harry’s comment.
    “Irish wolfhound,” Maura told him, then added, “He meant no harm. He was only greeting you, as he’s a baby yet and a poor judge of character.”
    He ground his back teeth together and shifted a look at her. “His name’s King? You named him after me?”
    Her mouth twisted into a brief sneer. “Aye, I did as he’s a son of a bitch, as well.”
    Jefferson wasn’t amused. He looked into her dark blue eyes and saw a river of emotions shining out at him. They were shifting, changing even as he watched, so that he wasn’t sure if she was going to throw something at him or rush into his arms, however belatedly. A moment later, he had his answer.
    “Why’re you here?”
    The music of her accent didn’t