Through a Magnolia Filter (12 page)

He caught her hand. “You'll be back?”

She squeezed his. “Yes.”

He didn't let go.

Tugging her to a recessed door, he whispered, “Working with you is fun. Does this count in my fun quotient for the day?”

He smiled.

Something hot flowed between them. It scorched her lungs, so she could barely draw in a breath.

“Dolley.” Longing filled his voice. He pulled her closer.

She broke away. Not a good idea. Was it? It
was
the new year. But starting something with Liam might ruin their working relationship.

The lines grew murkier each time he touched her. And the need to touch him was drawing her in. “I have to...”

“Liam.” Rachel was now the
drunk
bridesmaid. “We'd like more pictures with the bride.”

He tore his gaze away from Dolley's. “I'll be right there.”

Dolley escaped to the service hall. She leaned against the wall, pulling in deep breaths. There wasn't a doubt what she needed to do. She had to sacrifice this attraction. There was so much more to learn. She wanted to be professional, even if her sisters didn't think she could photograph a wedding. A small snort escaped.

Cheryl came through. “Did you just run up the stairs?”

“Something like that.” Easing her hands under a tray of salad plates, she backed through the swinging door and into the ballroom.

Her gaze zeroed in on Liam. He glanced over, but Rachel said something to him and he turned back to the bridesmaid.

She didn't know whether she wanted to stake out her territory and pull him away from the woman or stick to her principles.

It was fun to flirt with Liam. Exciting to think about what they might be like together. But she wasn't messing up this opportunity.

She sighed. It would be principles. Status quo would have to keep her warm at night.

* * *

L
IAM
CHECKED
ON
Dolley again. He had to stop doing that.

But when he'd held her hand there'd been that...click. That connection. It couldn't be one-sided. What was keeping them from closing the gap between their lips?

Maybe tonight.

Dolley cleared plates. Someone said something, and she laughed. A sparkling sound that made even a curmudgeon like him smile. Marion, the head of housekeeping for the B and B, wheeled out the cake, and the bride and groom headed over. Once this was done, all the pictures on the list would be checked off.

“How are you holding up?” Dolley had somehow snuck up on him. Her hand was warm where it rested on his back.

“These will be the final pictures.” He handed her the list.

“Nice.” She grinned. “If your documentary career doesn't work out, I think you've found your fallback.”

“Not on your life,” he whispered. Hell. His feet ached. And all night he'd fought off Rachel. Although, the looks Dolley had shot Rachel gave him hope. No one could have that kind of animosity and not feel something.

He handed Dolley his camera bag. “Could you find my tilt-shift lens?”

She dug out the right one.

He screwed it on. “Why don't you shoot from the other side?”

“I'd love to.” Glee lit her face as she pulled the Rolleiflex from its cushioned cradle.

He moved closer while Dolley shifted to the other side of the cake table. Marion handed the cake knife to the bride and groom.

The couple grinned at each other. They both looked so young, it was hard to imagine this was their second time around.

They smashed cake in each other's faces, laughing. He fired off shots, not able to spend the time to frame or stage. Then Marion took the cake apart with the precision of a surgeon.

“Nice work, Mr. Delaney.” Dolley handed the bag back to him.

“It was hard. My back hurts.”

She chuckled. “Abby has food for us in the kitchen.”

“Are you coming down?” he asked. “I can wait.”

“Cheryl and I will deliver the cake, and then we're right on your heels.” She picked up a tray of dessert plates.

Liam headed to the kitchen.

“Thank you so much for stepping in.” Abby dried her hands, came over and gave him a hug.

“You're welcome. It was fun.”

“Now you're just being nice.” She patted his back and pulled away. “Are you ready to eat?”

“Absolutely.”

“You have your choice of short ribs or pasta.”

“A little of both?”

“You've got it.” Abby brought over a salad and then the entrée. “What would you like to drink?”

He looked at the food. “Red wine, if you have it.”

“I'll be right back.”

Dolley and Cheryl pushed through the swinging door, laughing.

“Done?” he asked.

“For now,” Dolley said.

At the counter they pulled together plates, grabbing salads out of the fridge. Then they sat at the table with him.

“I've forgotten how sore my feet get.” Dolley propped her feet up on the chair next to Liam.

“I can't seem to forget. Ouch.” Cheryl stacked her feet on the chair on the other side of his. “That feels good.”

Abby came back with a bottle of wine and poured Liam a glass.

“Nothing for them?” He waved his glass at Dolley and Cheryl.

Cheryl's smile evaporated. “I don't drink.”

There was a story there, but he didn't know her well enough to ask.

“Dolley?” Abby asked.

“I'm still working.” Dolley waved a forkful of lasagna in the air.

He leaned forward and snatched the mouthful off her fork.

“Hey!”

“Thanks.” He winked and went back to eating.

Cheryl shook her head. “Children, children.”

“Not me,” Dolley complained. “Him.”

“She waved food near my face,” he justified.

Abby laughed. “Marion's got cleanup covered.”

“Then I will have a glass of wine.” Dolley took the glass Abby handed her.

They ate and talked about the wedding.

“The blonde bridesmaid followed you around all night.” Cheryl pointed at him.

He shivered. “The lass wouldn't take
no
for an answer.”

Dolley raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything. He wanted to know what was going on in that sharp mind of hers.

“I'll see you later.” Cheryl rinsed and set her dishes in the dishwasher. “I'm heading home.”

“Have a good night.” Dolley wiggled her feet on the chair.

“You've done this before?” Liam asked.

“When Abby was getting the catering up and running, I would pitch in if she needed me. Sometimes she had three events on a weekend.”

“She's lucky to have you as a sister.”

Dolley shrugged, almost looking embarrassed.

“Your shirt says Catering by Fitzgerald. That's Abby.”

She nodded.

“And I've seen Landscaping by Fitzgerald signs, that's Bess?”

She nodded again, the smile slipping off her face.

“Do you have Photography by Fitzgerald?”

She blinked. Like the idea had never crossed her mind. “I...no. I'm the
other
Fitzgerald sister. The one with no talent.”

“Christ on a bike. You can't believe that malarkey?”

She gathered dishes and took them to the counter. “Everyone in Savannah knows Abby and Bess have all the talent.”

He moved to Dolley and took her shoulders. “You have boatloads of talent. Your pictures are good, and they'll be great.”

“No one sees me that way.” She hung her head. “Just you.”

“Then they're ignorant asses.” He tipped her head up, his thumb stroking her silky cheek.

He hated the pain in her eyes. He'd always thought that if he had a loving family, everything would be right in his world.

But Dolley had loving sisters. They had each other's backs. Yet she was miserable. What if family didn't guarantee happiness?

He bent close and whispered, “You're just as talented as your sisters. More.”

Her perfume tugged him closer, a scent filled with warmth and amber. He tried to capture the smell, capture the moment. If he wanted to make a memory, it had to be strong. “Dolley.”

Her eyes were deep green pools, calling him to plunge in and stay. Her tongue snuck out and licked her upper lip.

He should resist, but her confusion drew him near. It was no use trying to stop. He inhaled her tempting scent and brushed his mouth against hers, a barely-there touch.

She exhaled on a gasp. He caught her breath by pressing his mouth to hers.

He pulled her close. They fit
perfectly.

He tasted wine and Dolley, all in one spicy kiss.

Someone moaned. Maybe it was him.

Her head tipped back in surrender. Her fingers gripped his hair.

How had they waited this long?

“Stop.” Her word was muffled against his mouth. “Please.”

He pulled away, gasping. “Incredible.”

“No.” She shook her head. “No. That shouldn't have happened. It can't happen.”

“But...” His fingers tightened on her arms.

She stepped away, her hand covering her mouth. “If we keep going, everything will be ruined. Ruined.”

“I don't think so.” He stepped closer. She was really worried. “Why?”

“I just know.” She closed her eyes. “We can't do that again. You have to promise me.”

“Dolley. This isn't one-sided. There's sparks every time we're together.”

“It won't work. We won't work.” She pushed her curls off her face. “Believe me.”

“I don't—”

The door swung open. Abby bustled into the room. “Oh, good, I was afraid you might have already left.”

Shifting behind the counter, he hid his fading erection. He stared at Dolley. They needed to talk.

“Still here.” Instead of looking at him, Dolley fiddled with the dishwasher.

“I mean Liam.” Abby looked between the two of them and frowned. “The photographer you stepped in for was supposed to take my wedding pictures in February. The doctor says she'll still have the cast on.”

“I'm sorry to hear that.” He glanced at Dolley, but she'd moved to the table to pick up the remaining dishes.

“I know this is an imposition—” Abby bit her lip “—but could you take our pictures, too?”

Dolley's head jerked up. She stared at her sister.

Why didn't her sisters recognize Dolley's talent? “What about Dolley?” he asked.

“Dolley?”

He held up his hand. “Did you think about asking her to take the pictures?”

Dolley swallowed. “Liam, that's not necessary.”

“It is. You're talented. I checked out the pictures you took of the bride dressing. Wonderful composition, great use of lighting. And the picture of the bride on the balcony—she'll make that a centerpiece of her memory book.”

“I never...” Abby's mouth dropped open.

“And why was that?” Liam asked, incensed.

“Liam.” Dolley held up her hand. “Enough.”

He pointed a finger at her. “Stand up for yourself.”

Her shoulders straightened. “This isn't your battle.”

“Stop.” Abby took Dolley's hand. “I'm sorry I hurt you.”

“Abs,” Dolley said. “You didn't know.”

“But I should have.” Abby hugged her sister. “You should have insisted we take your photography seriously.”

Dolley hugged her sister back, glaring at him over her sister's shoulder.

“I can't take your pictures.” Dolley let her sister go. “I'm in the wedding.”

The sisters turned, standing arm in arm. United.

An ache filled his body. He wanted to belong in the way they belonged to each other.

Dolley took a deep breath. “Liam, will you take Abby's wedding pictures? Please?”

“Absolutely.” To Dolley he said, “Can I borrow you for one more minute?”

Her gaze darted to the clock. “I...I...have to check on...Marion.”

She dashed out of the kitchen before he could say another word.

A kiss hot enough to boil a kettle, and she didn't want to explore the attraction between them? He, for one, was not going to ignore it.

CHAPTER EIGHT

If your pictures aren't good enough, you're not close enough.

Robert Capa

K
ISSING
L
IAM
WOULDN
'
T
happen again. Dolley's fingers rattled on the Carleton House kitchen counter. All yesterday she'd avoided him.

Their interactions needed to focus on photography. With her poor record with men, she refused to cave in to her desires.

Unfortunately, kissing Liam had been her best kiss ever. She sighed. But not worth risking his mentorship for a few days of pleasure.

Thank goodness she had an excuse not to work with him this morning. She was walking through Carleton House with the AV/Wi-Fi techs.

“What's up with you?” Daniel asked, setting his hand on top of her tapping fingers.

“I hate waiting,” she lied.

Daniel checked his phone. “They aren't even late. Something wrong?”

“Why would you ask that?”

Daniel's blond eyebrows snapped together. “Because you're the happy, fun-loving sister. Not the frowning, serious sister.”

Dolley sank to the floor, her back against the wall. “There's just a lot going on in my life.”

“Does any of this nervousness have to do with that slick-talking Irishman who's staying in Fitzgerald House?” Daniel's hands formed fists. “I could have a talk with him.”

“No!”

“Hey. Gray and I are part of your family.” His grin was wicked. “We could both have a talk with him.”

“I don't need you to fight my battles.” She stroked a finger over the newly varnished cabinet. Then stopped. It reminded her of how Liam touched the woodwork in Fitzgerald House.

“So you and the Irishman
are
battling.” Daniel slid down the wall. “What can I do to help?”

“We're not
battling
.”

Dolley
was battling her stupid hormones. Warmth flooded her body. She wanted all the things Liam's kiss had promised. “Does Bess know this crazy protective side of you?”

His grin expanded. “She knows
every
side of me.”

Dolley nudged him. “Keep it clean.”

“Did Bess tell you she's moving in with me?” Eagerness filled his voice.

“Yeah. Yesterday.” And Bess's eyes had gleamed as bright as Daniel's did now.

Maybe she should move into the Fitzgerald carriage house. She wasn't bringing in as much money as when she worked for Jackson.

The tech guys finally arrived.

“Good to see you, Vernon.” Dolley pushed off the floor.

“Fun to work with you on the B and B again,” he said.

They walked through the plans and requirements. “I'd like to use Fitzgerald House's Wi-Fi. Can we boost the signal to cover Carleton House?”

Daniel wandered away as she, Vernon and his team got into the gritty details of bandwidth, security, card readers and locks.

“We decided to run cable between the two houses,” Dolley said when Daniel came back.

Vernon nodded. “With the server in Fitzgerald House, you'll have a cleaner signal.”

Daniel helped decide on where to route the cable into Carleton House.

“That's all we need for now,” Vernon said. “Answer your cell if I call.”

“Will do.” She headed back to the kitchen and tugged on her coat.

The door opened as she reached for the knob.

“Dolley.” Liam filled the doorway, his black hair wind tousled. He smiled. “I've been looking all over for you.”

Every muscle tightened. Her pulse accelerated, echoing in her ears. She should be able to be in the same room without wanting to touch him. “What do you need?” she snapped.

His smile slipped away.

Her face flamed in embarrassment. She'd been hounding him to smile, and now she'd stripped one off his face. And worse, Liam was a guest. “I'm sorry. That was rude.”

“Abby thought you could show me the Carleton House dining room.”

“Sure.” She headed down the hall.

“Thank you.” His tone was so formal, no one would guess he'd had his tongue in her mouth. And it was her fault. She was the one acting weird.

She glanced back, but all he did was nod. “Why do you want to see the dining room?”

“When my team arrives, we'll need meeting space. Abby thought Carleton House was the best option.”

She opened the dining room door. One wall was torn open to provide a pass-through from the butler pantry. “You'll have to imagine sliding windows through this hole. And a large table and buffet.”

“We'd need large screen projection capabilities to review film.”

She rubbed her neck. “Would this wall work? We have a picture slated, but we could wait to hang it.”

“It might.” He nodded, not looking at her. “She also mentioned a second floor parlor.”

She led him up the stairs, the rattle of the paper protecting the refinished floors the only sound.

Opening a door, she said, “This used to be the old music room.”

“Do you know what furniture will go in here?”

She pictured the lists she and her sisters had created. “A rose settee here. Two burgundy armchairs in front of the fireplace.”

She walked the room, shaping the space with her hands. “A sofa. Coffee table in front of that. I found a really sweet secretary for this wall. We're not buying a baby grand, but I have my eye out for a small spinet or harpsichord for right here.”

“Nothing but a coffee table?”

“Yes. And with the curved walls, it would distort any projection.” She paced the room. “We could bring in a screen and work table.”

He moved around, finally stopping in front of her. His stare pinned her like she was a butterfly on a board.

She shifted, her back hitting the wall. “Were there other rooms you wanted to see?”

“That was it.” He took another step but didn't touch her. “Why?”

She didn't pretend not to understand his question. “I don't want to mess up working together.”

“Why do you think it will?” His eyebrows smashed together above his gorgeous blue eyes. He was too damn easy to look at.

“Because it will.”

She was getting what she needed from Liam, knowledge to launch a photography career. This apprenticeship was her ticket out of Savannah and into the limelight. She'd finally break free of her sisters' shadows.

Dating would complicate everything. People might assume that's why he was helping her. She'd always wonder if she really had talent or if it had just been attraction.

Life would become too, too complicated.

“I think we can do both.” He set his hands on the wall on either side of her head.

“I don't.” She crossed her arms, ensuring she didn't reach out to straighten his hair.

“You're going to ignore the sparks between us?” He stroked a finger down her cheek. “You can ignore this?”

“We have to.” She shivered, turning her cheek away from his hand. “We're adults. That shouldn't be that hard.”

“But why should we want things to be hard?” He leaned in. “Kissing you makes sense to me.”

She pressed on his shoulders, easing him away. “That's not what I want.”

His breath ruffled her hair. They stared at each other.

“No,” she croaked.

He held up his hands and backed away. “We're missing out on something spectacular.”

He didn't understand. Men grew tired of her. She couldn't allow that to happen when her dreams were on the line.

“Do you want to see any other rooms?” Her voice shook.

“We'll use the dining room.” His voice had chilled. “Can you get me prices?”

“Yes.”

He nodded, his eyes icy blue. “Thanks for your time.”

“It's for the best,” she whispered. But Liam was gone.

This time when she sank to the floor, it was because her legs wouldn't hold her up.

* * *

L
IAM
JERKED
OPEN
his laptop. He'd planned to edit pictures, but couldn't do delicate work when he wanted to punch something. His long walk and stopping in for afternoon tea hadn't cooled his temper.

What did Dolley think would happen if they dated? He'd take advantage of her?

She should know him better than that. He adored her family. Maybe they needed to spend more time together. Then she'd realize they should give it a chance.

He clicked, then clicked again when the icon for his email didn't open. He took a deep breath and clicked one more time.

They'd kissed, she'd rejected him. Big deal. He'd been rejected before. Probably. It shouldn't bother him.

But it did.

His email opened. The first one—Ian asking whether he'd delivered the letters.

He sent back a terse
Mission accomplished
.

The second email was from Barbara. She'd lined up the rest of his crew. He sent a quick thank-you and dashed off replies to questions from his business manager and agent.

His email dinged, a message from Dolley. Email? Bollocks. Now she wouldn't talk to him?

It was the dining room rental agreement. He scanned the document. The cost was fair. He shot it off to Barbara. Let her look at the clauses and whatevers.

He shut his computer, a little calmer than when he'd opened it. But he still wasn't in the right frame of mind to edit photos.

If he wanted to spend more time with Dolley, he'd have to be sneaky. He wasn't above that. He'd worked angles with the boarding school kids, always figuring out who might take pity on him for holidays.

Pocketing his key card, he left his room. It was time to explore using the Fitzgeralds in the documentary. He wanted to open and close with Fitzgerald information. He could talk about his
shirttail
connection. It was the reason he'd started this quest.

The sisters would assign someone to work with him. He smiled. Dolley.

He pushed through the kitchen door, aware he was taking advantage of his long-term guest status. But Fitzgerald House felt like home.

Abby smiled. “Hi, Liam. Can I do something for you?”

He came up to the counter where she was packing away leftover bars from tea. “I'm wondering if you have any history of your family's Irish roots?”

“Dolley would be your best bet.” She nodded over to the table. “Do you remember what happened to the old journals we found?”

Dolley tapped away on her laptop keyboard. She held up one finger, her head never popping up from her task.

Having been in the kitchen enough times, he pulled a mug from the stack, poured coffee and doctored it with milk.

“Can I pour for you?” he asked Abby.

“Sure.”

He handed her a mug with a little sugar and a spot of milk.

She sipped. “You're handy to have around.”

A snort sounded from Dolley.

He settled into a chair across the table from Dolley, trying to keep a smirk off his face. A plan coming together was a lovely thing.

Furrows formed between her eyebrows. Her hand moved back and forth from the mouse to the keyboard. She chewed her lower lip, a study of concentration.

His fingers clenched. Damn, he wanted to run his thumb along her worry lines and soothe the lips she abused. He wanted to kiss that mouth again. How could she deny them that pleasure? His breath wheezed out.

Her green gaze homed in on him. “A couple more minutes.”

He nodded, sipping his coffee.

Abby joined them at the table, a plate of sweets in her hand. “So you're interested in the Fitzgerald family?”

Liam kept his eyes off Dolley so her sister didn't know how interested he was in one particular member of the family. “I want to include your family in the documentary.”

“You do?” Abby almost bounced in her chair.

Dolley looked up, eyebrows arching over her entrancing eyes in disbelief. At least she wasn't frowning. Then she looked back at her keyboard, and her fingers flew.

He would make so many bloody mistakes if he typed that fast.

“Done.” Dolley shut her laptop with a snap. “What are you looking for?”

Her gaze was like a green tractor beam. He fought against the pull. She'd been firm. Nothing personal between them.

Dolley would have to make the next move.

“I'd like to interview your family and tie James's journey to the Americas into the documentary.”

“Why us?” Dolley's head tilted. “Aren't there other families that are more interesting?”

Not to him. “Trust me, viewers will be interested.”

“I love this idea,” Abby said. “I'd help if I could, but Dolley is our historian.”

He kept the smile from breaking across his face. “Excellent.”

Dolley crossed her arms in front of her chest. Her frown was back.

He kept his gaze on Abby's animated face. “Do you think I could interview you, your mum and your sisters?”

Abby turned to Dolley, touching her hand. “We could do the interviews when the family is here for my wedding.” When Dolley kept frowning, Abby added, “Besides, Liam is helping us out with my wedding. We owe him.”

He leaned forward. Abby was a coconspirator, even if she didn't know it.

Dolley eyed him suspiciously.

He sipped his coffee and put on his best innocent look.

She frowned harder.

“This could be good for the B and B,” he added.

“Do we have control over what you say?” Dolley placed her elbows on the table and leaned into his space. “I don't want to hurt our
business
.”

Did she think he'd forgotten that's all she wanted between them? He tipped his head. “You won't have absolute control, but I can let you review the rough edits.”

And she would have to spend more time with him. Splendid idea.