LITMIR.BIZ

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is Kevin Barry’s pub here in Savannah.” She laughed. “Sad when we’re Irish-Americans, isn’t it?”

      “No.” He popped one last cracker in his mouth. “You take the photos for the website, right?”

      She nodded, chewing on her lower lip.

      “You’ve an excellent hand with the camera.” He tried not to stare at her mouth. He was supposed to be scoping out the territory. But the sight of her lower lip, now wet and slightly pink from her teeth, was...entrancing.

      “Me?” Her eyes widened. Her fair skin turned a beautiful peach color with her blush.

      “Your photographs are well composed. You use light like an artist.”

      “Coming from you, I’m awestruck.” Her hand pressed against her chest. A rather lovely chest, at that.

      He forced his gaze up to her face. “Did you study under someone?”

      “I took classes in college, but nothing serious.” She shook her head, and her curls danced. “Nothing like what you must have done.”

      “I never went to university.”

      She leaned forward. “But you’re so good.”

      Her frock gapped, and he got a small peek of the valley between her breasts. Devil take his soul, he was having trouble keeping his eyes where they belonged.

      “I apprenticed with some wonderful photographers,” he said. “That sounds grander than it really is. I hauled equipment and spent hours in the darkroom, or scrolling and deleting blurred photos, but I watched them work. They critiqued and explained and made me the photographer I am.”

      “You were an apprentice.” Her fingernail tapped the cutie-pie curve of her top lip. “I don’t suppose you need one while you’re in Savannah? I really want to learn more.”

      “I’ve only had one apprentice.” He exhaled. “It’s a commitment to bring out the artist in a photographer.”

      And that hadn’t ended well. Kieran had used him to get ahead. That was expected. But his apprentice had had little patience. He’d falsified a recommendation by using Liam’s own email.

      Since Kieran, he’d been reluctant to take on anyone else. His focus in Savannah was his documentary, not training a novice.

      But working with Dolley might be another way to absorb the Fitzgerald experience.

      “Let me get some sleep.” He stood. “I’ll think on your request.”

       CHAPTER THREE

      Diligence is the mother of good luck.

      Proverb

      DOLLEY’S FINGERS BEAT a rhythm on her keyboard. Three o’clock. What was Liam doing? Maybe tea at Fitzgerald House?

      She could accidentally run into him there. He might have an answer about taking her on as an apprentice. She rolled her head, easing the tight muscles in her neck.

      What would it be like to apprentice with Liam Delaney? Could he be her ticket to showing her family she had creativity, too? She wouldn’t be the youngest Fitzgerald sister anymore. She’d be someone.

      Anne poked her head over the cubicle wall. “I’m heading across the street for coffee. Do you want anything?”

      “No, but I’ll walk out with you. I need to run over to Fitzgerald House.” She shut down and tucked her laptop in her bag.

      Time to stalk Liam Delaney. God, she was sad.

      “I heard from Connor,” Anne said, pushing open the door. “He asked me to drive up to North Carolina to visit.”

      “You kept in touch?” Dolley would never have put them together.

      “We saw each other a couple of times the weekend we met.” Anne started across the street. “Then got together during Thanksgiving.”

      “And you didn’t tell me?” She and Anne were friends, close friends.

      Anne chewed her thumbnail. “When we met, you didn’t approve of us as a couple.”

      “That’s because Connor’s self-absorbed.” Or had been during high school.

      “He’s not.” Anne stopped in front of the coffee shop, hands on her hips. “Sure, he likes to talk about his job, but it’s interesting. You should hear what they’re researching. Ways to deliver chemotherapy in fat cells, nanotechnology and injecting tumors with viruses.” Anne shot Dolley a stern look. “What he’s doing could change the world.”

      Dolley sighed. “I...I didn’t realize.”

      “He’s amazing,” Anne said.

      “You don’t need my approval to date Connor.” What did she know about successful relationships?

      Anne’s shoulders relaxed. “But he was your friend first. I don’t want this to be between us.”

      “Never.” Dolley caught her hand. “I think you’ll be great together.”

      Anne squeezed her fingers. “Really?”

      “Really.” Dolley hated that her friend had hesitated to tell her about a relationship. Maybe letting her in on her secret might soothe her feathers. “The reason I’m heading to Fitzgerald House is because our long-term guest, the Irishman, is considering whether he’ll take me on as a photography apprentice.”

      Anne’s eyes were as big as saucers. “An apprentice?”

      “Yes.” She took a deep breath. “Maybe he can jump-start my photography career. He must know all the right people. It would be the perfect leg up.”

      “You want to change careers?”

      “I hope so,” Dolley said. “And Liam could help me hit the fast track.”

      “I don’t want to be alone at Jackson.” Anne pouted.

      “You won’t be alone. And who knows if I’m any good.” Dolley winced. “Don’t tell anyone.”

      Anne turned a key on her mouth. “Is the Irishman as hot as his accent?”

      “Hotter.” And Dolley wasn’t kidding. “Total eye candy.”

      Anne fanned herself. “Go, girl.”

      “It won’t be a hardship to befriend the man.” Dolley grinned. And maybe she could get him to smile.

      Dolley cut across Columbia Square and skirted the fountain. Everyone around her was pairing up. Anne and Connor. That was a shock. Abby was engaged. Bess and Daniel had been hot and heavy for a while, but that had ended. Even so, Bess didn’t want to stop for drinks anymore.

      Soon there wouldn’t be anyone to go clubbing with her, and she’d sit at home, become a recluse and take in stray cats.

      Across the street from the B and B, she stopped and stared at Fitzgerald House. At three full stories plus the attic, it towered above Carleton House. The black wrought iron balconies gave it a feminine look.

      Dolley didn’t remember Fitzgerald House ever being her home. She’d been five when Mamma had opened the B and B.

      She only remembered Papa through pictures. He’d died when she was four. But whenever she smelled Old Spice, she got a warm, happy feeling. Abby was the one who’d told her it had been Papa’s aftershave.

      Sunshine sparkled on the windows. A cascade of red poinsettias flowed across the porch and down the steps. Dolley had wrapped fairy lights around the green garland draped along the low wall running the length of both Fitzgerald and Carleton House. Her fingers clenched, wishing she had her camera.

      The day they’d decorated, she’d taken tons of pictures. That B and

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