ripple of warmth through her.
The dog appeared at his side, and Connor absently ruffled his head.
Nora eyed the beast. “Big dog.”
“He’s a Newfoundland. Bran—” he gestured at her “—I want you to meet Nora.”
On cue, the dog lifted his right paw. Nora knelt and solemnly shook it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Bran.” It was all the encouragement Bran needed. He surged forward and gave her a generous lick on her face, the force of it knocking her backward. Only Connor’s hands under her arms saved her from a close encounter with the churned soil. With an ease that left her humming, Connor righted her. For a moment they stood, flushed face to flushed face.
Connor looked away first. “So.” In fascination she watched the flex of the muscle along his lean jaw. “Why don’t I show you how I plan to turn this place into a landscaping and nursery outlet, and what I’m going to need in terms of legal know-how?”
Lost in a whirlpool of emotions and questions, Nora tried to catch hold of the conversation. “What outlet?”
“The Primal Rose.” Connor turned and smiled with undisguised pride. “Follow me.” He gestured toward the fields.
Just like old times, Nora mused. Picking up her briefcase, she caught the now-crushed flower in her lapel.
Connor Devlin was starting a business here. He really had come home to stay.
Oh, God, what was she going to do?
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