From the book
Mladdening Moira was still in his head!
Luke O'Brien had been home from Ireland for a month now. He'd been obsessing over his plans for the pub he wanted to open in Chesapeake Shores, worrying about the likely uproar with his family. He'd gone out a few times with the sophisticated, delectable Kristen Lewis, picking up where they'd left off during a brief rendezvous in Ireland. Truth be told, it was a matter of convenience for both of them, not a meeting of the hearts, but until recently it had been an excellent distraction, if only because it had complications galore that appealed to Luke's desire for a taste of rebellion.
But then along came Moira Malone with the sharp tongue and wry wit.
"I'll not be taken in by smooth talk and a wink," she'd told Luke, firmly putting him in his place. "I've been around such men all my life."
They'd met on the O'Brien family's holiday excursion to Ireland a few months ago. She was the granddaughter of his own grandmother's old flame, Dillon O'Malley. She was beautiful, but impossible. In fact, it was entirely likely that she was the most frustrating female he'd ever had the pleasure of meeting, in part because she'd been mostly immune to his charm. She'd complicated his life in an entirely different way. She'd unexpectedly engaged his heart.
After staying on in Ireland for several weeks after the rest of the family had returned to Chesapeake Shores, Luke had eventually come home, ready to move on with his life. Ready to finally get serious about life, according to his impatient father, who'd vocally protested the wasting of his college education.
He had a degree in history, for heaven's sakes! Had anyone seriously thought he'd use that? He certainly hadn't. He'd chosen history because he enjoyed the subject as much as any other and he'd needed to get the college off his back by declaring a major.
Now, though, the clock was ticking, and the tightly knit O'Briens were all watching and waiting to see what he--the youngest of family matriarch Nell's grandchildren--planned to make of himself. He doubted that opening an Irish pub on Shore Road was what anyone in the family would have guessed his calling to be.
Restless after going over his plans for the thousandth time, hoping to be so sure of himself, so confident of his path that no one would even attempt to talk him out of it, he wandered over to his brother's office.
Matthew was currently proving himself to be almost as talented and innovative an architect as their world-renowned uncle Mick. Like most of Luke's family, Matthew had discovered his passion early on. Luke had envied everyone in his family, not only for knowing what they wanted, but also for succeeding at it, sometimes phenomenally well. He had daunting examples to follow.
When Luke arrived, Matthew was so absorbed in the blueprints on his desk he never even glanced up, which gave Luke more pacing time to get his thoughts in order. He intended to try out his idea first on the most receptive audience he was likely to find.
Eventually, Matthew looked up, spotted him and blinked. "How long have you been here?"
"Long enough," Luke said. "How many towns and villages have you designed today?"
"Only the one," Matthew replied, grinning. "I think the plans for this community in Florida are just about set to go to the developer for final approval. He's very anxious to break ground, judging by the frequency of his calls for updates on my...