He set down his cup and smiled at her. “I wonder if you’d come into the office for a moment or two.”

“Your office?”

“Here. Just through the next room.” He rose, knowing manners would have her going with him.

He’d wanted her on his own turf. He’d been in business long enough to know that home field advantage was a distinctive one. And that the atmosphere of business suited some deals better than the informality of deals with meals.

With Shannon, he’d already decided to make a cleave between business and family. Except when the nudge of family became useful.

Curious, Shannon followed him into the living room and through an adjoining door. On the threshold, she stopped and stared with a combination of surprise and admiration.

They may have been in the middle of the country, a stone’s throw away from grazing cows and clucking chickens, but here was a professional work space worthy of any glossy high-rise in any major city.

It was tastefully, even elegantly decorated, from the Bokarra rug to the Tiffany lamp, to the gleaming antique mahogany desk. Maggie was in the room—a stunning fountain of sapphire glass rose halfway to the coffered ceiling; a delicate tangle of shapes and colors sat alone on a marble column and made Shannon think of Brianna’s garden.

Marching practically with style were the tools of the executive—fax, computer, modem, copier, all sleek and high tech.

“Holy cow.” Her grin started to spread as she moved in and skimmed her finger over the monitor of a top-grade P.C. “I would never have guessed this was here.”

“That’s the way Maggie wanted it. And I, too.” Rogan gestured to a chair. “This is home for a good part of the year, but to keep it home, I have to work.”

“I guess I thought you had an office at the gallery.”

“I do.” To establish the tone he wanted to set, he sat behind his desk. “But we both have demanding careers, and we both have a child. When scheduling allows, I can work here three days a week, tending to Liam in the mornings while Maggie’s in her glass house.”

“It can’t be easy, for either of you. Juggling so much.”

“You make certain you only drop balls that are replaceable. Compromise is the only way I know to have all. I thought we’d talk about the other paintings you’ve done.”

“Oh.” Her brow creased. “I’ve done a couple more watercolors, and another oil, but—”

“I’ve seen the one of Brianna,” he interrupted smoothly. “You’ve finished the one of the inn—the back garden view.”

“Yes. I went out to the cliffs and did a seascape. Pretty typical, I imagine.”

“I doubt that.” He smiled and made a quick note on a pad. “But we’ll have a look. You’d have more in New York.”

“There are several in my apartment, and, of course, the ones I brought back from Columbus.”

“We’ll arrange to have them shipped over.”

“But—”

“My manager at the New York gallery can take care of the details—the packing and so forth, once you give me a list of inventory.” She made another attempt to speak, and he rolled right over her. “We’ve only the one on display here in Clare, and I think we’ll keep it that way, until we have a more polished strategy. In the meantime.” He opened his top drawer and drew out a neat stack of legal-size papers. “You’ll want to look over the contracts.”