His jaw firmed. “Suit yourself. Can’t say I’ll be much of a conversationalist.”
“When have you ever been?” she mumbled.
His eyes narrowed.
No problem with Bran’s hearing. “How is it that no one else could run the booze cruise except for you or Hunt?”
Bran pushed up the sleeves of his long T-shirt. The temperature this morning had been warm for Tahoe, and now—midday—it was in the eighties. “Levi has strict guidelines about who runs the boats. Only wants drivers fully trained in boat safety and CPR. We haven’t had time to train anyone else. Can’t say I blame him. With the number of idiots on the lake in the summertime, it’s better to be safe.” He untied the rope attached to the dock and said, “I’ll be back before the dinner rush, and that’s all that matters.”
So it wasn’t a big deal for him to run the booze cruise; he was just being difficult. Excellent.
Ireland eyed the cooler. “Are those beers for me?”
Bran popped his neck and glared at her. “Not all of them. I’m not in the mood to carry a drunk woman up the shore.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m five foot eight and a hundred and forty-five pounds. I can handle my liquor.”
He scanned her body as if she’d said something appealing, not admitted there were no size sixes in her closet. She wasn’t overweight for her height, but she certainly wasn’t willowy.
Ireland shifted, because Bran was still staring. And she didn’t think he was aware of it. “So, what’s on the schedule for the day?”
He finally lifted his gaze and handed her a beer from the cooler. She noted he didn’t take one for himself. “No schedule. We cruise. You have one or two beers. We head back.”
Ireland didn’t miss his commanding tone on the number of drinks she’d consume, as though he had a say. And she didn’t like it. Not one bit. This was a booze cruise, for heaven’s sake. What was his problem?
This tour was going to be about as fun as going on a double date with an older brother. Well, Bran needed to get over himself, because she’d booze it up if she wanted.
Ireland lifted the Corona to her mouth and took a fortifying gulp. She and Cali had planned to Uber it home. She’d stick with that plan and enjoy herself, because God knew she’d need a beer or two to survive her companion.
Bran moved around, getting things ready to depart, and Ireland applied enough sunscreen to coat her pasty skin another shade of white. She watched Bran out of the corner of her eye.
Okay, she ogled. Bad attitude aside, Bran was incredibly sexy, handling the boat chores like a professional. With his T-shirt scrunched up and showing off sexy arms, and board shorts that revealed muscular calves, what wasn’t to like?
The muscles in Bran’s shoulders and back flexed as he moved items around the boat and tucked rope away in secret compartments.
He looked back. “You ready?”
Ireland’s eyes swung up to his face and away from the flex of his ass. “Ready when you are.”
Bran moved to the covered section of the old wooden boat, and the engine roared to life. Ireland glanced over the side and watched the clear water churn from the boat’s propeller.
She kicked off her flip-flops, lifted her feet onto the seat, and lounged. Might as well get comfortable. She tilted her head back so she could see the blue sky, but not too far back. SPF 100 only worked so much magic.
Maybe this outing would turn out okay after all. How bad could things get, cruising a beautiful lake with a beer in hand?
Apparently, very bad.
Chapter 3
Bran was stuck with Ireland, of all people.
This was all Hunt’s fault. He’d been giving Bran a hard time about dating, and now this? Bran didn’t know how his brother had managed it, but somehow Hunt had manipulated Bran into running the booze cruise alone with Ireland.
Bran ran four restaurants. He’d needed physical proof of this so-called illness before he committed two hours of his life to helping out Hunt. So he did what any conscientious brother would do, and dragged his ass to Hunt’s house to make sure the idiot was truly sick. But when Hunt had opened the door, his nose was bright red, his eyes were watery, and he looked pale. Even Bran could tell his brother wasn’t lying. That didn’t ease Bran’s frustration. Particularly not after he’d caught sight of Ireland approaching the boat.
Goddammit.
Bran had seen Ireland dressed in beautiful clothes with her large breasts dragging his gaze down. He’d always stuck with the rule of not dating overly sexual women due to his weakness where they were concerned. But Ireland wasn’t trying to be sexy, she just was. Her bikini peeked through a buttoned-down top. And she was killing him.
For the last thirty minutes, he’d managed to keep her distracted by driving the boat along a few hot spots on the lake, going just slowly enough for her to get a view from the stern. As long as they stayed apart, things would be fine. But if he was doing his job, he’d need to stop at Emerald Bay and offer her snacks, more liquor, and the opportunity to swim.
Which meant potential removal of clothing and more flesh he didn’t need tempting him.
Bran dragged out the stop at Emerald Bay as long as he dared, then finally slowed at a pristine location near the island in the center of the bay.
He killed the engine and white-knuckled the wheel.
“Everything okay?” Ireland called.
Bran loosened his grip and stood. “Thought you might like a snack and a swim.”
“Oh.” Her voice was closer now.
He glanced back and caught Ireland duck beneath the opening to the cabin.
“I’m up for food.” She held up her empty beer. “And another one of these.”
Ireland walked forward at the same time Bran moved toward the cooler. The proximity was tight. But what really did him in was the large wake that caught the boat.
Bran placed his hand on the ceiling for support. Ireland, on the other hand, held Bran for support.
Her lush body pressed against his as she scrambled to find her balance. Meanwhile, Bran gritted his teeth.
Stupid wake.
Anyone could have lost their balance with a bump like that, but she took things too far. Too far, if he had any hope of maintaining his control. Her face was practically pressed to his neck. “Do you mind?”
Ireland lurched back and grabbed the seat opposite, weathering the smaller waves that came after the larger one. “I’m so sorry.”
Bran strode to the cooler and grabbed her a beer and—fuck it—one for himself. His brothers would kill him for drinking and boating. That rule had been ingrained in their heads when they were teenagers. But if there was ever a time when Bran needed a beer, it was now.
He popped the top off the first bottle and handed it to her. “Take a swim. You look like you need to cool off.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He shrugged. “You look a little hot and bothered.” Bran popped the top of his beer and took a massive gulp, eyeing her. More like he was hot and bothered.
“Excuse me? You-you…” She let out a harsh sigh and breathed in through her nose, closing her eyes. “Are you suggesting I grabbed you on purpose?”
“Didn’t you?”
Her face flushed. “I lost my balance! Why are you so mean to me?”
“You’re mistaking my normal disposition for me caring about you.”
He strode past her toward the outboard. To get some air. And space. He could still feel her body against his, and it was stirring shit that needed to remain on lockdown.
He heard her stomp behind him in her bare feet. Pretty feet, with toes painted in red toenail polish. Not that he’d noticed.
Fuck. He’d noticed. Her feet were cute for a woman as tall as she was.
She’d told him her height and weight earlier as though it were a bad thing. What she didn’t know was that without the rules he lived by, she’d be his physical female ideal.
Pretty he could manage. But beau
tiful and sexy? No. Not happening.
“You-you…” She took another breath, and he glanced back.
“You got a stutter or something?”
She looked hurt, and this time, he felt shame. The look on her face told him he’d hit a sore spot.
“Yes, you a-ass! I stutter. When I’m stressed. Or angry.” She frowned and crossed her arms, then seemed to remember the beer in her hand. She gulped it down and shot him another glare.
Bran raised an eyebrow. She wanted to get drunk? Fine by him. She could climb her drunk ass up the sand on her own, once he got her off the boat. It wasn’t like she was a resort customer. He didn’t need to give Ireland special treatment.
Normally, he wouldn’t take off his shirt in front of someone like Ireland. Didn’t want to give any woman the wrong idea. But at this point, there was no way she’d come on to him again. He’d solidly pissed her off. He’d not meant to make fun of her stutter, but at least she wouldn’t try to flirt with him.
Confident there’d be no further temptation, Bran peeled off his shirt to cool off.
He sank onto the lounge opposite the one Ireland had been using, and tipped the bill of his ball cap down, closing his eyes. Might as well grab some shut-eye while she drank and ate.
Rustling noises came from her side of the boat. He ignored them.
Then came gulping sounds, of what he assumed was her chugging the rest of her beer. Followed by the thunk of the bottle on what Bran assumed was one of the boat’s small built-in tables.
Bran refrained from letting out a harsh breath. Pretty soon she’d settle, and he could grab some Zs until it was time to go. Then he’d be done with this little adventure entirely.
The boat tipped slightly, and a loud splash startled him.
“Eee!”
Bran shoved up his hat and sat up.
What did eee mean? “What are you doing?”
He couldn’t see her, and she didn’t answer. Fucking hell.
Bran stood and looked out… At the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.
Ireland was floating on her back, her shapely body bobbing lightly in the dark blue water, long red hair fanning out around her.
But Ireland’s eyes were closed and her teeth chattered. Her skin appeared more pale than normal.
Without thinking, Bran kicked off his flip-flops and dove in. He sprang up from beneath the water and flung his head back, clearing water from his eyes.
Ireland was staring at him, upright now, teeth still chattering. “Wh-what are you…doing?” This time the stutter appeared to be caused by the chattering teeth.
“Making sure you’re okay.” Her lips were turning blue.
Bran and his brothers were used to the cold lake, but they’d grown up here.
“Now you care?”
“Not really, but I’m responsible for bringing your body back alive.”
“You ass!”
“You’re going to need to come up with another name for me. That one’s getting old.”
“Arrogant, rude, pigheaded, hat-wearing—”
“‘Hat-wearing?’ Are you trying to insult me, or describe my outfit? Because I gotta say, that one doesn’t even come close to stinging.”
She shoved her hand forward and splashed a load of water in his face.
He swiped a hand across his eyes. “That how it’s gonna be?”
“You’ve been mean to me from the very beginning, you pigheaded jackass!”
“Oh, now wait, I actually like that name. Feels like home, since that’s what my brothers call me.”
She sucked in a breath. “Are you comparing me to your brothers? I might be tall and awkward, but I’m not a man!”
A what?
It was out of left field. Not her reaction, but his. He could have settled it right then and there by explaining what he’d meant. That his brothers called him a jackass all the time, thus the fond familiarity. But that wasn’t what he did. No, that would have been too easy.
And safe.
He could handle her voluptuous body in a bikini, or pressed against his after she’d fallen into him. But once the beautiful girl started chewing him out like a sassy spitfire, his control snapped.
Fucking A, Ireland’s internal fire matched the color of her hair. Bran grabbed her from around the waist and pulled her to his body. His mouth landed on hers the same moment their bodies melded together.
Instant hard-on. Instant insanity.
He’d lost his mind. And his fucking control that hadn’t failed him since…
Since he’d fucked up so many years ago.
Bran pulled back a fraction. Lips barely touching hers, he said, “Is this what you want?” He should have stopped and swum away, but he had her body pressed to his, and he couldn’t muster the strength. Unless she told him no. Then he’d stop. It would pain him, but he’d do it. Only she wasn’t pushing him away.
Her green eyes were half-lidded. Goddamn, she was beautiful. The most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
He kissed her again. Only the punishment was on him this time, because she was soft and she tasted good, and he couldn’t seem to stop kissing her. And she still hadn’t said no.
Ireland ran a hand through his hair, and he pulled her closer.
He cupped the back of her head and caressed his tongue with hers, his other hand moving down and squeezing her bottom.
She groaned.
The pleasure noise she made should have snapped him out of his insanity. Shit, the absolute loss of control should have brought him back. But she tasted incredible. Her body felt even better. And he’d already established he’d lost his mind.
Bran must have gotten too eager kneading her bottom. Dragged her a little too close. Because his erection pressed against her belly, and that was when she stiffened.
Ireland shoved him away. “What is wrong with you?”
“I’m sorry…” For rubbing my boner against your soft skin? For my erection eager to enter into the holy land of woman?
Fuck.
“You kissed me.” She turned her back and swam toward the boat.
That was what had bothered her? Their kiss was the most innocent thing he’d done in the last sixty seconds. His tongue inside her mouth was certainly the most innocent thing on his mind.
She adjusted her bikini top and grabbed a hold of the boat ladder. “You are a complete asshole to me,” she grumbled as she climbed. “You are rude. You cut me down in front of your brothers and my friends…and then you kiss me when no one is around. Oh, but only after you’ve insulted me first.”
Okay, she had a point.
He swam to the ladder and didn’t look up as she emerged from the water and onto the boat.
Fine. He looked. A lot.
Bran squeezed his eyes closed then climbed up and grabbed his shirt. “I’ll take you back.”
She grabbed her towel and wrapped herself in it, not looking at him.
The ice shield she was erecting was exactly what he needed for this crisis, because it was a crisis. He’d spent too much time with Ireland today. Too much proximity—all because of fucking Hunt and his cold.
Bran never lost control. Years ago, he’d built a mental wall against women who tempted him. He was a good guy now. He’d trained himself to be.
Ireland was different. She was a grown woman, and an intelligent one at that. But Bran was so used to disciplining himself that even if his body didn’t want to listen, his stubborn brain wouldn’t allow things to get out of hand.
But that wasn’t what happened today. Ireland was the first woman in a decade he’d completely lost his head over.
Bran couldn’t let it happen again. He needed precautions. Just what those precautions would be, he didn’t know, but he’d figure it out and enforce them like hell.
He shuffled around in the large custom cooler the boat boasted, and grabbed crackers and cheese the restaurant had prepared. He also grabbed another Corona.
He wasn’t used to being around fiery women. Most
women let him take charge of a situation—let him set the pace. So what was he supposed to do now?
Offering kind words might help smooth things over, but he was rusty on that one, so that wouldn’t help. Preparing food as a peace offering was another option. Especially since being trapped on a boat didn’t allow him to run in the opposite direction.
Food and beer it was.
Ireland glared at the tray he handed her.
He deserved that look.
But then she reached for the food and quietly ate while he got the boat ready to return to the club.
Bran sank into the driver’s seat, a pressure in the pit of his chest bothering the hell out of him. He thumped it a couple of times and cleared his throat.
Everything would be fine. He’d drop Ireland off at the dock, apologize—this time for the kiss, not the cock grinding—then stay the hell away from her. For good.
Chapter 4
He—grrr! Bran was the worst, the absolute worst!
Ireland was so angry she couldn’t see straight, which meant she couldn’t see at all because her glasses were still in her bag. She rubbed her eyes to clear them of the glassiness that had formed out of sheer irritation with the man, and shoved a cracker with cheese in her mouth, while Bran drove the boat back to Club Tahoe.
He’d been the biggest ass to her—and then he’d kissed her. And not just any kiss. It was the kind of kiss that made a woman’s belly drop and her bikini bottom wish to go in the same direction.
Bran never showed her any interest. And now he gave her the sexiest kiss of her life?
She wanted to throttle him.
No, just no. She was so sick of asshole men. How did she even get into these situations?
That darn boat wake. They’d been doing fine, until that huge lake wake had hit the boat and knocked her into Bran.
He was tall and built like a wall—a stubborn brick wall. She’d tried to dislodge herself from his person, but there were muscles and strong arms, and she might have taken a tad too long. So what did he do?
Insult her. Make fun of her. And when she’d finally managed a moment of peace, even if it had been in the icy lake water, he dove in and rounded off his insults with the most body-convulsing kiss of her life.
Seducing Bran Page 3