Bran crossed the room and gestured for Ireland to follow him. They moved to his office, where James couldn’t hear.
Bran’s jaw sawed back and forth. “I don’t know what I just walked in on, but make sure you keep it to after-hours activities. I’m not paying you to hook up.”
Ireland’s hands shook. “You’ve got it wrong. That’s not what happened.”
Bran held up his hand. “I don’t care what you two were doing. Just don’t do it here.” He started to walk away, then stopped and looked back. “And for the love of God, don’t make our technical problems worse.”
Bran. Was. Furious. He’d just returned to Prime to find Ireland in the arms of James.
He wanted to scour his eyes out.
Bran was supposed to be staying away from her. He’d already proven she affected his self-control. But the pressure to get the new system working had surpassed everything.
Only seeing Ireland with James… Bran was ready to kill the guy, software be damned. He let out a harsh sigh. Okay, it was a growl.
He opened his eyes and stared at his clenched fist. Working together wouldn’t do. Bad enough he had to see her every day. There was no way he could watch her with another man.
He had to fire her.
He’d tell his brothers Ireland wasn’t a good fit. That the Tech Banquet guy said she was making things worse.
Bran winced. He didn’t trust James. But they’d already paid for James’s services, and Bran couldn’t get rid of the guy until the company was able to replace him with one of the other programmers.
Cali wouldn’t be happy if Bran fired Ireland, and Bran suspected neither would Emily, but what else could he do? He was part owner of Club Tahoe, and if he killed James because he couldn’t stand the sight of him touching Ireland, there would be bigger problems than firing her. Not to mention, if what James said was true and Ireland had made the program worse, that was the last thing they needed.
A knock sounded at his office door.
Bran tipped his head back. “I’m busy.”
“Can I talk to you?” It was Ireland.
Bran squeezed his eyes closed. He wasn’t ready to fire her. The effect she had on him wasn’t her fault, but if there was even a fraction of truth to what James had said, he couldn’t risk Ireland making the situation worse. He might as well get it over with. “Come in.”
Bran paced to the other side of the room. There were no windows inside his office and it wasn’t very big, but it was the one place he went to get away from the chaos of the restaurants.
Ireland stepped inside and closed the door behind her.
The ten-by-ten-foot room suddenly dropped to half its normal size. Bran felt like he was standing inside a steamy shower with Ireland’s light perfume blasting his way.
Did she have to smell like flowers and oranges? Reminded him of summertime, and women, and food. Pretty much everything he loved in life.
He walked back to his desk and shifted papers. “What can I do for you?”
“I-I…” She stopped, and he heard her take a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I’m not good with confrontation.”
He looked up. Was she kidding? “You seemed fine with it on the boat.”
She frowned. “That was different. This is work. And on the boat you—you pissed me off.”
True. People typically acted professional at work. So which was the real Ireland? The feisty boat version or the intelligent but passive, professional?
“So the boat was a one-time deal?” He didn’t know if he was referring to her temper or the make-out session. Most likely both, because all of a sudden, he needed to torture himself.
She crossed her arms. “I don’t know. You seem to have a knack for pissing me off.”
There was the fire.
All this time, Bran had dated quiet, nice girls, and now he couldn’t get enough of a brainy woman with one hell of a temper. There was something wrong with him. “You came here for a reason. I’m assuming it wasn’t to tell me how much I frustrate you.”
Ireland closed her eyes. “No. Of course not. I’m sorry. I-I…”
“It’s just the two of us. There’s no need for nerves. Remember, I’m the guy you feel comfortable yelling at.”
A smile softened her mouth. “That’s true.” Yet she hesitated. “I wanted to talk to you about what you saw out there. It’s not what you think. There’s nothing going on between me and James.”
Bran set aside the paperwork he’d been sifting through. “That’s not what it looked like.”
“I promise I have zero interest in him.”
“He touched you.”
A shadow crossed Ireland’s eyes. “It wasn’t…”
“It wasn’t what? Did he touch you without permission?”
She wrapped her arms around her waist and closed her eyes briefly. “He doesn’t like me. Or respect me. When that’s the case, men sometimes…”
Bran’s heart pounded, and his skin heated with the rush of blood pumping beneath. He took a step closer, breaking up the few feet between them. “They sometimes what? Tell me what’s going on, because I’m beginning to visualize scenarios that aren’t helping my blood pressure.”
“Why do you care? You don’t like me either.”
He glanced away. “I like you fine.” Too much. “Now tell me.”
“They’re dicks.” She covered her mouth. “Sorry. That was inappropriate. What I meant to say is, sometimes the men I work with… Well, when their pride is pricked—and for some reason, I have a knack for pricking men’s pride—they become jerks. What you saw was James being an overbearing ass.”
Bran shifted his jaw. He’d seen James manhandle Ireland, and if it had nothing to do with erotic passion, then Bran might need to kill James.
How dare he threaten her? Or any woman?
Ireland was smarter than James, and the idiot knew it. “That’s not a man being a jerk. That’s a man sexually harassing you. Possibly assaulting you.” Bran paused and ran a hand through his hair. Suddenly, something else occurred to him. He was Ireland’s boss, and he’d… “Did you feel that way about me? On the boat?”
“No. That was different. Besides, I didn’t work for you then.”
Still, he was angry with himself. He’d been a dick to her as well, even if she hadn’t been his consultant at the time. “I should have never touched you. It was wrong.”
Ireland stepped forward. “It wasn’t. I mean, yes, you pissed me off, but…”
“But?” He didn’t need buts. He needed her to agree with him.
“As I said, I liked your hands on me.” Her face flamed red, like her fiery hair. And her temper when provoked.
In spite of the logical part of his brain shouting that this conversation was going in the wrong direction, his mouth kicked up on the side. “That’s right; more hands, less talking.”
Her lips twisted. “I need to watch what I say around you. It goes to your head.”
“It’s not every day a beautiful woman tells me how much she enjoys my hands on her.”
“Beautiful?” She pushed up her glasses. “I’m not beautiful.”
He snorted.
Her brow furrowed. “Some things men admire, but the rest…”
Right. Things. Try giant breasts that made a man’s mouth water. “We can call them things if you like. And the rest is outstanding too.”
“I stutter,” she continued as though she hadn’t heard him. “I’m not good with confrontation. And I wear glasses.”
“The glasses are hot as hell. I even like the stutter, because it means I’m affecting you.”
She tilted her head to the side. “Why would you want to affect me?”
Good question. He shouldn’t. And yet Bran stepped forward anyway. Because he did…he really, really did want to affect her. And make her feel good.
He reached out and touched her shoulder, sliding his hand slowly down her arm. He gently pulled her toward him. “Tell me to stop.”
“Why would I
do that?” she said absently as he ran his hand up and down her arm.
“Because I’m your boss.” Which he was supposed to be putting an end to… “This is wrong.” He moved to step back, but Ireland leaned forward and rested her forehead against his chest. He fought to not cradle her head with his palm. Was fighting a lot of instincts right now.
Ireland wrapped her arms lightly around his waist. “It’s only harassment if it’s unwanted or if I feel pressured to be with you for career purposes. Fortunately for you, I don’t need this job.”
“Good.” He rubbed her back, losing the battle and unable to keep his hands off her. “Because I don’t think we can work together anymore.”
“Because of James?”
“No. Because of this.” Bran lowered his head and kissed Ireland lightly on her soft, plump lips that had called to him from the moment he’d met her. “You really should tell me to stop.”
“Okay. Stop talking. More kissing.”
She was going to be the death of him.
He shouldn’t listen. He needed to be in control.
He wasn’t.
Bran framed the sides of her face with his palms and kissed her with a passion that was truly worrisome. At the moment, he couldn’t remember why it was a bad thing to kiss and touch Ireland, and he didn’t care.
He ran his hands down her arms to her lower back, where he captured the shape of the most perfect ass. Or maybe it was perfect because it was Ireland.
He stilled. He needed to remove his hands from Ireland’s perfect, well-shaped, full ass…
“Don’t even think about talking right now,” she said. “Remember the rule?”
He groaned. He was close to losing control.
She ran her palms down his chest to his stomach, and his groin tightened. “Stop thinking,” she said, her voice breathy.
She stepped back and pulled him with her, the back of her thighs bumping into his desk.
Bran cupped the backs of her legs and had her on top of the desk in half a second. She was too beautiful. Too desirable. Too sweet and sexy.
Her legs wrapped around his waist, and the warmth of her pressed against his erection… He stopped thinking entirely about what he should or shouldn’t do.
Bran ran his hands down her luscious, full chest, and she moaned, tightening her thighs around him.
She leaned back and pulled him down until he was leaning over her. He kissed her with a passion he didn’t know he possessed. For a moment, he worried he was hurting her and hesitated.
Instead of pushing him away, Ireland tugged up his shirt. He quickly lifted his arms so she could slip off the shirt and he could return his hands to where they were—on her hips, the smooth indentation of her waist, and her soft breasts.
Ireland’s hands touched his bare chest, and his muscles tensed at the sensation.
Bran ran his knuckles beneath the hem of her blouse. He’d do just about anything to be skin to skin with her, but he didn’t want to push it. He was fairly certain none of this should be happening, and yet he couldn’t find it within himself to stop.
He didn’t have to. Because Ireland pulled up her blouse and tossed it aside.
“Shit. So beautiful,” he said as he kissed the lush mounds of her breasts pushed up in black satin. They spilled to the side as she lay on her back. Not fake breasts, as he’d assumed early on. Everything about Ireland was natural—her figure, her intelligence, her passion.
He was distracted. Loving on her breasts, touching her soft, rounded shoulders, gripping her hips—when he felt her tug on the fly of his jeans.
And that snapped him out of his lust haze.
Enough to pull away.
Enough to realize how wrong this was. “Ireland, we have to stop.”
She looked confused.
“I don’t have anything. For protection.”
Light dawned in her eyes. “I don’t either. I wasn’t expecting…” She smiled shyly.
He pulled her upright on top of his desk and pressed her to his chest. She felt amazing. “Not now, then.” But later? Was he seriously considering starting something with Ireland?
He’d been wrong about her when they’d first met. She wasn’t another shallow, beautiful woman. But did that mean she was any less dangerous? He never thought things through when it came to her. Present activities—a case in point.
He gripped her tighter. Even if it wasn’t the safe move, she was the first woman he didn’t want to let go of. Which meant he’d have to rein in his lack of self-control and do everything right if he was to make this work.
“I’d like to take you out. May I?”
Fuck, when was the last time he’d officially asked a woman out? So long ago he didn’t remember.
She leaned forward and kissed his chest, nodding. “I’d like that.”
Ireland wasn’t what he’d planned. He wasn’t even sure he was ready for her. But for once, he was willing to take the risk.
Chapter 13
“I had no idea wedding planning was such a pain.” Cali crossed the living room with her dog Buddy in her arm as she shoved a basket of laundry with her foot.
Cali set Buddy on his couch bed, which was essentially this soft doggy bed on top of the couch so Buddy could look out at the living room like the prince he was. “Beach setting or a wedding at the club? Maybe on the lake… God, there are so many options, and Jaeg won’t help because he says I need to choose. He says he’d be happy going to the courthouse to make things official. And then his parents offered up their property that overlooks the lake for the reception, so that’s one more option. I mean, it’s good to have options, but I want it to be right and I can’t decide… Ireland, are you listening to me?”
Ireland was lying on the couch next to Buddy, daydreaming, one ear tuned into her cousin, while reliving being in Bran’s arms. The guy who pushed her away at every turn. Except when he was pulling her to him.
And holy shit, last night he was touching and loving on her body. The mental images of his sexy, ruffled hair as he kissed her breasts had her squirming. Ireland choked out, “I’m listening.”
Cali sent her a disbelieving look.
Ireland and Bran had stopped before things led to hot desk sex, because Bran had been using his brain and remembered they didn’t have condoms. When Ireland’s mind had been focused on getting into his pants. What was wrong with her?
She’d never been the sexual aggressor, and there she was, trying to strip the poor guy naked. Forget any misgivings she’d had about him; she’d nearly done the deed without pausing to think of the ramifications. Like baby-making.
Baby-making. With Bran. God, she was out of her league, and yet she could picture little boy babies with dark blond hair and the most intense blue eyes. All with a man who was hot and cold and confusing as hell. She’d lost her mind!
He’d asked her out last night, and no way she’d turn that down. She was curious, that was all. The way he’d kissed and touched her might have something to do with it. Because the man was talented. No one had touched her with such awe and passion the way Bran had. As though he actually treasured her…
She had to stop thinking about him.
“Hello? Earth to Ireland,” Cali said. “What the hell are you thinking about? You’re smiling and squirming and totally ignoring my freak-out session.”
“I’m sorry.” Ireland needed to simmer down. It was only a date, and Bran hadn’t called to set it up.
Would he call? What if he blew it off?
“Ireland!”
Shit. “Yes. I’m listening.”
Cali plunked down on the couch, forcing Ireland to quickly scoot to the side or get sat on. “What’s with the goofy grin?” Cali’s eyes widened. “Did you get laid?”
“What? No,” Ireland said. She so would have, though. Gah.
“So what gives?”
There was no way Ireland could keep this a secret from Cali. Cali was ruthless, and she’d pester Ireland until she caved. “Bran asked me out
last night. But there’s nothing concrete, so don’t make a big deal out of it.”
Cali squeezed the bejesus out of Ireland’s hand. “Holy. Shit. Bran asked you out? Do you even know what this means?”
Ireland shifted on the couch and glanced at the hand turning purple from Cali’s grip. “That he wants to take me out to dinner? I’m not a total loser. I’ve gone on dates.” Occasionally… Fine, not often. And not with anyone as appealing as Bran.
Cali bounced up and down, finally letting go of Ireland’s hand. “This is Bran we’re talking about, also known as the ‘Cade monk.’ He doesn’t go out.” Her mouth twisted. “At least not often. Hard to imagine a guy that good looking doesn’t get laid.”
Ireland frowned. She didn’t like thinking of Bran with other women. “Get to the point.”
“The point is,” Cali said, “I’ve never heard of him being interested enough to go out on an official date. He never brings women around. Never talks to women when we’re out. Have you any idea how huge this is?”
“Pretty sure it’s not huge.”
Cali’s eyes glazed over. “You’re going to marry Bran.”
Ireland laughed and snapped her fingers in front of Cali’s face. “You still there? Because you’ve just lost your mind.”
“Hear me out.” Buddy crawled onto Cali’s lap, and she absently petted him. “If Bran asked you on a date, he’s really into you.”
Or horny, Ireland thought. “You need to stop obsessing over your wedding. It’s seeping into all your thought processes.”
“Okay, call that wedding part a prediction. The point is, he’s in hot pursuit.”
Ireland laughed. “We just…” Have hot, steamy, tear-your-clothes-off chemistry? Want to get into each other’s pants?
Cali raised her brow. “Just what?”
“Sort of hooked up. And it was pretty sexy, so…he asked me out.”
Cali slapped Ireland’s arm, and Ireland feared she’d be bruised by the end of the conversation.
“Holy shit!” The next thing Ireland knew, Cali was on top of her, squeezing her, Buddy smashed in the middle and pawing at Ireland’s stomach to break free. “He loves you!”
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