Page 212 of Sweet Temptation

Then Andre served up another round of shots, and another, while Ronan showed me around a bit. It was a one-bedroom condo, nicely furnished, bachelor style. Clean. Tasteful.

Suited him.

But it was lacking some serious soul. Obviously, he didn’t spend much time here.

“Well,” I told him, “I’m glad to see you don’t have any plants withering away here.” I cocked an eyebrow at him. “Or pets.”

“Yeah. I’d have a dog, maybe. They’re better company than plants. And more loyal than people.” His eyes met mine, and I could see he instantly regretted saying that. Not because he didn’t mean it, but because he’d said more than he wanted to say.

Revealed more about himself than he wanted to reveal.

The beers and tequila were already kicking in.

I filed it all away in my mental Mystery of Ronan Sterling dossier.

Prefers dogs to people.

Thinks people are disloyal.

Has been hurt, disappointed and/or betrayed by others in the past? Possibly repeatedly.

“Besides,” he added quickly, “then I’d have to take care of it, and who has time for that, right?”

“Mmm,” I murmured noncommittally. I was just hoping he’d keep talking. Keep revealing his naked self to me, so to speak, in lovely alcohol-stripped layers.

“Are you ever home?” I asked him as I glimpsed his sparsely furnished bedroom, suspiciously devoid of any clothes on the floor or personal effects on the dresser. The bed was even neatly made.

“Not often enough to know if I’ve left it lady friendly.” He poked his head into the bathroom, then popped back out. “All clear.”

“Uh-huh.”

Keeps himself busy with work so he doesn’t have to deal with other people’s needs. Including those of any women he might bring home.

“And how long have you owned this place?” I asked him.

“I don’t own it. I rent.”

Hmm. Doesn’t plan for the future?

Or is afraid of commitment?

He then went out of his way to move a set of hand weights in the hallway so I wouldn’t trip on them, even though they were zero-percent in my way.

Underneath the tough guy exterior, has a big heart and a deep need to protect people.

I wondered if maybe some people—the less-loyal-than-dogs people—had taken advantage of that trait.

Hard to imagine the big alpha in front of me letting anyone take advantage of him. But everyone had their vulnerabilities, whether they wanted to or not, right? Their soft spots, so to speak.

When we’d circled back to the kitchen island, where Andre was pouring out shots again, we did another round.

“That is good tequila,” Andre remarked.

It was. We were probably supposed to be sipping it rather than shooting it, but oh well. I was getting drunk and I hardly even noticed. I felt warm and fabulous all over and we hadn’t even put any music on yet.

Ronan was getting drunk, too. For sure. And as it turned out, drunk Ronan was just as no-bullshit honest as sober Ronan. He just talked more.

A lot more.

---