Page 21 of Ireland

“I wrecked the bed,” he drawled.

Heat flushed her skin at the images that filled her mind. “Tell me you sleep nude—but only if it’s true.”

“You’ll discover that yourself.”

Tilting her head, she looked up at him, grateful for the shield of her oversized sunglasses. “When?”

“When we’re both categorically certain you won’t regret it.”

“Maybe you’re worriedyou’llregret it,” she countered.

His reply was a sardonically arched brow.

She pouted. “I shouldn’t have told you about my man embargo.”

His laugh was so vibrant and warm that the sound drew looks as they walked through the ever-crowded Bethesda Terrace and around the fountain. “I’m flattered you want to break that embargo for me, but regardless—I don’t take risks when I can’t afford to lose.”

“Most men would view getting me in bed as the win.”

“That’s the reward. Getting you tostaythere, now that’s the win.”

Her pulse fluttered wildly. “Maybe I’m terrible at it. Maybe you’ll be one and done.”

“Don’t worry,” he soothed. “I’m good enough for the both of us.”

Ireland laughed so hard she tripped over her own feet.

They followed the shore of the Lake until they reached the Bow Bridge, then slipped through the row of benches onto the grass. Other picnickers were there; it was considered the most romantic spot in the Park. At the picnic with the most elaborate setup, an unaccompanied man with a crown of curly brown hair stood as they approached.

“I’ll be nearby if you need anything,” he said. Then he walked away, leaving behind the extravagantly arranged picnic, including a galvanized bucket filled with champagne on ice,two lap trays with place settings, plump seating cushions and pillows, and an exuberant royal blue bouquet.

“Wow,” she breathed. “You sure know how to impress a date.”

“Playing to win,” he reminded with a debonair grin, supporting her with an outstretched hand as she kicked off her sandals and kneeled onto the oversized blue and white striped blanket.

Ronan set down the basket he carried and joined her, tucking a velvet floor cushion between his back and the trunk of the tree that shaded them. He sighed, long and slow, and his muscular body visibly relaxed. “God, it feels good to be surrounded by trees instead of concrete.”

She stretched out beside him, resting her elbows on a cushion and propping her chin with her hands. She studied the way he’d tilted his head back, and though she couldn’t see it through his mirrored lenses, she suspected he’d closed his eyes.

“You need big cities to make your fortune,” she murmured, “but at heart, you’re a man who prefers the wild.”

She sensed that he’d opened his eyes to look at her.

“You’re starting to know me,cher.”

But she wanted to know more. “Any marriages for you? Any engagements? Divorces? Children?”

“Non.”

“Are you not into serious relationships? Do you get bored? Prefer variety? Like the hunt more than the capture?”

He pulled his sunglasses off and hooked them onto his open collar. His gray eyes were piercing. “Time is a luxury I’ve enjoyed too little of. I could say I’ve been focused on my goals—that’s true, in part. The more honest answer is that marriage and children weren’t included in those goals, so I never pursued them.”

“Oh.” There was a sudden tight pinching in her chest.

He ran his fingertips down her arm. “And you?”

“I’ve never been with anyone long enough for it to become serious.”

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