Page 25 of Ireland

Face hot, she darted for the scrap of lingerie. The mischievous Maine Coon swatted at her with his giant paw. “You little shit!”

Ronan’s rich, deep laughter sent waves of heated awareness through her. Served her right for not checking between the sofa cushions, but still. Ugh!

She lunged toward Blizzard, but the cat darted away. Ronan caught her by the hips and pulled her back against his hard body, which was shaking with hilarity. She felt and heard him kick the door shut behind them but was arrested by the feel of his arms around her.

Nuzzling behind her ear, he inhaled slowly and deeply. It was animalistic, the way he scented her. Her heartbeat quickened even as her skin warmed with arousal. She shivered when hebriefly caught the shell of her ear in his teeth. There was something essentially untamed about Ronan Boudreaux. She was drawn to that quality in a way she’d never been to anything, which could make a future between them impossible.

“This is a matter best handled between him and me,” Ronan drawled, his fingertips flexing restively on her hips.

She pouted. “I’m mortified.”

“Admit you planned that to drive me crazy.”

“Does it?” She tried to turn in his embrace, but he held fast. “If so, I totally plotted that.”

Laughing again, Ronan released her and backed away. The sudden loss of his heat caused goosebumps to race up her arms. She faced him, noting the casual way he distanced himself with a retreating step as if she were a bomb ready to explode. She caught his gaze and held it; her head tilted slightly in inquiry. He looked away first, searching for Blizzard and then moving toward him.

Ireland crossed her arms. “Are we ever getting to the point where we greet each other with lewd kisses and frisky groping?”

He shot her a glance over his shoulder. “Are we in a hurry?”

The words might’ve stung if they hadn’t been delivered in that lyrical drawl.

“Aren’t we?” she challenged, watching as he approached Bliz with a confident and unhurried stride. “You’re not a New Yorker, and I’m rooted here, so… Are you worried that I can’t handle something short and sweet?”

He held his hand out to Blizzard and let the narrow-eyed, bra-carrying traitor sniff him. “I think you can handle anything,” he said smoothly. “Which I appreciate far more than your beauty.”

She might’ve been dangerously close to losing her cool if he'd teased her. But he was straightforward and solemn. And Bliz seemed to like how Ronan smelled as much as she did andshoved his big head under the Cajun’s palm in a demand for behind-the-ear rubs.

All of which turned her frustration into resignation.

With a sigh, Ireland walked into the kitchen. She didn’t lie to herself or see only what she wanted to. Ronan Boudreaux wasn’t merely an exciting distraction from worries about her parents and Vidal Records, even if she wanted that to be true. No, the man was a deep-seated craving, a gnawing hunger that grew more unbearable the longer it went unappeased.

He retrieved her bra from Bliz and folded it neatly before putting it on the end table. Facing her, he half sat on the back of her couch next to the now docile, affectionate cat. “I thought you sounded a bit subdued this morning. And I feel a bit underdressed. Tell me what you’re taking seriously so I can catch up.”

She gripped the edge of her marble countertop and shook her head. “I bought this outfit with family brunch in mind. It’s not formal or anything.”

“Aren’t you formal with your family?” he queried, massaging Bliz’s back in a way that made Ireland envious. “That’s been my impression.”

“I—” she began, then paused, her mouth closing slowly. Had she been too candid during their long discussions about everything that came to mind?

When she’d been lying in bed thinking about him, she realized she’d talked more with Ronan than she ever had with anyone besides Alina. Blanketed in the anonymity of an assumed name, had she been bolder than wise, or was he just insightful? Perhaps it was both. She was so comfortable around him, which was insane, considering how powerful the sexual tension between them was.

But maybe she was more affected by that inexorable pull than he was. Ronan was always so cool and collected, his actionsas unhurried as his manner of speaking. Maybe it was no problem for him to take his time with her because he didn’t feel the same driving urgency.

And didn’t that feel shitty?

Everything she’d planned to say suddenly seemed like it’d be too much. Not because she was afraid to scare him off with worries that she was moving too fast or entertaining unrealistic expectations. If being honest about her feelings was enough to cool Ronan Boudreaux’s jets, he’d never survive the first bladed look from Gideon. And she spent enough time and energy around her family overthinking what she said and tempering how situations affected her; she sure as hell wouldn’t expend the effort for anyone else.

What really gave her pause was the sense that Ronan was intrinsically uneasy in a metropolis like New York City. You’d never know it to look at him now, lounging with the ease of a lion at rest, strength evident in every line of his delectable body. He was a man completely comfortable in his skin. But she would never forget how he’d melted into a long, deep sigh when they picnicked in Central Park. And she’d initially found him performing in Jazzie’s because he needed the escape of music to center himself amid Manhattan’s frenetic pace.

Something more than transitory just wasn’t in the cards for them. He lived a life without romantic entanglements. Speed dating on the road worked perfectly for his lifestyle, even if she could catch more than his fancy.

“You don’t have to weigh your words with me,” he coaxed, as ever seeming to read her thoughts. “I gather you don’t feel comfortable expressing yourself to your family, but I can handle you and anything you can throw at me.”

She frowned, bemused and concerned. “Ronan… If I gave you a bad impression of my family, that was a mistake. They’reoverprotective, sure. But that’s only because they love me and want good things for me.”

“Do they choose their clothes to make an impression onyou?” he countered.

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