“Don’t interrupt me, O’Connell. Is taking the office whore on a date your idea of treating her right?”

  “I made a mistake,” he says regretfully, rubbing his jaw.

  “Olivia loves you! You should be on your fucking knees worshipping her every chance you get!”

  I can’t contain the rage inside me. It’s boiling to the point where I’m going to completely lose my shit. Every muscle in my body is taut and ready. McCabe’s hand grips my shoulder from behind, firmly holding me in place. It’s going to take military experience to stop me from giving Ethan the ass-kicking he deserves. I shake my head. “You don’t deserve her, O’Connell!”

  Scott stands guard at Ethan’s side, with his arm firmly pressed across his chest, holding him back and encouraging him not to react.

  “Okay, Carter, that’s enough,” John’s authoritative voice commands. “Go wait out in the car.”

  “Fuck that.” I’m still furious and tempted to get another good shot in. John gives me a knowing look and nods his head toward the door. It’s so infuriating. I hesitate before I turn on my heel, shaking my bruised hand.

  “I deserved that,” I hear Ethan say as I walk away.

  “Bloody right, you did,” I answer, agitated. “And you’ll get another one if you ever do anything that fucking stupid again.” I’m flanked on all sides by restaurant security, making sure I find my way out. One of them places his hand on my back and guides me to the door. I clench my jaw and flash him an unimpressed look. He quickly holds his hands up in the air, acknowledging my aggravation. Believe me, it’s best he doesn’t press his luck right now.

  Taking John’s advice I lay low for the day. After finding out that Ethan and Olivia plan to work things out, I decide that I just need to put an end to this day and go to bed. I toss and turn the entire evening. When I finally drift off into a deep, uninterrupted sleep, I dream.

  Under the shade of a large willow tree, I seek shelter from the hot midsummer sun. I lay my head comfortably in the lap of a woman with ocean blue eyes. Her skin is as white and delicate as her name. She smells like vanilla and citrus. It’s a very soothing scent. I reach up and stroke my fingertips through the curls of her golden blonde hair. She smiles, presses a kiss to the end of her finger, and then traces my lips.

  I’m intrigued. I want to spend more time with this woman. As I go about my morning routine, the memory of her fades, and my mind once again becomes consumed with last night’s events.

  The more I think about it, the more worked up I get. I pace the floor of my hotel room, feeling extremely agitated. I toss a pair of jeans onto the pile of dirty clothes, and something catches my eye. A small scrap of paper; intentionally tucked under the corner of the lamp to keep it in place. I place my finger on it and slide it into view.

  Now that’s interesting. I scratch my head. I had no idea she left me her number, and I’ll admit at the moment, it’s awfully tempting. Thinking twice about it, I crumple it into a ball and toss it into the rubbish.

  I look at my watch at least a dozen times, but it doesn’t help the time pass any faster. Halfway through my third bowl of cereal, I head to the living area to see what’s on the telly. The minute I lie down on the couch, my eyes close; I dream about Ireland and the woman with the daunting blue eyes. This is exactly like the other dreams I’ve had of her. I feel at peace. I feel loved.

  The next thing I know, I find myself in the bedroom retrieving the crumpled paper from the trash.

  It only takes me a few minutes to walk the four blocks to Stacey’s apartment. I knock on the door, grateful she’s not the kind of girl who wants to be wined, dined, or romanced. I know exactly what she wants, and I intend to give it to her. The door hasn’t even completely closed yet, and she’s tugging at my belt, trying to get it undone. I appreciate her enthusiasm. Lifting her effortlessly, I carry her down the hall with no idea where I’m going.

  “Bedroom?” I growl.

  “Next door on the right.”

  I push it open with my shoulder and toss her onto the bed.

  She wastes no time, stripping her dress off over her head. I smile. I’ve always been a fan of red lace. At the moment, I’d be a fan of seeing it on the floor. I grab the edges to pull them down, and she stops my hands.

  “Use your teeth.”

  I nip at her skin, making her squeal. This game is taking too long. My cock is hard, and I want inside her. I toss her panties to the floor and crawl over top of her. The bright screen of my cell phone illuminates the floor, as it rings in the pocket of my discarded trousers.

  I look down at the floor, tempted to answer it. Stacey runs her fingers through my hair and pulls my mouth to hers. The warmth of her lips and the playful exploration of her tongue distracts me. Until it rings again. I pause. Something tells me that I need to answer it.

  “Are you kidding me?” Stacey complains as I get to my feet.

  I grab for it quickly. “Hello?”

  “Mr. Carter. It’s me, George.”

  There’s only one reason George calls. “Is everything okay?”

  “No. Everything is not okay.”

  “Why does that not surprise me?”

  Stacey wiggles herself to the side of the bed and guides my cock into her mouth. I almost drop my phone. The girl apparently has no gag reflex at all. “What has he done this time, George?”

  “It’s Miss Olivia.”

  Hearing her name catches me by surprise, and I immediately take a step back, pulling myself out of Stacey’s mouth.

  “What about her?” I ask concerned.

  “She came in here a few hours ago. Upset. I’m worried, Mr. Carter. We only served her a couple of drinks, but she is very drunk. She’s not herself. The men here, they are not so nice. They will take advantage of a beautiful girl.”

  I already have one leg back into my pants.

  “We tried to call Mr. O’Connell, but he’s not answering.”

  “You’re leaving?” Stacey says angrily.

  “Sorry, I have to. It’s an emergency.” I pull my shirt back over my head and put the phone back to my ear.

  “Don’t let her leave, George. Stand your security guard between her and anybody that tries to get close to her. I’m on my way.

  I lean over to give Stacey a quick apology kiss, but she turns her head.

  “You’re an asshole.”

  “I know,” I admit, as I buckle my belt. “I have to make sure she gets home safe, then I’ll come back to look after you. I promise.”

  I practically sprint the several blocks to the bar. It’s quicker than waiting for an Uber. I try to call O’Connell, Parker, and McCabe on the way, but I finally give up. George is waiting outside the door, watching for me.

  “Mr. Carter, it’s good you have come.”

  It takes me a few seconds to catch my breath. You’d think my cardio would be better. “Where is she?”

  “We’re trying to keep her in the bar where we can keep a watchful eye, but Miss Olivia, she’s a very stubborn woman.”

  “Oh, I know it.” I make my way to the back of the bar.

  “CARTER!” she squeals. Security catches her as she slides off the barstool and her legs turn to jelly.

  “Whoa.” I hold her until she gets her feet under her. “I’ve got her,” I assure the security staff. They look to George for his approval before reluctantly leaving her in my charge.

  “Here, let me help you.” I grip her hips and lift her onto the barstool. “Are you okay?”

  “I can’t feel my nose.” She lifts her hand and heavily taps on her face. As cute as it is, it isn’t funny at all.

  “Why are you here? I thought you and O’Connell were working things out?”

  “Me too.” Her eyes begin to tear up. “I called to talk to him.”

  “He’s out with his buddies from Ireland. They arrived tonight,” I remind her.

  “I know, but I just wanted to hear his voice.” She lifts a glass to her mouth and takes a large swig. “So I called,” she continues, “and a drunk girl answered the phone.”

  I raise a brow, surprised.

  “She said he just took some girl upstairs to bed.”

  I’m stunned. “Olivia, don’t jump to conclusions, there must be a logical explanation.”

  “I don’t even care. I came down here and spent the night with my friends.” She wiggles her fingers, giving a drunken wave to a guy watching from across the room.

  “I’m pretty sure none of these guys are your friends.”

  “Oh, they are. That nice man there has been buying me drinks.” She lifts the glass to her mouth.

  I grimace. “Jesus, what are you drinking, it smells like turpentine.” I acknowledge the douchecanoe watching her from a dark corner of the bar. Immediately, I reach up and stop her hand. “I’m positive that guy is not your friend. Let’s get you home.”

  “I’m not ready to go home,” she argues. “I’m not going to waste my drink. That would be rude.”

  I take it out of her hand and down the rest of it. “There.” I slam the empty glass on the bar. “Now it’s gone, and we’re leaving,” I say firmly.

  I guide her to the door and out into the brisk night air. We’ve only walked about a block when I start to feel strange. What the fuck is going on?

  “Carter. I don’t feel so great.”

  “Me neither.” Suddenly I feel like I’m walking through an amusement park funhouse. Shapes become distorted, and my balance is off-kilter. We’re almost at the hotel lobby when Olivia collapses. I don’t know how I do it, but I pull myself together enough to lift her into my arms.

  A woman rushes to open the door and holds it open. “Is she okay?” she asks concerned.

  “I think someone slipped something into her drink.”

  “Do you want me to call an ambulance?”

  Everything is foggy, but I recognize her voice. “No. Thank you…” I pause, trying to remember her name.

  “Kate,” she offers.

  “I’m sorry. I’m horrible at names, but I’d never forget a beautiful woman like you.”

  “How can I help?” she asks, following us to the elevator.

  “I just want to get her upstairs so I can make sure she’s safe and let her sleep it off.” The elevator door closes, and I lean back against the wall to steady myself.

  When I step off onto the penthouse floor, I start to feel woozy. My grip feels like it’s slipping, so I adjust her weight by tossing her over my shoulder and take her to the bedroom. “Just what the fuck was in that drink?” I wonder out loud.

  She begins to giggle. I get her onto the bed, just in time, as she declares the room is starting to spin.

  My phone rings and I look down to see Stacey’s number. I look at my watch, then over at Olivia. Now that she’s safe, I don’t see why I couldn’t go back and finish what I started.

  Something wakes me from a sound sleep. I’m not startled awake but rather coaxed by a gentle force. I can hear her soft whimpering, and I lie a moment, waiting to see if she soothes herself back to sleep. The sound of a softly sung lullaby blends into the silence of the night. Getting to my feet, I quietly join her in the nursery. She turns and places her finger to her lips to silence me.

  There is truly nothing more beautiful than the glow of a new mother when she holds her babe. “Is she okay?” I whisper concerned.

  After laying the sleeping child down, she smiles at me and takes me by the hand, leading me into the hallway. Gently she pulls the door closed, pauses and listens.

  “She’s fine,” she assures me, as she guides me down the hallway. “Let’s go back to bed.”

  I climb in beside her and wrap my arms around her, brushing her curls from her face. “Your feet are cold.”

  She laughs quietly. “Go to sleep.”

  Some nights, it’s just not that easy. I caress my hands across her skin, trying to soothe myself. “I’ve always loved you, you know.” There’s but a split-second pause in her response, but it’s enough to cause me grief. She turns in my arms and strokes her fingertips across my cheek. “I know.”

  She presses her lips against mine for a soft kiss. I return her sweet gift with a growing passion, becoming hungry for more. I want her. I need her. Her nipples become hard and rub against the bare skin of my chest. Sliding my hand under her nightie, I follow the curves of her body to her breast. I squeeze it firmly, making her moan. That quiet expression of her arousal makes me lengthen and grow harder.

  I firmly push her shoulder, forcing her on her back. In seconds, I’ve discarded her panties and lower myself over her body. She welcomes me, adjusting her position for the width of my hips. Supporting my weight on strong forearms, I hover over her, staring into her beautiful hazel eyes. She groans with the first thrust, and the sound of it is almost always my undoing. I’ve waited for her my whole lifetime, and I don’t ever want it to end. I pray every day that I measure up. I have some pretty big shoes to fill.

  I wake with a hard cock. I lift my head to look at the tent I’m pitching with the blanket and place my palm on my forehead. It feels like someone took an ax to my head. A feminine hand rests on my chest. She’s soft, warm, and comforting. Funny, but I don’t remember Stacey being the cuddling type. She sighs and runs her hand across my chest and downward. I love a girl who makes my cock a priority in the morning. My body responds as I breathe in her faded subtle perfume until the very last note of the sweet flowery scent hits me, and I have a shocking realization. This isn’t Stacey.

  My eyes pop open, and my body stiffens. Jesus, even my eyelashes hurt. A quick look around the room confirms I’m at home. Very small flashes of last night come back to memory: the bar, the booze, Olivia. I gently pry myself from underneath her and get to my feet. I survey the room, the disheveled furniture, and discarded clothing hanging from the most peculiar places. She rolls to her side and tosses the blanket to the floor. It’s then that I discover she’s wearing nothing but my boxers. “What the fuck have I done?”

  My fingertips brush across her skin as I respectfully cover her up. Vague memories start to come back to me. My heart pounds heavily in my chest, and it reverbs like a jackhammer, in my head. I tidy the room and give her some privacy.

  I make breakfast with a laser focus, trying to keep the noise down. I don’t even hear her enter the room.

  “Good morning.”

  Startled, I jump and burn my hand. I curse. She grabs my wrist and guides me across the room to the sink. Holding the burn under cold water, she looks up at me with those beautiful eyes full of sparkling gold flecks. “Better?”

  I nod. “Yes, thank you.” I didn’t think it could get any worse, but I was wrong. Looking at her, standing in front of me wearing my boxers and T-shirt isn’t helping. “Olivia…” I pause and exhale deeply. “Do you have any recollection of last night?”

  “Very little,” she admits, looking ashamed.

  “Me neither.”

  “Do you think anything happened?” I pause, my eyes traveling her body and staring longer than I should. “Between us.” I tear my gaze away and look down the hall toward the bedroom. “In there?” I scratch at the day-old growth of stubble on my chin. This is a bloody awkward conversation.

  She shakes her head no, struggling to find words. “I… I don’t remember, Carter.”

  “Me neither.” My guts twist and turn nervously.

  “I don’t think either one of us would do anything that would hurt Ethan,” she reasons.

  I would. I’d go straight to hell, but if I could steal her away and keep her for myself, I’d consider it. “You’re right,” I lie. “So obviously nothing happened.” It’s a huge relief and an even bigger disappointment.

  “Nothing,” she repeats unconvincingly. “So there’s no reason to say anything to Ethan about last night. Right?”

  “Right.” My chest tightens, thinking about my dream. For a brief moment, I consider grabbing her and kissing her to see just what the fuck is going on here. She can tell me nothing, but I feel it. There’s something here, or there used to be. I’m so fucking confused.

  She can’t even look at me right now. “I’m going to grab a cab home and get some sleep.” She picks up a piece of toast and takes a few bites. “I have a surprise planned for Ethan today.”

  “I’ll take you.”

  “No!” she says quickly.

  Great, now we’re back to awkward.

  I put her in a cab and head back upstairs to grab some more sleep myself. I wish I could dig deep into my memories and sort out the reality from the dreams.

  I wake up from my nap, still feeling hungover. I begin to scroll through the barrage of missed messages and calls on my phone. It’s clear that I can’t avoid the boys any longer, but I have no idea how I’m going to face O’Connell.

  I arrive at the hotel restaurant, just as they finish eating. I’m a little shocked to find Ethan isn’t with them. It feels like my head is in a pair of Vice-Grips, and it gets worse as I sit and listen to the evening’s events. When they get to the part of the story where Ethan escorts a very drunk, young girl to her room, I feel my face start to heat up. These boys have always had a way of embellishing stories. In fact, most of the time they’re full of bullshit. “How many pints have you had already?” I ask Griff.

  “A few. Who’s counting?”

  “Nobody, mate. I just don’t know how you can do it this early in the day.”

  “North America has made you boys soft,” he laughs and gets to his feet. “Time for a smoke.”

  “Stay out front and don’t disappear,” John warns. “We’ve got a car coming to pick you up soon.”

  There’s a loud screeching as the chairs are dragged across the hardwood floor. It makes me feel like wooden spikes are being driven into my brain.

  I chug another glass of water, hoping that rehydrating will help with this pounding pain in my skull.

  O’Connell has joined the boys out front. I might as well join them and get this over with. The sun is blinding, but I squint enough to know that Ethan is watching me, his arms crossed, with an antagonized look on his ugly Irish mug. When my eyes finally adjust to the light, I see Olivia approaching in the background. I stop abruptly, completely stunned. “Holy shit,” I say out loud.