“Fixing a sneer on her face, she deliberately lowered her toolbox and let it fall with a terrible clatter. That he jumped like a rabbit under the gun pleased her.“Christ Jesus!” he scraped his chair around, thumped a hand to his heart as if to get it pumping again.“What’s the matter?”“Nothing.” She continued to sneer. “Butterfingers,” she said sweetly and picked up her dented toolbox again. “Give you a start, did I?”“You damn near killed me.”

“What’s wrong with you?” He sneered. “You’re not her, that’s what’s wrong with you. What’s she got that you don’t? Bitch, she’s got me and you never fuckin’ did.”

“You told me you’d never let me go,” shewhispered but it was an accusation.His eyes closed and the pain in them sweptover his entire face and settled there like it wouldnever, ever leave.Then he shocked her again. He dropped hisforehead to hers and kept his hands on her.Something out of her control made her continue.“You told me,” she said in a shaky voice,“you’d always take care of me.”He opened his eyes and stared into hers. Hewas so close that if she moved the lower half ofher face forward, less than an inch, she wouldhave been kissing him.“You didn’t take care of me,” she murmured,stating the obvious.”

“Beneath her cheek, his heart was thumping steadily. Definitely faster than his usual near-hibernation beat. Lifting her head, she flashed him a tight smile. “I get to you.”“Are you kidding? You own me,” he said, his voice running over her like silk.”

“Her breathing ragged, her body went lax under his. “We’re not done,” he rasped, fisting a hand in her dark, short hair. Law greedily took her mouth as he started to ride her again—deep, hard. So damned hungry, so damned hungry …If she’d had the breath, she might have told him to give her a minute.But even if she had had the breath? He would have stolen it away again.”

“It was a lie, of course, and she was prepared to confess it to her priest. But she’d be damned if she’d tell him she’d been playing with his music.Her pride was worth the penance.He felt a quiver in his heart that he took for sympathy. “There, Brenna darling. Have you gone and fallen in love on me?”She jerked, whirled, gaped at him. He was watching her with such—such bloody affection, such patience and sympathy. She could have beaten him black and blue. Instead, she just shoved clear of him and snatched up her toolbox. “Shawn Gallagher, you are truly a great idiot of a man.”With her nose in the air and her tools clanking, she stalked out.He only shook his head, then went back to his cleaning up. With that little quiver around his heart again, he wondered who it was that O’Toole had set her sights on.Whoever, Shawn thought, slamming a cupboard door just a little too forcefully, the man had better be worthy of her.”