Page 2 of Her Irish Boss

“Not exactly.” A ruddy color appeared on his cheeks. “I've been trying to find a way to ask Selena out. I thought, maybe, if we worked together on the Simmons’ party—”

“Have you lost your mind, boy?” Brogan crossed his arms, belatedly realizing how thick his accent had turned. He didn't know what irritated him more. The fact that Lenny was a supervisor to Selena and that was utterly irresponsible or the thought of his small, wimpy hands pawing all over her body.

“I...I...I,” he fumbled.

Brogan narrowed his eyes.

Lenny finally shrugged. “I don't know.”

Brogan leaned over, coming within an inch of Lenny's pointy nose. “You are in a supervisory position as a shift manager. You cannot date anyone in this business.Everyone, including you, signed an employment contract with our sexual harassment clausehighlighted.It is grounds for immediate dismissal. Do you understand me?”

Lenny's eyes grew round. “Yes, sir.”

The first customer opened the door. Brogan straightened and adjusted his tie, addressing the customers with as warm of a smile as he could muster. “Welcome to O'Keeley's.”

He turned and walked toward the back of the dining room. He needed a few minutes to himself to come down from the edge of anger. Lenny was young and didn't know the way the professional world worked. He would have to learn it quickly, or he'd find himself out of a job. Some things were intolerable. Especially after four sexual harassment claims that his company had to settle over the past ten years. Three were legitimate claims that he paid the damages and changed his workplace policy because of.

And the one, the most expensive one, had been a charge leveled against him.

He knew himself and his morals. Knew that he'd never, intentionally, pursue a woman inappropriately. But she'd blinded him: pretending to be interested, plotting, executing her plan perfectly, causing their restaurant to settle the claim outside court for half his salary that year. And she'd smiled as she'd walked away.

No woman was worth it. Lenny just didn't know that yet.

“Mr. O'Keeley?” Selena stopped him with a light touch of her hand before he entered his office.

He hadn't noticed her or else he could have ventured a different direction. Avoidance seemed to be his only defense.

“Can you come to look at this?”

“What is it, Selena?” He gritted his teeth against the smooth way her name rolled off his tongue. She didn't seemto notice as she led the way to the back of the restaurant. He'd almost refused to hire her because of his body's uncanny reaction each time she spoke. It'd happened since the very first interview. She'd shown up, wearing a tidy outfit with her hair falling around her shoulders.

Six months later and nothing had changed.

“I wanted your opinion.” She stopped by a table and pulled out a chair and sat down. Then stood up. Then sat down.

Brogan crossed his arms. “Getting your workout in?”

She rolled her eyes, a small dimple he'd not noticed before appeared along the corner of her mouth. He'd just gotten done lecturing Lenny about involvement with subordinates, and he seemed to see every little thing about this woman.

She rose again. “Yeah. That would be the first time in a year I've had time to work out. No. The chair feels loose.” She pointed to the seat. “Try it.”

He gripped the back of the chair and shook it. “It seems fine.” He stepped to leave. “I don't have time to play musical chairs. And neither do you.”

“And I'm not an idiot.” The heat with which she said the words to him made him pause. Her pretty eyes narrowed for a fraction of a second.

“I'm sorry,” he said, fascinated by her attempt to get herself under control. He knew the feeling. “I didn't mean it that way.”

“Then—” she pressed two fingers to his shoulder, her golden eyes locked with his, “— sit.” The sharp demand in her voice seemed to startle her. She snatched her hand away and cleared her throat. “Please.”

He sat. At that one moment, she could have told him to bark like a damn dog, and he would've. His gut twisted.Nerves. Fear. He would not lose his head over an employee again. Not when there were dozens and dozens of beautiful women in Atlanta.

Plenty of other women who weren't employees.

Plenty who wouldn't file a claim against his business. Because with all the other shit thrown at the restaurant lately, that would be the end of O'Keeley's.

The seat of the chair shifted instantly. “I can feel what you mean.” Brogan stood, glad to have something to focus on besides his off-limits employee. He flipped the chair upside-down. The chair lacked one screw, causing the entire thing to become unstable. “I'll fix it. Thank you.”

She blinked, reminding him of a surprised cat with her eye color. “Oh. You're welcome, Mr. O'Keeley.”

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