Page 74 of Her Irish Boss

“I'm not sure I like your description of me,” Brogan said. “I have a personality.”

Yes. He did have a great personality. But getting him naked and coercing it out of him was out of the question. The longer he stared at her, the more she realized his thoughts had headed in the exact same direction.

“Can I come by later?” he asked.

“Please, do.” And she left, without giving in and dragging him to his glorious king-sized bed.

“Where's our famous chef?”Selena snapped out the question as she walked into Brogan's office. “I have a food blogger here to interview him now. Two more a little later.”

She'd worn a suit.

A nice, tidy suit with closed-toe high heels.

“You look very nice,” he said. That stopped her.

She smoothed a hand down her skirt. “It's Katie's.”

“You don't own a suit?” The question popped out before he realized it'd been a mistake. Her pleased expression closed off.

“No. I don't.”

“I didn't mean it as anything more than a simple question.”

Her shoulders relaxed—a little. “I know. I'm just peeved at your brother. Any idea when the famous O'Keeley will make an entrance?”

“He'll be here. He just got in this morning from Ireland.”

“Can you call him and find out when? I'd like to let the blogger know.” She tapped her foot. Her eyes narrowed. “Why are you smiling?”

“Because you're such a fierce little thing and for once your annoyance isn't aimed my direction.”

“Oh. Just wait. I'm sure you'll get the next round. Stop grinning like that.”

He waved her forward. “Then come here and let me apologize for my brother's tardiness.”

Surprise popped into her expression. He had to get past his issues. He'd taken what she'd said to heart the night before. Not everything was his responsibility. It still felt that way. Logically, he knew otherwise.

She scooted around his desk to stand in front of him.

He kissed her, refusing to give in to the urge to unwrap her, layer by layer, out of the suit. Her hips bumped against his desk. If he took another step, he'd set her on top, step between her legs, and then, help him, he’d use that one condom he’d finally shoved in his wallet.

He unbuttoned the top button of her dress shirt. And then a second one.

“Someone’s feeling frisky this morning,” she mumbled before grazing her teeth along his earlobe.

Cats were frisky. Brogan needed his hands on Selena. His Selena.

The second, third, and fourth button unfastened.

“Ms. Chapman?”

Selena broke the kiss at the sound of her name called from the dining room. Heavy footsteps headed the direction of the office.

“Shit!” She looked around, her hands gripping her shirt together.

“Down,” he murmured.

She complied before shooting him a murderous look.

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