Page 72 of Tempting Irish

I pull her back down, shifting so that her head is resting on my chest. A surge of protectiveness crashes overme.

“Promise me you won’t tell the others any of this.” Anxiety strains hervoice.

“Ye didn’t do anything wrong.” I kiss her forehead and pull her closer, swallowing past emotions that are lodged in mythroat.

Those same emotions coil and spiral in my chest. Anger towards the man who hurt her. Affection for the woman lying in my arms. And something more. Truth is, I’ve been feeling it since the moment I’d first seenher.

More than just lust. More than just wanting to protect her because she’s the kid who used to follow me around with big, doe-like eyes, looking at me like I hung the fuckingstars.

I know what it is, the emotion beating inside me like a manic drummer. But hell, if I want to put a name onit.

I love my family. My friends. They’ve been my life for as long as I can remember. But this.Bree. It’s something else entirely. Something I never thought I’d feel, or even have the ability toexperience.

I’ve been so guarded. The walls of my own heart fortified to anyone but my closecircle.

One kiss, and it all came crashingdown.

Like a tornado, she’d blown into my life and managed to turn my perfectly ordered world upsidedown.

Lying here, I know that even if I want to, I can’t go back to the way I was.Cold. Distant. Numb. Bree makes feel. I knew bringing her here would mean more than it should. I just didn’t know how muchmore.

The thought of her leaving, of never seeing her again, is rejected by every damn cell in my body. And the need to protect her trumps every otheremotion.

When I hear her soft, even breaths, letting me know she’s finally asleep, I crawl out of bed, and grab my cellphone, scrubbing my hand over my face as I walk to thekitchen.

“Jesus, Gallagher, do you know what time it is?” Kevin Stone, Wild Irish’s manager, grumbles on the otherend.

“I need ye to look into something forme.”

I hear the shuffling of sheets, and a woman’s voice in the background, before he answers. “What?”

“I’m going to give ye a name, and I want ye to see what ye can find.Everything. Dig as deep as ye can. Whatever the media can find out, I want to knowfirst.”

“Who isit?”

I rub the back of my neck, hoping I’m doing the right thing. “BeatriceWalsh.”

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