The Gallaghers of Ardmore Trilogy

having, needed—and needing, feared losing.
    Until Brenna.
    He’d always had her as well, and needed her without realizing how deep that need was rooted. And now knowing, he feared losing her, and what he’d just discovered.
    Thoughtfully, he opened the little box he’d put on the piano. Inside he’d placed the pearl he’d been given at Maude’s grave. He understood now what Carrick wanted him to do with it. But he was far from ready to offer that pearl, and himself, to Brenna.
    Whatever others had planned for him, he would move in his own time, and in his own way. He’d promised Brenna friendship. He wouldn’t go back on his word, but he was beginning to understand just what keeping it would cost him if he couldn’t win the whole of her heart.
    The woman who’d come to his bed that morning wasn’t looking for romance and the promise of a future. She was looking only at the moment and the pleasures it could bring.
    He hadn’t been so different himself, at other times, with other women. It didn’t sit comfortably to be the one pining. Since comfort was important to him, he didn’t intend to pine for long.
    It was just a matter of figuring which steps to take, in what order and in which direction. And as it was Brenna, he knew that he would get to his objective faster, and smoother, if he found a way to make her believe it was all her idea in the first place.
    So . . . he ran his hands lightly over the keys. He just had to work it out so that he was in the position of being courted by Brenna O’Toole.
    He was amused enough by the notion that his fingers began to move faster, to make the tune livelier. Even as he stopped to scribble down the notes, words began to jump into his head.
    Come back ’round so you can catch me. I’ll give you a dance as long as you please. But circle back soon, my red-haired lovely, for it’s only you I’m wanting to tease. Now kiss me quick and say that you’ll love me from now till ever birds sing in the trees. I’m waiting right here so you can convince me the time’s come to get down on my knees.
    It made him see the humor of it all, and smoothed out the knot of tension from the back of his neck. After all, how could anyone who knew the pair of them not see the absurdity of it?
    She the planner, he the dreamer. Why, they rammed up against each other’s basic personalities at least as often as they meshed. Well, what did the heart know about the logic of things? And, he was wise enough to know that if he’d fallen for someone more like himself, they’d while their lives away without getting the first thing accomplished.
    And though he couldn’t think of a man like Brenna, he imagined if she’d come across one, the two of them would hammer each other’s brains out within a week.
    So, in the big scheme of things, by falling in love with her, and arranging for her to decide they should make what was between them a permanent thing, he was only saving her from a brief, and certainly violent, life.
    Though he thought it might be best all ’round if he kept that opinion strictly to himself.
    Satisfied, he closed the pearl back in its box, left his music scattered about, and went off to start his day of work.
    • • •
    He baked apple tarts with Brenna’s appetite in mind. If he was going to approach the business from a kind of role-reversal angle, baking one of her favorite weaknesses seemed rather canny.
    He toyed with the idea of trying to talk himself out of being in love with her, as he imagined people did when the fit wasn’t as comfortable as they might prefer. He even imagined he could do a fair job of it, starting with listing all the reasons why it wasn’t a wise idea. The head of that would be the simple fact that he hadn’t planned on falling in love, not seriously, for years yet.
    And when he imagined the woman on the receiving end, it was always a soft, feminine, gentle-natured sort. A comfortable woman, he thought as he trimmed his pastry. There was nothing comfortable about the O’Toole, for all she was a blessing in bed. After all, much as it appealed, a man couldn’t spend his life in bed with a hot-blooded, naked woman.
    Which made him think about the morning, and the way she’d ridden him to a blind, sweaty finish before his brain had even waked up. Which made him a great deal less comfortable altogether. So, being Shawn, he put that thought away. For the time being.
    It hadn’t been the sex he’d fallen in love with. That had simply