17 Chapter 17

Even working in separate rooms, Bond was all too aware of O’Shea’s presence, and his mind wandered to imagining what he looked like naked and what sexual tricks he might have up his sleeve. His body immediately began to crave sex.

What am I doing to myself? He pulled his thoughts to the task at hand—setting plates and napkins out for them.

Rory took a break from the work as they sat to eat the sandwiches. After the first bite, he said, “These are great. Wouldn’t have thought of the dill bread.”

Bond could see he’d made a mistake in having them sit in the small breakfast nook. The table was too small and the man opposite too close for comfort. Their feet even touched, and he couldn’t move away. Avoiding those blazing emerald eyes, he asked, “Where in Ireland were you born?”

O’Shea explained he’d been born in the Midwest.

“You’re not Irish, then.”