Intractable Souls : Book 1 of the Bound for Ireland Series

by Tricia Daniels

  The sound of a slamming truck door frightens the tiny bird into flight. Frowning, Olivia looks over at the offending vehicle that interrupted what had been, up to then, a peaceful afternoon. In less than an instant, a flurry of activity takes place in the garden outside her window. The sound of buzzing lawnmowers and humming leaf blowers wielded by a well-tanned grounds maintenance crew offers her a completely different sort of distraction. Enjoying the new view, Olivia finds herself lost in a sea of rippling washboard abs.

  Her eyes are drawn to a stunningly handsome blonde who yanks his shirt over his head as he makes his way over to trim the shaggy boxwood shrub outside her office window. Olivia can’t take her eyes off him as perspiration starts to glisten on his skin. Snipping at the unruly branches, he shapes it into a well-manicured square and then steps back to admire his work.

  Olivia’s eyes wander, admiring his broad shoulders and magnificent chest. Thankful for tinted windows, she lets her eyes trail shamelessly down to the well-toned six-pack abs and survey the way that his shorts hang loosely at his hips.

  Moving to work on the next garden down, he leaves Olivia with a much appreciated view of his backside. She bites at her lip, lost in admiration. Whew! She fans herself with the purple file folder from her desk. It’s getting very hot in this office.

  A voice at the door startles her. “Keep staring out the window and you’ll have nothing to do this afternoon.” Rachel jokes from the office doorway. Olivia smiles, trying to hide her embarrassment.

  “What are you up to?” Rachel asks suspiciously, narrowing her eyes.

  “Nothing, I was just reviewing the ‘Johnson’ proposal.” She shows her the purple folder that’s in her hand, snickering at the irony and praying that she’ll let it go.

  “Yeah, right.” She’s already on her way behind the desk. The crew has made its way further down the building and Olivia hopes they are out of sight by now. No such luck. Leaning forward against the window, Rachel strains her neck to see exactly what Olivia had been enjoying. She smirks. “Yes, I can see that you were ‘reviewing’ something.”

  Olivia blushes. ”What do you want?”

  Rachel continues teasing her. “The one on the left? Unless you’ve already called dibs.”

  “Rachel! Stop it!” Olivia scolds.

  “Honestly, Olivia? When are you going to stop punishing yourself and get back out there and find yourself a man?”

  “I’ve answered that question many times. Never!” The tone of her voice warns Rachel from continuing on this topic.

  “Okay… I get it… but seriously, every woman has needs. Maybe you should be more open minded to a friend with benefits…” She pauses dramatically and nods towards the window. “Or two!”

  Olivia starts to protest and looks up to meet her friend’s incredulous stare. With her eyebrows raised Rachel gestures towards the blonde wandering back to the truck. “Really? You’re actually going to try and deny that you were looking at that and wondering what he would be like between your legs?”

  Her face turns red as she watches him throw a grass trimmer into the back of the truck and then lift himself to sit on the open tailgate. Reaching for a bottle of water, he empties half of it into his mouth and then dumps the rest onto the top of his head. Her face turns red as she watches him shake the excess water out of his hair, while the rest trickles down his chest.

  “I hate you.” She jokes.

  Rachel laughs. “Girlfriend, we need to get you back into the world of the living.”

  Olivia shakes her head in frustration and changes the subject. “Ok…seriously, back to work. What did you want?”

  Rachel rolls her eyes at her friend’s refusal to finish the discussion. “I need a favor. I need you to go to Scott’s soccer game tonight to cheer him on and then drive him home.”

  “Where are you going to be?” Olivia asks curiously. “It’s not like you to miss your husband’s games.”

  “I have a very early meeting out of town tomorrow and an opportunity has presented itself to leave tonight and stay at a lovely little hotel for a couple of days.” She continues to plead her case in the absence of Olivia’s immediate acceptance. “A lovely little hotel with a SPA and a Masseuse… compliments of the company!” Rachel blinks her eyes rapidly and smiles.

  “OK, fine!” Olivia finally agrees, spurring Rachel into a celebration dance that looks a lot like something you’d see in a Charlie Brown cartoon. Glancing back out the window she watches as the sexy blonde pulls his shirt back on over his rippling muscles. A mischievous smile, one that would make the Cheshire cat proud, spreads across her face. “Is there anything else you’d like me to take care of while you’re out of town?”

  Rachel gasps! “Olivia James! You had better keep your horny hands off my man!” Her nostrils flare and her eyes narrow as she folds her arms in front of her and shifts her weight to one hip.

  Olivia laughs. “Disgusting much? For heaven’s sakes, Rach. Scott is like a brother to me.” Her words are sincere and Rachel physically relaxes, the corners of her mouth slowly curling into a smile.

  Rachel and Olivia became best friends when they met in college. It was a pleasant surprise to learn that they had both received job offers right after graduation from Dunn and McLellan, a rapidly growing IT consulting firm. Accepting the position would mean that Rachel and Scott, her fiancé at the time, would have to move to Olivia’s home town.

  Turning, Rachel starts to walk back to her own office. “We’re going to finish that other conversation eventually.” She warns, her voice trailing off. “You need a man.”

  Leaning back in her chair, she glances out the window just in time to see the truck pull out of the parking lot on its way to the next property. Her shoulders slump in disappointment.

  Before she knows it the silence is broken by the sound of office doors being locked and co-workers bidding each other a good evening. After gathering the papers on her desk and piling them neatly in the corner she starts down the hallway towards Rachel’s office. Standing at the open door Olivia can tell from the conversation that she’s on the phone trying to smooth over a situation. Rachel looks up and crosses her eyes in frustration causing Olivia to stifle a giggle. Putting her hand over the mouthpiece of the phone, she holds it a few inches away from her face. “Game starts at six. Don’t be late.” She whispers. “And wear something pretty.”

  Olivia nods and waves. “Have fun.”

  After dropping her purse just inside the door of her tiny, little townhouse she heads upstairs to the bedroom, glancing at her watch. 5:30pm. Not much time at all. Opening the closet, she stands in front of it, wondering what Rachel meant by wear something pretty? Why would she need to wear something pretty to a soccer game? Grabbing her favorite pink T-Shirt with the black trim and the low v-neck, she pulls it over her head and smoothes it over her hips, checking to make sure that her breasts are in just the right place. Tugging on her favorite black denim shorts she glances at the mirror and wonders if Rachel would approve.

  Her thick, dark, brown hair, hanging a few inches below her shoulders, is the longest she has ever let it grow and with the curse of unruly natural curls, everyday is a challenge to decide on whether she’ll curl it all into a uniform hairstyle or try to straighten it. It’s everywhere at the moment and glancing at her watch again, she realizes she has no time to fix it. Twisting it at the back of her head, she swishes it upwards. Grabbing a clip, she secures it in place on the top of her head in a rather impressive looking, messy bun. Quickly, she freshens up her lipstick and lines her hazel eyes in a thin, midnight black to match the trim of her top and then hurries down the stairs and grabs her keys. She’s cutting it kind of close.

  Arriving at the field a few minutes late she’s surprised that the game hasn’t started yet. Putting the car into park she feels a sudden sense of anxiety crawl through her and the hair on the back of her neck stands on end. Nervously she scans the parking lot for any sign of her Ex-Boyfriend, the man that put her in the hospit
al with multiple injuries almost three years ago. The police confirmed that he had left town shortly after, and to her knowledge, he has never returned, but it’s a habit she can’t seem to shake. Getting out of the car, she leans against the hood and breathes in the fresh air, letting it wash away some of the anxiety.

  Her thoughts are suddenly catapulted from her mind as a voice hollers. “Watch out!”

  She winces as a soccer ball, launched in her direction like a rocket, narrowly misses her head and bounces into the space between two cars. “It’s customary to warn someone BEFORE the ball is about to hit them.” She snarls, squinting into the sun. Who is that? She doesn’t recognize him. His brown hair hangs about an inch below his ears and is held back out of his striking meadow green eyes by a hair band. His jaw follows a hard edge right down to his perfectly rounded chin. The few days growth of facial hair is well trimmed making him look elegant yet rugged and purely male. She has the most peculiar feeling that she’s met him somewhere before. Her heart thumps inside her chest with an unexpected exuberance and she’s lost for a moment, taken off guard by its odd response to him.

  “Will ya fetch the ball for me?” A playful smile appears on his face. Something tells her that she shouldn’t trust that smile at all. Taking a moment to process the words spoken with an unmistakable Irish accent, she heads for the ball, which has landed just a few feet away. Fetch the ball? Does he think she looks like a golden retriever? Despite his stunning good looks and the rock hard muscular body that’s not very well hidden under the flimsy fabric of his uniform, she decides she’s unimpressed and tosses the ball in his direction. He catches it with ease and winks at her. “I’m sorry I’ve upset you, beautiful.” He gives her a panty melting, come-and-get-me-smile.

  Butterflies spring to life in her belly. He has her full attention now! What is it about men with accents? Something in that smile makes her breasts swell in arousal as her nipples become involuntarily hard beneath her T-shirt. His gaze slides down her neck and across her chest. A boyish smirk curling at the edges of his lips and a wicked sparkle in those green eyes are a clear indication that he has noticed her reaction to him. She stares at him for several seconds, a warm flush of pink coloring her face, before she answers him. “No worries.” What? Why did she say that?

  “Maybe you’ll let me make it up to you after I single handedly win this football game?” He grins, his confidence evident in his puffed out chest and masculine stance. Gah! All men are the same. She turns and walks away disgusted at his arrogance. “Thanks, but I don’t think so.” Oh dear God I’m still blushing! What is wrong with me today?

  Olivia stares straight ahead as she passes the gaggle of girlfriends and wives, pretending that she doesn’t know that they are whispering about her. As her sexy stranger returns to the field, she’s thankful that they turn their attention to the powerful Irish Soccer God. Mystery man has certainly developed himself quite a fan club. Warming up on the sideline, he shamelessly flirts with them all and she’s appalled at their schoolgirl reactions. He probably thinks he can say anything with that accent and it would get him laid. She thinks he’s positively obnoxious. Certainly she would never fall for his charm. Keep telling yourself that.

  Scott waves to her from the field, sprinting back and forth and stretching out his muscles. He’s tall and rugged but she often teases him about having the skinniest chicken legs she has ever seen. In fact, the last time she saw him play she commented on how it was a miracle that he managed to get through the game without one of them snapping like a dry twig.

  “Where’s Rachel?”

  Huh? “She didn’t call you?”

  Looking at her confused, he shakes his head NO.

  “She had to go out of town for a few days for a business meeting. She asked me to come to the game and take you home.”

  Scott looks annoyed. Oh dear. She hopes she hasn’t gotten her friend into trouble. She’s sure Rachel meant to call him. Unfolding her lawn chair, she plops herself down, giving herself a good view of the field. She’s actually looking forward to this now that she’s here. She’ll just ignore the whispering and occasional look of pity that glances her way.

  The whistle blows and the game begins. White and blue shirts run back and forth on the field and she’s immediately impressed with the new guy’s soccer abilities. Just like watching the leaves dancing in the breeze outside her office window, she feels mesmerized and she’s painfully aware that she can’t take her eyes off him. He’s strong yet graceful in his movements and he dominates when the ball is at his feet. Oh, how she loves a dominant man. Huh? She scowls at herself. Where did that thought come from?

  She tries hard to ignore it, but the whispering and giggling beside her catches her attention again. In an attempt to hear what they’re saying she leans as far as she can to her left, trying not to make it look too obvious that she’s eaves dropping. She can’t hear the entire conversation but she makes out the words… Irish, Single, Work and Scott.

  Suddenly her attempt at being inconspicuous is destroyed as she leans just a little too far to the side and the chair starts to tip. In slow motion, it balances on two legs for what seems like forever and then quickly topples to the side taking her with it. Helpless to stop its decent, she hits the ground hard, hearing herself grunt as she does.

  In less than a split second, a pair of strong, Irish arms help her to her feet. Pressed against 6 feet of hard, well-defined muscle, the smell of his cologne and feel of his body still seem confusingly familiar. Brushing her hands across his powerful biceps, he flexes in response to her touch. Electricity sizzles through her veins giving every nerve ending a little jolt as she looks up into his eyes. The intensity of his stare and the overwhelming feeling of being surrounded by his masculine presence makes warmth and dampness surge between her legs.

  “Are you ok?” He checks her over from head to toe. There is a moment of silence as all the women on the sideline look at her in shock.

  “Yes, I’m fine.” Who is she kidding? She’s not fine. Horrified by her body’s reaction to him, she wishes she could disappear.

  “Seems the soccer pitch is a dangerous place for you tonight.” He teases, releasing her from his grasp.

  Too embarrassed to look at him, she brushes off the dirt and grass and frowns. “Apparently.”

  “You’re bleeding.” He draws her attention to a gash on her thigh. She hadn’t noticed until he mentioned it, the only thing she had noticed was her thundering pulse every time he touched her.

  “It’s nothing. I’m fine.” Olivia doesn’t handle blood well, her own in particular. She purposely ignores it in an effort to keep from freaking out. Annoyed, that her hair is now awkwardly hanging from the back of her head, she pulls out the clip and lets the full length of the large, thick curls fall against her shoulders.

  As if they are in a slow motion movie moment, she glances up at him through alluring hazel eyes. He holds her gaze, captivated by her beauty. She’s the most stunning woman he has ever seen, and the need to have her hits him hard in the gut, like he’s just been run over by a truck. In a medieval attempt to impress her, he picks up her chair and sets it upright, dramatically wiggling it back and forth to make sure it’s sturdy and on flat ground. “Your throne is now secure, my lady.” He brushes the grass off the seat and motions for her to sit.

  Scott appears from behind them. “Olivia, are you ok?”

  Nodding at him, she wishes that anybody but her were the center of attention right now.

  “Don’t worry, Scotty. I’ve got everything under control.” Simple words, saturated in sin and sex when spoken with his thick Irish brogue, make her thighs squeeze together. Under Control. He pats Scott on the back and steers him back towards the game, turning to wink at her as they go. Witnessing the gesture, Scott glances back over his shoulder at her, looking furious for some reason. She has a strong feeling that it isn’t because Rachel has gone out of town. In fact, she’s sure that’s not the reason at all. Something else is going on.r />
  Returning to her chair, she takes a reluctant look to her left. The whispering and giggling is still apparently about her. She sighs. This is certainly not the return to the social scene she envisioned. Please let this game be over soon.

  Finally, her wish is granted by a rather loud whistle and she stands to fold up her chair. Scott makes his way across the field in a hurry, picking up his bag and as he passes Olivia, he grabs her chair and keeps moving. “Let’s go.” He ushers her quickly to the car.

  “Don’t you want to change your shoes?” He doesn’t stop. This is bizarre behavior even for Scott she thinks. “Scott? What’s the hurry?” She almost has to run to keep up with his long legs and cringes as the open cut on her thigh rubs on the edge of her jean shorts. Opening the car door, he tosses both his bag and the chair into the back seat, while Olivia digs the keys out of her pocket and gets in the driver’s side. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” She asks as she starts the car.

  “Nope! Just drive.”

  She gives him a confused look, but before she can shift into reverse there is a sudden knocking on the passenger side window. Scott closes his eyes and growls. “Why couldn’t you just drive like I asked you to?” Scott is not impressed as he rolls down his window.

  Olivia looks around Scott to see the Irishman staring in at them. His hair, lightly tousled by the evening wind and now slightly damp from perspiration, curls deliciously around his ears.

  “Scotty! I think you forgot to introduce me to your friend.” He leans down so he can see Olivia and smiles.