Intractable Souls : Book 1 of the Bound for Ireland Series (3 page)

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.

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.

“No, actually. I didn’t forget. I wasn’t
going to introduce you to my friend.” Scott is serious and Olivia
is dumbfounded by his behavior.

“Well that’s a shame. I think you should.”
He’s not one to give up easily especially where a beautiful woman
is involved.

“Why?” Scott is flippant now.

“Well… because I think she’s lovely.” He
reaches in the window and extends his hand to her. “Ethan
O’Connell.” He offers. “Football player extraordinaire and rescuer
of pretty girls.” Scott’s jaw clenches in anger as Ethan leans
across him through the window.

Still unimpressed by his arrogance she takes
his hand and gives it a shake, pulling away quickly in an attempt
to ignore the feelings that ripple through her when he touches her
skin. “Olivia James… pretty girl who can look after herself.”

Scott gives her a sideways glance and
smirks. He’s pleased at her rebuttal, despite the unspoken words
that seem to pass between them.

“All right then.” He smiles capturing her
attention with his eyes. In the fading sunlight they are the color
of jade with vivid yellow highlights that trail off into thin
jagged lines like lightening, warning her that there is something
dangerous there. “Make that, rescuer of pretty girls, fallen victim
to vicious, unprovoked chair attacks.”

Does he really think that every girl will
fall for his cheesy flirting just because he has an Irish accent?
She’s just about to put him in his place when a car pulls up behind
them and honks the horn. The bleach blonde with fake boobs behind
the wheel yells out. “Ethan! Let’s go!”

He turns and acknowledges her. “All right,
I’m coming.”

He looks back in through the window. “Will I
see you at the bar, Olivia James?”

She looks at Scott who shakes his head NO.
“Sorry, Mr. O’Connell. I’m afraid you won’t.” She answers
politely.

“Well then another time soon, I hope.”

Scott starts to roll up the window while
Ethan is still talking.

“Seriously, Scott?” She scolds.

Ethan jumps into the car behind them and
they disappear. Backing out and heading towards the road, the
silence between them is driving her crazy and she can’t take the
suspense any longer. “So are you going to tell me what that was all
about?”

“Nope.” Scott stares out the window avoiding
eye contact with her.

“Did I do something wrong?” She hopes he
gives her something to explain his behavior.

“Nope.”

This isn’t going so well. Let’s change
direction. “So… how do you know Ethan?”

Scott finally looks at her, his jaw
clenched. “Olivia, let it go please.”

Oh, that struck a nerve. “Let what go? I’m
just curious. What’s wrong with you anyways?”

Scott’s expression is dark and his tone
serious. “Forget about him, Olivia. He’s trouble.”

Having learned how to avoid conflict as a
necessary survival skill, Olivia says nothing the rest of the way,
until she pulls into Scott’s driveway and puts the car in park. “Do
you want me to come in and make you some dinner?”

“No thanks, I ate before the game.” Swinging
open the door, he gets out of the car and grabs his stuff from the
back seat.

“Oh, ok.” She frowns, wondering what it is
about Ethan that has upset him. He’s obviously not going to tell
her and she’s sure not going to push him for information when he’s
in this mood.

Scott waits for her to back out of the
driveway and waves to her from the porch steps. He feels guilty
about his behavior since Olivia didn’t seem to like Ethan anyways,
but he doesn’t want to take any chances. Once she’s out of sight,
he slams the door closed behind him and digs his cell phone out of
his soccer bag. Looking briefly at the number of missed calls he
dials his wife’s number.

“Hello!” She answers cheerfully. “Do you
miss me?” Sitting at the desk in her hotel room she runs her
hairbrush through her recently coiffed hair. Admiring the new
strawberry blonde color in the mirror, she thinks it suits her pale
complexion and dark blue eyes perfectly.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you were going
out of town?” He makes no effort to hide how annoyed he is with
her.