“I’ll set them straight. Ronan. Make sure none of them try to swoop in by me while I’m laying down the law.”

He chuckled and nodded while I turned and approached the gaggle of girls. I realized the error of my ways when their eyes lit up at the sight of me. Thanks to my highly documented party years, I was more well known than Will, and these girls obviously recognized me. Not that they saw anything of the real me. If they actually saw the real me, the shine would’ve left their eyes in a heartbeat, because the real me looked more like Walter Matthau from Grumpy Old Men than Zach Efron from whatever sappy movie he’d starred in lately.

“Bryan Leech!” one of them squealed, and I winced. Only dolphins should be allowed to achieve such a pitch.

“Dance with me?” another of them asked excitedly.

“No, he should dance with me,” said another.

“Bryan, do you like my skirt? It’s not too short, is it?”

“You signed a ball for me after Ireland played the All Blacks a few years ago, do you remember?”

I held up a hand, feeling a headache coming on, then dealt each of them a firm, fatherly glower.

“Firstly, leave William alone. He’s not interested. Secondly, no, I won’t dance with any of you. Don’t be bloody ridiculous. I’m fairly certain I’m old enough to be your father.” I pointed to one of the girls who couldn’t have been older than sixteen. “Thirdly, that’s not a skirt, it’s a belt. And fourthly, most of my twenties are a blackout, so no, I don’t remember every kid I’ve met.”

One of them glared at me. Another’s mouth fell open in shock. And the third, well, the third one looked like she was about to cry. Jesus Christ, this was why I needed to heed the advice doled out in my AA meetings and avoid females altogether. Sure, I’d probably been a little heavy-handed, but where the hell were these girls’ parents?

Without another word, I turned and strode away, found the bar, and asked for an orange juice. Lifting the glass to my mouth, I scanned the room, recognizing all the usual suspects and trying to shake the residual guilt over my harshness.

But then, boom. I locked eyes with the redhead and a force or a weight drove the air from my lungs. This time she was facing me.

I inhaled a greedy breath, my chest inexplicably hot, and reined in even greedier impulses.

Fuck.

She was beautiful. Wide blue eyes, a rosebud mouth, long lashes, and flawless skin. She wore an understated green dress that exposed her shoulders and hugged her tits, which looked to me like the perfect handful.

I wanted her.

I had no business wanting her.

No, strike that, I wouldn’t allow myself to want her.

I’d already killed five house plants, and in accordance with my AA sessions I had to ensure at least one survived for six months before I even considered starting a relationship. Therefore, I definitely shouldn’t have been looking at those baby blues and getting ideas. But I was. I was getting so many ideas. Doggy-style, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, sixty-nine, the squat, the spider.

Okay, so the spider’s when you . . .

Wait a second. Why on earth was she looking at me like that for?

Gorgeous Red’s eyes were wide, frightened almost. In fact, she looked like she’d just seen a ghost. Abruptly, she turned and disappeared into the crowd. I slammed my glass down on the bar and, moving on instinct, went after her.

It took me a while, just long enough to start questioning what the hell I was thinking—because I wasn’t thinking—but I eventually found her chatting with a group in the far end of the nightclub. As soon as she spotted me, she bolted again.

What the hell?

She wound her way through people, slipping down a corridor that led to the bathrooms. I’d been in this club more times than I could count during my twenties, so I knew the layout. The corridors on either side of the bar met in the middle, so I hustled my way to the next one, my strides fast and purposeful. I smiled when I met her head-on and she stopped in her tracks, clearly startled. Her hand went to her chest in fright.

I closed the rest of the distance between us, leaving only about three feet of space. My eyes wandered, tracing her exquisite neck before meeting her eyes.

“Hello,” I said.

What’s the plan, Bryan?

I grinned, mostly at my lunacy, because I had no plan. This was crazy. I wasn’t allowed to have plans. There could be no plan, not now, not yet, not until my AA sponsor and I agreed I was ready for plans.

Sexy plans.

Her mouth opened, then shut, then opened again. She seemed lost for words. If I hadn’t been interested before, her reaction made me maddeningly curious. Was she a star-struck fan, or had she read about my past and thought I was a down-and-out scumbag, someone to avoid at all costs? I had to admit, the possibility of the latter irked me, because I wasn’t that bloke anymore.

“H-hi,” she replied finally, then moved to walk by me. I sidestepped into her path, bringing us closer. A waft of her perfume hit my nose, and I picked up the subtle hint of watermelon.

She straightened, steel forming in her gaze as she leveled me with a hard stare. “Would you mind letting me pass?”

“Why’d you run?”

Her eyelids fluttered, like I made her nervous. “I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.” I took advantage of our closeness to study her face, my attention snagging on her lips. “Tell me why.”

“Honestly, sir, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”