As such, Anne would need to be briefed on what the current intelligence was on their end, and Murphy hoped that Anne had received a similar briefing from Mary, along with permission to share the information she’d been given. The trust would have to go both ways.

Now, if he only knew how badly he’d blundered in Galway.

He’d intended to drive west and have a rational, friendly conversation with the woman. Bring up the subject of the summit. Show her they could start communicating again. Show her…

Murphy didn’t know what he wanted to show her.

Yes, you do.

That he no longer cared for her? He wasn’t that self-delusional.

He’d always cared for Anne. But neither was he going to abandon politics and head west like a love-struck newborn. He had too many responsibilities. Further, it irked that she’d left him. It had taken him years to enjoy another lover after finally coming to the conclusion that she was not returning. Then he’d taken dozens in the hopes that she’d fly back to Dublin and bash in his head for betraying her.

Yes, he’d been an idiot. At least he was more discriminating in his affairs now.

Asking her to use her influence on a political rival had been unwise. It had taken a long time for her to trust him with the truth of her gift, and he’d swept away that trust with one reckless request.

He’d learned. He’d grown. He wasn’t the brash boy she’d fallen in love with. He’d come to believe in self-control to a fault.

Except when faced with her voice in a dark pub, hearing the haunting notes of the song she sang when she missed her mother. Then he turned into a rabidly jealous, possessive, needy—

“You’re going to break your desk if you keep your fingers dug in like that,” Brigid muttered. “Poor thing is only marble, after all.”

“Shut it, Brigid.”

“Can I assume your mate is in the building?”

“Don’t call her that. She hates it.”

Brigid was silent for a moment. “You know, I would have never put you two together. None of the women you see are anything like Anne.”

“In what way?”

“Well…” Brigid put down the file she’d been holding. “You date pretty young things—usually blond—that are in college or just graduated, which just seems like cradle robbing.”

“Says the woman married to a thousand-year-old man with a fondness for Hawaiian shirts.”

“Carwyn and I both know who the mature one is in our relationship,” Brigid said with a sniff worthy of a great-aunt. “Don’t change the subject. Your girls are bright, but not too bright. And they’re always more dazzled by you than you are by them. After a few months of diversion, they’re sent off with a kind word and an expensive piece of jewelry, and you never see them again except at cocktail parties or business meetings where everyone is very polite.”

“I suppose you’re correct.” He leaned back in his chair. “How very uninteresting.”

“Anne doesn’t wear jewelry.”

“Her skin is sensitive. Most jewelry irritates her.”

“Is it deliberate?”

“Is what deliberate?”

“Avoiding anyone who even reminds you of her.”

Murphy glared at Brigid and rocked forward in his chair. “What do you think?”

“I think—now that I’ve thought of the two of you together—that she’s exactly what you need.” Brigid smiled and it lit up the room. “And you’re exactly what she needs.”

His eyes narrowed. “What does that mean?”

“She’s—”

“Murphy?” Angie’s voice flowed from the microphone on the voice-activated phone he used.

“Yes?”

“Dr. O’Dea is here to see you.”

He took a deep breath and stood, straightening his tie. He’d been a ruffian again when he saw her. He needed to be collected. In control. Polite.

Murphy did everything to remain aloof when Anne walked into his office. But if Woolen Sweater and Leggings Anne had tempted him in the pub, Formally Dressed Anne threatened to bring him to his knees. Her suit was a plum color that made her vivid blue eyes glow. The waist nipped in, highlighting her lush curves in a way that reminded him of the formal dresses she’d once worn.

His cursed mind flashed back to the memory of Anne in a corset. More specifically, Anne coming out of a corset. The red lines pressed into her soft flesh where it had bound her body during the night. The groan of release when he unfastened her stays. He’d always sent the maid away for that. He’d release her slowly, kissing the newly revealed skin in the lamplight. Running his tongue under the buttons before the whole contraption fell to the floor.

“Patrick,” she said, her voice just breathy enough to make him hope she was as affected as him. “Thank you for welcoming me to your city.”

“Anne. Thank you again for coming.”

A flash of anger quickly extinguished. Oh, she’d been angrier than that when her sister told her, if he had to guess.

“Of course,” she said, her mouth spreading into a true smile when she saw Brigid. “Hi, Brig. You working late tonight?”

“Yeah, I—”

Murphy broke in. “As Brigid is your hostess while you’re in the city, she’ll be working fewer hours here at the office.”

Brigid raised an eyebrow. “I will?”

“Anne is here in Mary Hamilton’s stead,” Murphy said. “As such, she’s to be given the same level of security her sister would be. You’ll need to start delegating nightly activities anyway since you’ll be going with us to London. Talk to Declan about your schedule.”