Bod looked at me and cocked his head. Lorcan chuckled.

‘It’s literally a quick visit for me to see the dress, check out the fabric and then I’m done. There’s absolutely no need for you to be there.’

‘I disagree. It’s part of the wedding prep, therefore I should be there.’

‘It’s bad luck for the best man to see the wedding dress before the actual day and I know you wouldn’t want to be responsible for risking any more of that for Patrick and Peyton, especially considering the setback they already had.’ I fixed on my most understanding expression as I tilted my head back to meet his eyes.

He took a step closer, transferring the dog from my arms to his, our hands and arms brushing as he did. His voice was low when he spoke.

‘Even I know that it’s the groom who’s not supposed to see the dress, not the best man. Besides,’ he added, the voice still low and melodious and dangerously intimate in the soft glow of the small table lamp, ‘you know if you don’t tell me, I’ll just ring the designer and meet you there.’ His voice was close to my ear now and I could feel warm breath tickling it. I turned my head, ostensibly to tell him firmly that his assistance was not needed once and for all. But as I did so I found myself perilously close to his lips, and staring directly into the deep pools of blue that could transform from calm sea to thunderous sky in seconds, and for that split second my mind emptied of everything but the thought of how it would feel to have those lips on mine, on me, on my—

‘I have to be at the studio at six!’ I blurted in an octave higher than usual, stepping back as I did so and tripping over a heavy doorstop in the shape of a hippo. Lorcan’s free arm reached out and steadied me, his brows drawing together.

‘Everything OK?’

‘Yes.’

He paused a beat or two, watching me. ‘Message me where to pick you up from once you’ve checked your schedule. See you Wednesday.’

I gave him a tight smile as he began to head down the path.

‘Thanks for looking after Bod today,’ he said, turning back. ‘I appreciate it.’

‘That really was my pleasure,’ I replied, this time with a genuine smile.

He gave a short nod. ‘And if you ever figure out a way to think about it separate from work, I hope you find you enjoyed Ireland.’

I gave him an exasperated shake of my head and squelched the rebellious smile that was trying to curl my lips.

‘Don’t think I don’t see that smile, either.’

Honest to God, how did he do it? It was practically dark. I swear he had Leprechaun blood flowing in his veins.