So, in the big scheme of things, by falling in love with her, and arranging for her to decide they should make what was between them a permanent thing, he was only saving her from a brief, and certainly violent, life.

Though he thought it might be best all ’round if he kept that opinion strictly to himself.

Satisfied, he closed the pearl back in its box, left his music scattered about, and went off to start his day of work.

• • •

He baked apple tarts with Brenna’s appetite in mind. If he was going to approach the business from a kind of role-reversal angle, baking one of her favorite weaknesses seemed rather canny.

He toyed with the idea of trying to talk himself out of being in love with her, as he imagined people did when the fit wasn’t as comfortable as they might prefer. He even imagined he could do a fair job of it, starting with listing all the reasons why it wasn’t a wise idea. The head of that would be the simple fact that he hadn’t planned on falling in love, not seriously, for years yet.

And when he imagined the woman on the receiving end, it was always a soft, feminine, gentle-natured sort. A comfortable woman, he thought as he trimmed his pastry. There was nothing comfortable about the O’Toole, for all she was a blessing in bed. After all, much as it appealed, a man couldn’t spend his life in bed with a hot-blooded, naked woman.

Which made him think about the morning, and the way she’d ridden him to a blind, sweaty finish before his brain had even waked up. Which made him a great deal less comfortable altogether. So, being Shawn, he put that thought away. For the time being.

It hadn’t been the sex he’d fallen in love with. That had simply been the key that opened him up so he’d see what had been waiting inside him for her. She’d never be an easy woman. God knew she’d poke and she’d prod at him until he was ready to throttle her. She would pick fights and would always find the way to put his own temper on the boil.

But Jesus, she could make him laugh. And she knew half of what was in his mind before he’d gotten the words out. There was treasure in that. She knew his every flaw, and didn’t hold any of them against him overmuch.

She didn’t think much of his music, and that stung more than a little. But he chose to think it just a lack of understanding. Just as he had no interest or knowledge of what mysteries were under the bonnet of his car.

Whatever the weight of the scale, for or against, didn’t matter. His heart was already hers. All he had to do was make her realize she wanted to keep it.

He fancied up the pastries, adding bits of dough in little designs, the way he’d seen in a picture somewhere. After brushing the lot of them with egg wash, he popped them into the oven.