Bran spent the evening working on paperwork and trying not to think about Ireland across the room. After a couple of hours, James collected his things and walked over.

“You make any progress?” Bran asked.

James shot a look in Ireland’s direction. “This won’t do. That woman is…intolerable.”

Bran pushed his paperwork to the side. He crossed his arms, forcing the heat that filled his chest and flooded his biceps to calm the hell down. Before he did something like squeeze the life out of James. “And why is that?”

“She’s screwing with my code. Pull her off the project or I will.”

Bran cocked his head to the side. “Is that a threat? Because I seem to recall that you work for me. And none of my employees threaten me or the people I hire.”

James glanced at Bran’s folded arms, and his throat bobbed. “I simply meant to say she’s making the problem worse.”

Bran tapped his finger on his biceps. He didn’t trust James as far as he could throw him, but he maintained a neutral expression. “You think so?”

James’s mouth parted as though he’d expected a different response. “I know so.”

“I’ll take your opinion into consideration. But just so we’re clear, you’ll continue to work with Ireland.”

“But—”

“Her résumé impressed your boss. Before you condemn her, you might consider seeing what she can do.”

James looked away. “That’s the problem,” he muttered.

A conciliatory smile spread across James’s face. “I’ll be back in the morning”—he glanced at Ireland—“to fix things.”

Bran watched him walk out. He highly doubted it would be James who solved the problem. If Bran were a betting man, he’d guess James was the problem.

Bran checked the time. Almost eleven. He glanced in Ireland’s direction. Her hair had been pulled up into a bun, the red, wavy locks falling around her smooth neck and across her forehead. She was staring at the computer, typing faster than seemed humanly possible.

He closed his eyes and took a strained breath. The combination of pretty, smart, and nerdy was apparently a potent combination for him, and it was really pissing him off.

He would put in another hour of paperwork. Then he’d insist Ireland head home. Bran still had work to do, but Ireland had a full-time job awaiting her in the morning. He wouldn’t take advantage by draining her while she was doing him and his brothers a favor. Besides, being alone with her late at night was slowly killing him.

The Tech Banquet code was driving Ireland nuts. There were columns that took up hundreds of unnecessary pages. She could have written the same program, with all the bells and whistles, in half the space. Most of her effort tonight had been spent trying to figure out what the extra code was meant to do. Aside from being inefficient, which was just annoying.

Before James had left, she’d attempted to bring up the inefficiency. And he’d berated her.

“I’m beginning to question your qualifications,” he’d said. “Anyone with half a brain would understand the reason for the processes I put in place.” And then he tried to distract her with something else in the program.

Oh, hell no.

Ireland needed more self-confidence when it came to her relationships with men, but not with her programming skills.

She was so over working with assholes like James. Thank God Club Tahoe was a temporary gig. Working with the Tech Banquet employee was giving her flashbacks to her old job. Not to mention, being around Bran was just awkward.

Every time she looked at Bran, her mind went straight to him kissing her. She was more than a little flustered where he was concerned, and trying to keep things professional.

In the end, Ireland cleaned up the code without completely rewriting it, and hoped the changes would fix the glitches. But she wasn’t even close to finished when she realized the time. If she were lucky, she’d be able to get in a few hours of sleep.

“You still here?”

Ireland’s heart thumped heavily at the sound of Bran’s voice. She looked up into his face, and her own grew warm.

Why did her body have to react to him? She wasn’t interested in him after the way he’d treated her on the boat. Couldn’t her brain and body work in unison for once? “I’m wrapping up right now.”

He tucked a large hand in the front pocket of his jeans, looking as fresh as if he’d just woken. Meanwhile, she’d bet anything that her hair was a rat’s nest and dark circles marred her eyes. “How did things go?” he asked. “You solve the problem?”

Ireland glanced at the computer screen, giving herself a moment to respond. She hated prickly situations, and this was a prickly situation. Something Ireland often found herself in, given her line of work and the colleagues she was often pitted against.

“It’s hard to say.” She backed up her work and closed things down for the night. “James wrote the program, and I’m honestly not sure why he hasn’t been able to resolve the problem.”

“You and me both.”

“He’s…” Ireland hesitated. In her last position, she’d been scorned for voicing criticism of male coworkers’ job performance.

“He’s what?” Bran asked.

She never could skirt around issues and smooth ruffled feathers. So she didn’t try now. “There’s unnecessary code in the program.” And, she suspected, a hell of a lot more going on. Until she figured out exactly what, she didn’t want to throw accusations.

Bran nodded. “Do you think that’s causing the problem?”

“Possibly. I’m cleaning it up now.”

“Rewrite it if you have to. Just get the thing running again.”

Ireland blinked. “You want me to rewrite the program?”

Bran shrugged. “Are you capable of it?”

“Oh, I’m capable. It would take some time… It’s just, well, James might not like that.”

After James had left, she’d tightened the code here and there, but she hadn’t gone so far as to rewrite entire sections. That would be time-consuming, and it might not make Tech Banquet happy. Even she wasn’t so bold as to rewrite proprietary work.

“I don’t give a crap what James thinks. I bought an expensive ordering system that doesn’t work. You’ve been hired to fix it with Tech Banquet’s approval. Do whatever you need to do.” He rubbed his jaw. “Maybe save the original, though. And don’t make the problem worse,” he said sharply. She chose to ignore his tone.

Ireland pressed her fingers to her forehead and closed her eyes. “Have you any idea how much rewriting James’s code would cross the line of programmer etiquette?”

“I don’t care about hurting James’s feelings. You don’t work for him; you work for me.”

She looked up, and her eyes narrowed. “Why does you pointing that out make me edgy?”

Bran scratched the back of his neck. “I’m sorry…about the boat incident.”

Shit, he was actually bringing it up? “You mean the kiss?”

“I meant the hands. The kiss had been coming.” The corner of his mouth quirked.

He was flirting with her? The ass.

“I liked the hands,” she said, her blood molten with annoyance. “It was the words out of your mouth I could have done without.”

“Good to know. Next time, less talking and more touching.”

Ireland’s jaw dropped. “Who says there will be a next time?”

“You didn’t say there wouldn’t.”

Ireland tugged her workbag over her shoulder. God, he was infuriating. But for some reason, she couldn’t put him straight into the ugly-guy dungeon the way she had James.

Though reasonably handsome, James was unattractive after the way he’d spoken to her and undermined her intelligence. Bran, on the other hand, was a conundrum.

On the booze cruise, Bran suggested she’d come on to him. Then he’d said he didn’t care about her. And then he’d done the epitome of assholian moves and pointed out her stutter—a stutter she only got when she was nervous. She’d written him off as a lost cause and dove into the water. But the stupid man had followed her.

To make sure she was okay.

And to kiss her. Hotly.

With hands roaming, heating parts. Delicate female parts that had never been heated to such an extent.

Ireland had been ready to lock the key on the dungeon, but Bran had flipped the script on her with that kiss and sealed her confusion after he’d told her she looked pretty in her glasses—the ones she’d thrown on to make a fast getaway.

No one had ever told her she was pretty when she wore her glasses. If anything, she’d had a boyfriend or two insist she wear contacts when they hung out.

It might be safer to put Bran in the ugly-guy dungeon and lock away the key, but she wasn’t quite ready. And now he was flirting with her.

It wasn’t helping.

“I better go.” Ireland glanced nervously at the laptop sitting out. “You’ll lock up?”

“I’ll take care of it. Come on”—he stepped back and gave her room to pass—“I’ll walk you to the entrance.”

Ireland shook her head. “That’s okay. I can make it on my own.”

“It’s late and dark outside. I’m not letting you walk along the path by yourself.”

Prime was located at the back of the resort and down a meandering path of upscale stores. Nothing was open at this hour, and it was dark. More importantly, Bran was in stubborn male mode. Ireland had brothers who entered the mode more often than she wished; she was familiar with how utterly impossible it was to snap the male species out of it.

She was tired, and her brain was still running over the code that made no sense. Instead of arguing with Bran, she followed him out, and he locked the door behind them.

“Are you done for the night too?” she asked.

“I’ve got a couple more hours to put in.”

A couple more hours meant he’d be there until two in the morning. “When do you sleep?”

He looked at her with a smirk. “Worried about my sleeping habits?”

Ireland frowned. “Forget I asked. I forgot who I was talking to.”

A look of hurt crossed his face, and then he said, “I run the restaurants. I don’t arrive as early as my brothers, but I stay late.”

Not that she had any reason to be worried about his health, but his answer stupidly relieved her.

Why should she care whether or not Bran Cade got enough sleep? She blamed it on code brain.

Which reminded her… “Not to give you more work, but do you think you can pull together the orders that went awry after the new software was installed?”

They entered the lobby, and Bran touched the small of her back, escorting her around a couple heading in the direction of the resort’s casino. Ireland’s flesh warmed beneath the light pressure.

Damn Bran and his hands.

He was being a gentleman, but there would be no hands from here on out, no matter what he’d said earlier. She still had him shoved halfway in that dungeon. The bad half of his body—the part that contained his mouth.

“Sure,” he said. “I’ve already been looking through them. Why do you need it?”

She had her suspicions about those orders and the software—and James. But she wouldn’t bring anything up until she was certain. “Just being thorough.”

A doorman opened the door, and Ireland stepped outside the entrance. “See you tomorrow?”

Bran nodded, and she made her way to her car, but sensed his gaze on her. The parking lot was well lit, and there were people coming and going. She wasn’t in a darkened alley, yet she’d swear he was being protective again.

She glanced back, and sure enough, Bran was watching, waiting until she got into her car.

Ireland sighed. She had him halfway in the ugly-guy dungeon and she wasn’t ready to let him out, not even with his sudden protective streak. She didn’t trust that mouth of his.

From what she’d heard from Cali, Bran wasn’t the boyfriend type. Ireland would be crazy to give in to her attraction to Bran the way she had on the booze cruise. He would hurt her. Just like her past boyfriends. Just like the men she used to work for.