Bran set a bottle of Prime’s best wine on Wes and Kaylee’s kitchen counter, the high volume of his brothers’ voices vibrating in the air.

Wes glanced up and walked over. He slapped Bran on the back. “Glad you could make it. Kaylee is excited to show off the new furniture. Good thing she decorated and not me.”

“That’s for damn sure.”

Wes sent him a look of mock hurt. “I have taste. I picked Kaylee. She makes my world attractive.”

“Truer words were never said. She got you out of that one-room hovel.”

“Which you now live in.”

Bran grinned. “If it ain’t broke…” He looked around the room. Kaylee and Wes had been in the new house for nearly a year, but they’d only recently finished furnishing the place.

It was strange to consider how much had changed in only a few years. Not long ago, all of Bran’s brothers were single. Now, Wes and Adam had married, and Levi was working his way toward matrimonial bliss with Emily. Out of the five of them, only Bran and Hunt held down the fort in the singles’ department. And that made sense.

Bran couldn’t imagine Hunt settling down; he loved women too much. Attach that guy to just one? No way. Not to mention that Hunt picked the wrong woman every damn time. In that sense, Bran and Hunt were equally cursed.

If Bran allowed his instincts to control his actions, he’d very likely be in the same situation as Hunt—pollinating the town one beautiful woman at a time. Bran had taken measures to change his habits. He had rules. Though, admittedly, he’d ignored some of those rules since Ireland entered the picture.

So he wanted to take her on a date. And see her naked. Was that so wrong?

Bran got laid occasionally… Very occasionally. When it was safe to do so and no strings were attached, no emotion involved. But ever since Ireland entered his life, he’d felt more like a caged animal, starved for her attention. The intensity of his emotions sent up red flags, but he couldn’t help asking her out.

He would keep things casual. Respectful and casual. And hopefully, if he was lucky, naked.

Ireland naked…

Bran slammed his eyes shut and let out a slow breath, flames rolling from his chest to his groin.

He had to stop thinking about Ireland without her clothes on. It wasn’t helping him remain rational. Took the blood straight from his brain and sent it south, where no proper decision-making took place.

Had he actually convinced himself he could keep things casual? God help him if he was wrong. He had enough disasters to deal with, let alone adding a romantic one to the list.

A high-pitched squeal came from the direction of Wes and Kaylee’s living room.

Bran looked past his brothers crowding the kitchen, and caught sight of Hunt. Who’d already grabbed the attention of the only single female in the room.

Bran walked over and stared down at his younger brother, lying on the ground with their baby niece on top of him. “You still got it. She’s drooling all over you.”

Hunt gave Harlow a goofy grin and raised her above his head, airplane style. “Can I help it if females adore me?”

The baby giggled, and a drizzle of drool dropped onto Hunt’s T-shirt.

“Quit hogging her,” Bran said. “I haven’t seen Harlow in a week. Wes has been too busy with the golf course to swing her by the restaurant. Hand her over already.”

Hunt shot him an aggrieved look and climbed to his feet, baby in one arm. “Only for a minute. I just got her, and I haven’t had my fill.”

Bran tucked Harlow in his arm and tugged down her lavender dress over her round tummy to her leggings. He made razzing noises on the back of her plump hand.

Full baby chuckles erupted from her drooling mouth.

Wes said Harlow was teething, and that was the reason for the excessive spittle, but what did Bran know? He wiped her mouth with the back of his clean button-down sleeve and kissed the top of her head.

Harlow was the first baby his brothers had been around, and they spoiled the hell out of her. She was also the first female Cade in two generations. Bran’s own generation resulted in five consecutive males. Thus, Harlow was showered with attention and had the full force of five overly protective adult males at her beck and call.

Kaylee was constantly after them about spoiling Harlow. Not that it made a lick of difference. It wasn’t within the Cade bloodline to allow a female to cry.

Their baby niece was going to give them hell once she came of age. There’d be fights. There’d be bloodshed. Any men who came within a few feet of Harlow would have 5 six-foot-plus men (and all their friends) breaking limbs if they dared hurt her. Though, admittedly, his niece seemed to have inherited the Cade temper. So maybe they wouldn’t have to worry so much after all. The girl had a pair of lungs, and she knew how to use them.

Bran sank to the floor and built towers with building blocks, which Harlow knocked over with her chubby baby-Godzilla arms. She rocked back and forth on her tiny bottom for him to do it again. Which, of course, he did.

That wasn’t spoiling her. That was helping build arm strength. Even Wes would agree it was good training for Harlow’s future golf career.

Bran lifted the baby and kissed her soft cheek while she made da da da noises, kicking her pudgy little legs and bouncing in his arms. Maybe they’d allow her to date when she turned thirty. If the guy was respectful and treated her like a queen.

Hunt stood by impatiently and rolled his eyes at Bran. Then his gaze shifted toward the front door as though he heard something above Harlow’s squeals, and a wide, predatory grin crossed his face. “Well, look what we have here. Was wondering if she’d show. This one’s elusive. I like that.”

Bran followed Hunt’s gaze, and his heart missed a beat. Ireland stood with Cali and Jaeg as Wes ushered them inside.

“Ireland’s off-limits,” Bran said, flinching at his curt, automatic response.

Hunt eyeballed him. “Since when?”

No way Bran would lay claim to Ireland. He wanted her, but he’d promised himself it would be casual. That didn’t mean Bran would allow his hound dog of a brother to go after her. “Ireland is Cali’s cousin. Cali will clip off your balls if you hurt her.”

Hunt covered his groin. “First off, never speak of such things. It makes me queasy. Second, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m a lover of women; they don’t leave my bed unhappy.”

“But do you commit?”

Hunt shot him a comical glare. “Hell no.” Hunt’s gaze raked Ireland. “But Ireland is really—”

“Off-limits.”

Hunt frowned. “If I didn’t know you were celibate, I’d say you wanted her.”

Bran shifted the baby to his other arm, and she grabbed on to his shirt with tiny pincer fingers that were strong as hell for something so small. “Just being practical. I’m assuming you’ll want a Harlow of your own one day. You’ll need a pair if you want to accomplish it.”

Hunt cringed. “Stop talking about my balls as though they’re going somewhere.” He glanced in the direction of the front door and grinned. “Don’t worry about Ireland. I know what I’m doing.”

He started toward the door, and Bran swung his arm out, slamming into Hunt’s chest. “I’m dead serious.”

Hunt’s eyes narrowed, and he jerked his chin up. “That’s what I thought. Next time you want to claim a woman, just say so.” He walked off before Bran could argue.

Didn’t matter. Who cared if his brother thought Bran was interested in Ireland? He was, to a degree. That didn’t mean it was serious.

Hiking the baby higher, Bran walked toward the kitchen to greet the newcomers. And Ireland. To be polite.

Ireland was a buttoned-up professional when she came into Prime as a consultant, but the few times Bran had seen her outside of work, she wore clothes that hugged her insane figure. Tonight was one of those nights, and the visual had Bran’s heart tripping over itself. She was miles of natural curves with a gorgeous face, and it killed him.

Ireland was probably the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Of course he wanted to get close to her. No reason for Hunt to get huffy. Bran’s attraction to Ireland was natural. He was simply trying to figure out how to get close without complications.

At one time, when he’d first met Ireland, the curvy bombshell look had put him off. It still did—when it came to other women. But he didn’t see Ireland that way anymore. She was more than a beautiful face.

God knew what kind of damage would happen if Bran fully gave in to his attraction to Ireland. But give in a little? How much could that hurt?

Bran played it cool. He approached the new arrivals and shook Jaeg’s hand. He greeted Cali next, then turned to Ireland. “Good to see you.”

Cool. Calm. That was what he was. When the last time he’d been with Ireland, his tongue had been down her throat, and her hands were tearing at the fly of his jeans.

Bran swallowed, attempted to block out the image or risk embarrassing himself.

And then the baby grabbed Bran’s nose, tiny fingers all up in his business, reminding him where he was and introducing him back to the land of humility.

Ireland laughed. “She leads you around by the nose, does she?”

So much for cool. Bran grabbed the small fingers holding on to his nose and kissed the top of Harlow’s dimpled hand. “Meet Harlow, my niece. She knows how to get my attention.”

“I like her tactics. Subtle. I’ll have to try it sometime.” The humorous spark in Ireland’s eyes remained.

“You lead me around in other ways.”

She lifted her eyebrow.

Okay, so he was flirting. The harm? A little flirting never hurt anyone. It was the “more” that had nearly killed him last night. That was the first time he’d nearly forgotten protection since high school.

Ireland cleared her throat. “About last night—it was…unexpected. Don’t feel you need to follow through. We don’t have to-to, uh, continue that.”

Adam reached over and stole Harlow, and Bran frowned. Damn his brothers. He turned back to Ireland. “You mean our date? Plans are already in place. Unless you’re having second thoughts?”

She shook her head. “No.” A soft smile settled on her full lips. Lips he’d drowned in…

Bran rubbed his thumb over his chin, holding back the urge to reach out and continue the kissing frenzy they’d started less than twenty-four hours ago. “What do you think about dinner? Not in a restaurant. Someplace else. Being in the restaurant business typically has me not wanting to hang out in one after work.”

She cocked her head slightly. “What did you have in mind?”

“A surprise.”

“Incoming.” Adam thrust Harlow back into Bran’s arms and rushed away.

Bran scrambled to control the wiggle worm. “What the…?” He cast a look in Adam’s direction, just as Wes laughed from across the room and held up a diaper bag. Bran stared down at the baby. “Son of a…gun.”

Wes made his way over. “Looks like Adam made a quick hand-off.” He shoved the diaper bag at Bran.

Bran tried to hand it back. “You’re the father. This is your job.”

Wes held up his hands. “Can’t. Got burgers to burn on the barbecue. Besides, I change diapers all day long. This is good practice for you.” Wes walked away, chuckling.

Bran looked nervously at Ireland. “You ever done this before?”

“She’s your niece—haven’t you?”

“No.”

Ireland covered her mouth, hiding a smile. “This should be interesting.”

Dammit.