Intractable Souls : Book 1 of the Bound for Ireland Series Read Online Free

thankful that they turn their attention
to the powerful Irish Soccer God. Mystery man has certainly
developed himself quite a fan club. Warming up on the sideline, he
shamelessly flirts with them all and she’s appalled at their
schoolgirl reactions. He probably thinks he can say anything with
that accent and it would get him laid. She thinks he’s positively
obnoxious. Certainly she would never fall for his charm. Keep
telling yourself that.
    Scott waves to her from the field, sprinting
back and forth and stretching out his muscles. He’s tall and rugged
but she often teases him about having the skinniest chicken legs
she has ever seen. In fact, the last time she saw him play she
commented on how it was a miracle that he managed to get through
the game without one of them snapping like a dry twig.
    “Where’s Rachel?”
    Huh? “She didn’t call you?”
    Looking at her confused, he shakes his head
NO.
    “She had to go out of town for a few days
for a business meeting. She asked me to come to the game and take
you home.”
    Scott looks annoyed. Oh dear. She hopes she
hasn’t gotten her friend into trouble. She’s sure Rachel meant to
call him. Unfolding her lawn chair, she plops herself down, giving
herself a good view of the field. She’s actually looking forward to
this now that she’s here. She’ll just ignore the whispering and
occasional look of pity that glances her way.
    The whistle blows and the game begins. White
and blue shirts run back and forth on the field and she’s
immediately impressed with the new guy’s soccer abilities. Just
like watching the leaves dancing in the breeze outside her office
window, she feels mesmerized and she’s painfully aware that she
can’t take her eyes off him. He’s strong yet graceful in his
movements and he dominates when the ball is at his feet. Oh, how
she loves a dominant man. Huh? She scowls at herself. Where did
that thought come from?
    She tries hard to ignore it, but the
whispering and giggling beside her catches her attention again. In
an attempt to hear what they’re saying she leans as far as she can
to her left, trying not to make it look too obvious that she’s
eaves dropping. She can’t hear the entire conversation but she
makes out the words… Irish, Single, Work and Scott.
    Suddenly her attempt at being inconspicuous
is destroyed as she leans just a little too far to the side and the
chair starts to tip. In slow motion, it balances on two legs for
what seems like forever and then quickly topples to the side taking
her with it. Helpless to stop its decent, she hits the ground hard,
hearing herself grunt as she does.
    In less than a split second, a pair of
strong, Irish arms help her to her feet. Pressed against 6 feet of
hard, well-defined muscle, the smell of his cologne and feel of his
body still seem confusingly familiar. Brushing her hands across his
powerful biceps, he flexes in response to her touch. Electricity
sizzles through her veins giving every nerve ending a little jolt
as she looks up into his eyes. The intensity of his stare and the
overwhelming feeling of being surrounded by his masculine presence
makes warmth and dampness surge between her legs.
    “Are you ok?” He checks her over from head
to toe. There is a moment of silence as all the women on the
sideline look at her in shock.
    “Yes, I’m fine.” Who is she kidding? She’s
not fine. Horrified by her body’s reaction to him, she wishes she
could disappear.
    “Seems the soccer pitch is a dangerous place
for you tonight.” He teases, releasing her from his grasp.
    Too embarrassed to look at him, she brushes
off the dirt and grass and frowns. “Apparently.”
    “You’re bleeding.” He draws her attention to
a gash on her thigh. She hadn’t noticed until he mentioned it, the
only thing she had noticed was her thundering pulse every time he
touched her.
    “It’s nothing. I’m fine.” Olivia doesn’t
handle blood well, her own in particular. She purposely ignores