Her Irish Rogue. Kate Hoffmann

did seem oceans away. And staring into Will Donovan’s beautiful eyes did have an amnesia-like effect on her. Staying in Ireland for the next month to let a love affair play out between her and Will Donovan was just not an option. Eric was her future and it was time to get down to business, time to find the Druid spring, get a bottle of water and go home.

      She opened the top drawer of the dresser and pulled out the tattered, velvet-covered journal. She still occasionally jotted down important thoughts and reminders, but whenever she felt her world shifting on its axis, she went back to the journal, to the plan she’d made for her life.

      Claire flipped through the pages. There was the list of her top ten colleges. She’d attended her number one—Northwestern—on a partial scholarship. And then there was the list of boys she’d wanted to take her to prom. Again, she’d gone with the first boy on her list, although three through six had asked her as well.

      She found the page headed My Future Husband and scanned the list. “One, he must be handsome. Two, he must have dark hair and beautiful eyes. Three, he must love Madonna.” All right, that one didn’t matter. “He must be successful. He must live in Chicago. He must love cats.” Claire continued to go through the list, recalling the moment she’d realized that Eric met all her criteria, including a fondness for Madonna. She’d even cut out a photo from a magazine and pasted it in her journal, and Eric had borne a slight resemblance to the man in the photo.

      Claire paged through the book until she found the photo. The moment she looked at it, her breath caught in her throat. There was something familiar in the eyes, something that looked remarkably like—Will Donovan.

      She quickly closed the book and put it back into its spot beneath her underwear. So maybe Will did fit a few of her criteria, but all her plans had been built around Eric. So why was she so tempted by Will?

      She’d never in her life thrown herself into a purely sexual affair, never experienced that kind of physical excitement. And though her practical side wanted to listen to all the warning bells, another part of her wanted to throw caution to the wind. And if she ever wanted to let loose, then Will Donovan was probably her best bet.

      After all, she could make every wild fantasy come true here in Ireland and then she could hop on a plane and go back to her real life, with no regrets. Perhaps she owed it to herself to explore that side of her nature, the side she kept so well-hidden. She planned to marry Eric and after the wedding, there’d be no second chances.

      A soft knock sounded on the door and Claire ran her fingers through her damp hair. “Come in,” she said, clutching her robe together over her breasts.

      The door slowly swung open and Will stood on the other side. “I’ve made some supper,” he said. “It’s down in the kitchen. I have to go out but I’ll be back later. If you’re hungry, just help yourself.”

      Claire forced a smile and tried to ignore her racing pulse. How was it possible that this man had such an effect on her? Was it the way he stared at her, always looking so deeply into her eyes that it felt as though he were undressing her soul as well as her body? Or was it the way his mouth seemed to be a heartbeat away from kissing hers? A shiver skittered down her spine and she took a step back and turned her attention to the fire. “Thanks for the fire,” she murmured. “And the offer of dinner. But I’m really not very hungry.”

      “It’s there if you want it,” he said. “I mean the food. Supper. In the kitchen.”

      “I know what you meant,” Claire said, glancing over at him.

      “I’ll just be off, then. I shouldn’t be long.”

      Claire kept her gaze fixed on the fire until she heard the door click shut, then groaned softly. Cradling her wrist, she fell backwards onto the bed, then pinched her eyes closed and tried to put every last thought of Will Donovan out of her head. She rolled off the bed and walked to the windows, which overlooked the front drive.

      Drawing back the lacy curtain, Claire watched as Will strode out to the Range Rover. Gravel sprayed from beneath the tires as he sped away. Whatever the errand, he was obviously in a hurry.

      Claire spent the next half hour wandering around her room and trying to convince herself that she hadn’t made a mistake in coming to Ireland. Though it had taken a major portion of her savings just to buy the plane ticket on such short notice, at the time the expense had seemed well worth it. But the more she thought about the Druid spring and the silly legend behind it, the more she began to feel like a fool.