ON NEW YEAR’S EVE at the Preston house, Will strummed his guitar dispiritedly out on the porch after just finishing a fast-moving set of Irish tunes he’d played for the assortment of guests.

The party resembled what people called ceilidh in his country—a gathering of friends and neighbors where music reigned, where everyone danced and brought food, where friendship and community was celebrated.

He’d never felt lonelier in his life.

Not that Jordan would fit in, he told himself. Oh, she cared enough about the Prestons that she’d pretend she was enjoying herself, but this was not her type of gathering. Most likely she was in some hot, crowded, smoky club right now, gyrating that beautiful body with one nameless man or another, teasing them, letting them put their hands on her, draw her close when they hadn’t the first notion of how to care for her—

He gripped the neck of his guitar, seized by an unbearable urge to smash it on the porch rail.

“Will?” A sweet voice from behind him. Marly.

He exhaled. Eased his grip.

Jordan had said they were too different. Thought that she could simply walk away, that she could discard his love like it was nothing.

Then be damned to you, Jordan Parrish.

A small hand touched his shoulder, and he whirled on her.

Marly took a step back, and he was instantly ashamed. “I’m sorry.” He set down his guitar and held up his hands. “I truly am—I don’t—” Never in his life had he felt so out of control. So damned much pain.

Her eyes were soft and sympathetic as she approached him. “Are you all right? I saw you out here and you looked so…” She paused. “Is it Jordan?”

He looked away, unable to stem a bitter laugh. “’Tis my own fault.”

“Why?”

“I—There’s no point.”

“Will…”

He steeled himself against her pity. “It isn’t as though she didn’t warn me, the blasted fool woman.” His mouth twisted. “Though it’s me who’s the real fool.”

“Are you?”

He glanced back in surprise.

“She’s scared, Will, that’s all.”

“I know that, but—” Again he shook his head. “She’s also right. We’re nothing alike. She would hate my life.”

“Does she have to live it?”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Does it have to be your way or hers?”

Will stared at Marly. “The life she’s living isn’t good for her.”

Marly’s head tilted. “So Jordan’s the one who has to change?”

He looked at Jordan’s friend, but he was really seeing Jordan herself, remembering how she’d focused so hard on turning the newel post. How proud she’d been. “She would be happier.”

But would she really? he asked himself for the first time. He thought about how little he’d questioned her about her work, how he didn’t really know what she liked about her career or even how she’d come to choose it.

And being with me would diminish you? he’d asked, so certain that couldn’t be the case, that he was offering her something far better.

He considered his conversation with his da on Christmas. Son, only make certain that you respect the differences between you. Our way does not have to be yours.

Hadn’t he said that very thing to his family again and again? I can’t come back, Mum. I have a different life now.

Yet he’d recreated most of his past life here on foreign shores, and he’d expected Jordan to fit into it. He’d told her he didn’t expect her to be a Marly, but he’d never considered accepting her lifestyle for himself.

“She likes some of it,” he defended himself. But how much of it would truly suit her? Was it only a changed Jordan he wanted? His own image of who she should be?

“What time is it?” he asked Marly.

“Just after ten-thirty.”

Thirty minutes to get to her place. Less than an hour after that it would be midnight, and she could be in any number of clubs. Austin was a big town with endless venues for entertainment.

He wanted to be with her when the year turned. Needed to start the new year fresh, to tell her he’d been wrong, to see if there was a second chance for them.

Before it was too late.

Before her midnight kiss was with someone else, someone wrong for her.

And you’ve been so right for her, my lad?

He would be. Of that he’d make certain.

But where would he find her? How could he locate her in time?

“I have to go.” He was desperate to find her before midnight. “Do you know her favorite clubs?” Shame on him that he didn’t.

All he’d done was ask her to give up her life.

Marly gave him two names. “They’re both close to her place. I’ll ask Fee and our kids. Someone may know others. But check your cell, since the noise will be deafening down there.”

He raced for the door, then abruptly stopped. Turned and kissed Marly’s cheek. “Thank you. Wish me luck.”

“I do.”

“I’ll likely need it.”

She smiled. “That you will.”

He smiled back. “Whatever it takes, she’s worth it.”

THE MUSIC WAS HOT AND LOUD, just the way Jordan liked it. The driving beat of the drums vibrated through her body, the wailing guitar notes sizzled up her spine. All around her, people were having a great time, anticipation high as the midnight hour approached.

A new year. Ergo, a new beginning.

Why did everyone always believe that?

Most people kept going in their same old tracks, year after year. Their lives were no different on January first than they’d been at the end of December. So what made them hope? Simple delusion?

Your brain, Jordan darlin’, is your worst enemy. Love isn’t reasonable or logical.

Jordan halted in place, buffeted around by bodies on all sides.

Just answer me one question first. How does he make you feel? Fiona had asked.

Her so-called dance partner, a man she’d never seen before a few minutes ago, reached out to pull her close.

Jordan recoiled. When his grip tightened on her waist, she turned and used her elbow to get free.

“Hey! What the hell did you do that for?”

She could barely hear him and knew she couldn’t make clear what she didn’t know. All she was sure of was that she wanted out of here. Now. She turned to leave.

“Hey, wait!” he yelled behind her, but Jordan pushed her way through the crowd, her agitation increasing with every step. Clawing her way out, she felt as if she couldn’t breathe.

Finally, she made it to the edge, gasping for air, her heart pounding wildly.

A lanky, pony-tailed biker appeared before her, eyes bleary. “Whassa matter, babe? Your date play rough? You can come with me.”

She evaded his grasp. And tried to tamp down the thought that not long ago, she might have gone with him.

She had to get outside. Desperately. She couldn’t think, could barely breathe, she needed—

Jordan suddenly stopped, her mind catching up with the frenetic whirl she’d been in since Christmas.

Will. She needed Will.

Outside the building, she leaned against the wall for a second, stunned. She could have been with Will tonight, but she’d closed the door on him at Christmas.

Because he’d said he loved her.

Because he wanted her to say goodbye to a life of easy conquests and meaningless encounters.

Because he’d asked her to belong to him.

But how could she be sure she could make him happy? Sure, she could try to change. And she would, for Will. But she was thirty-six years old, and people her age didn’t change, not really. There was a purity in his heart that she’d tarnish if she ever got too close. She’d accepted it long ago—born to be bad.

So why didn’t she go back to that club and dance the night away?

Because, she realized, she’d be less alone all by herself.

How she wished Will was with her right now—she’d love to just hear his voice. She’d let him sweet-talk her with that damned silver tongue of his. If anyone she knew had kissed the Blarney Stone, it had to be Will Masterson.

He might be at Marly’s. She could try to call, but first she’d have to get where she could hear. Sixth Street was mayhem this close to midnight.

Her place was nearby. Jordan began running, darting through the crowd, skirting the drunks, avoiding the hands poised to grab.

Everyone wanted their midnight kiss. In years past, she’d shared many of them.

Every one meaningless.

Will, she thought. I want Will. If only she hadn’t been so blasted stubborn. No, she wasn’t right for him, maybe. And she didn’t know how to believe in love.

But oh, how he made her want to.

How does he make you feel?

Amazing, she thought. Special. Like he can’t see anything else when he’s with me.

I love you, Jordan.

Oh, God. What had she done?

“Hey, baby—” Someone reached for her.

Jordan shoved him away, kept moving.

An ugly name followed her, but she didn’t care.

Jordan sniffled, then realized her face was wet with tears. Damn him, damn him, damn him. What a way to start the new year, acting like some lovesick calf over a man who was her polar opposite, who didn’t even care enough to come after her.

She smacked headlong into someone. “Sorry—”

Hands grabbed her. She shoved back.

“Jordan, darlin, it’s me.”

Her head shot up. “Will? What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you.” But this was not the jovial Will she knew who stood in front of her now.

“Really? Why?”

He only stared at her for a long moment, then drew her off to the side. He said something but she couldn’t hear him.

“What?”

He glanced up impatiently, searching the crowded street. One big hand locked around her wrist, he towed her along carefully until they reached the side street.

Halfway down the block, she dug in her heels. “Stop. What’s wrong with you?”

He turned on her, his eyes anything but the cocky, cheerful ones she was used to.

“I should have listened to you.”

“To me?” She went very still as the meaning of his expression sank in. Here it comes. He doesn’t love me. I’ve finally realized I love him just as he’s accepted what I’ve been telling him about how wrong we are for each other. Panic skittered up her spine. “Will…”

“What do you like best about your work?”

“What?” She stared at him in confusion.

“Tell me why you became a lawyer.”

“Why?”

“I don’t really know you.”

Irritation stirred, and it felt much better than fear. “That never bothered you before.” She poked him in the chest with one finger. “I’ve said that again and again, haven’t I? But you keep telling me you understand me better than I do myself.” She stuck out her chin, waited for him to argue like always.

When he didn’t, that worried her like nothing else. Her heart plummeted. “I don’t want you to know all about me.” She stared at her feet. “You won’t want me then.” And she wouldn’t be able to bear it. She turned blindly to flee from the pain crowding her chest.

He grabbed her before she could escape. “What is it you want, Jordan? Answer me that.”

She didn’t know this Will. He looked so weary, so serious. She longed to stroke his face, to run her fingers through his hair. To turn him back into the arrogant, cheery giant.

To cuddle against him.

She shivered at his distant manner. “What I want doesn’t matter. You know I can’t be your Marly and—”

“I never asked you to.”

She plunged ahead without listening. “—I would if I could, but— What did you just say?”

“I don’t need you to be a Marly.”

“But…” She frowned. “You’re meant for someone exactly like that, someone who can do all those things like cook and garden and—” She burst into tears. “I’m not that kind of person. Damn you, I wasn’t supposed to fall in love. I don’t know how to be any good at it.” She swiped at her runny nose. “This is all your fault,” she blubbered.

Will reached in his pocket and brought out a handkerchief, wiping tenderly at her tears, then handing it to her so she could blow her nose. “What is?” he asked cautiously.

“That nothing fits anymore. That my loft is too noisy, that I don’t want to dance with strangers, that—” She broke off at the sound of the crowd behind them chanting.

“Ten…nine…”

“Oh, no!” she wailed.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” He moved closer.

“We— I— It’s too soon!”

“For what?”

“I really, really wanted to kiss you at midnight, but now everything’s a mess. And you—you want to talk about things,” she spat.

She thought she saw his lips curve a little but still he didn’t speak.

“Eight…seven…”

Desperation took over. “You know what? I don’t care. I am all wrong for you and you’re not my type, but—but—too bad. I love you, Will Masterson. Deal with it!”

He only stared at her, and dread ran roughshod over her fear.

“Six…five…”

“Okay, okay!” She threw up her hands. “I—I like the battle of wits with the opposing counsel. And I—I became a lawyer because, because…well, I really don’t know why. I was just good at dissecting an argument. Not that you can tell that at the moment,” she muttered. Then she glared at him. “Now would you please just kiss me?”