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me by your own low standards, Ms. MacCarthy. I might have fallen for your teasing over your bath product enterprise, but I’m not enough of an eejit to buy erotic literature from my local book shop.”
    She leaned forward, watching his gaze fasten on her cleavage before darting away. He really did blush beautifully, right to the tips of his ears. “In that case, online vendors are your friends.”
    Bridie shoved a book bag across the counter. “Here you go, Brian.”
    “Thanks, Bridie. Have a good day.”
    “You too. And good luck.”
    As he headed for the door, he gave Sharon a reluctant half smile. “Thanks for the eggs. They made a fine fry-up.”
    She shot him a wicked grin. “I’m delighted to have… satisfied your appetites, Garda Glenn. Enjoy the books.”
    His smile evaporated in an instant. “I’m sure I will,” he said stiffly. “A good day to you.”
    “Ah, Sharon,” Bridie said after the door had closed behind him. “You’ll never get him to ask you out if you keep tormenting him.”
    She squawked in protest. “Why would you think I’d want to go out with that eejit?”
    “The constant teasing is a dead giveaway. Have a care, will you? Brian can cope with a bit of slagging, but I think you hurt his feelings.”
    “How? I was only messing.”
    “Sometimes you take the joking too far.”
    Had she really hurt his feelings?
Damn.
She hadn’t meant to offend him. “I don’t know why you think I want Brian Glenn to ask me out. He’s not my type, and I’m certain I’m not his.”
    At least the latter part of that spiel is true.
Sharon’s chest tightened, and her determined good cheer deflated quicker than a burst balloon. She wasn’t sure why she was attracted to Brian Glenn. Perhaps it was his earnest, dependable nature—or maybe it was because he was as unlike her father as it was possible to get. “Last I heard, he was dating a policewoman from Cork City. He’d hardly choose the likes of me over someone with a sensible job.”
And, presumably, a sensible family.
    “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’ve a lot to offer. Your problem is that you sell yourself short and end up with men who don’t treat you with the respect you deserve.”
    A collage of past boyfriends danced through her mind. “Respect” wasn’t a word she’d associate with any of them. To be fair, she’d taken them as seriously as they had her—which was to say not at all.
    Giving herself a mental shake, she thrust back her shoulders and crossed her arms under her breasts. “Forget Brian Glenn. I’ll have no time for romance until I get my degree. I’ll be too busy studying to think about men.”
    “Indeed?” Bridie gave a sly smirk. “Are there no interesting fellas at university?”
    “None that interest me.”
    “What about in your lectures and seminars?”
    She shrugged. “I won’t know until I attend forensic psychology this evening. I doubt it, though. The psych guys tend to be total nerds.”
    Bridie’s shoulders were heaving.
    Sharon blinked in confusion. “What’s so funny?”
    “Never you mind,” her boss said between bouts of laughter. “I’m sure your semester will get off to a studious start.”

Chapter Four
    THE LECTURE HALL WAS HOUSED in a modern circular building with dramatic floor-to-ceiling windows and tiered rows of plastic seats, fold-up writing desks attached to their sides. On the podium, a frizzy-haired professor was battling with an army of cables, none of which appeared to fit his portable computer.
    Brian weaved his way through the rows, opting for an aisle seat in the middle of the room, neither too near the exit at the back nor too close to the stage at the front. The choice was made on autopilot—apparently, old habits were hard to break. Back when he was at secondary school, he’d always taken an aisle seat in the middle of the classroom. Sit too close to the teacher, and you were deemed a brown-noser; sit too close to the back, and you were labeled a potential