Page 5 of Illicit Temptation

CHAPTER TWO

Shea

The Las Vegas dry heat hits my skin the moment I step out of the Millennium Plaza. I catch my breath, my lungs adjusting from the icy chill in the hotel and ease away from Trace. He’s so smoldering I might catch fire just looking at him.

“You can go, if you want.” I soak up one more eyeful of a man I don’t dare touch.

“And defy my best friend? Not likely.” He folds his arms, his full height making me dizzy.

I step ahead of him. “What brings you all the way from Waterford?”

“I work in Dublin.” Trace keeps in step with me. “My parents travel to the States so often they have a ton of miles and points. They gave me the flight for my birthday.”

“Happy birthday,” I say, punching his wide bicep. “Are you one, are you two...”

He grips my fingers. “It was last month, and if you’re going to punch me thirty times, I might get turned on.”

Feeling my hand in his this time, something shifts inside me from a blast of sudden attraction I don’t know what to do with. I loosen the grip and he lets go, still watching me.

“Can’t do that, you’re on duty now.” I wink and change the subject. “What do you do in Dublin?”

“I work for a private security firm. I guard a cabinet minister, but I’m here on holiday, and hoping to get into a wee bit of trouble.” He shoves those big hands—etched with tattoos and fingers adorned with rings—into his pockets.

“Define trouble?” I play along, just to see what happens.

“Oh, princess. We can get into all kinds of trouble.” Trace chuckles ruefully, his lips curling into a sinful smile.

“Tempting.” I hold my growling stomach and make a beeline for a street vendor selling hot, salty pretzels. “One please.”

Trace hands over a twenty before I even scoop out my wallet.

“What’s tempting? Me or the pretzel?”

The vendor hands me a warm pretzel in wax paper.

“Both.” I breathe in more of his spicy scent then bite into the pretzel to give my mouth something to do.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, lass.” He watches my lips.

It’s hard to believe that skinny kid I used to know in Ireland is now the towering, breathtaking beast before me. Back then, my grandparents ran a cattle and sheep-shearing farm in Waterford. As my punishment for getting caught with pot, my parents thought it was a good idea for me to work on their farm for a summer. Trace, cute even back then, climbed the fence every day to hang around the sheep. And me. He called me his girlfriend from America all summer.

At twelve, he was annoying as a mosquito, and all the bug spray in the world wouldn’t keep him away from me.

I can only imagine the kind of ladies’ man he is now at thirty. His growth spurt from a gangly kid with crooked teeth to six-five is a transformation I missed. Someone paid for braces. The man is fucking stunning.

“You still trying to make me your girlfriend?” I flirt, picking at the pretzel.

“You remembered that I had a massive crush on you that summer?” He steers me toward a less congested part of the sidewalk.

“Yep, but it was hard to believe, I was gross with zits.”

“Didn’t notice any zits. But I never forgot this long, lush dark hair, your sparkling green eyes, and a dusting of brown-sugar freckles.” His fingers brush my cheeks. “You can try to cover them up with makeup, but I still see them.” When I raise my hands to shield my nose, he stops me. “Don’t. Don’t hide from me.”

The ground becomes unsteady under my feet as I gaze up at him. I’m lost in this guy’s whiskey amber gaze and this... This flirting is pulling me under. What the heck is happening? Have I been so neglected by Archer that a little male attention has my heart pounding?

“But you were twelve.” I offer him a bite of the pretzel.

He lowers his mouth and tears a piece off with his perfect teeth. “That was the year I discovered masturbation.”

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