Page 4 of Taming Irish

The man is grinning at me, a deep dimple in one cheek as he dangles two mini Jameson bottles in front of me. “Thought ye could use astiffshot. Ye seem a littletense.”

Every word he says is drawn out, full of secret meaning and promise, and damn if my body doesn’t respond to the invitation I see in hiseyes.

“I’m fine,” I say, making the mistake of looking out the small window across the aisle just as a flash of lightning brightens the dark, graysky.

I. Hate.Flying.

The way this year is going, it would be just my luck if the damn planecrashed.

I grip the armrests, knuckles whitening when the plane rattlesagain.

“It’s just a bit of turbulence,” he says, still grinning at me while opening one of the mini bottles and downing it in oneswallow.

“Don’t you have a seat of your own?” I glare at him, doing my best to hide the way my body heats up as his gaze focuses on my mouth, unable to stop my tongue from darting out, licking the exact spot his gazelingers.

A grin tugs at his lips as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking. “I like the company here better. And I bet I can help take yer mind off whatever’s botheringye.”

“Nothing is bothering me, except uninvited seatguests.”

He laughs, deep and throaty, not wavered by my rudeness. If anything, it only makes him seem more determined to act out whatever game he’s playing. And I’m smart enough to know hisendgame.

“But ye invited me, love,” he says, flashing a grin that should be illegal, then whispering so that only I can hear. “Ye may not have said the words, but I saw the invitation in those pretty browneyes.”

“Cocky much?” I grunt and roll my eyes, despite the butterflies that take off in mystomach.

He shrugs. “It’s part of mycharm.”

“Debatable.”

He lets out another deep laugh. “I’m Shane.” He stretches a large hand out to me and holds it there until I’m forced to takeit.

Once again, I’m blasted by a dozen volts of electricity as our skin connects. I pull backquickly.

“Makena,” I mumble, hating the way he makes me feel, and yet enjoying it more than I want toadmit.

“Makena.” He says my name slowly, rolling it over on his tongue, the sound smooth and raspy at the same time, like the way he’d say it if he were buried between mythighs.

But it also reminds me how dangerous this man really is. Because the last thing I need is another complication in mylife.

One ex-husband, a pile of debt, and a million shattered dreams are enough to make anyone swear off men. Especially men like the one sitting next to me. I wouldn’t doubt if he hasHeartbreakeretched in ink across hischest.

Unfortunately, my gaze drifts down to the tight pecs that are stretched against his t-shirt, causing me to swallowhard.

“There’s that look,” he growls out, low enough for only me tohear.

I glance away quickly, grunting as I pull out a magazine from the slot in front of me and start flipping through the pages, hoping he’ll get the hint to moveon.

Hedoesn’t.

“Is this yer first time to Ireland?” As best he can, he stretches his long legs out in front of him, and when he does, one calf rests againstmine.

“Yes,” I mutter, not looking up from my magazine, wanting to pull away but unable to. Like our damn skin is magnetized. I hate the way my walls are crumbling, the way my shoulders feel lighter than they did before he sat down. There’s something about him that relaxesme.

Five minutes ago, he was flirting with one of the stewardesses,I remind myself. But God, it’s been a long time since a man has paid any attention tome.

In a town the size of Port Clover, where half the men are related to me and the other half are married, there aren’t a lot of options. Not that I’ve been looking. One heartbreak is enough. I just wish my body was as on board with the whole celibate thing as mybrain.

Shane is looking at me with one brow raised as if expecting ananswer.

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