passed by a line of drivers holding cards with names on them and she searched for hers. When she didn’t find it, Nan walked outside into the late-morning sun.
A row of cabs waited at the curb but there were no other cars or drivers with signs for arriving passengers. Nan cursed softly. What was she supposed to do now? Renting a car was ridiculously expensive and well outside her budget. She’d already paid to use the car provided with the guesthouse.
Though the drive to Ballykirk might be a wonderful adventure, Nan wasn’t sure she could steer and read a map at the same time while driving on the wrong side of the road. There was adventure and then there was adventure. She dragged her luggage over to the first cab in line and leaned into the passenger side window. “How much to go to Ballykirk?”
The driver regarded her with a scowl. “It’s a two-hour round trip. About a hundred and forty kilometers. That would be two-hundred thirty euros.”
“I only have American dollars,” she said. “I haven’t converted my money yet.”
“Oh, I don’t take dollars,” he said. “Don’t really know the conversion rates. You could convert your money inside, but those money changers are all a pack of thieves.”
Nan sighed. “How about a credit card?”
He shook his head. “That I won’t, dearie. Check one of the other lads, they might. Try the bus. Or you can hire a car.”
“All right,” she said. “Thanks.”
This wasn’t exactly the way she’d pictured the start of her vacation. She’d planned so carefully, right down to the last dollar and the last minute. Not only had her plane been late taking off from Chicago, but she’d also nearly missed her connection in New York. Then they’d had to wait three hours until a storm system passed before leaving New York. The meals on the transatlantic flight were barely edible and she’d been stuck beside a crying child for the entire trip to Shannon. And now she was hungry and had a headache that made any more stress difficult. She had Riley Quinn’s phone number. She’d call and find out where he was. But first she’d have to get some change for the pay phone.
“Money first,” she murmured to herself.
“Do you have a light?”
Nan turned to find a man standing behind her, an unlit cigarette between his lips. Her breath caught and she stepped back, her gaze fixed on his handsome face. This was exactly how she’d imagined Irish men … except for the cigarette, of course. He had shaggy dark hair and chiseled features and eyes that were so blue they were almost gray. The shadow of a week-old beard darkened his features, making him look a bit dangerous. “What?” she croaked.
“A light?” he repeated.
Faded jeans hugged his long legs, and a T-shirt and a leather jacket hid wide shoulders. Dangerous, she thought to herself. And wild. And slightly disreputable. Not the kind of man she was usually attracted to. So why had her breath suddenly left her body? “No,” she murmured. “I—I don’t smoke.”
He groaned, shaking his head. “Oh, you’re one of those.”
“Those?”
He shook his head. “Americans. Now you’re going to tell me all about the health hazards and how secondhand smoke affects everyone and how—”
“No!” she interrupted, insulted by his assumption. This always happened to her. People assumed that as a librarian, she was fussy and prudish and hyperorganized. But this man didn’t know she was a librarian and still he was judging her.
She was on vacation. No one knew her here. She could be whoever and whatever she wanted and she didn’t want to be that person who shushed students at the library and told them they couldn’t have sex in the stacks. She wanted to be worldly and adventurous and maybe even a bit alluring. “I just don’t carry matches because I don’t smoke. And I rarely have need to start a campfire or … light some dynamite. And if you want to kill yourself, I’m not going to stand in your way.”
He stared at her for a long moment, an odd look on his face, her attempt at humor falling flat. Then he chuckled. “Sorry. I’m a little touchy. I gave up the cigs a year ago but when I find myself getting irritated or tired, I go back to old habits.” He broke the cigarette in half and tossed it to the curb.
“Isn’t that littering?” she asked.
“I prefer to call it minding my health.”
She stepped off the curb to pick up the discarded cigarette. But an instant later, he grabbed her arm and yanked her out of the way of a fast-approaching taxi. The taxi tires screeched and she screamed, slamming hard into his chest as she stumbled.
He held tight, pulling her away from the traffic, his body warm and hard with muscle. She drew a deep breath and the scent of his cologne teased at her nose. Though he was a complete stranger, she felt safe in his arms. In truth, she felt more than safe. She felt alive, every nerve in her body tingling with excitement.
“Careful now,” he said, his voice soft, his concerned gaze scanning her face. “I can’t be saving your life all the time. And it wouldn’t do to get yourself killed your first day in Ireland.”
Nan’s heart fluttered. They were close enough to kiss. She could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek. His gaze shifted and suddenly, she felt as if he could read her thoughts. Embarrassed, Nan pulled out of his embrace, straightening her jacket and trying to remain calm.
Though there’d been men in her life, she’d never felt such an immediate and intense reaction to any of them. But then, most of the men she dated didn’t look like this one—drop-dead gorgeous. “Thank you,” she said, forcing a smile.
“’Twas nothing any other Irishman wouldn’t do for a beautiful lady,” he teased, his brogue more exaggerated.
Nan glanced nervously down the line of cabs. Had he just called her beautiful? She’d always prided herself in an absolute objective assessment of her strengths and weaknesses, and beautiful was not a term she usually applied to her appearance. He was beautiful. She was ordinary.
“Are you looking to hire a cab?” he asked.
“Do you have a cab?” Maybe now that they’d struck up a conversation of sorts, he’d agree to take her to Ballykirk. “Is that taxi yours?” she said, pointing to a cab idling at the curb.
“No. The bloke who drives it just went inside to use the loo. I’m watching it for him, in exchange for that cig you made me toss.” He paused. “Are you looking for a ride?”
Nan nodded. “Someone was supposed to meet me here, but I think he may have left. My plane was late.”
“Husband?”
“No,” Nan said.
“Fiancé?”
“No!”
“Boyfriend, then.”
“No, just a ride.”
“Well, then, my day has just taken a turn for the better. I’d be happy to give you a ride. I was supposed to pick up some old lady and drive
