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By Myla Jackson
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Tired of eating sand and dodging bullets, Marine Captain Mack Magnus is ready to relax and enjoy his brother’s Dublin wedding. If that involves a few pints in a quaint Irish pub and getting laid by a pretty Irish lass, all the better.
Instead he winds up getting ordered around by the cousin of the bride. Fed up with her mouthy attitude, he kisses her to shut her up. Now he has a new mission: get into the sexy redhead’s panties.
Busy international model Deirdre Darcy knows the six-foot-four Marine’s type: hit-and-run sex and off to the next port. Fall into bed with an arrogant bastard like Mack? No thanks. When she stumbles upon a couple of Irish gypsies leaving a murder scene, she must go into hiding or become their next victim.
His protective instincts kicking into high gear, Mack whisks Deirdre away to a small town where it’s easier to keep her safe. Except there’s no escape from their growing attraction—or from the one thing neither of them thought they wanted. Love.
Warning: Battle-hardened, ready-to-cut-loose Marine teams up with a stunning Irish lass who thinks she can handle him. You’ll need the luck of the Irish to hang onto your seat for this sexy, suspenseful race across the Emerald Isle.
Lead in: Undercover at a castle Bed and Breakfast, hiding from the murderers she can identify, Deirdre is tired, dispirited and in need of a big hug from one handsome American Marine.
She stripped out of her soiled clothing, twisted the handles on the faucet and tried to get the shower to come on. No matter what she flipped, twisted or pulled, the water didn't divert to the shower head.
Faced with defeat and not wanting to take a bath in the tub, she stuck her head out the door and caught Mack with his shirt off and his jeans unbuttoned. Her mouth watered like a dog staring at slab of meat. The hard plains of his chest could have been forged in steel. The tight line of his jaw set in stone. She gulped and almost shut the door when he glanced up and caught her staring.
“I can’t—” Her voice squeaked and heat rose up her chest into her cheeks. “I can’t get the shower to come on.”
“Let me try.”
She grabbed a towel to wrap around her body before the big Yank wedged himself through the door. Barely covered, Deirdre backed as far as she could and almost tripped over the loo.
Mack entered the tight confines of the room, a smile playing at the corners of his lips.
“Seems the only space available in this room is the tub.”
The longer he fiddled with the faucet, the hotter Deirdre became until she could stand it no longer. By the time water sprayed from the shower head, she’d made up her mind.
“There you go.” He turned to leave.
Taking a deep breath, she spoke in her most sultry voice, the one she used for the perfume commercials. “Aren’t you going to join me?”
When he glanced over his shoulder at her, she dropped the towel, stepped into the shower and lifted her face to the spray, letting the water run over her eyes and down her body, praying her invitation would be accepted. To up the ante, she cupped her breasts and leaned back to let the water hit them directly. If her ploy worked, Mack’s gaze would be on them. Her nipples puckered in anticipation of Mack’s hands gliding over them, tweaking the tips and then sucking them into his mouth.
Then the sound of the door closing made her heart drop into the pit of her belly.
No… surely he hadn't…he wouldn't leave, would he? Afraid to open her eyes and discover the ugly truth, Deirdre squeezed them tighter to keep ready tears from falling. Mack hadn't taken her up on her offer. He’d left without even touching her once.
“Feckin’ Yank. He doesn’t know what he’s missing,” she said, her voice wobbling on a sob.
Copyright © 2014 Myla Jackson
All rights reserved — a Samhain Publishing, Ltd. Publication
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