Dublin Nights Series Box Set: On the Edge & On the Line

by Brittney Sahin

  “No.” He paused and his lips gathered into a smile, his bright white teeth a flashing contrast against his tan skin and short, black hair. “No, I’m not.”

  He took another step forward, which compelled me farther back, but I shook off my fear when I realized he was crouching down. He scooped up my clothes off the shag carpet, and my cheeks flamed red hot. I snatched my plain-Jane white cotton bra and panties from him and tucked them away inside my jeans and shirt before pulling everything close in my arms, pressing the bundle to my chest. I didn’t normally wear granny panties, but I hadn’t expected to impress anyone after the long flight.

  Now, of course, I was braless in a nightshirt that went only to my mid thighs.

  “Who are you?” I clutched my clothes like a shield and swallowed again.

  “I was planning on asking you the same question.” He folded his arms and studied me, amusement flickering in the smirk of his cheek.

  The threat of danger seemed minimal, but I couldn’t let my guard down altogether. After all, there was a stranger standing before me who clearly wasn’t my roommate. Just because he had reinvented the meaning of good-looking didn’t mean he was no longer an enemy. And sometimes the best-looking men were the most dangerous.

  Was I in the wrong apartment? No. I had the code, and it had worked. This man must be a friend of Leslie’s. Or maybe the boyfriend whose smell was on the towel. She probably sent him to make sure I got in okay since she was out of town this weekend. Of course that was the case. I tried to breathe a little easier.

  “I’m Leslie’s new roommate. Are you friends with her?” I stepped out of the bathroom and around him, then quickly flipped on the hall light. I tossed my dirty clothes on the floor of my new bedroom and spun around, finding him only a few inches from me.

  The first thing I noticed was his smell. It wasn’t like anything I’d ever smelled back in Kentucky—jasmine or sage, I wasn’t sure. It was crisp, clean, and smelled expensive.

  “Aye. Leslie and I are mates. You just took me by surprise.”

  I rolled my tongue over my teeth as I tried to gain control of the weird, fluttering sensation in my chest that had begun to travel up, making my throat warm and red.

  “Did I tell Leslie the wrong date? I was sure I emailed that I was arriving today.” I shook my head.

  His hands were at his sides now, but his head was angled, the muscles in his jaw tight as his eyes dipped down to my chest. “Are you cold?” He perked a brow.

  My nipples grew painfully hard as goose bumps scattered across my skin and my cheeks flushed. “No.” I pushed my long, wet hair to my back, crossing my arms over my damp nightshirt.

  He slowly dragged his gaze to my eyes, and I couldn’t escape the hint of a smile pulling at the edges of his mouth.

  “I knew you were coming,” he said, smoothing a hand down his tanned throat. “But I didn’t know you were a woman.”

  “Why wouldn’t I be?” I looked around the living room, wanting to sit down as my chills wrapped up and around my almost naked legs. But sitting in front of a stranger seemed too casual.

  The man scratched the back of his head, and my eyes were drawn to the metal watch on his wrist.

  “Leslie’s got one hell of a sense of humor.” He walked past me and over to the fridge. As he opened the door and bent forward, my eyes found his backside, which was freaking perfection. I had never been one to do backflips over a guy’s ass, but holy mother of all things sacred!

  He turned toward me with the Guinness beers in hand and then popped the tops before returning to me. “Here.” He handed me a bottle, and I had to remove one of my arms that protected my annoyingly perky nipples.

  The sexy stranger cleared his throat and took a sip.

  Oh my God. I was ready to smack the beautiful right off his perfect face if he didn’t explain himself immediately. Still, here I was, standing in front of some guy I didn’t know, in another country, and at night—and somehow my skin wasn’t crawling with fear.

  That had to go in the books as a success for me. Right?

  “He played the old name game with you, huh?” His eyes gleamed as he brought the bottle to his lips.

  “What? Leslie’s a guy?” I shrieked, and the stranger nodded. “But we swapped messages, and she—I mean he—never mentioned . . . I thought the name Leslie was female. Back home—”

  I waved my hand in the air rather than finish the thought. It didn’t even matter what he would say. There was no way I’d live with a guy, especially one who had kept his gender hidden from me.

  “Leslie’s just a bit of a trickster. After all, I was expecting a guy when he asked me to bunk here tonight.”

  “Yeah, sure. Hilarious.” I slumped down on the couch but saw how high up my nightshirt had risen. I grabbed a pillow and placed it over my lap. When I worked up the nerve, I looked at him, and his eyes met mine. They were a dark band of blue wrapped around soft denim—captivating.

  I shook my head. “So why are you here? Besides some sick joke?”

  “You know, to make sure you’re not some gobshite.”

  “Gobshite?”

  “An idiot. A crazy person.”

  “Of course,” I muttered. “And when will Leslie be back?”

  The stranger before me—whose name I still didn’t know—sat in the reclining chair opposite me. His eyes darkened a little as he took another sip of his drink. “I don’t know. He might be gone for a few weeks now.”

  This is insane. And how would I find another place to live? It had been a miracle when I’d discovered Leslie’s ad. No one else was offering anything remotely close to it at the price.

  “I feel like an arse.”

  I laughed. Arse? “Well, you aren’t the ass. Your friend is.”

  He rubbed a hand over his clenched jaw. “He’s a good guy,” he finally said. “But since he’ll be, um, out of town for a bit, you should just stay.” He shrugged. “You guys can work it out when he’s back.”

  As much as I wanted to say yes, I wasn’t sure if I could. The guy had lied to me. Well, he didn’t technically lie, but he’d omitted something rather important. How could I trust him?

  “I’m Adam.” He stood and stepped toward me, still clutching the Guinness in one hand. He extended his other arm.

  I eyed the veins on the top of his hand and raised my palm to meet his. “Anna.”

  His hand was warm against mine. I resisted the urge to swoop my arms back to cover my chest. Instead, I released my grip and tipped back the beer he’d given me. The Guinness poured smooth down my throat, warming my chest. I was never much of a drinker, so I was shocked at how good it tasted. The Irish know how to brew beer.

  Adam remained standing before me, so close I could smell him again. It should be a sin to smell so good. The rim of his bottle neared his mouth, but he didn’t drink. His eyes remained on me, cautious.

  Cautious of me? I was from a town so small they kept a rolling-count sign, and the number had been stuck for five years. Of course, maybe I’d never go back and that number would drop back by one.

  “You’re a good friend to come here on a Saturday night to make sure I’m not a psycho. I mean,” I popped my shoulders up, “what if I was?”

  He cracked a smile, and I sat back down.

  “I think I could handle you,” he rasped in a rich, and practically chocolate-flavored voice.

  Why was I comparing this man to food? Clearly, he would taste much better. But the man did reek of danger, and not the serial killer kind. The “I can have any woman I want” player kind.

  Chills raked my spine, and I snapped my eyes shut as memories from my past attacked.

  “You okay, love?”

  My eyes fluttered open to the warm caress of his voice, but it also wrangled me back into the reality of my shit situation. Adam stepped back, breaking the strange tension between us, and sat down in the reclining chair. He pulled one long leg over his jeaned knee and held onto his ankle as he observed me.

  �
�Are you sure it’s okay if I stay here until Leslie comes back?”

  He drank his beer, gripping the bottle tight enough that I noticed his knuckles growing lighter. “Of course. He invited you, didn’t he?” His voice was heavier than before. Like lead. I had to wonder what caused the change. The way he’d smiled at me when we’d first met had been so different.

  “Okay. Well—about you . . .”

  He perked a brow and lowered the bottle to rest on his lap, the bemused look spreading fast across his face again. “What about me, love?”

  I couldn’t help but smile. “About your staying here tonight, I mean.”

  “Aye. You prefer me to leave, I take it?”

  Say yes, Anna. Say yes!

  “It’s fine. If that’s what Leslie prefers.” Stupid. Stupid. Stupid!

  A smile met his eyes. “You sure?”

  “As long as you’re not certifiable or anything like that.”

  His chest moved in time with his lips as he laughed. “I’ve been called much worse.” He stood up.

  Was he joking? He was joking, right? Panic gripped me as I rose to my feet.

  “All right. Well, I should let you get some rest, then. You must be bushed.”

  “Bushed?”

  “Tired.”

  I needed an Irish-American dictionary. I wasn’t particularly fond of sounding like a broken record, repeating everything people said to me with a dumb look on my face.

  His brows pulled together as he focused on my eyes, and a strange unfurling of desire swept through me. “Well, sweet dreams, Anna.”

  I nodded at him, not sure what else to say or do. I started for the hall with the bottle still clutched in my hand.

  “And, Anna?”

  I glanced at the tall, dark, mysterious man over my shoulder. “Yeah?”

  “Welcome to the Emerald Isle.”

  I smiled and went into the bedroom, closing the door behind me. After setting down the beer bottle, I fisted my hands at my sides, trying to rein in my compulsion to lock the door and shove something up against the knob.

  I turned back to the door, listening to the sounds beyond it. I was pretty sure I heard a door shut. There was a soft glow of light beneath my door, and then I heard the sound of running water. Adam was showering.

  A sexy but possibly dangerous guy was naked in the bathroom, not even six feet from my room.

  Holy hell.

  I tied my wet hair into a bun and peeled back the covers of the bed. But before getting in, I rushed back to the door and turned the lock.

  In my experience, it was better to be safe than sorry.

  Chapter Three

  Anna

  Sleep had escaped me most of the night. Instead, I had listened to every little sound—the noise on the street, the rumbling of cars . . . even in the middle of the night.

  But mostly, I had listened for Adam.

  It was finally morning, and so I opened my door to go to the bathroom, blowing out a sigh of relief when I noticed his door shut. I crept up to his room and pressed my ear to it, but didn’t hear anything. He was either gone or not the snoring type.

  I hurried into the bathroom, locked it, and then attempted to tame the mess of my hair. But I couldn’t help but notice the scents of spice and soap throughout the room. I searched them out like one of my uncle’s hunting greyhounds scenting a coyote.

  I decided to play up my eyes with some brown eyeliner and mascara. A touch of pink to my lips was the final stop. I wasn’t doing it in case I saw Adam, I reasoned.

  When I finished, I slowly opened the door, worried he’d be standing there again at the end of the hall.

  I glanced over my shoulder at Adam’s room, and the door was open. A new sense of panic flooded through me. I wondered if I’d be able to handle round two of conversing with the secretive sexpot.

  I paused mid-step when I spotted Adam. He was wearing navy sweats, which hung low on his hips, exposing the black band of his undershorts. But it was his naked back, and the hard planes of muscle thereon, that made me hold my breath.

  He had a tattoo on the back of his right shoulder that took up the entire shoulder blade. It was Celtic, I assumed—a black crisscrossed pattern with a thick cross in the middle.

  I tried not to move. I didn’t want him to know I was there.

  His arm was propped up at the top of the refrigerator door as he studied the inside. I noticed another tattoo on the inside of the arm that hung casually above his head, but I couldn’t make out what it was.

  I started to turn, ready to tuck myself back into the safety of the bedroom, but it was too late. He glanced back at me over his shoulder and shut the fridge. “Mornin’.” He pressed his back to the counter by the stove and crossed his arms, studying me.

  I released a slow breath at the sight of his muscular, perfect chest. His pecs reminded me of smooth, carved granite, and I had to fight the impulse to run my fingers over them. Would he feel like the statue of David? Of course, I’d never exactly even caressed a replica statue, let alone the real one, so how would I know?

  He’s just a man, I reminded myself.

  “Good morning.” I think that’s what I said, although I’m not sure if my mouth opened or I only thought the statement. He cocked his head to the right and flashed me a shit-eating grin like he knew his half-nakedness was making me uncomfortable, and he didn’t care.

  I twisted the fabric at the sides of my yellow V-neck sweater as I moved into the kitchen, hating how nervous I was, but unable to do anything about it. “Anything good to eat?”

  “Unfortunately, no. I’ve been staring into the fridge hoping something would appear,” he said with a smile, “but I didn’t have any such luck.”

  “Well, I guess I can go out for something.” My stomach growled loud enough to be heard, and my cheeks warmed.

  He unfolded his arms and approached me. “Why don’t I take you to breakfast?”

  “You don’t need to do that.”

  “Come on. It’s the least I can do after scaring ya to pieces last night.”

  “Um.” I wasn’t sure what to say, but spending a little more time with this guy would be kind of nice. “Okay.”

  “I best get dressed. Give me a sec.” He walked past me, and I was proud of myself for not gawking at him as he left. Then I grabbed my purse and slipped on a pair of black boots over my black denim skinny jeans. I hoped it wasn’t too chilly outside.

  I heard Adam’s door open a few minutes later.

  He came out wearing jeans and . . . still no shirt. He paused and looked over at me before putting on the polo he had been carrying in his hand. “So, how about I take you to one of Dublin’s best places?”

  “Oh, that’s not necessary. Don’t make a fuss over me.”

  “I insist. And I said best place, not fancy.” His seductive mouth curved into a smile as he opened the door, motioning for me to exit first.

  “Thanks.”

  We made our way down the metal staircase, which was wrapped like a spiral ribbon at the center of the building. When Adam opened the door and stepped back, allowing me to exit, the light, filmy mist in the air greeted my skin. There was a row of apartments on the opposite street, piercing through the fog like creatures, slowly rising from the dead.

  The streets were a little less crowded than they had been last night, and I wondered if everyone was tucked inside a church, seeking forgiveness for their Saturday-night sins. Of course, as Adam and I walked in silence past a gray cathedral church, with stained glass windows depicting the Virgin Mary at the center, I remembered that most Irish people were Catholic. Didn’t they have mass on Saturday?

  I squinted as I looked up at the sky. The morning sunlight was hidden behind a blanket of soft, gray, rolling clouds, confirming my concerns. Rain looked inevitable—I made a note to buy an umbrella today.

  I took in the multicolored buildings as we walked. Dublin appeared to be a blend of old and new—from burned, red brick buildings to ones that gleamed modernity. I
was far from Kentucky, that was for sure.

  More people emerged onto the sidewalk as Adam led me to breakfast. The chattering voices of friends and couples as they plodded along next to us, the good-natured slaps on the back, filled the silence that hung as thick and heavy as the fog between Adam and me.

  Would he ever talk? Then again, I wasn’t sure if I wanted him to.

  I stole a glimpse of him as he rounded a corner, gesturing with his hand to an arched gate across the street. He was tall, probably a little over six feet, and he carried himself well. His shoulders and spine were erect, but he had a casual grace about him as he moved. He was confident, that was for sure, and he knew he was good-looking. Was he arrogant, too?

  “We’ll cut through the park,” he suggested, and I trailed at his heels as we approached the arched entrance, which was covered in dark green ivy. On each side of the curved gate were pops of apricot-colored chrysanthemums, which I recognized from my older sister’s wedding last year.

  The whisper of autumn was enchanting as we moved beneath the orange-, gold-, and red-leaved trees of the park. I’d also never seen so many bunnies in all my life. The rabbits were clustered in packs all over the park. I remembered seeing them in the grass just outside the tarmac at the airport when my plane had arrived, too. Was Dublin filled with bunnies?

  I sucked in the cool, refreshing air—a nice change from Kentucky in September.

  “What do you think of Dublin so far?”

  I looked over my shoulder at him as we continued walking. His eyes seemed a paler shade of blue today.

  “It’s fantastic. Is it always cloudy, though?”

  He laughed, and I found his deep and throaty laughter incredibly sexy. There was always something I loved about a guy who could laugh, and who could make you laugh.

  “More days than not, I suppose.”

  We ducked under a low-hanging branch, and his hand on my shoulder made me flinch.

  “Sorry. There was a leaf.”

  I swallowed, not sure why I was acting so on edge. Just enjoy Dublin, I commanded myself.