“If I get in trouble, I’m going to blame you,” Nan said.

“Oh, you’ll be fine. It’ll be a grand adventure, your life on the run from the Irish authorities. It’s better than kissing the Blarney stone, you know.”

“This is not how I imagined my vacation going,” she murmured.

When they reached the first landing, Riley stopped and turned back to her. “I’m sorry if I’ve been acting like a wanker.” He held out his hand and she grasped it. “We’ll begin again. Hello, Miss Galvin. I’m Riley Quinn. Welcome to Ireland. I hope you enjoy your stay.”

Nan smiled, staring down at their hands, so casually joined. He had beautiful hands, long, tapered fingers. So he was a nice guy at heart. “See, that wasn’t so difficult.” The warmth of his hand seeped into hers and she realized the attraction she’d first felt for him was still there, only multiplied. A tingle snaked up her arm. He was handsome and funny and even a bit chivalrous. If he could sing, he’d be the perfect man. “Thank you,” she said.

He held on, a lot longer than she considered polite. His thumb gently stroked the back of her hand, turning a benign greeting into something almost sexual. She didn’t really mind. It felt nice. “The car is just up here,” he finally said, his voice soft, his gaze fixed on her face.

Nan tugged her hand away then stuck it in her jacket pocket for safekeeping. “Lead on,” she said.

RILEY DOWNSHIFTED the car as they approached the interchange, then looked over his shoulder as he turned onto the roundabout. When another car nearly cut him off, he laid on the horn, cursing beneath his breath. He’d never make it back to the pub for the lunch rush, so why bother trying?

Nan was sitting stiffly in her seat, her eyes wide and her hands folded on her lap as if she were praying. “Don’t worry, I’ve never had a wreck.”

“It’s a…” She cleared her throat. “It’s a feckin’ miracle,” she finished, imitating his Irish accent perfectly.