“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.