Smooth Irish (Book 2 of the Weldon Series) Read Online Free PDF

would never be to
return to where she came from. Only bad memories resided
there.
    Hurrying toward the distant lights of
the yacht club, she ignored the niggling thought that Brad, a man
brilliant enough to make neurosurgical history, surely could have
saved her the grief of trudging through the storm of the century.
Why hadn’t he called earlier?
    The harder she pushed against the
wind, the longer the parking lot grew. The storm swelled around her
to frightening proportions. Her heart pounded and a tiny shiver of
fear raced up her spine. She shouldn’t be out in this mess. She
should have waited for the storm to ease, no matter how late that
would have made her.
    Neither her umbrella nor the garbage
bag staved off the dragon bite of the lashing wind. Lightning
strobe lit the sky and thunder set her ears to ringing. Suddenly, a
wind gust ferried up from behind like a freight train. It flipped
her umbrella inside out, blew her dress up, and knocked her off her
three-inch heels.
    She fell face forward against the hood
of a pick-up truck with an inelegant whoosh and lay stunned a
second; the breath forced from her lungs. Rain drenched her black
lace underwear, and the pooling droplets of water on the hood
soaked the front of her dress.
    “ Mary Poppins you’re not,
sugar. But you’ll do,” a familiar and unwelcome voice
drawled.
    “ Oh!” Mortified, Nan
snapped upright just as a warm hand brushed her derrière. Jackson!
Of all the rotten luck. What in the hell was he doing
here?
    She refused to acknowledge the
pleasurable shiver tingling through her. Instead, she spun around,
ready to do harm with her warped umbrella.
    Having a man inadvertently see the
lingerie she and Alexi had splurged on irked. Having that man be
Jackson really rattled her cage. Nan refused to even think for a
minute that her fantasies about Jackson played any role in her new
underwear purchases.
    Lightning briefly illuminated the
strong curve of his stubble-rough jaw, devilish smile, and raven’s
wing hair whipping in the wind. Damn, the man had no right to look
so sexy in the middle of hell. He stripped off his black leather
jacket, pushed her umbrella aside, and leaned in close.
    “ You bait a nice hook,
sugar.”
    “ You. You Peeping Tom!”
Her search for something sophisticated and deadly to say fizzled as
ridiculous.
    “ Careful. You’re giving me
ideas for a new profession.”
    She didn’t have a chance to reply
before his leather jacket descended over her head and his strong
arm encircled her.
    “ Tell me how sorry I am
later, sugar.” He plucked the inverted umbrella from her, popped it
back right, and held it before them as he propelled them toward the
back door of the yacht club, not the least daunted by the storm's
fury. But then, Nan didn't think much got past Jackson's thick
wall. She gritted her teeth, irritated. Both the timing of
Jackson's appearance and the man were too welcome for her peace of
mind.
    She tingled from the heat of his arm
about her, the feel of his lean, hard body next to her, and the
tangy scent of musk and leather enveloping her.
    “ Here we go.” He hustled
her into a lit hallway.
    Anxious to rid herself of his scent,
she slid off his coat. Cool air assaulted, making her too aware of
the heat from his body behind her, touching her, like he’d said on
the phone.
    Can’t you feel me? I’m right up against you. Feel
the heat? My hands on you… my mouth.
    She shivered. The creamy watered silk
walls, crown molding, and plush carpet contrasted sharply with her
soggy, bedraggled state and she turned to face him, feeling like a
swamp rat. He'd moved closer and her chest landed smack up against
his hot, very male one.
    “ Where are we?” Drawing
back, she teetered, dropping his coat.
    “ Backstage of the ballroom
and just where we need to be." He grinned and settled his hands on
her hips. When he spoke, his deep voice rumbled right to her core
and set off a series of delicious quakes. "It’s been a