On Dublin Street The Bonus Material - Samantha Young Page 0,3

was in his head and, despite the sweet smile, ‘sweet, virginal girl next door’ was not it. “Ahh.” He glanced away. “You’re a no-sex-until-the-third-date, marriage-and-babies kind of woman.”

“No, no, and no,” she answered, affronted by the idea. So affronted Braden suddenly wondered if the opposite was true. Was he in the presence of that rare creature? A woman afraid of commitment?

“Interesting,” he murmured.

“I’m not giving you my number.”

As a somewhat blunt-speaking person himself, Braden enjoyed finding that quality in other people. He grinned wickedly at her, trying not to let the fact that he couldn’t have her number diminish the enjoyment he derived from their little verbal sparring. “I didn’t ask for it. And even if I wanted it, I wouldn’t ask for it.” Fucking lie. “I have a girlfriend.” Unfortunately, true. He mentally slapped himself across the head for that ungentlemanly thought. Holly was a good girl and deserved better than his disloyalty, even if it was only in his head.

“Then stop looking at me like that.”

“I have a girlfriend, but I’m not blind. Just because I can’t do anything doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to look.” Pity. Braden wanted to look. He wanted to look past the cynical eyes and through the sweet smile and find out which one of them was her. Maybe she was both. Maybe she was neither. He didn’t know. At all. And he wanted to. Jesus—

“Here’s good, thanks.”

What? Braden’s fascination with her was suddenly brought to an abrupt halt by her direction to the driver. They weren’t at Dublin Street yet. They still had—he looked outside to discover they were at Queen Street Gardens. Only seconds from her destination. And what was he panicking about, anyway? She was off limits.

Fuck.

The driver pulled up to the curb and she handed him fare and reached for the door.

“Wait,” Braden said.

She turned to him, her expression impatient. “What?”

He sensed he had seconds. Braden could either tell her to take her money back and offer to pay for the entire taxi fare as he’d intended. Or he could ask her the one thing he’d wanted to ask since she first opened her mouth.

He went with the latter.

“Do you have a name?”

She smiled. “Actually, I have two.”

What?

She jumped out of the taxi and was gone.

Despite the loss of her, Braden chuckled at her cool reply. It was his own fault. He’d asked a smart woman the wrong question.

Just as abruptly as she’d left him, Braden’s amusement fled as he realized he’d probably never see her again. His intuition made him a successful businessman, and his intuition was telling him he’d just let a significant opportunity pass him by.

Swallowing his disappointment, he directed the cabbie to turnabout.

Braden headed toward his meeting in an even worse fucking mood than before he’d met the gorgeous American.

2

Braden’s POV - The Second (Naked) Meeting

ON DUBLIN STREET

Letting himself into the airy flat, Braden immediately heard the loud music coming from the bathroom. He eyed the hallway for any signs of the new arrival, but there were only Ellie’s things. Hmm. He pressed his ear against the bathroom door, listening to The Killers filter through the woodwork, along with the occasional splash of water. The roommate was taking a bath. Braden sauntered through the flat, checking each room, and finding no evidence of someone new living there. Finally, he stopped at the entrance to the second bedroom and saw the empty boxes, books, laptop and photographs. She was still unpacking it seemed.

Deciding he’d timed this perfectly, Braden went about his business casually, making himself a coffee and settling comfortably into the sitting room with the newspaper Ellie always had waiting for him. Fifteen minutes later he heard the music stop and got up, grinning wickedly at the thought of catching this person unaware. Sometimes his sense of humor strayed into the playground.

Leaning casually against the sitting room doorframe, Braden thought he heard a muttered curse, and then the bathroom door was wrenched open.

Bloody hell.

Before him was not the stranger he expected in a bathrobe.

Before him was the girl from the cab. And she was naked.

Wet and glistening and naked.

And every man’s fucking fantasy come to life.

Struggling to control his body’s reaction as his gaze drifted over her ample, perfect breasts, flat soft stomach and mouth-wateringly full hips all wrapped up in gorgeous wet, olive skin, Braden choked out an inane greeting, “Uh…hullo.” Ellie’s flat mate was cab girl. What a delicious twist of fate. Hello, Jocelyn Butler.

Jocelyn. Braden suddenly liked the sound of it.

Her head