On Dublin Street

Grunting at my observation, Braden followed me. I could feel the heat of him at my back as I entered the sitting room.

His jacket was tossed across an armchair and a near empty mug of coffee was sitting beside an open newspaper on the coffee table. He’d just made himself at home while I was soaking in the tub, completely oblivious.

A

His boyish grin hit me in the chest and I looked away quickly, perching on the arm of the couch as Braden sank casually into the armchair. The grin was gone now. He stared up at me with just a small smile playing on his lips, like he was thinking of a private joke. Or me naked.

Despite my resistance to him, I didn’t want him to think that my nakedness was fu

“So, you’re Jocelyn Butler.”

“Joss,” I corrected automatically.

He nodded and relaxed into his seat, his arm sliding along the back of the chair. He had gorgeous hands. Elegant, but masculine. Large. Strong. An image of that hand sliding up my i

Fuck.

I unglued my eyes from them to him. He appeared comfortable and yet totally authoritative. It suddenly occurred to me that this was the Braden with all the money and responsibilities, a vainglorious girlfriend, and a little sister he was undoubtedly overprotective of.

“Ellie likes you.”

Ellie doesn’t know me. “I like Ellie. I’m not so sure about her brother. He seems kind of rude.”

Braden flashed me those white, slightly crooked teeth. “He’s not sure of you either.”

That’s not what your eyes are saying. “Oh?”

“I’m not sure how I feel about my wee sister living with an exhibitionist.”

I made a face at him, only just resisting sticking my tongue out at him. He really brought out my mature side. “Exhibitionists get naked in public. As far as I was aware, there was no one else in the apartment and I’d forgotten a towel.”

“Thank God for small mercies.”

He was doing it again. Looking at me that way. Did he know he was so blatant about it?

“Seriously,” he continued, his eyes falling to my chest before snapping back up to my face. “You should walk around naked all the time.”

The compliment got to me. I couldn’t help it. The touch of a smile curled the corner of my lips and I shook my head at him like he was a naughty school boy.

Pleased, Braden laughed softly. A weird, unexpected fullness formed in my chest and I knew I had to break whatever weird instant attraction thing was going on between us. This had never happened to me before, so I was going to have to wing it.

I rolled my eyes. “You’re an ass.”

Braden sat up with a snort. “Usually a woman calls me that after I’ve fucked her and called her a taxi.”

I blinked rapidly at his blunt language. Really? We were using that word already in our short acquaintance?

He noticed. “Don’t tell me you hate that word?”

No. I imagine that word can be a total turn on in the right moment. “No. I just don’t think we should be talking about fucking when we’ve just met.”

Okay. That came out all wrong.

Braden’s eyes brightened with silent laughter. “I didn’t know that’s what we were doing.”

Abruptly, I changed the subject. “If you’re here for Ellie, she’s tutoring.”

“I came to meet you, actually. Only, I didn’t know I was meeting you. Quite the coincidence. I’ve thought about you quite a bit since last week in the taxi.”

“Was that while you were out having di

“Holly is down south visiting her parents this week. She’s from Southampton.”

Like I give a crap. “I see. Well…” I stood up, hoping the gesture would usher him out. “I would say it was nice to meet you, but I was naked so… it wasn’t. I have a lot to do. I’ll tell Ellie you dropped by.”

Laughing, Braden shook his head and stood up to pull on his suit jacket. “You’re a hard nut to crack.”

Okay, clearly I had to lay it out clear and simple for this guy. “Hey, there will be no cracking of this nut. Now or ever.”

He was choking on laughter now as he stepped towards me, making me back into the couch. “Really, Jocelyn… Why do you have to make everything sound so dirty?”

My mouth fell open in outrage as he turned and left… with the last word.

I hated him.

I really did.

Pity my body did not.

~3~

Club 39 was less of a club and more of a bar with a small square dance floor beyond the alcove at the back. On the basement level on George street, the ceilings were low, the circular sofas and square cubes that acted as seats were low, and the bar area was actually built a few levels lower, meaning drunken people had to walk down three steps to get to us. Whoever added that little design to the architects draft had clearly been smoking something.

Thursday nights usually found the low-lit bar crowded with students but with the semester over and the Scottish summer upon us, the night was quiet and the music was turned down since there was no one on the ‘dance floor’.

I handed the guy standing across the bar his drinks and he gave me a ten pound note. “Keep the change.” He winked at me.

I ignored the wink but stuck the tip in the tips jar. We divided it at the end of the night even though Jo argued that she and I pulled the most tips in because of the low-cut white tank top we wore as a ‘uniform’ with black ski

Craig was on break so Jo and I were dealing with the small crowd of customers at the bar, a crowd dwindling by the minute. Bored, I glanced down to the other end of the bar to see if Jo needed my help.

She did.

Just not in a bartending kind of way.

Reaching out to hand the customer she was serving his change, the guy grabbed Jo’s wrist and tugged her over the bar so she was inches from his face. Frowning, and biding my time to see how Jo would react, her pale skin grew flush and she wrenched on her arm to break his hold. His friends stood behind him laughing. Nice.

“Let me go, please,” Jo said between gritted teeth, pulling harder.

With no Craig around and Jo’s wrist so ski

“Oh come on, sweetheart, it’s my birthday, just one kiss.”

My hand clamped down around the guy’s and I bit my nails into his skin. “Let go of her, asshole, before I tear the flesh from your hand and nail it to your balls.”

He hissed in pain and jerked back from me, consequently letting go of Jo. “American bitch.” He groaned, cradling the hand that was now covered in deep crescent-shaped marks. “I’m complaining to management.”

Why did my nationality always come into play in a negative situation? And what? Were we in some 80’s brat pack movie? I snorted at him, unimpressed.

Brian, our huge security guy appeared behind him. He did not look amused. “Problem, Joss?”

“Yeah. Can you please remove this guy and his friends from the bar?”

He didn’t even ask why. There had only been a few occasions where we’d had people tossed out, so Brian trusted my assessment of the situation. “Come on fellas, move it,” he growled and like the cowards they were, pale-faced and drunk off their asses, the three of them lumbered out of the bar with Brian behind them.

Feeling Jo tremble beside me, I placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “You okay?”