Free Harlequin Holiday Collection - Four Classic Seasonal Novellas by Leslie Kelly Page B

submission. Every part of him wanted to sweep this woman out of the alcove and take her back to his hotel room. Stretch her out in front of the fire and make love to her until she gasped and writhed in pleasure.
    Right! Like that was going to happen with all he had going down in just a few hours. “I’m sorry,” he said again, raking a hand through his hair.
    “Are y’now?” Her grin slipped out, as rueful and mischievous as her brogue. “I’m not. ’Tis been a while since I’ve been kissed like that.”
    Clint knew he had to end this. Right here, right now. She looked too tempting, too seductive.
    And he would have ended it. He was almost certain of that. If he hadn’t dropped his arm too abruptly and knocked his stack of notes off the table.
    Cursing himself for his clumsiness, he went down on one knee to retrieve them. Sophie knelt beside him.
    “Here, let me help you. We can put them in order easily enough if—”
    She broke off with a gasp. Clint glanced down and cursed again when he saw her staring at the holster strapped to his ankle.
    “It’s legal,” he said quickly.
    She scrambled up, uncertainty and a touch of fear on her face. “Who are you? Why are y’carryin’ a gun?”
    She looked ready to bolt for the nearest exit. Clint had only a moment to weigh his options. Should he let her go? Or trust her?
    The instincts that had saved his life on more than one occasion kicked in and he came to a swift decision. “I’m an agent with the FBI.”
    “What!”
    He reached into his pocket and produced his credentials. She studied them for several disbelieving moments.
    “What business does the FBI have in Ireland?”
    Thankful for the privacy of the small alcove, Clint gestured for her to take a seat and pulled his chair close to hers.
    “I’m part of a counter-narcotics task force targeting a major drug lord in Miami. The agency knows who he is, but we haven’t been able to get into his circle to collect the hard evidence we need to nail him. But he does have an Achilles’ heel, which is why I’m in Dublin. The man is an avid connoisseur of prehistoric art.”
    “And he’s going to be at Newgrange tomorrow?” she gasped.
    “No, but we got a tip that the person who supplies him with stolen artifacts may be there. If so, I want to catch that person and put the squeeze on him.” He paused, probing her shocked expression, giving her time to absorb his startling revelations.
    “Well,” she said slowly, “I wish you luck. But you’ll have a devil of a time taggin’ anyone in that crowd.”
    “Crowd? I thought access was restricted.”
    “Only fifty people can go inside the tomb, but hundreds gather outside. You’ll have to wade through news crews, hordes of scientists, modern-day Druids, wiccans celebrating the end of winter and rebirth of the sun, all sorts of locals and tourists alike.”
    Well, hell! He hadn’t counted on that. His contact in Ireland’s Arts and Antiquities Division had said he’d meet Clint at the site and had promised to alert the local constabulary who covered the event. He’d neglected to mention huge crowds, however.
    “I could… I could go with you tomorrow,” Sophie said hesitantly. “If you think I could help.”
    He paused, considering the proposal. The need to get to Mendoza had driven him across an ocean. He’d be a fool to turn down any offer of assistance.
    “It wouldn’t hurt to have another set of eyes and ears,” he conceded. “Someone to mingle with the crowd outside while I’m inside. Someone who knows this megalithic stuff as well as the dealer I’m looking for.”
    She blinked at hearing her life’s passion described as “stuff,” but nodded when he asked if she was sure she wanted to get involved.
    “I’m sure.” A sudden thought rippled across her expressive face. “Unless…uh… This person you’re looking for? He won’t come armed, too, will he?”
    “If he does, he won’t get far. My counterpart on the Arts and