Free Hot Property (Irish romantic comedy) by Susanne O'Leary Page A

were warm, his breath sweet. He smelled faintly of the sea and some kind of spicy aftershave. But something at the back of her mind made her pull away. “Please… Dan… I can’t.”
    “Why not?” He pulled her close again and kissed her mouth.
    She relaxed for a moment and let herself go, then pushed him away again. “Dan, please. Stop.”
    They pulled apart, panting.
    “I’m sorry,” she mumbled.
    “No, I should apologise. Don’t know what happened. I don’t usually take advantage of women in this way. But you were sitting there, so sweet and soft and sad.”
    “I’m a mess,” Megan mumbled and touched her hair.
    “You’re beautiful. When you walked into the pub on Saturday night, everybody was looking at you.”
    “Yeah,” Megan said with a snort. “Probably because I stuck out like a tart at a funeral.”
    “Shut up.” He tried to kiss her again.
    She pulled back. “Please. I can’t. Not now.”
    Dan touched her face and ran his hand down her neck, then lightly touched her breasts. “Sweet girl,” he whispered.
    She shivered and caught his hand. “It’s too soon.”
    “I know.” He squeezed her hand. “But we can work on it.”
    “Maybe.” She pulled away and cleared her throat. “So, why did you come here? What was it you wanted to give me?”
    He got up. “Oh, uh… I had this box of stuff. Your Uncle Pat’s belongings. The nursing home gave it to me. Not much in it. His watch. Some photos and letters and little knick-knacks he had in his room there. But I thought you should have it.”
    “Thanks.”
    “I put it on the kitchen table.”
    She looked up at him. “I’ll go and do up my bed now. I feel like sleeping forever.”
    Dan hovered on the path. “Are you sure you can manage?”
    She got to her feet. “Yes. I’m fine.”
    “Sure?”
    “Absolutely.”
    He put his hand on her shoulder. “Can I call you?”
    “Yes.” She couldn’t think of what else to say.
    “See you soon.” With that, he padded around the side of the house and disappeared.
    Megan listened to his car drive off, with a feeling her life had just taken a very strange turn.

Chapter 7

    “This needs updating. And the kitchen too.”
    Megan opened her eyes. Bright sunlight blinded her for a moment. Confused, she looked around the room. Then she remembered. She was in her house, on a mattress in the front bedroom. That voice? Must have been the tail end of a dream. She stretched and yawned, feeling rested for the first time in weeks.
    The voice spoke again: a male voice.“Great views even from the bathroom. And the land stretches nearly all the way to the beach. We could get at least twenty mobile homes into the fields there.”
    “Yes, but the house is in a bad state,” a woman’s voice said. “Maybe it would be better to just knock it down? You could put up a nice little bungalow here.”
    Megan tore out of her improvised bed. She threw on a shirt, opened the door and stared at the couple on the landing, who stared back at her as if she were a ghost. “Who are you?” Megan demanded. “What are you doing here?”
    “Who are you ?” the man demanded. “Are you squatting here?”
    The woman crept behind her companion. “We’re looking at the house. It’s for sale.”
    “What?” Megan wrapped the shirt tighter around her. “For sale? Says who?”
    “This website.” The man waved a piece of paper at Megan. “‘Kerry farmhouse near beach and mountains. In need of some repairs’,” he said with a sneer. “That’s the understatement of the year.” He spoke with a cut-glass British accent.
    Megan blinked. “What website?” She snatched the paper from the man. “What’s this? Daft.ie… Oh. It’s on the web. I had no idea.” She shrugged and smiled. “I’m sorry. I’m the new owner. My uncle left me the property in his will. I had no idea it was still up on the Internet.”
    The man looked sternly at her. “Can you prove it?”
    “Prove what?” Megan asked.
    “That you’re