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His mouth curved, driving home the attraction she’d felt for him every time she’d looked at a photo of him. Only this time, he was here in the flesh—and all man. Powerful. Potent. And so heart-stoppingly gorgeous every molecule inside her grew supercharged. If he was her soulmate, she had won the jackpot because everything in her wanted to jump him and not let go.
“You looked like you were handling things just fine.” He walked closer, steady as a rock. “Still, it’s good to have friends. Especially with the likes of Malcolm around. Denis too. Smart of you to video the encounter.”
“Actually, I live streamed it on Facebook. I figured one of his goons might try and take the phone out of my hands and delete the video otherwise.”
His mouth went downright grim. “So your wits saved you from some roughhousing. That doesn’t please me at all. It certainly won’t please the others at the arts center. I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner.”
Was she supposed to ask how he’d known?
Then she smelled oranges again. Oh, to hell with it. “Let’s start over. I’m Taylor, and you’re Liam, and Sorcha—whom I’m sure you know—tells me we’re soulmates. Any comment?” she asked, holding her hand out like she was interviewing him for live TV.
His gorgeous mouth transformed into a rich smile before he threw back his head and laughed, the sound a glorious rumble of masculinity that ignited something in her belly. “I’d scare you a bit if I told you all the comments I have swirling inside my head right now. So perhaps you’ll let me buy you a drink instead?”
That was a start she could handle. “I’d love that, Liam. But I’m letting you know now: I might need two. It’s been a day.”
“For me too.” Then he held out his hand.
She didn’t know what to do with it. Shake it? Only when she extended her hand, he took it in a gentle clasp. The electricity around him jumped up her arm and stilled everything inside her. All she could see was the warmth in his fathomless green eyes. A breezy calm pervaded her, like the kind on a beach vacation. Suddenly she was happy—for no reason at all.
Then he started to let her go, so achingly slow. She almost tightened her grip on his fingertips. His touch was as powerful as he was, and she wanted to dive into these feelings. A rarity for her normally cautious self.
“Welcome home, Taylor.”
The scent of oranges surrounded her, and she felt a presence behind her. She looked over her shoulder at Sorcha.
And for the first time ever, she could only smile at the pesky ghost.
CHAPTERTWO
Taylor didn’t know it, but he’d already started their life together.
After meditating in the early morning, he’d signed his new long-term job contract with the arts center as its construction director. He’d been building sheds and doing various odd jobs as needed, but now they were moving into bigger projects like the museum and hotel. The board had wanted someone they knew and trusted at the helm, someone who had supported the center from the beginning. Someone they knew would fight to keep the arts center open at all costs like the rest of them.
He’d been thrilled to accept the offer, one perfectly aligned with Taylor’s arrival. He wanted to be a complete partner, emotionally and financially. This job wasn’t simply about providing, although at some point they would need a home. It was about being an equal.
He’d waited to sign the agreement until the day she was arriving, believing it was good energy to do so. She had come to Ireland for her job, and now his job supported hers, further weaving their lives together.
He’d marked this day as one of the most incredible in their lives already in his mind.
And then Sorcha had appeared to him and scared him to his very bones. Taylor was in danger. He needed to get to her immediately. He’d dropped everything, asking the wind to propel him as fast as he could and keep other cars out of his way. And when he’d reached her, the sight of Malcolm Coveney and four goons stalking her, blocking her way—on a public road for God’s sake—planning on doing God knows what, had unleashed an anger he’d never known.
Liam let the wind rush over him, breaking up the remaining anger and fear inside him. They were lucky Taylor was so quick on her feet. He’d never have thought to start a live video stream.
She was brilliant, with a sound and canny mind. And beautiful, what with her auburn hair, creamy skin, and big brown eyes. The way she carried herself marked her as a confident, no-nonsense person, which only heightened the appeal of her enticing slender form, marked by curves he couldn’t wait to appreciate. He had sealed with their touch what he’d already sealed in his heart when he’d first sensed she was coming months ago.
She was his.
Yet by the time they’d reached the pub he’d settled upon, he was fighting with the urge to text his mother and Linc about what had happened. He would have to, he knew. But now that she was here, he really wanted this moment alone with her. He’d sensed she needed to relax after what had happened, which was why he’d chosen a nearby pub instead of the Brazen Donkey in Caisleán, where the whole village would pounce. Not only to welcome her but because of what had happened on the road.
Everyone had been surprised—Sophie especially—when Taylor had insisted on driving herself from Dublin to Caisleán and calling it an early night. Only he understood, sensing her moods and emotions already, since her energy was open to him in meditation. It had been since he’d first felt a glimmer of something, when he’d been feeling called to Paris, not knowing exactly why.
Now he knew Taylor had been there at the time before briefly returning to Manhattan to regroup. But more signs hadn’t arrived until Sophie had reached out to Taylor to ask for a feature after she’d arrived at the arts center and unveiled her plans to do a pregnant goddess glass figure, who also happened to be nude, causing a backlash from their adversaries, his aunt Mary especially.
Then he’d felt her being—even heard her name in meditation—something that still freaked out some of his American friends. His Irish friends were long accustomed to his gifts, but then again, in Ireland the language of gifts was as normal as the language of Gaelic, although both were facing the impact of modern progress with all its cynicism. Still, he was grateful for his connection to the other side. Never more than today.
He parked his bike and stowed his helmet as she pulled into the space next to him in the parking lot.
“Cows and Cocks?” She gestured to the pub sign after exiting the car. “I fear this isn’t a very farm-friendly bar given it’s depicting an Orwellian farm scene. I admit to being surprised given what I’ve read about the primacy of agriculture in this part of Ireland.”
