Ashlyn Chase - How to Date a Dragon

“We goin?”

He made himself smile. “Of course. After you.” He gestured toward the Shamrock’s front door.

“Me bet you wanna see me backside.”

“Er… or I could just want to be a gentleman.”

She shrugged. “Mehbe, but me rather ya seein me backside. Is strong as rock.” She smacked her ass and swished it into the bar.

What could he say to that? Nothing. Say nothing, Drake.

She picked a table and sat on the side closest to the door. Damn. If he wanted to flee, he’d have to pass her and she’d probably grab his arm. Dragons, even in human form, had excellent reflexes.

She eyed him as he sat down. “So, mon. Do ya do da workout?”

“What? Do I work out? I’m having a hard time understanding you sometimes.”

Her lips thinned. “Ya wan me do speaky-spoky?”

He had no idea what she’d just said, so he thought he’d better skip it and carry on. “In answer to your question, sometimes I work out. There’s exercise equipment at the station. If I’m bored or haven’t had any runs for a while, I’ll lift weights or…” Why did her eyes just narrow?

“Station? Ya a cop?”

“No. Firefighter.”

“Whew. Aright.” She seemed to relax.

“I take it you don’t like cops?”

“Nah, me no like dem.”

She didn’t offer any further explanation, but he could guess she’d been on the wrong side of the law at some point. He honestly didn’t care enough to pursue the subject, so he let it drop. Suddenly, he wondered why mating with another dragon mattered so much. The thought of doing what he had to do with this woman was completely distasteful.

He’d be polite, have a drink with her, then be on his way and never look for a female dragon again. He wanted Bliss more than ever.

As their conversation wore on, he found himself unable to interpret what she was saying on several occasions. Apparently she was renting a condo just outside the city in a nice neighborhood. She wanted to find a “bupps,” whatever that was, and she valued her “kulcha.”

“So, why did you ask if I worked out? Do you belong to a gym?”

“Me buildin gots one. Ya go dere sometime?”

Uh-oh. Change the subject, quick . “You have beautiful eyes.” Why the hell did I say that? Now she’ll think I like her.

She leaned back and looked smug. “Ya wanna cock it up? Me be ya baby mudda?”

Oh, crap. He figured this might be a good time to use the language barrier to his advantage. “I’m really sorry, Zina. I’m afraid I’m just having too hard a time understanding you. It was nice to meet you, though. I’ll pay for our drinks on the way out.” He rose and tried to walk past her.

Her hand shot out, clamped around his wrist, and squeezed. “I see. Perhaps you’d prefer I speak the King’s English with a Brrritish accent?”

“What the…” Why the hell did she use the island accent if she— Oh, no. Does she have multiple personalities? Drake twisted his wrist, trying to extricate himself from her grasp, but she held on tight.

“I can talk like you do too, Mr. All-American.”

He gave up the struggle, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Okaaay. If you were perfectly capable of eliminating your accent, why did you make it so hard for me to understand you?”

“It was fun.”

“Fun?”

“Yeah, fun. You should have seen your face.” She finally let go of him.

Drake rubbed his wrist. “Hmmm… Well, I really do have to leave.”

Before he took a step, she enunciated, “Sit. Back. Down.”

He folded his arms and stood his ground. “I can’t. There’s somewhere I need to be.”

“Where?”

“My annual firefighter’s physical,” he said, without missing a beat. It wasn’t until next month, but she didn’t have to know that.

She stared at him a moment, then wrote a phone number on her cocktail napkin and shoved it at him. “Here. Call me when you can take a joke.”

“What if that never happens?”

“Call me anyway.”

Drake folded the napkin and stuffed it in his pocket.

She leaned back in her chair with a satisfied smile, as if she knew her will would be obeyed. And just to rub in the point of her being a female dragon, her eyes shimmered gold.

I’m sorry, Mother. I just can’t do it. Even you wouldn’t want me to marry this bat-shit crazy dragon to continue the species.

“I’m going to check greeting card companies. Maybe I can find the brunette there.”

He had told the guys about the Internet producing a disastrous blind date. They encouraged him to keep trying, but what he really needed to do was delete his profile completely. He ambled toward the community room that housed the computers.

“I hope you find her,” Ralph said. “We’ve run out of friends to introduce you to. And none of us would let you near our sisters.”

“Good thing,” Drake called over his shoulder, “if they’re as ugly as you mucks.”

“Ha. You wish,” Mike said. “Irish girls are the prettiest in the world—or at least in Boston. Brazil might have a few chicks worth lookin’ at.”

While Mike and Ralph debated the best places to find good-looking women, Drake settled himself in front of the PC and typed in his user name and password. I’ll delete my profile right after checking my last lead. He searched for “greeting card companies.” Bliss was the woman he wanted, if only he could find her.

Up came a list of them. He scanned and scanned and scanned some more. Holy shit. There must be a hundred of them. And those were just the A ’s.

He slammed the lid shut. The card she’d made didn’t have a logo or company name on the back. Apparently, she’d whipped it up on the fly, so he had no idea which card company to call. The TV show wasn’t airing yet, and he couldn’t get any information on the candidates. You’d think they were protecting the next high-tech product from corporate spies.

All he knew was her first name and that she owned the struggling company. Maybe I could get her last name from the condo association.

Since everyone in the small building had been displaced, he doubted that possibility. Even if he did locate someone, the idea that they’d just hand over personal information about one of the residents to a total stranger was remote. He literally sagged in defeat.

With nothing else to do unless the fire alarm blared, he went to the online version of the daily newspaper. He checked the back issues until he found the one from the day after the fire. Maybe an article in the local news about the structure burning would provide a clue.

Fortunately, it must have been a slow news day and the paper had a photograph of the mayhem. There he was on the side lawn, kissing—or rather, being kissed by—the beautiful but elusive Bliss. Her back was to the camera, so he couldn’t even show her picture around the neighborhood. Damn.

But the timeliness of the photo brought up another question. Could it be arson? Where did the picture come from? Was it provided by a citizen with a camera phone or a local reporter with a cameraman? If the latter, how did they get there so quickly? Did someone tip them off? Drake didn’t remember seeing anyone. Bystanders were kept at a distance. The picture may have been taken with a telephoto lens, but the angle suggested the photographer was nearby.

An arson investigator would have been assigned to the case. Even if it wasn’t arson, a fire investigator would try to determine the fire’s cause and point of origin. Maybe I could talk to him. You never know what kind of clues might wind up in the rubble.

Drake knew he was reaching, but one of his double-edged traits was his tenacity. He wouldn’t give up the search for her easily.