How to Date a Dragon (2 page)

“Oh, um…” At last she seemed to remember her professionalism. “Pick up that hose and stand a quarter-turn to the right.”

Drake did as he was asked and she clicked her shutter release.

“Um, you might want to hold it higher.”

Drake realized he was holding the nozzle right in front of his junk as if it were a limp phallus. He dropped it and grabbed an ax instead, resting it on his shoulder.

“Oh, yeah. That pose really shows off your muscles.” She moved and clicked. Moved and clicked some more.

“Act like you’re having fun. Smile,” she said.

Drake rolled his eyes. “Fighting fires isn’t exactly a laugh a second.”

“Maybe if you think about something pleasant, it’ll produce the look I’m going for.”

Let’s see… something pleasant.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t come up with much of anything at the moment. He had just lost the last friendly dragon he knew—his mother—a few weeks ago and still didn’t feel like his old jovial self. Plus he was in trouble with the chief. He’d never work his way up the ladder at this rate, and the job was his life. Maybe his buddies were right. He needed a hobby.

“You’re still looking awfully serious. Here, let me try something.”

“Christ,” he muttered.

She set down the camera and strolled up to him. Unbuttoning her blouse enough to expose lush cleavage, she said in a low, sultry voice, “Think of the fun we can have after I finish the shoot.”

He raised his eyebrows.
Think
of
the
horror
when
you
find
out
I’m a dragon.

“No, that’s still not the expression I want. What’s the matter? Are you having a bad day?”

“You could say that.”

“Anything I can do?”

“Nope.” He’d have to take his punishment just like any other firefighter who did what he’d done, regardless of his inability to burn. He should be grateful for the chance to delay facing the chief, but to be honest, he just wanted to get it over with.

As Drake was thinking about what to tell him, Chief Tate strolled out where they were shooting.

“Are you almost done here?” the chief asked.

The photographer backed away and quickly buttoned her blouse. “Ah, yes. I’d like one more pose…”

“I’ll wait.” Chief Tate stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels.

Shit, I’m in bigger trouble than I thought.
Drake decided to have some fun with the shoot after all. He set down the ax, moved beside the chief, and threw his arm around Tate’s shoulder. “Here. Take one of me and the chief. I’ll pay you for it.”

“Huh?” Chief Tate leaned away and frowned at Drake. “What the hell for?”

“A memento. If I’m about to be fired, I’d like a picture of my old boss for my scrapbook.”

Chief Tate reared back and laughed. “I’m not going to fire your ass, Cameron. I probably should for taking such a dumb chance. This isn’t like the time the mayor heard about you saving a damn dog and was impressed. You won’t be getting a commendation for this one.”

The photographer grinned. “Wow. A commendation from the mayor! Now there’s something to smile about.”

The chief snorted. “Yeah, I told him to take off the word ‘bravery’ and make it a citation for stupidity.”

Shrugging one shoulder, Drake said, “It figures.” At least it didn’t sound like he was getting canned. That was a relief.

Chief Tate addressed the woman without looking at her. “Don’t encourage him. He risked his life for a damn pet. Cameron, you’re just lucky the mayor’s a big dog lover.”

The photographer got even more excited, if that were possible. “Oh, he is. I’ve photographed him, and he has pictures of his greyhounds right on his desk.”

“Is that right?” The chief didn’t sound impressed, despite his words. “Look, as soon as you finish up here, Cameron, come to my office.”

“Sure thing, chief.”

The photographer cozied up to Drake. She held out a card. “If you had a shirt on, I’d tuck this in your pocket.”

He took the card and glanced at it.

Suzanne Bloom

Blooming Great Photography

617-555-8349

He smiled and she said, “Freeze.” Backing up a couple feet, she snapped a few more pictures. “There. Now I have what I want.”

Yeah, your phone number in my hand.

***

“I’ve got to do something to make this right, Claudia.” Bliss sat at her friend’s breakfast bar, running her fingers over the smooth granite.

Claudia took a sip of her coffee. “Look, he saved your business and possibly your place in the competition. Why don’t you make him a card?”

“A Hall-Snark card? What would it say?
I’m sorry I got you suspended, but you looked great in suspenders?
”

Claudia grimaced. “Ah, no. I’m sure you can do better than that.”

Bliss slumped over and rested her cheek on the cool stone. “My computer didn’t survive, by the way. Well, I mean, the hardware did, but I think the rest is fubar.”

“Fubar? What’s that?”

She leaned back and sighed. “Sorry. It’s something my brother Ricky, the ex-marine, says. It means fucked up beyond all recognition.”

Claudia chuckled and opened the laptop in question. She hit the power button and a light came on. “Are you sure? It looks okay.”

“I tried to boot it up several times, and all I can get out of it is, ‘Operating system not found.’”

“Don’t give up yet. There’s something called forensic data recovery. You’d be surprised what the FBI can get off computers that were supposedly destroyed.”

“I doubt the FBI would consider a reality TV show about a greeting card competition worthy of their time or equipment.” Bliss cupped her chin and rested her elbow on the counter. “I don’t know what I was thinking. He could have died. I don’t even know his name…” She lifted her head and sat up straight. “Wait. The back of his jacket said Cameron.”

Claudia set a tall glass of ice water in front of Bliss. “There you go. Is that his first name or last?”

Bliss sighed. “I don’t know.”

“What did the other guys’ jackets look like? First names or last?”

Bliss rested her chin on both palms and her elbows on the counter. “I don’t know. I only had eyes for him—as they say.”

Claudia chuckled. “Oh, yeah. You’ve got it bad.”

Bliss took a long swallow of her ice water. Her parched throat welcomed the cool liquid. “You want to know the worst thing about all this?”

“What?”

“Forget that my home and all my belongings except my precious laptop are toast. I have to go back to Winthrop and live with my annoying parents for who knows how long. If I don’t win the contest, it could be forever.” She groaned.

Claudia rubbed her friend’s back. “I wish I could let you move in here, but my place is just too damn small. We’d get on each other’s nerves, and our friendship is more important than anything to me.”

“I know. I feel the same way. But I do have to go home. I lost my glasses in the fire. I think I have a spare pair in my old bedroom. Some of my old clothes might still be there, and I’ll need them, if they fit. Stupidly, I didn’t get renter’s insurance, and now I have zero money and no time for shopping.”

“So, have you told your parents yet?”

Bliss took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “No, but I have to soon, before they see it on the news. They’ll have a fit.”

“Not because you need a place to stay, I hope.”

“No, that’s not it.” She snorted. “They’re always hoping us kids will come home for dinner… or a month. No, they’ll be upset because one of their precious spawn had a brush with death. And they’re going to try to get me married off and living in the suburbs.”

“Oh, boy. I don’t envy you, but at least your parents aren’t stuck on the idea of your marrying a rich guy.”

“Seriously? Yours are like that? Do they know what you do?”

Claudia laughed. “They know I work on Beacon Hill, but they don’t know I manage a bar. If they did, they’d have a fit. I’m supposed to be rubbing elbows with Boston’s elite.”

“What do they think you do?”

“All they know is that I got my MBA and I manage a small independent company on Charles Street. Technically, that’s true, so if you ever see them, don’t mention the bar. Actually, the less said about my job, the better.”

“You completed your business degree? I thought you still had another semester to go.”

“I finished it in December.”

“Congrats. So, are you looking for a better job?”

“Nope.”

Her friend confused her sometimes, but Bliss had other things to think about right now. “Unfortunately, if I go back home, I can look forward to a lot of arranged, so-called accidental meetings with eligible young men. My parents will want him to be Italian so they can have a whole passel of
paisano
grandkids.”

“With a name like Cameron, it sounds like your hero might be Irish,” Claudia said.

“Or Scottish. I think I remember seeing a Cameron clan wearing their tartan kilts at that Highland Games thing we went to.”

“Oh, yeah. Who could forget those sexy kilts?” Claudia waggled her eyebrows. “So… what does your guy look like?”

“Tall, about six feet. Rugged, great firm ass, green eyes, and hair that’s hard to describe. It’s not blond or red. It’s kind of sandy or light brown with actual yellow streaks. Not highlights like you see on other people. I’m talking about a primary color in half- or quarter-inch stripes.”

“Interesting… What else?”

“He has a side part and it’s long in the front—right to his eyebrows. It kind of angles across his forehead. All shaggy and sexy.” She sighed.

“He sounds like a hunk.”

“Yeah, and if you ever see him, keep your mitts off. He’s mine.”

“I wouldn’t dream of horning in on your territory. You might bite.”

Bliss smiled, at last. “Or tell you to bite
me
.”

The more Bliss thought about it, the more she liked the idea of making a card for the handsome firefighter. It
wouldn’t
be one of her trademark Hall-Snark cards. Those were blunt, irreverently honest or flippant, and bordering on rude, but she could come up with something on the fly.

Let’s see… what could I make and drop off at the fire station before I relocate?

“Claudia, can I borrow your computer, printer, and some card stock?”

“Sure. You can use my photos too if you want.”

“You’re sweet, but I have a design in my head that I can draw. I’d make the whole thing with a pen, but my handwriting is terrible and I want him to be able to read it.”
Jesus. I’m lucky I can still draw breath, never mind cards, thanks again to Cameron Something or Something Cameron.
“Just drawing the artwork will be quicker, and there’s no way you have a picture of what I want.”

“Okay, I’ll give you the necessary stuff and turn on the printer. As for card stock, I happen to have some with matching envelopes. It’s plain white. Is that okay?”

“That’s perfect.”

***

Drake plopped into his desk chair and powered up his computer.

“Well, I have plenty of time on my hands. Let’s see what kind of trouble I can get into here,” he muttered to himself.

Holding the lovely brunette had reminded him of something he’d been meaning to investigate. Dating websites. That had been on Drake’s to-do list for a while. He craved some kind of company, specifically of the female variety, and loneliness had been setting in big time. The death of his last known relative had made him feel adrift in an aloof sea.

Unfortunately, his mother would never see her fondest wish come true. She had always wanted him to find a nice female dragon, settle down, and continue the species.

He was the last of his line now, and finding another clan had proven nearly impossible. There was an Asian clan in San Francisco, but they had made it clear East Coast dragons weren’t welcome.
Thanks
again, Uncle Mob Boss.

His uncle had missed the family fortune and power so much, he’d decided to recreate it quickly in any way he could. Loan sharking, running guns, selling drugs to kids. Drake had not only walked away from one fortune, but two. The lair where his family had kept their treasure had caved in at about the same time they had to flee Britain. He wondered if his uncle had something to do with that.
If
he
couldn’t take it with him…

When Drake discovered how his uncle “earned” his new money, he refused to have anything to do with the older dragon. His elder didn’t appreciate being judged but gave Drake a chance to reconsider and join the “family business.” Drake’s principles won out and he packed his bags.

He had originally moved to Boston because he’d heard about a female dragon and a paranormal bar here. Even though the dragon was a prostitute, he was willing to give it a go. He’d do just about anything to honor his dear mother’s wishes. Unfortunately, by the time he acted on the information and found Boston Uncommon, the female had gone home to San Francisco. The guys at the bar said something about all being forgiven and Lily being in her family’s embrace again. Nice for Lily. Not so much for him… and the species.

The only problem with a human hookup was that sometimes during sex, if he overheated before he finished “blowing off steam,” so to speak, his eyes glowed and his skin toughened into hard scales. He could even develop claws, all of which signified a shift he might not be able to stop. A couple of close calls with former female companions had told him he’d have to find someone who could accept him
and
his secret.

He was fairly sure the young woman whose life and business he had saved saw his alternate form, yet she didn’t faint or scream. Perhaps it was the
heat
of the moment, but he thought he sensed a willing connection, and when he glanced at her finger, he didn’t see a wedding ring.

Maybe
I
can
find
a
dragon-tolerant human after all. If only I knew where she went…