“Hell.” Walter’s mouth went on, too. “Maybe we should share the presidential suite at the hotel. “I can change my reservation. It will be great to hang out together, and we can invite some of the folks up for drinks.” His brain was about to explode. Conflagration would never agree to share the accommodations, for sure, and when he said no, Walter would suggest they back off and stop being ridiculous. And then call the Realtor. Making a point was just too painful, sometimes.
“Sounds good. Want to ride there together?”
Oh dear Goddess. They both needed straitjackets.
“Leaving here Friday at noon,” he heard himself saying. “I’ll drive.”
As he stalked back inside his unit, Walter ran for the phone. He no more had a beautiful date for the weekend than he had a spell to create one. Luckily, he’d recently heard of Gerri Wilder and her Paranormal Dating Agency. The phone rang several times before a voice answered. He’d begun to speak when he realized he heard a recording. Gerri Wilder was either on the other line or out of the office and would call him back as soon as possible.
Conflagration explained his dating needs to a nice older-sounding woman. The famous Gerri Wilder. No one had put more couples together with more success, although he was careful to tell her he was only interested in a date for the reunion. Not that he’d mind having a mate and hatchlings one day, but the immediate need took precedence.
She listened without interrupting and asked him a number of questions about himself and what he liked in a female and, before they hung up, had promised him his date would arrive at his hotel on Friday afternoon by seven, in time for the meet-and-greet event in the hotel bar. She wouldn’t go into details about the female, but did assure he wouldn’t be disappointed.
He sure hoped not.
How humiliating would it be if Walter’s mystery woman outshone his date? They’d been rivals in everything from science to soccer in school, taking turns winning enough even they weren’t sure who had the most wins under his belt. But in his heart, he knew this would be the ultimate competition. And the wizard had a head start. Would he buy that Conflagration and his date had known each other ahead of time? Perhaps he should call Gerri back and ask to meet with the woman a little sooner, to get to know one another?
This time, the call went to voice mail, and he left a message. Then he headed for the back of the condo to the cave carved deep into the stone of the mountain. Friday was casual but Saturday was indeed formal. He had just enough time to get his tux cleaned and his shoes polished. He would have done it sooner, but had been trying to think of a way out of going without looking cowardly.
Now he had to go or never live it down.
Chapter Two
Gina had been second-guessing herself all week. In the few moments she had between filming and public appearances. Not only had she agreed to go on a blind date with a shifter of all things, but she’d had to get on a plane and fly to San Francisco to do it. The only good thing about this entire craziness was Gerri Wilder’s genius idea that she use another name for the weekend. At first, the matchmaker had been dubious about her need for secrecy, but once she’d explained how many of her past relationships had been with men who wanted her because she was Gina Toriello, they’d decided the men would be dating Gina—because she’d been afraid she wouldn’t answer to anything else—Marianni.
The town car driver let her off in midafternoon outside the boutique hotel overlooking San Francisco Bay. A cocktail party this evening, followed by a formal event Saturday night. Apparently, her date was in town for a reunion. She’d argued that with Gerri Wilder for a moment. A reunion? Not the usual first date. But as the lady pointed out, maybe it was time to change things up. And a guy would be on his best behavior at his reunion, right?
For a moment, she considered leaping back into the plush leather seats and having the driver return her to the airport. Then she pushed past it. You’ve come a long way for this, Gina. Now, walk into that hotel and meet the shifter of your dreams. Or at least have an adventure.
In the marble-and-glass lobby, the concierge approached and gave a short bow. “Miss Marianni, I presume?” His formal suit, mannerisms, and the complete lack of anything made of fabric in the high-ceilinged area—even the seating was stone or steel—gave her a chill. Elegant, yes, but cold, without passion. What kind of shifters had built such a place? Everyone she knew sought warmth and comfort. It didn’t matter. She’d only be here for the weekend and would never choose it for a relaxing vacation, for certain.
But how did he know who she was? If he’d used her real name, maybe, but not her assumed one. Her confusion must have shown on her face because he drew her aside and spoke in a low voice. “I’m one of your biggest fans. When Ms. Wilder sent your information, I recognized your picture right away.”
“But you won’t…”
He slapped a hand on his chest. “Tell anyone? Of course not. We hold the privacy of our guests as paramount. We get many shifter celebrities here, and they often check in under other names for that reason. Still, it’s good when one person is aware of your identity.”
She tilted her head. “And why is that?”
“In case of emergency.” He turned and led her to a marble desk against the wall near the elevator before she had time to wonder what kind of hotel emergencies were likely to happen—or had happened to other “celebrity guests” under their roof. “Now, just sign here and Bob”—a man wearing a red bellhop cap and jacket who moved toward them at the speed of a turtle—“will get your luggage from the driver and escort you to the presidential suite.”
She took the stylus and tablet from him and several moments later, Gina and the turtle shifter soared toward the top of the building in a glass elevator. She squeezed her eyes shut. Ever since watching Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory as a kid, she’d been half convinced in her child-soul that these lifts could and would shoot through the roof into the heavens and, since she’d run screaming from her aunt’s den at that point, she’d never known what happened afterward.
“Are you all right, miss?” The slow drawl of the man sharing the elevator with her and her bags cut into her thoughts. “You look a little green.”
“I’m sorry.” She peeked at him, trying to forget the sky flying past outside. “I can’t help it.”
He winked at her, a ten-second droop and lift of his eye that took her a moment to interpret. “Don’t apologize. My wife was just that color the first time I met her. Very alluring.”
Oh dear Goddess! What if her date was with a turtle? Or two? A little giddy from the conversation with Juniper, she’d made a joke, one about needing two guys to handle her, when talking on the phone with Gerri Wilder. The woman had laughed, hadn’t she? Had she? Think! She’d been so nervous.
“S-so tell me, ummm, I didn’t get your name?” she said to the bellhop.
“Terrence, miss.” He tipped his head up and down and rubbed his chin on his shoulder in a very beak-like mannerism.
“Terrence, are there any other turtles in the building?” As in…are they my date? Or dates?
“Yes, miss. There are a number on staff. Here we are on the top floor.”
The elevator slowed and came to a stop, to her great relief. No rooftop explosion today. “I mean, any guests.”
“Not right now. We tend to prefer beachier vacations. Warm sands, you know.” The doors slid open to reveal a wide hallway as warm with its décor as the marble and glass below was cold. “Very romantic for…well, you understand.”
She did. Burying eggs in warm sand. The turtle shifters were among the very few who handled reproduction in their animal form. “Yes, beaches make lovely honeymoon spots.” And she’d say no more about that! Talking sex with egg-layers would not go well. She’d heard things about turtle sex.
“Your suite is right this way, if you’ll follow me?” He pushed the cart laden with her suitcase, garment bag, makeup bag, and shoe bag along a marble pathway running beside the diamond-patterned carpet. She
stayed to the middle, four-inch heels sinking into the rose-and-charcoal depths. At five-ten, she had often worn flats as a teen to avoid being taller than her dates, but since her modeling career began, she’d refused to hide her height. Hopefully, her date for this weekend had the confidence to stand at her side.
She didn’t care if they were taller, just that they didn’t mind. Or, dare she hope, even liked her height. It was a test many had failed. One of the reasons she was usually without a boyfriend.
At the end of the hallway, Terrence approached a pair of double doors and flung them open. “Here you are,” he said, waiting until she entered before following with the cart. “I’ll put your things in the main bedroom.”
Main bedroom. Of course, she should have realized she wouldn’t be forced to spend the night with her date if they weren’t ready for that. In a suite like this one, there would be at least two bedrooms, probably more if the spiral staircase in the center of the room offered any indication.
She hadn’t considered the possibility of sleeping in the same bed when making her arrangements, focused on wrapping up her movie, a project that had run several days longer than planned and left her only enough time to throw a few things in a bag…okay, in several bags. With all the travel she faced in her career, she was a fast packer.
But she hadn’t had time to think herself out of the date itself until she arrived. And, now, she had.
“Terrence, I’m expecting another party. Do you know if he, if they have arrived?” There were still several hours before the cocktail party.
He emerged from the bedroom with the empty cart. “No, miss, and I’m the only bellhop who works this floor during the day. I’d say you’re the first to arrive.”
Stifling a yawn, she tipped the turtle and, after he left, kicked her shoes off and padded in the thick carpet toward the bedroom where she found, to her great delight, an en suite with a tub big enough to swim in. With any luck, she’d have time to take a soak before her date got there. Shedding her camel-colored cashmere sweater and black skirt, her lace bra and panties, she left them in a heap on the bathroom floor and ran a tub full of warm water and glistening bubbles.
Stepping in, she paused to allow herself to get used to the heat before sinking down with a sigh. The water caressed her skin, and she ran her hands over her shoulders, arms, and belly, imagining it was the hands of the man she’d be spending the weekend with. Not that she’d necessarily allow him to touch her like this, or take a bath with him, their soapy, wet bodies writhing together in slippery passion.
Would he be strong, lift her over him and onto his hot, erect cock? A frisson of fear flickered at the thought. Maybe not quite that strong. She could climb on by herself. Revising the image, she relaxed again, gliding her palms over her breasts, as she imagined he might. Pinching her nipples, rocking her hips, letting her head fall back, baring her throat, submission rising from deep inside her, warring with her lack of trust.
Her fingers crept between her legs as she pictured the man, with his toned body, white teeth, and burning eyes…holding her waist as she bounced on his lap, thrusting deeper with each lift of his hips.
Gliding her fingertips over the curve of her belly, she closed her hand over her pussy, cupping it, then she let her eyelids drift closed, lost in the fantasy, tightening her thighs around her wrist as she moved faster and faster, plunging her fingertips inside. A soft whimper bubbled up as her orgasm overtook her. He would be coming, too, filling her with his hot semen. In her dream, their simultaneous climax had the tub water splashing over the sides, to the music of their cries.
If only.
Panting, she rested her head against the built-in tub pillow and opened her eyes. Whew. Even without her BOB, not bad at all. Who needed a man? But she’d scheduled one. She had to follow through.
Now, if she got a fifteen-minute power nap, she’d be refreshed for the evening. The warm water cradled her body, encouraging her to relax. To her understanding, only a cocktail party was scheduled for that night, but if they were having fun perhaps they’d go out for dinner or maybe dancing. Might not be a total loss.
Walter stepped into the suite and gave it a nod of approval. “Not bad. Roomy.” Opposite the door, a bank of windows overlooked the bay. “My date and I will take the downstairs bedroom and you and your date can have the upstairs one. Okay with you?” Assuming his date was willing to stay in the same room with him. Gerri Wilder had not guaranteed that. After all, she ran a dating agency, not an escort service. But if they had some chemistry, who knew? If she didn’t want him in there, he’d slip out to the couch after the other couple fell asleep upstairs.
Conflagration shrugged. “Either way. I saw the online pics. Both are nice.” He headed for the spiral staircase. “I’ll just go take a shower. It will be good to see everyone from high school. I hope our girls aren’t too bored listening to all the old stories.”
“Well, if they are, at least they’ll have each other to talk to about anything else.”
“True.” The dragon disappeared at the top, and Walter headed into the lower bedroom to clean up himself. He’d finished his latest project for a delighted client just in time to leave for San Francisco, several hundred miles south of their homes. Their trip down had been so fraught with sexual tension, and other kinds, the women would provide a welcome distraction. Did Conflagration remember that time on the basketball team trip, the year they’d made state tournament…when they’d roomed together? Up until that point, their rivalry had been friendly but that one night they’d been awkward, like strangers instead of old friends. And not long after that, the incident occurred that changed everything.
Lucky they both had women showing up because otherwise, sharing the suite might be very uncomfortable. Stripping out of his clothes, he grabbed his shower bag and headed for the en suite in his underwear. He’d never been attracted to another man before or since, making him wonder if it was a fluke… The bathroom was the size of his living room at home. And it smelled nice. Black and white diamond shaped tiles, similar to the rose-and-charcoal carpet pattern, covered the floor and marched halfway up the walls. Stepping inside, Walter froze. The bath held both a glass-enclosed shower and a tub. But, unlike the empty shower, the deep, oval tub was not unoccupied.
“Hey, Walter, did you—hey, what’s this?”
“Ssshh.” He laid a finger across the other dragon’s lips and shook his head, trying to ignore the electric charge at the contact. How could he be rock-hard for the woman who lay in the water, breasts bobbing on the surface, raspberry nipples hard in response to the cool air, while at the same time wanting to plant a kiss on the dragon next to him. He was too screwed up to live. “She’s sleeping.”
“Well, duh.” But, at least, Conflagration lowered his voice. “What I mean is, I didn’t think your girlfriend had arrived yet.”
“No,” he whispered. “Neither did I, but here she is.” At least he assumed she was his, since the other dragon didn’t recognize her. “She’s sure pretty.”
“Well this isn’t the first time you’ve seen her. Isn’t she always pretty?”
“Yeah.” He tried to snap out of the spell the two of them put on him. After years of trying to suppress the memories of that one night with Conflagration, and finding the man so irritating, he didn’t have to try so hard anymore. The air was suddenly thick with sex, with promise, with he didn’t know what. If he hadn’t been a wizard, he’d have suspected another one nearby hexing him. But nobody else in their graduating class had chosen that path. At least, so far as he knew.
Conflagration shook his head then winced. “Walter, I am sorry. I walked in on something.”
“What do you mean?” Obviously, the girl, whoever she was, was asleep.
“Aren’t you going to join her in the tub?” He swallowed hard and turned away. “It’s what I’d do…with my own girl, of course. And since you’re almost naked. Anyway, I’m out of here.”
Walter glanced down to see he was not only almost n
aked but embarrassingly erect. Good heavens! Feeling his skin flush with heat and a bit of flame tickle his lips, he nodded. “Right. I’ll surprise her when she wakes up.” She’d be surprised, for sure, since they hadn’t been introduced. He put one foot in the tub then remembered he still wore his boxers.
“I’m outta here, then.” The humor in Conflagration’s tone didn’t help matters. “Don’t take too long. Cocktails in two hours.” With a wave, he disappeared. Considering how cranky they’d been toward one another, they were being very domestic. Lifting his foot, Walter shook off the bubbles and prepared to leave. Before she woke up and screamed. Wouldn’t his old rival love that.
Long time since they’d been naked in the showers together, at school, when he’d tried not to stare at the toned, muscular build of the man trying not to look back at him. If not for that one night that went so wrong, who knew where they’d have gone. Instead of becoming barely tolerant neighbors, they might have become a couple.
But now his old rival had a girl…and Walter had been gifted a goddess whose dark curls spilled over the edge of the tub, her long lashes casting shadows on cheeks made rosy by the tendrils of steam rising from the bathwater. The thick foam prevented him from seeing anything improper, except for those raspberry nipples, although if he stood here long enough, he might get lucky. Not that he’d sneak a peek at a sleeping woman. Very tacky. About to pivot, to leave before he embarrassed himself, he froze, flame licking at his lips.
His dragon wanted the girl and the guy.
Sorry, old man, no can do. The guy hates us.
His dragon doesn’t.
No, but as long as the human half does, we’re dead in the water. If only I could figure out how to fix what happened back then…but I guess that’s water under the bridge. If the girl likes us, maybe you can be satisfied with that.
Mine. The girl’s face rose in his mind. And mine. Conflagration’s image.
No, not yours.
Claimed by Her Dragons Page 2
