Lisa let him talk, her foremost thought that when she got to Caleb, she'd be safe. When she opened the spare bedroom door and showed Greg fifty feet of golden, growling, teeth-bearing dragon, it would scare the daylights out of him, and Greg would run screaming into the night.
Lisa could not help feeling that someone else watched her besides Greg. His driver didn't seem to notice anything—in fact, the driver seemed the most normal person in the car.
Lisa's every instinct wanted to reach Caleb, to touch his golden scales and look into his eyes and listen to his snarky voice saying, "So Lisa, aren't you going to introduce me to your date?"
Thinking of Caleb gave her an oddly protected feeling, and she held him in her thoughts, the flashes of gold in her imagination seeming to brighten the car.
Her cold chills returned when they entered the house on California Street. The foyer was painted an inviting milk-chocolate color, its polished walnut staircase lined with an oriental runner leading to the three floors above. The lift which nestled in the curve of the staircase would not come down from the third floor, which was normal, but for some reason the fact that the thing hovered up there seemed sinister tonight.
A door banged above them and Mrs. Bradley, who lived in the apartment below Lisa's, tottered down the stairs in her orthopedic shoes, dragging her terrier Mike by his leash.
"Lift's out, again," Mrs. Bradley said, her hair encased in a plastic rain hat.
She barely looked at Greg, but Mike stopped and sniffed in his direction. When Greg glanced at him, Mike yelped as though he'd been kicked and took off out the front door. Mrs. Bradley staggered after him.
Greg smiled at Lisa, his eyes completely dark now. "Shall we?" He gestured up the stairs.
"Sure." Lisa murmured. She took the steps in a hurry, not caring that her tight red dress rode up her thighs. She fished her keys from her small red leather bag, holding the apartment key out in front of her as she neared the door. She thrust the key into the lock and breathed a sigh of relief when the door opened, and she stepped into Grandma Li Na's apartment.
Everything was as she'd left it, the wind chimes hanging still, the scent of sandalwood and cloves that seemed to always linger here peaceful and cleansing. The carpet pulled at the narrow heels of Lisa's shoes as she hurried toward the closed spare bedroom. All was quiet behind the paneled wooden door, no buzz-saw humming or Caleb's booming voice saying, "About time you got back."
Without knocking, she threw open the door, waiting for Greg's scream, and got… nothing. The bedroom was empty. The Murphy bed was locked in its cupboard, the bookcase stood in its place by the window, and the small bedside table had a coating of undisturbed dust.
Lisa's fear returned. Why did Caleb he have to pick tonight to start listening to her?
She turned around to find Greg in the kitchen. He was opening the bottle of wine she'd left on the counter, then he clinked through a cupboard and dragged out two wide-bowled glasses. He smiled, the cold of his eyes absolute. " 'This is a great merlot. I first had it at a party at Brad Pitt's."
Lisa doubted he'd ever been to a party at Brad Pitt's, unless it was one of those flve-hundred-dollar-a-plate charity suppers where Greg ate with three hundred strangers and Brad made an appearance and a short speech.
"Come and sit down," Greg said, moving to lounge on her grandmother's sofa, his arm stretched across the back.
Lisa did not want to go to him, but for some reason, her body swayed toward the sofa. Her mind shrieked at her to stand still, but she found herself slipping off her shoes, padding across the room, and sitting down next to him. His body heat should have warmed her. Instead, she felt coldness, like something had sucked the heat from his skin.
"That's better," he said. "Lisa, what do you want?"
His voice slid into smooth seductive tones she'd never heard before. Greg's voice was usually studied; he had his suave studio voice and his off-set bitch-about-his-lights voice. Now the tones moved to dark and rich timbres, a baritone that Greg had never reached.
"Just a glass of wine," Lisa countered. "And for you not to touch me."
A wicked note entered his laugh. "I know you do not want me to touch you. You want to fight me. But you won't. My master controls me, and I will take you to him."
"Your master?" She bit back revulsion as he leaned over her. The scent of his overly expensive cologne engulfed her, but his body continued to radiate the strange coldness.
"You will meet him soon enough. Don't worry, Lisa, you'll like him. He's not as bad as they make out, and he needs you. He desperately needs you. You would not turn away such a desperate man, would you? You have a kind heart. I see it in you."
His mouth babbled the words, but Lisa could see he did not even hear what he said. His dark eyes came closer and closer as he sent her down to the smooth cushions of the sofa, and his words filtered into a blur of grating sound.
She felt an answering surge within her, something like anger but more powerful, like hot silver wire twining through her. She had never learned any of the martial arts, but her body suddenly knew exactly how to strike Greg and where and when it would be most effective. The white streak at her temple tingled, sending awareness through her as though instincts long suppressed were suddenly breaking free.
She never got the chance to use them. As Greg opened his mouth to kiss her, a pair of heavily muscled forearms covered with wiry golden hair came into view. Two large hands seized Greg by the scruff of the neck, ripped him from Lisa and held him high.
Lisa sat up, her jaw dropping. A tall, massively muscular man with long golden hair and eyes as blue as lapis lazuli held Greg by the neck in a powerful grip. The man looked like a wrestler, his body rock solid, his face square and hard, his skin moving like liquid bronze over muscle. He was also quite naked.
Smiling a ferocious smile he tossed Greg over the back of the couch. Greg hit the floor with an impact that would have broken a normal man's bones, but he scrambled to his feet, his face ashen, amazement replacing coldness.
The golden-haired man glared down at him. "Go tell your master he has to deal with me now."
Greg stood still, mouth opening and closing, cold seeping into and out of his eyes. It was as though Greg himself tuned in and out, struggling with whatever demon possessed him. The golden-haired man took one step toward him, and Greg yelped like Mike had on the stairs and ran.
He made it across the room and out the door in two seconds flat, the door banging so hard it drifted open again. The draft stirred Lisa's hair, but she could not uncurl her fingers from her grip on the back of the couch.
The golden man strolled to the door and closed it. His sculpted back tapered to a narrow waist, his hair hung in tangles to his hips, his athletic thighs and calves were replete with muscle. A gold armlet circled just above his elbow, glittering with a light of its own. He turned around, showing her a broad chest, rippling biceps, a flat stomach, and a groin dusted with golden hair.
What caused Lisa's utter shock, even beyond that of seeing a naked and beautiful stranger in her living room, was his voice. The timbre was rich and deep, his English idiomatic but slightly accented. She knew that voice, because it rolled from her spare bedroom every day, offering sarcastic comments on all aspects of life or dropping to a tender purr when she needed comfort.
She took several deep, dry breaths of air, and said, "Caleb?"
His smile returned and his eyes twinkled with the deep, wicked twinkle that marked Caleb's blunt sense of humor.
He spread his arms. "In the flesh."
* * *
Chapter Three
Lisa finally shut off the water in the bathroom sink, snatched a crimson towel from the rack and rubbed it hard over her dripping face. She knew she had to go back out there and face Caleb, her dragon guardian who'd just manifested into a barbarian warrior.
A white-faced Lisa looked out of the mirror at her, red hair mussed, red linen dress rumpled, bare arms and legs goose-bumped, white streak at her temple
matted with water. Maybe he wouldn't be there when she went back out. Maybe she'd dreamed him, maybe he'd taken pity on her and turned back into a dragon, behind his door where she could handle him.
Taking a breath, she dropped the towel on the counter and left the bathroom.
No, there he was, sitting plunk in the middle of the living room sofa, one brawny arm stretched across its back, a towel she'd thrown at him loosely crumpled in his lap. He was casual with his nakedness as though he didn't even notice it, a man comfortable inside his own skin. The remote control dangled from his fingers.
"Conan O'Brien is on the television," he said, his eyes quiet. "Want to watch?"
Lisa plucked the remote from his hand and set it on the coffee table, then she sat down next to him, not too close. "I don't want to watch television. I want you to explain to me how you are human, in my living room, and why."
She spoke very calmly, but her fingers shook and she folded them into her palms.
He touched the armlet above his elbow, which bore an etched figure of a golden dragon in precise detail along with a smattering of runes. "A witch called Saba gave me this. It allows me to pass through the door and enter your world as a human. The witches sent me to look after you."
Lisa didn't answer. Greg had scared and confused her, and being scared pissed her off. Then there was the intense nearness of this man who looked at her as though seeing her was the best thing that ever happened to him. Her body responded to his sexuality even while her brain screamed that this was all wrong. But her gaze raked over him without her consent, taking in golden-tanned skin over muscle and hair a shade between brown and blond, rumpled like he'd just woken up. The irises of his eyes were large, blue swallowing the white.
She tried to keep her voice steady. "Why should witches turn you human and send you to look after me? How can I even be asking you this question?"
"Saba was not supposed to give me the magic." Caleb ran his fingers over the armlet. "Donna will be pissed at her."
"Donna?"
"The high priestess of their coven." He shrugged, muscles rippling. "If you can call three witches who don't get along a coven. Witches are powerful when they band together, but get two in a room for an hour and they can't agree on the color of the night sky."
Lisa folded her arms and sank against the end of the couch. "If I hadn't believed you were Caleb before, I'd believe it now. You are good at evasive answers."
His blue gaze took its time sliding over her bare arms, her thighs exposed by the dress, her calves, and her bare feet. He pulled his gaze up her body again, his eyes holding a serious light.
"They sent me to guard you against a black dragon in human form. The black dragon put his mark on Greg Shaw, who was about to seduce you and drag you to his master."
Lisa thought of the otherness she'd sensed in Greg, the voice that hadn't been his. "To his master," she repeated.
"It is the truth, Lisa, I swear it. I think we should watch television now. Conan has James Marsters on tonight—you know, he played Spike on Buffy the Vampire Slayer!"
Lisa tried not to be entranced by Caleb's body as he reached for the remote. She needed to focus on what had happened, but his very blue eyes, his male scent, and the whisper of his golden hair as he turned his head distracted her. He was a dragon, for heaven's sake. He was Caleb, her friend with the grating sense of humor and sardonic observations. Only now he was a blue-eyed hunk of muscle on her living room sofa.
"Screw television," she said with effort. "I want to talk about this black dragon."
"You believe me?"
"I walked into my grandmother's apartment to find a dragon in the bedroom, who is now a man in my living room. Why shouldn't I believe in a black dragon and witches? But if you tell me Spike's a real vampire, I might scream."
He shook his head. "No, I think he's only an actor."
Lisa drew a deep breath and vowed not to laugh. If she laughed, she'd go into hysterics and be unable to stop. "Why should a black dragon be interested in me? Or Greg?"
Another shrug, another ripple of muscle. "The witches wouldn't tell me. I am a warrior dragon, and to witches that means stupid muscle who should take orders and not ask questions. Fight this, fight that, never think. Witches have always done this to me. Black dragons are ancient and too intelligent to be safe."
"And one is coming from your world to mine?" she asked.
His large, blunt fingers toyed with the remote. "One is already here. Witches trapped him here in human form long ago—why, Donna would not tell me. Witches envy dragons and crave their powers, I know this well, so it could have been for any number of reasons. Now he is trying to get free, he is trying to find the dragon orb, and he needs you."
"Dragon orb?" Lisa blinked. "What is a dragon orb?"
"I don't know. Something powerful enough to destroy the world if he uses it. The witches seem to think you can lead him to it, and they have to stop you doing that, which is why they sent me."
Caleb flicked his gaze to her again, the overly blue eyes compelling her to look at them.
"I think your witches are mistaken," she said. "I've never heard of a dragon orb, and I've never heard of a black dragon. I'm Lisa Singleton living a humdrum life, except for working for Dressing for Dinner, which I admit can be bizarre, and of course having a dragon in my spare bedroom. But there's nothing special about me."
As she said the words, she thought of Grandma Li Na's smile and her wise voice saying, The women in our family were always special.
Caleb carefully set the remote on the table again, the towel sliding as he moved. The red terrycloth didn't cover him completely, and she tried not to look at his flat pelvis, the coarse golden hairs below it, and the shadow on his lap.
Leaning to her, he lightly touched the white streak in her hair. "This must mean something. Li Na had the same thing."
His touch spun warmth through her. "Genetics," she said faintly.
"Is that like magic?"
"I don't really know."
He swirled his fingers over her hair, and she felt a familiar touch on her mind, tendrils of thoughts drifting through her head like music she could not quite hear.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
His fingers stilled. "You can feel that?"
"Yes, I can always feel it. Like you're putting me into a trance, but not really."
He raised a golden brow and continued to lightly stroke her hair. "I am protecting you, marking you as mine. Greg was trying to mark you for the black dragon."
Some part of her squirmed, wanting to resist Caleb's touch, while another part of her reached for it. To distract herself, she asked, "Who are these witches? I want to meet them."
"No, you don't. If Donna finds out I'm here, she'll send me back and then I can't protect you."
His gaze was intense like Greg's had been, but with a difference. Greg had been determined, invasive. Caleb's eyes were gentle, his touch seductive and coaxing. Greg had wanted to dominate her; Caleb wanted to soothe.
His dragon song filtered through her like gossamer in a light breeze. She felt the touch of his mind, as she had when he was a dragon, weaving the strands of her turbulent emotions into even patterns with his.
She knew in some place deep inside her that Caleb could never reach her completely. She kept a part of herself remote, a part no one had ever touched, not her husband, not her family, not Caleb. She did not know why she kept this part of herself back, but she knew somehow it was important that she did.
Caleb moved closer, leaning over her as Greg had done, but she welcomed Caleb's warmth. She remembered how Caleb had so easily thrown Greg over the back of the sofa and how Caleb had turned to make certain she was all right. She felt safe with him, protected.
Some part of her mind whispered, But who protects you from him?
His face was an inch from hers, his breath warming her skin. She touched his jaw, finding it sandpaper rough—the magic had gotten it right all the way down to golden whiskers.
"Lisa." He said the name like it pained him. He drew one hand up her arm, his warm, calloused palm scraping her skin.
This was crazy, he was a dragon, but her body said, He's a man and a beautiful one. She drew fingertips across his cheekbone and under his hair to the nape of his neck. He closed his eyes, his big body shuddering. Through the towel she felt a firm and unmistakable bulge against her hip.
She skimmed her hands over his back and the weave of muscle across his shoulders. "Your skin is as warm as your dragon skin," she breathed. "And as smooth. I thought dragons would be cold."
"Not goldens. We like to be warm."
She moved her hands down his arms, pausing to touch the gold band above his left elbow. His entire body fascinated her. She roved her thumbs across his forearms and up to his biceps.
"The magic is only temporary," he said. "She said I could be human until you are safe."
Lisa traced the golden runes of the armband, strange designs, neat and sharp. "What happens if you take this off?"
"I don't know. Maybe I change back to a dragon. Maybe if I take off the armband in your world, I die."
"Best not take it off then."
His expression was serious. "I agree." He captured her slim hand in his large one and brushed his tongue over the tip of her middle finger. "You taste good." He closed his mouth over the finger and suckled.
Fire seared through her. Her fingers tingled and so did the hollow between her thighs. "You're a dragon."
Caleb busied himself with her fingers. "Right now, I am a human. I like humans, the ones who are not witches anyway, like your grandmother."
"She never told me about you."
"She didn't want me to scare you. She didn't want you to know until the time was right."
"I miss her."
"A part of her is still here," Caleb said. "In this place. I can sense it, can you?"
"Yes." Li Na's laughter seemed to linger here, and Lisa had the strangest feeling she'd approve of Lisa rolling around on the couch with Caleb.
Dragon Heat Page 3
