by Zoe Dawson
It had been a long time since Dragon had seduced her without even trying, a long time since he’d taken her up against the wall, then again at her apartment. In the morning she’d woken up and he was gone with no note. Then weeks later, the angel had left hell in his wake when she’d gotten a dose of consequences from her reckless abandon.
Like this morning. She couldn’t seem to regret a moment of it.
After several appointments and a quick lunch, Jo grabbed a cab to Mr. Johnson’s downtown office. Once she was ushered inside to sit in one of his side chairs, he greeted her. “Miss Moretti, it’s good to meet you. How can I help you today?”
“Jo, please.”
“Make it Sam, then.”
She nodded. She liked this man. He looked solid and fair. His salt-and-pepper hair was short, his suit as expensive as the designer black-rimmed glasses he wore. “I’m interested in the property you have for lease next to mine, the one on Bleecker Street. I’m here to talk you into selling it to me.”
His brows rose, and he smiled, sitting back in the black leather, high-backed chair. “Hmm, I hadn’t planned to sell. What exactly is your business?”
“A tattoo parlor, Soho Ink. I’m thinking of expanding, and the space would be excellent.”
“Is that so?”
His tone was neutral, and she knew that some people thought tattoo parlors were places for motorcycle gangs, street gangs, and ex-cons. But there was a rich culture surrounding people who got them and a myriad of reasons to get them.
“I have a thriving business that consists of many clients from big burly guys to soccer moms. My shop is located in an artistic community, I’ve got a name for myself, and here are my financials for the last three years when I bought the parlor from the previous owner.”
“Would you allow me some time to think this over and review these?”
“Of course. If you’re dead set against selling, maybe we can talk about leasing and modifying the space.”
“I’ll be in touch.”
She rose and shook his warm hand. “I appreciate your time, Mr.—Sam.”
She left his office optimistic. There was just this nagging voice telling her that expanding her business was going to take her away from Ceri more often. She was tired of someone else raising her daughter, but if she wanted to enroll her in the best schools because she was gifted, she had to make a better living. It was the sacrifice she needed to make.
Ceri was waiting for her when the car pulled up to the school. She waved as Jo got out of the car so Ceri could get inside.
Both of them settled, they pulled away from the curb. “How was your day?”
“Good. I got all my work done early and Miss Stacy gave me some grade five work to do.”
“That’s wonderful. Did you enjoy it, or was it too challenging?”
“It was okay.” She shrugged. “I like doing math better, but she said she’ll introduce those to me in the next module.”
“Well, I have a parent-teacher conference with her at the end of the week. We’ll talk about it, okay?”
“Sure.”
Ceri attended Academy of Ballet on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. She had started classes just this January because she saw Swan Lake with a friend whose mother who took them as a birthday treat for her daughter. Ceri was fascinated with the moves, going on pointe, and the tutus. She loved the tutus.
The tuition was pricey, but Jo expected her to lose interest. What she was learning was that Ceri loved dance even more than math.
When they pulled up outside the building, Jo grabbed Ceri’s backpack as she bolted out of the car and ran for the door. Smiling at Jack in the mirror, she chuckled.
“She hates ballet, huh?”
“Detests it. I’ll see you in an hour.”
“Bye, Jo. Have fun.”
She crossed the concrete and entered. Ceri had gone to the changing room to get into her workout clothes. She walked toward the classroom. The school was so generous. They had a small room with glass so that parents could talk or work. Whatever suited them. They also had beverages for a nominal fee. It was very comfortable. Jo sat down at one of the tables and began to boot up her laptop.
Her thoughts shifted to Dragon again, but in truth, he’d never been far from her mind. The memory of the first time they made love was only a piece of why she’d fallen so hard for him. Dragon wasn’t that complicated. Right, wrong. Good, evil. He was all about understanding the black and white of it. Yet there was an innocence about him, a purity of purpose that matched his angel looks. She was sure he’d flash that devastating grin at her if she ever told him he was innocent. The angel face was harder on himself than he was on anyone else. That’s why she was sure this whole finding out he had a daughter shock would wear off and he would feel ashamed for leaving like that. She was sure he felt guilty, regretful, and overwhelmed. She sighed. She wanted to be there to tell him that all of that was unfounded. But telling Dragon anything was like trying to tell the moon not to shine. He was all about working it out for himself. Didn’t stop her from trying, though.
The door opened, and she turned toward the sound. Her heart did a flexible gymnastic tumble in her chest. Dragon stood in the doorway as it closed behind him. He looked like hell, and she had to wonder if the events of the day had been weighing on him.
“Hey,” he said, looking vulnerable and rugged at the same time, the stubble on his face thicker than this morning. Yeah, she liked him vulnerable…and rugged. God, she liked that a lot. No, she wasn’t a vindictive bitch. It was good he was defenseless, because he rattled the hell out of her. His hair was mussed as if he’d been running his hands through it. His clothes were rumpled and damp from the end of the day heat, and he was still beautiful, with cheekbones she wanted to slide her fingers over and a mouth she wanted to kiss—thoughts even more disconcerting now than they’d ever been six years ago, when she’d lost her damn mind.
She had the terrifying clear knowledge that she was going to do that again, only this time when he left, it would be ten times worse.
5
He stood there feeling a little worse for wear, and she looked…good. Damn she looked good. He’d forgotten how damn good. All legs, long, silky dark hair, and slender curves encased in a pair of skinny jeans, the top she wore colored with blue stripes, pretty white lace ruffling the long hem.
Jo was beautiful six years ago, and she was devastating his senses now, just like back then. It was no wonder he’d never been able to get her off his mind.
SEALs adapted, and they adapted fast or they were dead SEALs.
This woman he’d never been able to get off his mind was the mother of his child.
He was still wrapping his agile mind around that life-altering news.
He’d changed his ticket back to his original departure and left the airport. He’d gone back to his mom’s…Jo’s apartment, and his mom had told him she was at ballet practice with Ceri. That situation was a whole lotta stuff to process as well. Quite the weird coincidence, but real life was often stranger than fiction.
And here he was.
“Are you all right?” she asked, and the feeling of having an overdose of adrenaline racing through his bloodstream made him jittery.
He huffed out a laugh. “You are a piece of work, lady.”
She straightened her spine and her brown eyes flashed. Damn, she looked good that way too. He’d never gotten to know Jo the way he wanted to six years ago, but he was on leave for two weeks, and he was determined to figure this shit out before he had to go back to San Diego.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“I disappear six years ago, leave you pregnant, in the dark about who I am, stay away for years while you raise a daughter that we conceived, with you still in the dark. Unknown to you, you take in my mom because you have the heart of a lion, bigger than Texas, and you ask me if I’m okay. Freaking piece of work,” he murmured. He shifted, feeling like he could do the O-course in three seconds flat.
>
She relaxed and a small smile appeared. “I think I have a bat at home if you want to beat yourself up some more.”
“Sure you don’t want to use it?”
She stood and came over to him. Just being in this small space with her made his whole body tighten. He was about to come out of his skin.
“Would it help if I called you a selfish, insensitive jerk?”
“Yeah, it would.”
“You’re a selfish, insensitive jerk.”
“Thank you.” He stepped closer to her because he couldn’t help himself. Her eyes were sparkling with humor. “How did you know I was going to come back?”
“What makes you think I knew you’d come back?”
“Your confidence when you saw me. There was no hesitation, no surprise. I read body language for a living.”
“We might not have had much time to get to know each other—”
“Except in bed. We were good at that.”
She flushed. “Yes, we were, but I knew enough about you to know you don’t turn away from hard situations. You got blindsided and had to deal with pretty heavy-duty issues in a short span of time. Caveman.”
“Are you calling me a Neanderthal?”
She giggled, and it was cute as hell.
“No, men need to be alone when they do some deep thinking. All that noise inside your poor head.”
“Are you saying I can’t multi-task?”
“Can you?”
Affection bubbled up with the laughter. “No.”
She laughed and pushed at his shoulder. “Hunter, meet gatherer. Laser-focuser, meet multi-tasker.”
“You having a good time?”
“As a matter of fact, I am. It is good to see you, Dragon.”
“Dragon, huh?”
“Yeah, I remembered your call name. It fits. I like it.” Her voice got breathless, and she pushed her hair back nervously.
He reached out and slipped her hair over her ear, the shell-like velvet against his fingers, and she made a soft gasp at his touch. He wanted to cup her cheek, pull her to him in a hug just for the connection, to show that he wasn’t going to leave again until they came to an agreement about Ceri and his mom. But he didn’t touch her. Going down that road again would complicate an already complicated situation.
Music started up, and Dragon looked toward the classroom. Little girls were lined up at the bars, the teacher’s mouth moving. The girls exercised their warmup sequence, but his eyes were only for his daughter, looking slender and tall next to the other girls. Cute as all get out with her hair in pigtails, ribbons tied and streaming pink within the dark strands.
He walked toward the window and watched her athletic form move through the sequences effortlessly while the other girls looked cute, but a little less polished. He remembered how that had been for him when he was younger. His mom had signed him up for football and he’d picked it up easily. His ease at sports and school came at a price. He remembered having to pay it often with jealousy, pettiness, name-calling, and intimidation. It wasn’t something that only happened in childhood. He’d encountered it in the Navy. He still held the record for being the best shot, not only in the Navy but in all of the services. When you achieved your dreams with the kind of talent that made it look too easy, people resented you, not because of you, but because of their desperation for their own dreams. He’d never taken any of it to heart. He’d worked hard, but not as hard as some people had to work.
Like Speed. He’d almost rung that bell, but Pitbull had been relentless. Deep down, Dragon’s guilt might have started the day he realized Speed wasn’t quite up to being a SEAL. He often wondered how Pitbull was dealing with Speed’s death, but since it seemed like the subject of Speed’s death was taboo, they hadn’t talked about it in depth.
He’d had a lot of talents that he’d never pursued—music, mathematics, technology—but he had no regrets about any of that. He was right where he wanted to be.
The feeling of pride came over him that he had fathered this little girl, a testament to his virility and nothing short of powerful. He’d never felt so important as a man in his life. His emotions were ping-ponging all over the place.
The soft touch of Jo’s hand slid over his shoulder. “She’s beautiful, Jo,” he said, his voice a little uneven.
“Yes, she is. You don’t get it before you have children. I know this is all new to you, but you’ll see what I mean. Love takes on a whole new meaning with a child. I know this is awkward and uncomfortable, but it will all work out.”
“Hoo-yah,” he said softly.
“She scares me sometimes,” Jo said.
Dragon turned to her. “I’m sure that’s a glass house of building blocks.”
She smiled and sat down at the computer, and he took the seat next to her.
He knew what it was like to feel isolated in his own brilliance. He understood that he could be a help here in raising her. There was understanding, but there was also fear. He had no father figure on which to draw any type of role model. His father, a drug dealer who had gone to prison and died there, and his older brother, who had succumbed to gang violence, had let him down morally and ethically. How should he father Ceri?
“It is. I’m starting to realize that she may be a genius, and I feel inadequate sometimes in making decisions about her future.”
He turned to look at her. “I don’t think there is any universal answer. Have you had her tested?”
She shook her head. “No, but she’s excelling above her normal grade level in the school I have her in. Thank God Montessori is structured for children to learn at their own pace.”
Out of the corner of his eye he saw that the girls were performing a short dance recital. He wondered if it was some kind of homework they’d been given.
“I’ve only heard good things about their teaching style…what are they doing?”
Jo’s attention shifted to the class. They watched as Ceri, set apart from the other girls, prepared to do her routine.
“I don’t know. Ceri didn’t say anything about a special class project.”
She rose, and he followed. She entered the room and took one of the chairs on the side, and Dragon sat down next to her. Ceri was focused on her teacher, a stern, tall, and slender woman with her graying hair in a bun, as she waited for the music to start up. From the first note, he was mesmerized. Ceri started dancing, and the grace and beauty of her blew him away. She floated, her arms fluid, fluttering around her. She was beautiful and he was proud all over again.
He felt Jo’s warm, soft touch on his forearm, then the tightening of her fingers around his muscle. He had to keep reminding himself that his daughter was only five years old. As the last note died, there was utter silence in the room. Her teacher stood there staring at Ceri, her mouth slightly open. She blinked several times and said, “That was beautiful, Ceri. Well done. Please take your place back in line. Amanda, you’re next.”
Ceri smiled at them as she returned to the cluster of girls. One of them leaned over and said something to her that clearly upset her. She frowned and blinked several times as if absorbing blows, and every cell in his body went on instant alert. Dragon half raised in his seat but realized he couldn’t do anything right now.
The class continued, but it was clear that Ceri had been rattled. She was a beat behind and off each of her steps. Her eyes were miserable.
As class ended, Ceri walked up to them. “Hi, Gen’s son.” Her smile was brighter, and he was glad she was shrugging off whatever that girl had said. He knew all about mean girls.
“You okay, sweetheart?” Jo asked, picking up on the same encounter he’d witnessed.
“I’m great. Did you see my short piece?”
“We did and thought it was wonderful. What is that from?”
“Part of Odette’s solo in Swan Lake.”
“You must be starving. Why don’t you change, and we’ll get home and make dinner?”
“Is Gen’s son staying?”
“Why don’t you call me Dragon? It’s my call name.”
“That’s cool. Does it have to do with your tattoo?”
“Something like that. Maybe I’ll tell you the story sometime.”
“Scoot,” Jo said, and Ceri left the room.
“Miss Moretti? May I have a word with you?”
The teacher walked over and gave Dragon a quizzical look, and he smiled at her. “I’m Ceri’s father.”
“Oh, I’m pleased to meet you. Gwen Lancaster.”
They shook hands, and Gwen switched her attention to Jo. “I wanted to talk to you about Ceri.”
“Is there a problem?”
“Yes, there is.”
“Oh, no. She loves ballet. What’s the problem?”
“Your daughter is too talented for this class, and in the long run she’s going to disrupt it. It’s inevitable. I have, in all my teaching years, never seen so much talent and poise in a five-year-old. I’m at a loss as to what to do at this point. She’s really too young for the preprofessional class but could excel there for certain. It’s not just the way she dances, but her interpretation. Her portrayal of Odette…my God, she showed her elegance and grace as would be expected from the role of being a swan, but also her discomfort in her human form. I want her to dance the whole thing so I can see how she performs. Every movement was exquisite. I’m impressed, and I don’t impress easily.” She reached out and touched Jo’s shoulder squeezing. “There is a prima ballerina born each decade. I think your daughter is that ballerina.”
“That scares the hell out of me,” Jo said, glancing at him, but he’d only been in Ceri’s life for a New York minute.
