by Zoe Dawson
“It wasn’t my intention.”
She took a deep breath, her sigh watery. “There’s no delicate way to put this.”
“Just tell me. You can do away with the delicacies. I’m not made of glass.”
“No, you’re made of muscle and a formidable personality. It’s scary sometimes.”
“Jo, stop stalling.”
“Ceri is going to be expensive, and my business is established and here. I’ve got plans to expand to bring in more artists and even piercing. I could double my income.”
He gave her a small half smile, his gaze direct. She looked away. “This is about money, then?”
“No, it’s about Ceri. Uprooting her, finding a school that’s a good fit to her needs, her ballet classes. Everything is here.”
Finally, he said, his voice quiet, “Except me.”
“You can Skype with her when you can. Be a part of her life as much as possible.”
“Yeah, I can do that.” He paused. “But that’s only half of what I’m interested in.” Her already glistening eyes filled, and she sat staring at him. He hurt enough for the both of them. Tears spilled over, and she rose, wiping at them.
Bracing his hands on the table, Dragon stood, then reached across and caught her face. Tipping her head back, he leaned over and kissed her with tenderness as more tears slid down her cheeks. Tightening his hold on her face, he slowly withdrew, then trailed his knuckles down the wet path.
“We’ll talk about the arrangements before I leave next week,” he said huskily. He kissed her again, then straightened, giving her shoulder a little squeeze. “Finish your tea. It’ll be good for you. I’m going back to bed.”
Three days later, Jo sat across from Sam Johnson. Since she owned her building, he had been interested in buying that building from her. But the expansion had been her plan all along and selling her building wasn’t on the table. Leasing his building adjacent to hers was better than not having it at all. “I’m not interested in selling the building to you,” he said.
Jo fidgeted in her chair, her stomach feeling on the edge of queasy. “But you will lease it to me?” He sat back and nodded. “I don’t want to sell my building,” she said, her throat clogged with unshed tears. God, she was a basket case. Dragon was leaving the soon. Ceri had been uncharacteristically gloomy. Her bright eyes and usually smiling face were absent as the time for him to go came much too rapidly. Even Gen was out of sorts. She’d already made the tough decision, and now she had to deal with the fall-out. She was doing this for Ceri.
She was.
It was that niggling voice that sounded way too much like Gen goading her with the same question over and over. Was she?
“All right. I’ll draw up the papers, and I should have them by the end of next week. Will that work?”
Jo nodded and with a heavy heart, she left the office and went back to work.
The next couple of days weren’t fun. What she’d had with Dragon seemed like ashes in her mouth. There was no closeness, no shared jokes, and no sex. She wanted it, wanted to be close to him before he left and they said goodbye. But that was a pipe dream. She left work early because she was having trouble concentrating, and she didn’t have any clients. She noticed she had those two gangbangers on the schedule for the day after Dragon left for San Diego.
Suddenly her insides hollowed out. He was going to leave. That was reality. He was a Navy SEAL and he would get deployed again. He’d be in danger, and she wouldn’t have a clue where he was or how he was doing. That would suck on the best of terms.
When she got home, Dragon and Ceri were still at their swimming lesson. She was going to graduate from Dragon’s Little SEAL School as he called it. It was Gen’s day to volunteer at the soup kitchen. Jo decided to get some laundry done. There was always laundry to do.
She changed into shorts and a tank top and went through the kitchen into the small laundry room. There was a window that faced out to the street. She often people watched as she folded.
There was a load inside the dryer, and it looked like Gen had turned it on before she left because the clothes were still warm. She started to fold them when she came across one of Dragon’s T-shirts. She noticed a small tear that was completely mendable. A weird, protective sensation rolled over her, clutching her heart. He most likely could fix that tear himself. He was a SEAL, but it was something she could easily do for him. Closing her eyes, she struggled with the image of him alone in the barracks where he lived with a bunch of guys.
Dammit.
Then against her will, she got this vision of them all living in a cute house. It was a benign vision, an everyday making-breakfast image. The sun streamed through the window, shining in his dark hair, that sexy grin in place as he teased her.
She grabbed the small sewing kit, found a thread to match the navy blue of the fabric, and stitched up the small hole. He would go back to the barracks, and she would stay in New York City, giving Ceri the biggest boost she could in life.
He had given so much of himself since he’d been here, and he was rewarded with nothing from her except lost dreams.
Dammit.
She’d put everything away, then looked for something else to do, like immerse her head in cold water or start dinner. She picked up the basket, then she looked out the window and saw Dragon kneeling in front of Ceri on the sidewalk. He had his hands on Ceri’s shoulders, and she could clearly see both of their faces—and Dragon wasn’t happy. Uh-oh, Ceri was in trouble. It was clear Dragon was acting like an irate dad. Where she would have gotten sulky looks, manipulation, or pouting, Dragon was laying down the law, and Ceri was listening, thoroughly chastised.
She covered her face with her hand. He was acting just as he should act. He was Ceri’s dad, and she needed him. But how could she compromise Ceri’s education? Damn, she hated economics and the uncertainty of the marketplace.
When Dragon and Ceri came inside, Jo pretended she hadn’t seen a thing.
“Go to your room and remember what I said. No screens.”
“Yes, sir,” Ceri mumbled and did as she was told.
She leaned against the counter with raised brows. Ceri glanced at her for support, but she gave her daughter an uh-uh look. Ceri sighed heavily.
Dragon gave her a sidelong glance. She held up her hands. “You don’t have to explain,” she said. It took everything she had not to laugh. He was so damned adorable.
He narrowed his eyes at her, and she felt that familiar sizzle she’d been missing. “Are you mocking me?”
“Me?” she asked, her eyes wide and innocent as a lamb, her tone sweet as pie. “I would never.”
He held her gaze for a moment, then the corner of his mouth lifted just a little. “Pure as the driven snow?”
“Brrr,” she said with a mock shiver.
“Laugh it up, Moretti. I have my eye on you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He went into the laundry room, and she followed him to the door. He pulled out their bathing suits and dropped them into the washer along with their towels. Then he added detergent and started it. When he turned, she was blocking the door.
“Something on your mind, Moretti?”
She hated that he’d stopped calling her babe. “Yeah, I have a request for tomorrow.”
“Shoot.”
“Ceri needs new leotards and tutus for her ballet class. How about you get them for her?”
“Sure.”
There was just a tinge of uncertainty in his eyes, and she jumped on it. “Do you know what a leotard is?”
He lifted his chin in a tough, alpha-male way. “Yeah, I know. I’m dialed in to ballet.”
She stepped closer to him as his warmth surrounded her. “You sure about that?”
His shoulders stiffened. “No.” His face scrunched up into a confused frown. “What the hell is a leotard?”
She laughed up at him. “It’s a full body suit, but she’ll need tights, tops, and ballet shoes too. Tha
t kid is growing like a weed. Can you cover that?”
He moved closer to her and leaned down almost like he was going to kiss her. His hot gaze went over her lips. “Yes, I can, and thank you for asking me.”
She patted his cheek, pasting a bland look on her face. “You can hold that thank you until tomorrow after you go shopping.”
“I have combat experience,” he offered.
She chuckled, backing up as he went to exit the room. God, she wanted him to touch her, just once. It would make her feel so much better. “You’re going to need it.”
She walked to the fridge and pulled out some pork chops and the applesauce and grabbed a box of stuffing from the pantry. “Can I help?”
“You can make a salad.”
He pulled out the ingredients. He chopped, and she cooked in silence until it was broken by, “Daddy?”
Dragon was setting the table, and he looked up at the sound of his name. “Ceri?”
“Can I come out now? You said half an hour.”
“Yes, you can.”
She went to the silverware drawer and pulled out some forks that she laid on the table. He sat down and she climbed onto his lap.
Snuggling up to him, she said, “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“I have a ballet recital in two weeks.” She looked over at Jo. “Right, Mommy?”
“That’s right, honey.”
“Can you come for it? I’m dancing the lead, and I’m practicing really hard.”
“What day is it?”
“Saturday.”
“I could fly in on Friday night, but it all depends on whether or not I’m on a mission. I can’t promise you I’ll be there.” His voice softened. “Can you record it for me, so I don’t miss it?” He looked over at Jo with a pleading look in his eyes.
They were working out schedules, just like a real family. Her heart rolled over, a strange fluttery feeling unfolding in her middle. And another startling realization hit. They weren’t like a real family. They were a real family. She looked away as her daughter and Dragon talked. Her throat clogged with tears and regret.
“Of course,” she managed, her voice wobbly. She glanced back at Dragon. Ceri hadn’t noticed, but he had. There was just as much pain and regret in his eyes.
The next day when Jo got home from work, there was a mountain of bags around the couch. Dark hair caught her eye, and she pushed bags off him. His head was back, and his gorgeous features relaxed in sleep. She covered her mouth to keep from laughing and waking him up.
She moved several bags off him. “That was a rotten thing to do, Moretti.” She froze, and he opened one eye. “I think I’m color-blind.”
“How—”
“Pink, so much pink. I think I’m still seeing pink. I need a pinkectomy.”
She laughed. “You’re the dad of a ballet dancer. I’m afraid you’ll be counting pink sheep in your sleep.” She nudged him, and he opened that one eye again. “Don’t look now, but there are pink elephants.” She made the mistake of leaning over him. “I have a mug with your name on it and little ballet shoes,” she said in a singsong voice.
He grabbed her around the waist, and she shouted as he tickled her. She wrestled away from him.
“Ha, ha, Moretti. You’re a riot.” He rubbed his hand over his face. “I endurance train, but that kid has more energy than the sun. She knows what she wants.”
“Welcome to my world and fatherhood of a gifted and talented little girl. Congratulations. You earned your first merit badge.”
“If I exert myself, woman, you will pay.” He closed his eyes. “I think I’ll rest up, though.”
She looked to the side and saw his duffel was packed, and she sobered immediately. “What time is your flight tomorrow?”
He lifted his head and shoved more bags off him. “Nine in the morning.”
“I can drive—”
“No, that’s not necessary. I can say my goodbyes tonight and get a cab to JFK.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” he said. “I’ve already given Ceri my number. I told her she could call me anytime.”
Jo nodded. “I’ll make sure it’s not excessive.”
“That’s okay,” he said in a subdued tone. “I want her to know I’m accessible. If I can, I’ll answer.”
She left him there amongst her daughter’s ballet things, looking so weary she could barely bear it. And when it came to say goodbye to Ceri, she clung to him. Her tears and sobbing wrenched at Jo’s heart. He held her tight, and she couldn’t stand the look on his face. She felt not only had she let him down, but she was some kind of monster.
He read to her for the last time. Said his goodbyes to his mom in quiet tones with more tears. She got ready for bed. Jo tried to talk to him, but he wasn’t in the mood. All he said was he would send her money through one of the apps for Ceri’s child support. It wasn’t exactly the goodbye she wanted, but it was the one she deserved.
It was the sound of her door opening that woke her up, and she thought it might be Ceri. She listened for her voice. But before she could come fully awake, his hand cupped her jaw. She opened her eyes to find him sitting on her bed.
He was naked except the navy shorts he slept in. “Ryuu,” she whispered, hoping it wasn’t a dream, and he would disappear, but he was solid and warm.
He didn’t respond immediately, his face obscured by shadows, but even in the faint light from the window, she could see the tension in his jaw.
His voice was hoarse when he said, “I’m sorry, Jo. We need a proper goodbye. I don’t want it to feel like the last time we parted.”
He shifted his position, sliding his arms around her, hugging her to him. Overwhelmed by a mixture of sharp relief and unbearable sadness, Jo wrenched her arms free of the blankets and wrapped them around his neck, hanging on to him with desperation. Locking her jaw to keep her own emotions contained, she pressed her face against his neck, a sob trapped in her chest. His rib cage rose sharply, pulling her underneath him as a violent shudder coursed through him.
“I need you, Jo.”
That did her in, and everything changed. She felt him against her, hard and fully aroused, and her breath caught on the sudden wild flutter in her chest. Closing her eyes against the explosion of need, she hung on to him, weakness washing through her. This man always made her weak. She fumbled with his shorts and the sheet.
“Jo, are you sure?” he whispered raggedly.
Shaken to the core by the agony of need in his voice, her body primed for the feel of him, she clutched at him, rubbing her wet heat against him. “Yes, please, Ryuu. Please,” she whispered, her voice breaking from the frenzy of hot, surging desire.
Dragon made a low sound, and Jo arched her back and lifted her pelvis. He went rigid in her arms, and another low, ragged sound was wrenched from him as he entered her in one despairing thrust.
There was no room for gentleness or patience. There was only room for urgency and a fever of need—and greed, a driving, desperate, frantic greed that consumed them, drove them, carried them to the very edge of an emotional abyss; then he clutched her and drove into her one final time. The blackness exploded into splintering shards of silver, and the release came—a blinding, paralyzing release that took them both under.
He held on to her, enveloping her in his strength and heat, his body shuddering against hers, and Jo clung to him, tears of raw emotion slipping down her temples, so shaken, so emotionally exposed she felt stripped inside.
Expelling his breath in a violent shudder, Dragon roughly turned his head and smoothed back her hair. “I’ve got to go, Jo,” he whispered.
His chest rose sharply, pressing against her as he took in a deep uneven breath. “I think I hear Ceri,” he whispered, his voice rough with strain.
Her insides sinking, she listened and heard, “Mommy?”
Shifting his hold, Dragon caught her by the face, then softly, so very softly, kissed her, his mouth warm and unbearably g
entle. Jo was undone by that gentleness, and she tried to grasp him, but he pulled her arms from around his neck, deepening the kiss for just an instant. Then he rolled off her and reached for his shorts.
This was his final goodbye. And it nearly killed her.
She heard Ceri again calling from her room, and she couldn’t have her get up and find them like this. She wouldn’t understand. Blind with tears, she got dressed, stumbled to her feet, and went to Ceri.
She was sitting up in bed, looking forlorn and sad. “Did he go, Mommy?”
“Yes, sweetheart. He’s gone.”
A soft sob sounded, and she pushed her face into Jo’s neck, wet with her tears. “I love him so much. Why can’t we live with him? Why?”
“Because, your life is here, Ceri. Everything you know. I’m always planning for your future. I want it to be as bright as you are.”
“But I need my daddy now,” she wailed. “The rest is just…geography.”
That wrenched her heart so hard, the realization crushing her. Oh My God, was Ceri right and she wrong? Feeling that she had just gotten a wake-up call in the most innocent and humble way, she could barely breathe.
She rocked Ceri until she fell back to sleep. Rushing out of her room, she prayed he was still there, but when she got to the living room, he was gone.
Jo couldn’t go back to sleep. She sat at the kitchen table wishing she could feel something other than this horrible heartache. Ceri’s words kept repeating in her tired brain.
Was it really over? Did she want it to be over, or was she harboring her own anxiety and fears about her daughter and projecting them? What was it Dragon had said? Change the conversation in your head. It’s the only way to overcome fear.
Did she have some thinking to do? Or was this still the best course of action?
And if it was, why did it feel so wrong?
17
Dragon’s plane touched down around noon. He’d already texted Pitbull to pick him up. He could still feel Jo against his skin, and even though she seemed to be adamant about keeping Ceri in New York City, he wasn’t going to let that conversation play in a loop in his head. He was going to be optimistic that she would see that they were meant to be together, and she would change her mind.
