“Those don’t suit you.”
“Do I look like a stuffed tiger to you?” He grabbed his tail. “This does not make me bounce.”
I might have replied if I’d not heard the crunch of gravel and purr of an engine. “Someone’s coming.”
“And?”
“And there are many who would love to get their hands on a talking…” I almost said lizard but quickly spat out, “Dragon. People who might not be as nice as me, so I’d suggest you get out of sight.”
“You expect me to hide?” The affronted tone went with his recoil.
“You don’t have to hide, but I wouldn’t advise talking to anyone but me or my grandfather, lest you end up in a zoo or locked away in a lab for research.”
“I can’t believe I must pretend to be a dumb beast,” Tigger groused as he scampered for me.
It seemed all too natural to crouch and let him climb my arm to perch on my shoulder. Kind of pleased, too, that he sought security from me. As I stood, Jameson entered.
“Back so soon?” I drawled.
“I had a lunch meeting, and since your place was on the way back to my house...”
“No, it’s not. It’s at least a twenty-minute detour.”
“Close enough,” he stated with an unabashed grin. “I came to ask about a bowl that I spotted yesterday on your website. I meant to buy it but got distracted by a phone call. When I returned to your site to throw it in a cart, it was gone.”
“Sold. Sorry.”
“Shame. It was rather unique.”
He didn’t know the half of it.
“Was there anything else?” I asked.
“The real reason I came by, which was to ask you to have dinner with me again.”
“Why would I do that? If you want to talk business, then we can do so right here, right now.”
“Actually, I was proposing a dinner for fun.”
My brows arched. “I’m not that kind of girl.”
Again, his lips cracked into a wide smile. “Didn’t say or think you were. I really enjoyed our conversation last night and thought perhaps we could repeat it, but this time in a more casual setting. My personal chef?—”
“Hold on, you want me to go on a dinner date with you at your house? That sounds wildly inappropriate.” Because, hello, a house meant bedrooms with mattresses for, you know, horizontal tangoing.
“It has a nice view of the ocean.”
“I don’t date clients.”
“I’ve already paid my entire bill, and you’re close to done,” he argued.
“I thought I told you we weren’t compatible.”
“I disagree.”
I folded my arms. “We have nothing in common.”
“Maybe not, but I enjoyed your company more in those minutes we spent chatting than the last three women I dated.”
