The sudden light had me blinking. I rose to my feet to see a grinning Jameson holding an electric lantern.
“Nice work.”
“Team effort,” he declared. “Hold this. There’s another.”
I grabbed the lantern from him as he reached to snare the second.
“Now we needn’t fear bruising ourselves going to bed,” he stated.
“Speaking of which, I should probably head up.”
Rather than argue or cajole me into staying up later, he said, “I’ll guide you.”
I might have protested I didn’t need his help, only I wasn’t entirely sure which door led to the guest bedroom. I’d hate to accidentally end up in his bed because, despite his request we have dinner, he didn’t really seem interested. Unlike me, who couldn’t stop eying his ass as he went up the stairs in front of me.
This evening definitely didn’t go the way I expected. I had to wonder, if Tigger hadn’t derailed the initial dinner invitation by inviting himself, would things have gone differently? As in, would Jameson have tried to seduce me? Would I have let him?
We reached the upstairs landing, having been silent to this point, so I startled when he murmured, “I really enjoyed our evening.”
“You enjoyed watching a dragon scarf all your food, claim your money, declare you his slave, your car getting hit by lighting, and the power going out?”
His lips quirked. “It made for a memorable first date.”
“This was a date?” A dumb thing to ask seeing as how we’d not once discussed his order with the shop, or business whatsoever, but he’d also not tried to get in my pants.
“Hopefully the first of many. I had a lot of fun.”
Surprisingly, “Me too.”
He paused by a door that looked like all the others. “Here’s your suite.”
“Thanks.”
“Guess this is good night.”
“Guess so.” He didn’t leave, and I didn’t make a grab for the door. We stood frozen, gazes locked, as if waiting for something.
Should I make the first move? What if I misread the moment? Did I really want to get involved with this man? What?—
He dipped his head and brushed his mouth against mine. A soft feathery touch that might have ended if I’d not leaned in to turn it into a true kiss. A kiss that left me breathless and weak-kneed.
Had he invited me to his bed in that moment, I might have said yes. Instead, he withdrew and uttered a raspy, “Sweet dreams, Iolana. I’ll see you in the morning.”
He left, and I stared, tempted to tackle him, wishing I had the guts to make the next move.
Instead, with my body tingling with arousal, I entered the guest suite, texted Tutu before I forgot, and went to bed. But forget sleep. My mind whirred with warring emotions, and I slept only in fitful spurts.
When in the wee hours, I did finally fall into a deep slumber, I dreamed. Dreamed we’d kept on kissing, and let’s just say clothes were shed.
I woke feeling sticky and gritty-eyed, a situation not helped by the bright sunshine bathing me in the bed. A bed too big for one person. A bed lacking Tigger. Where was he? He’d been snoring on a pillow when I’d lain down the night before. A glance at it showed the indent of his body and skin. He’d already shed again. Gross. I stripped the bed, but couldn’t remake it since I didn’t know where to find spare linen—or my dragon.
Rather than panic, I hit the bathroom for a quick wash and pee, a new toothbrush being welcome for my scummy mouth. The hairbrush just about ripped out my rat’s nest of hair. I’d slept in my bralette and undies and quickly donned my clothes before heading downstairs.
Where had my dragon gone? I didn’t hear anything. Stupid big house. As I reached the main level, I glanced to the side into the living room. Empty. I passed through it to the dining room, the surface cleared and still no sign of my Tigger—or Jameson.
A shove of the swinging door led me into the kitchen, where I found a much larger Tigger standing on a stool at the kitchen island, eating from a stack of pancakes cooked by none other than Jameson. He stood at the stove wearing low-slung track pants and a form-fitting tee.
How dare he look so good when I felt like I’d been run over by a truck. Guess I’d been the only one affected by the kiss. Or not… Jameson turned around, and I noticed hollows under his eyes as if he’d not slept much either.
