Dazzled: Reckless Desires - final ARC

by J. K Harper

  The dragon shifter Bernal family.

  To which Sebastian was the sole heir.

  Naturally, no one outside the shifter world knew the Bernals were from an ancient line of shifters, hailing originally from Europe before their move across an ocean centuries ago. No, the human world simply thought the Bernal family had been the only one to ride out the vibrant past and epic downfall of the lavish wealth and holdings of the the golden state's Californio culture that slowly collapsed over a hundred years before. The Bernals had continued on with all their riches because of the one secret weapon no humans would ever know: they could shift into dragons, walk among the populace as human, and enjoy long, literally very rich lives.

  Lacey Whitman appreciated Sebastian's Californio past nearly as much as he did, and it wasn't even her own past. For that alone, he'd be somewhat intrigued by the woman. Throw in her stunning curves, brilliant mind, and an indefinable something he couldn't quite decipher, and he was being driven half crazy by her.

  The rumbling boom of a passing jet made Sebastian tighten his ear flaps more closely to his head as he soared on, the land beneath him now punctuated by larger dark patches as he flew southward, away from San Francisco towards the ceaseless lights of Los Angeles. The magical abilities of dragons to cloak themselves when flying had made sure that when the world turned modern, shifters in their dragon forms not only could not be seen by the naked eye, they also could not be picked up by radar and other modern marvels.

  Being a dragon shifter was a damned good life.

  Alone with his thoughts for the several hours it took him to fly over the somewhat dim heartland of the state, Sebastian was almost startled when the enormous glow of brightness over the L.A. basin appeared in the distance, so lost had he been in his own thoughts. Feeling utterly refreshed by the flight, he soared and swooped in a few playful patterns, basking in the strong feel of his wings and the powerful dragon body whose shape he took as often as he could.

  He zoomed down closer to the earth as he soared over the bulge of the Grapevine, the unending stream of lights going up and down the interstate below him making him snort as usual at that exceedingly slow mode of transport. Surging close to the ocean, he spared a glance out over its darkness, idly wondering if any of the water dragons were out and about in the late night, cavorting in the waves. Sebastian himself was a classic dragon, which meant that while he could breathe fire, he could also swim quite well. But in general, he found swimming in the ocean distasteful. It didn't call to him nearly as much as it did water dragons, and he couldn't stay down in the depths for nearly as long as they could.

  Turning his gaze back over the city, he banked down hard toward the gleaming white buildings of the Bernal Center, which came into view as he approached. They remained guarded with their special, and very expensive, dark sky-friendly lights every single night of the year. Sebastian's personal crowning jewel of the Bernal Center housed several hundred million dollars worth of priceless antiquities, art, and traveling displays. Their security was of utmost importance to him and the board.

  Soaring down to his private landing spot—not that anyone else knew that it was a landing spot—on top of the building that housed his personal office, he touched down with much lighter grace than anyone would suppose from seeing such an enormous creature. It was actually a bit tricky this time, as he held the object in his front claws and couldn't use them for balancing as he usually did. Yet it was a simple enough matter to use his back legs and massive tail to calibrate his nearly soundless landing.

  Smiling to himself, Sebastian carefully released the huge gold treasure to the ground, stepped back, and thought of his human form in vivid detail. He pictured himself in the power suit he'd worn to the meeting with Malcolm, calling up his humanity with an ease born of long practice. In half a heartbeat, Sebastian stood on two legs, clothed in the suit and skin of a man.

  He strode to the door that led inside the building, entered his private code, and swung the door open on silent hinges. Intending only to retrieve one necessary item from his office before flying farther south to the sanctuary of his family's ancestral, private hacienda, he strode with deliberate steps down the quiet hallway. A faint sound, however, caught his hearing, which was still highly attuned due to the recent change from his much more sensitive dragon self. Halting, he flicked a glance at the security cameras, then back down the hallway.

  Someone unexpected was in the building. It wasn't an intruder. That was impossible. He paid an exorbitant sum for round-the-clock security at the Bernal Center. No one, not even another dragon shifter, could get in unnoticed. No, somebody who belonged here was working very late. Sebastian had left San Francisco at 10p.m., and it was now well past two in the morning.

  A-ha.

  With a sudden grin pulling up one side of his mouth, he knew exactly who was down the hallway. A certain gorgeous, utterly brilliant curator that he'd been more than lucky to snag for the Center her first year out of grad school.

  Well, now. This should be interesting. The irresistible call of the chase he'd felt since the very moment he'd met the woman he knew was here now, working very late, prompted him to change direction to head toward the Californio Rancho wing instead.

  He was about to startle the very luscious, very challenging, utterly absorbing Lacey Whitman.

  Chapter Three

  Lacey swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, willing away the fatigue. She had a new exhibit opening this weekend. An exhibit she'd been named lead curator on, which meant it was a Really Big Deal. Everything had to look perfect. She definitely was clawing her way up the ladder, just as she'd said to Gabi. In her case, clawing meant setting up fantastic exhibits that resonated with the viewers. That gave them a sense of connection to people long gone, people who had the same dreams and desires and longings as anyone alive today.

  Taking a deep breath, she plunged back into it. What was sleep, anyway, when she was riding the fast-moving comet of her career?

  She made one more tiny adjustment to the far corner of the exhibit she been fussing with for the past twenty minutes, then stepped back to examine it with a critical eye. No, she still had the lighting just a bit wrong. Or maybe it was that she had forgotten to add something else that needed to be in there? Yes, something was missing. A small, almost inconsequential piece that nevertheless would bring it all together. A tiny thing that was key.

  She had no idea what it was.

  Perhaps she just needed a broader view. It was a large exhibit, taking up half of the Californio Rancho room in the Sepulveda Gallery. She took another step back, then one more—and smacked directly into something hard, hot, and unyielding.

  "Oh!" Starting forward as if she'd touched a live wire, Lacey spun around. "Oh," she said again, this time her voice much lower. Nearly a whisper, but for the little catch in her throat as she stared at the one person she didn't want to see in the middle of the night.

  Sebastian Bernal stood there, dressed in a suit that fit him like a glove, his face freshly shaven, power screaming out from every pore. Power, and that crazy-hot sex appeal that drove her wild every time she was near him.

  Lacey swallowed. No matter how many times she saw him, no matter what she said to Gabi, this man had this effect on her. The effect of making her forget pretty much everything in the world, even to the point of forgetting what her own name was.

  The low rumble of his voice shimmied through her very bones, igniting something warm deep inside her. "Working late again? Ms. Whitman," Sebastian added, pinning her with the look that always seemed to promise a long, luscious night of worshipping her body. Well, in her dreams, at least.

  He never called her by her first name. Even though she'd asked him to do that many times, given his status as her superior several times over.

  She didn't want him to call her by her first name just because she wanted to hear what it would sound like on his lips, of course. Definitely not. Nope.

  Swallowing again because her throat sud
denly seemed ridiculously dry, she said, "Of course I am, Mr. Bernal. This exhibit is very important, and it opens in just a few days. And for the last time,” she added without thinking, “you can call me Lacey. Especially when no one else is around. Oh!"

  Her and her idiot mouth again. A dark fire slowly lit in his eyes when she said that, which only added to the warmth definitely spreading out from somewhere well below her belly.

  Mirth? He was enjoying playing with her. Wait a darned minute now. "That's not what I meant," she said, narrowing her eyes at him just a bit and taking another healthy step backward. Being this close to him was dangerous. Something crackled off of him. The fire she always sensed within him, coupled with the low, rolling desire that seemed to pulse out every time she was near him.

  A wild, reckless energy between them that as always threatened to topple her sideways. That would be just the professional image she kept trying to impress upon him. Struggling to keep herself from doing anything else idiotic, Lacey stood her ground as she tried to gather her thoughts.

  He raised his eyebrows. It was such a small gesture, but it transformed his already ridiculously stunning face from that of a gorgeous devil to that of a sinfully dangerous angel. Ah, what had she been thinking about?

  Dazed, she just stared at him, struggling to hold onto her own thoughts. Something about wanting to toss her panties onto the ground and let him do whatever the hell he wanted to her, right?

  Wait a minute. No, that's not what she wanted to think. Dammit. Just being around him completely fried her brain.

  "So, when nobody else is around, I can definitely call you," and here, Sebastian leaned forward just a bit, close enough that Lacey's pulse stampeded in her throat, "Lacey?" He stroked her name as he said it. His voice curved around it, tasting it, savoring the sound of it in his mouth.

  Holy shit. He'd just addressed her by her first name. Or maybe she'd fallen asleep at her desk and was now just dreaming?

  Lacey knew her jaw was unhinging slightly, but there was nothing she could do about it. His dark, sun-kissed skin, the charcoal black hair, a small bit of which just started to trace one eyebrow, his unbelievably stern yet incredibly tempting lips. And his eyes. For the millionth time, she thought to herself that she'd never seen eyes quite like his. Hazel with a touch of some sort of flickering fire deep within them, right now they sported a dusky umber tone lit with flecks of jade green that drew her in and made her breath shorten.

  Dammit. Every single time? Really? This was ridiculous. She was an adult. She was a professional. She had a Ph.D, for crying out loud. She refused to react this way just because of the way the man said her name.

  He'd said her name.

  Sebastian's gorgeous eyes examined her as her brain raced with her confused thoughts. "Hmmm," he murmured.

  Holy shit. Were her—was she—yes. Her panties were getting damp. Like, really damp. Dear god.

  Quick. She had to think of something. Earth to brain. "So," she frantically grasped for the first thing that might make the slightest bit of sense. "I, uh, there's something not quite right about this exhibit." Exhibit. Yes. She was a curator. A bright, rising star in the museum world. Right. Taking another step back and turning to gesture at the exhibit, she managed to say in her usual smooth voice, "I can't figure it out. Something's missing. Maybe you can help me?"

  Lacey looked at the exhibit as she spoke, trying desperately to tamp down his intoxicating scent of bright bergamot and sage, and something indefinable that reminded her of a wild, primeval forest dusted with cedar. Then, dear god, Sebastian took a step in her direction, stopping literally only inches from her.

  Swooning was a word that had always struck her as something completely ridiculous that only the dumbest romance novels would ever actually use.

  Right now, Lacey was definitely about to swoon as the full force of Sebastian's presence, his enthralling scent that was making her crazy with the desire to do something completely insane, like kiss the man, bombarded her with relentless intent.

  “Ms. Whitman.” His voice was pure silk. Divine, soft, luxurious silk. “I am more than ready to help you in any way you please.”

  Chapter Four

  Sebastian watched Lacey carefully as he spoke, assessing her reaction to his words. Her glorious indigo eyes widened, then darkened even more. He also caught her nostrils flaring just a bit, although she tried to hide her response to him. To his scent, which was capturing her more surely than any snare he could ever have set for the confounding, utterly absorbing woman.

  Satisfaction rippled through him as well. She was attracted to him. No question about it. His dragon roared in approval, urging him to turn the few inches it would take to lightly grasp her chin in his hand, tip her beautiful face up to his, and ravage those sweet, soft lips that tantalized him every time he came near her. That had tantalized him since he'd first met her a year ago.

  Sanity prevailed. One thing Sebastian never, ever did was play with his own employees. It was a shame, because he'd certainly met some beauties who worked for various aspects of the global Bernal corporate empire, but he'd always held firm. That was a potential route to legal disaster. Besides, he spent a fair amount of his time in Los Angeles, which teemed with a veritable explosion of buxom starlets and wannabes who were more than thrilled to be his companion for a night. He didn't need to dally with his staff when the most beautiful, willing girls in the world flocked to this sunny landscape.

  Even so, he couldn't help it. Lacey's luscious pink lips tormented him. Every time he flirted with her, she would catch her lower lip in her teeth, nibbling a bit in her consternation.

  It always made him harder than granite.

  “All you have to do,” he added in a low, seductive voice, “is ask me.”

  Lacey stared back at him. Sebastian's gaze involuntarily flew to her throat as she swallowed. The delicate muscles there, flexing with nervous response, caught his breath in his own throat. Being this close to her threatened to overwhelm him. It urged him to do to her all the things he had fantasized about since the moment he'd met her just under a year ago. To want to smooth his fingers along her skin, listening as her breath hitched and her glorious, utterly enticing female scent deepened as her arousal came to the surface.

  Yet rationally, he knew this was merely a temporary game to distract him from his goal of repatriating the entirety of his gold hoard. Lacey was a beautiful bauble, and an extremely intelligent one at that, but nothing more. Even though his dragon kept insisting that Lacey was his, Sebastian knew better. He had been heartlessly betrayed by a woman once before. It didn't matter how damned enthralling this one was. She was just like the rest of them. Not to be actually trusted.

  Ever.

  "I'm sorry, Mr. Bernal." She flicked a glance at him as she said that, clearly indicating that they were back into formal name territory again despite the fact that he had luxuriated over the sound of her first name mere moments before. "I, ah, don't know what to say."

  Sebastian gave a quick shrug before he abruptly stepped into the exhibit itself, eliciting a gasp from Lacey. Striding into its center, he turned his attention to a gorgeous, leather-bound journal that rested atop a classic table that would be found in the fancy ranchos of the elite class of the time, nearly one hundred and fifty years ago. A quill pen rested beside its open pages, seemingly ready to be taken up to record the day's events. Carefully, he opened it in the middle. Large and heavy enough for the pages to lay flat, the journal settled against the table as if made to be there. The pages, made of thick paper, were slightly ink-stained in places. But a colorful little painting on one of them to lent a richness to the scene that was, in fact, perfect.

  “Here,” he said. “This is what's missing. An invitation to read about the treasures of my family's history.”

  He looked back at her, raising an eyebrow as he made his own silent invitation.

  ~~~

  Lacey felt all the air in the room seem to suck out sideways as Sebastian pinned her w
ith his dark eyes. Standing there in the middle of the exhibit, his entrance into which had been both heedless yet exceedingly careful not to disturb anything, he looked like some sort of ancient king, surrounded by power and ready to blast fire or something.

  Swallowing, she sternly told her brain to stop being fanciful, resume its usual function, and answer the man like the professional she was. “Oh, yes. That does actually work really well.” Her voice, which usually obeyed her, was steady. “It's a beautiful little painting. It adds just the right amount of intimacy to the scene.”

  Oh, for crying out loud. Her cheeks flamed as he looked at her with that knowing smile turning his face into genuine sinful angel again.

  “I knew you were a good hire, Ms. Whitman.” His voice practically purred. “Tell me, are you still happy to be working here?”

  The rapid-fire change of conversational direction made Lacey blink. “Of course I am. It's a dream to work at the Bernal Center. Everyone in the field wants to be here. There's nowhere I'd rather be,” she added softly.

  One of those moments, tight as a wire and crackling with restrained electricity, snapped between them again. The kind of moment that made Lacey forget her name, forget the world, and feel like she should just throw herself at the man. She felt her own breath shorten as she stared at him, wondering if she could literally drown in the dark chocolate of his eyes and the purely sensual promise they held.

  No, not a smidgen of attraction between the two of them. Strictly a professional relationship.

  Right.

  “Excellent. I'm leaving for Madrid later today,” he added in another rapid change of direction, as casually as a normal human being would announce they were headed to the beach that afternoon. “Business will keep me there for several days, but I will be back in time for the opening on Saturday. I'll look forward to seeing you then, Ms. Whitman. I know you'll have everything under control.”