by Starla Night
His fingers curled around the hot paper.
“You don’t have to drink it. I can’t tell you how to live your life. But if you have one flavored coffee during the holidays, it must be pumpkin spice.”
She tapped her cup to his. “Cheers.” She tipped the latte into her mouth, swallowed, and closed her eyes. Bliss filled her beautiful face. She sighed. “Ahhh. Today the appointments were so tight I didn’t even drink my coffee.”
The line moved forward, and she sashayed with it. “If you don’t like pumpkin spice, eggnog and gingerbread are seasonal flavors. You might try a plain Americano or espresso. Chai is also popular.”
He swirled the frothy liquid.
The rich scent of the latte filled his nose. It smelled good. Addictive. Like her.
If he tried it, he could never go back.
She bounced on her heels. The couple in front of them stepped to the counter to give their orders. “And … if you really want don’t want coffee I’ll buy you water. It’s a waste. But I’d rather get you something you like than something I like.”
A strange tingling sensation entered his chest. “You care what I like?”
“Of course!”
“Truly?”
“Absolutely. It is Christmas.”
The couple finished their orders, paid, and moved aside. Karmel stepped up next. “I’ll have a full-size Candy Cane Mocha with peppermint whipped cream and this guy will have…”
He tipped the pumpkin spice latte onto his tongue.
Creamy liquid with unusual spice. A bite of sharpness. Honey sweet.
His senses came alive. The music sounded brighter, the coffee shop warmer, the expectant smile of the cashier more interested, Karmel’s surprise more delightful.
Just as he’d feared. This coffee was dangerously addictive.
“Do you know what you want?” Karmel asked brightly.
“Yes.” He set the cup on the counter and turned his shoulder so he hemmed her in. She sucked in a deep breath. Her eyes grew wider. She rested her hands on his shirt again. “You.”
Chapter Three
“You want me,” Karmel repeated stupidly.
Peridot’s dangerous green eyes gleamed. “Yes. I want you.”
Her heart lifted.
She’d wanted to hear those words for so long. He wanted her.
Just like she wanted him.
She dreamed to melt onto his hard body like chocolate on a peanut butter cookie. Rest her head on his broad shoulders. Wrap her thighs around his trim waist. Grab a big handful of his tight butt and just squeeze.
“…to choose.”
Karmel came out of her fantasy with an abrupt jolt. “Choose?”
“My coffee. Choose which one I should try.”
“Oh! Your coffee. Right! Right.” She backpedaled into the counter.
There was something wrong with her shoes; they’d broken outside in the fall. Her ankles wobbled and her heels hit the fake wood with a hollow thunk.
Everyone stared at her. The cashier, the people in line, Peridot.
She turned away from his sultry gaze and tried to fan herself — and think. But like an overheated dryer, her thoughts just kept spinning out of control. “Um, what were your specials again?”
“Chestnut Chai Latte.” The cashier was frazzled. The line behind them buzzed with desperate shoppers who needed sugar and caffeine to push through their last-minute nightmares.
“That,” she said. “Just get that.”
The cashier rang up the total. The baristas behind the glass case hopped. Karmel’s half-formed idea to buy cookies flew past her mind as she fumbled her wallet out to pay. She passed over her credit card— hoping it wasn’t maxed—and tried to loop her purse on her arm. The broken strap fell away, and the purse tilted.
Peridot swooped the purse away from her and secured it in the crook of his arm like a football. “I will carry it.”
She was such a mess. Her voice stuck in her throat. “Sorry. Thank you.”
The cashier returned her credit card. They moved to the pickup counter. She shuffled in her now very oversized shoes. Overhead, Burl Ives sang about having a holly, jolly Christmas and the escalator scene from Elf played on the next door electronics store’s video monitors.
She burned with embarrassment.
This wasn’t as bad as their first meeting, but it was up there.
He checked his Rolex.
Suddenly it felt like they’d been waiting in line for a long time. She wiggled her wet feet in her sticky heels. “What time is it?”
Their drinks arrived.
“Time to move on.” He scooped up his drink, ensured she had hers, and gestured for her to precede him out of the coffee shop.
She sipped her yummy, revitalizing caffeine. It coated her veins with liquid gold hope. Maybe this wasn’t so bad. “We’ll hit the department store next. It’s the cheapest place to get decorations.”
“First, a new purse.”
She waved him away as she gulped. “I’ll fix it when I get home.”
He turned the purse to show the broken stub of faux pleather. “This is not repairable.”
“Let me teach you the restorative powers of duct tape.” She teased him as she pointed out the festive snowflake and jingle bells designs in the craft store. “Now infused with the Christmas spirit.”
Her heels wobbled.
“And you need new shoes.”
“That’s your opinion.” She rode the escalator for the bottom floor.
He eased onto the step behind her. Closer than before.
A gorgeous, billionaire dragon shifter was studying her. Almost like that first night. When he’d seen her for the first time, and her words had seemed to touch him. When he’d smiled.
Now, he almost seemed on the verge of softening…
He reached over and touched the back of her neck.
She held her breath.
The softest brush of his fingers lit her skin on fire. Her delicate hairs welcomed him. A shiver of awareness tingled down her spine.
She swallowed her gasp. “What?”
He frowned at his hand as though it had moved without his permission. He curled it into a fist, shoved it in his pocket, and angled away. “Your tag was showing.”
Oh. Right. Of course.
She fought her discombobulation. Your tag was showing. He dressed impeccably. It must drive him nuts to spend so much time with someone messy like her.
“How’s your coffee?”
His voice lowered. “Good.”
His warm purr curled under her rib cage, found her throbbing heart, and squeezed. And there was something more gleaming in his green eyes…
No. She was not embarrassing herself again. “I knew you’d like it.” She shuffled onto the ground floor and passed the Santa pictures.
He strolled behind her. “Why?”
“All dragons like coffee.”
He stiffened. The warmth in his tone froze to ice. “You know this how?”
“Syenite told me.”
He backed off. “I see.”
“There’s an espresso machine in every office. You guys are obsessed. Except you, apparently.”
“Until now. Your prediction was correct. I am the same as other dragons. I am, like them, obsessed.”
The coldness in his eyes felt like a slap.
What had she done wrong?
He was upset with her. Just like the first night.
Karmel had been friends with Eva since junior high. Karmel’s parents had moved south, and she’d enjoyed her own bout of wanderlust these last few years, migrating up from California after tiring of hanging ornaments on seventy-degree palm trees. She’d drifted through retail pet shops, boarding kennels, and one vet reception in Eugene before finally landing her dream job at the Pleased Puppers Pet Salon. Eva had let stayed over at her bungalow in early summer when apartment searching, and at one of those late barbecue party nights, Eva’s mysterious dragon shifter boyfriend Syenite had brough
t a new coworker.
Peridot had intrigued Karmel right away.
Syenite was a silent, frightening bodyguard who wore black shades day or night. He never smiled.
Peridot had looked even more inhuman. He spoke concisely, navigated the fire ring with clipped movements, and stood or sat motionless, like a statue. But it seemed off. Obsessively perfect. Like, if he breathed wrong, a hammer would drop.
Eva’s friends, being curious and intoxicated, had pushed for information. And Peridot had answered questions about life on his home planet, Draconis. Then, someone had asked Peridot the wrong question. “Did you leave a girlfriend back home?”
He had frozen so hard the surrounding air had crystalized.
An icy silence had fallen over the group.
His answer had tumbled like a chunk of hail. “No.”
Eva had hugged her boyfriend Syenite in her wood porch swing. “This is your home now.”
Peridot had stared at her from his folding chair with sick calm like she’d read the announcement of his impending death. “Correct.”
Syenite had ruffled Eva’s rainbow, glittery hair.
The silence had stretched out. Crickets had filled the suburban, dark sky. Their smoldering fire pit had popped. One of the many folding chairs positioned around it had creaked.
Peridot had stared into the fire.
“The night sky,” Karmel had said suddenly.
He’d looked over at her.
“Whenever I feel lonely, I remind myself that my family lives under the same stars. Then I don’t feel so lonely. So, don’t worry. Whether you’re here or back on Draconis, your loved ones look at the same night sky.”
His eyes had reflected more than the firelight. Emerald irises threaded with shades of olive and evergreen. His icy demeanor had cracked as if he was seeing her for the first time.
She’d warmed.
“Ppphyllb.” One of her other friends had blown a raspberry. “They don’t see the same stars on Draconis.”
“What? They don’t?”
Everyone had laughed at her surprise.
“You can’t even see the same night sky in Australia,” the friend had pointed out over the laughter. “Draconis is in a different galaxy.”
Peridot had looked away.
She’d shriveled up and died like a worm under a magnifying glass, and her friends had kept ribbing her until she’d bolted from the folding chair with an awkward laugh. “Okay, okay, I’m an idiot.”
“You’re not an idiot,” Eva had protested loyally.
“But, still don’t worry. Peridot sees a different night sky, new starlight, totally alone. Which means! With no one from your past holding you back, you can start over as a new you.”
He’d blinked.
“That’s the opposite of what you just said!” her friend had teased.
“I’m trying to make him feel better.” She’d shushed their new gales of laughter. “Gosh, you guys. I’m being profound over here. No one takes me seriously.”
That had elicited more amusement.
She hadn’t minded the embarrassment—much—because it had lightened the atmosphere.
And then, suddenly, a small smile had curved Peridot’s lips.
His serious blond brows had relaxed. Crinkles had formed around his olive green eyes. Small and heartfelt. A crushing weight had lifted off his shoulders. Only for an instant.
And true love had struck her with an arrow right between the ribs.
Her heart had thudded with warning. She’d known, even then, that Peridot made her weak. She’d have done anything to catch his smile again. Addiction? Yes. She craved to see his brows lift, his pain lighten, and his smile return permanently.
Peridot had avoided her for the rest of the night. And at all other parties. He sat in a corner, alone. If she approached, he’d answer any questions with a monosyllable, stand, and flee.
Obviously, the first smile had been a fluke. He was proper, and she was a mess. She must stress him.
But then Eva had called her out of the blue to set up a meeting. “His boss assigned a research topic. You’re the best person to explain the whole ‘Christmas spirit’ thing.”
“Find someone else,” she’d said.
“Karmel, you love Christmas.”
“And I want him to love it too. So, he should learn about it from someone he doesn’t hate.”
“Peridot doesn’t hate you. Syenite keeps bringing him around because you’re the only one who makes him unfreeze.”
“He unfreezes to avoid me.”
“Yes, well, maybe he’s awkward. You’re the only one who’s made him smile.”
Then Eva had told Karmel in strict confidence that Peridot had been jilted at the altar and nearly committed suicide before coming to Earth to find his way in the world again.
Her heart had swelled three sizes. She’d agreed to the meeting in an instant.
If Karmel could help him impress his boss, she’d do whatever she could. If she could make him smile a little, she’d be happy. If she could help him relax, loosen up, and enjoy life again, then he’d surely leave his sadness behind and be able to enjoy, once more, the beauty of the universe.
And if they ever got married, they’d have little brown-haired children. Dragonlets, of course, because shifter genes were dominant. What color eyes? Green like Peridot’s? Or brown like hers?
Not that she wasted endless hours thinking about it or anything…
“That is not the department store,” Peridot remarked coldly.
She jolted out of her reverie. Her coffee was empty, and she was standing outside the culinary specialty store.
“Oh. I’ll just be a moment.”
“What decorations are you purchasing here?”
“Powder blue dragees.”
“That doesn’t translate.”
“Sugar pearls. For snowflake cookies. And royal icing.”
Disapproval frosted his frown. “You have not baked or decorated for your charity cookie exchange?”
“It’s on my to-do list.”
“You keep a list?”
“Of course I do. It’s right…” She reached for her purse, still in his arm, and then remembered. A wave of shame heated her cheeks. “It was in my purse.”
He eyed her with … what? Pity? “Perhaps you should not spearhead an important event.”
The heat wave turned white-hot. “Just because you’re perfect all the time—”
“I am not perfect.”
“—doesn’t give you the right to judge other people when all they want to do is make the world better.”
He stopped and held up his hand to silence her.
Bzzzz.
He touched his left ear. He, like Syenite, carried an earpiece linked to his boss at Carnelian Clothiers. “Sir.”
Bzzz. Bzzzzzz. Bz.
“Yes, sir. Sir.” He glanced at her and then angled away. “Very much, sir.”
This conversation would take time. She grabbed her purse out of his arm and mouthed, “I’ll be right back.”
He dipped his head and tapped the face of his Rolex.
She held her head high and stomped—well, stomp-shuffled—into the culinary store, praying her card wasn’t rejected and that nothing else broke.
Chapter Four
Peridot stalked Karmel from the glass exterior of the store.
His insides churned.
She stumbled, dropped her purse, and stuck a finger in the back of her shoes. She wiggled the loose pleather and straightened, wobbled, and fell to one knee.
He wanted to leap through the glass, throw her over a shoulder, and growl to just give him the list. He’d do everything. She should sit somewhere and not get hurt.
But of course she’d never listen to him. She was irrational, dreamy, disconnected from reality. Just like his ex, Star Sapphire. And she would get herself hurt. Just like his ex.
Pain lacerated his heart.
“—idot?” His boss, Sard Carnelian, growled h
is name. “You have interviewed the human female Karmel. Report.”
“Sir. Yes, sir.” He could not tear his gaze away from the disaster inside the store but he strove to focus on the heavyweight CEO that had redeemed him, given him a second chance, and held his future in both claws. “According to Karmel, the ‘Christmas spirit’ is a set of decorations, noises, and flavors.”
He listed the fake snow, plastic foliage, oversized socks, and reindeer. Sard Carnelian was silent for a long period.
Then, he said, “No. That cannot be true. I have acquired these jingling bells, candy canes, and dead trees. There must be a different ‘Christmas spirit’ I lack.”
“I will ask again.”
“Good. You will find this missing facet of ‘Christmas spirit’ and I will acquire it. Hurry, Peridot. Use whatever resources you need. Carnelian Clothiers is at your disposal.”
His chest rose. “Understood.”
“If you cannot identify this spirit, I will send you back to Draconis.”
His throat tightened. “I will not fail you.”
“See that you do not.” Sard ended the call.
Another Christmas spirit. Peridot was a meticulous researcher. He had compiled volumes of myths, legends, and historical records across the globe. But Sard’s contact insisted the dragons were missing the elusive “spirit” of Christmas.
Sard refused to lack anything. The dragon race was technologically and physically superior. Even Peridot was a billionaire compared to the humans.
And yet, like the spark in Karmel’s honey-brown eyes, he felt like she possessed something he was missing.
It made Sard’s claim more plausible.
Peridot would correct the problem.
He looked into the store. Karmel studied a small packet of blue sugar pearls and tapped the price tag. Her shoulders sagged. She leaned over to a hook filled with similar packets and slid her packet onto its hook.
Wasn’t she buying it?
Her broken purse slid down her arm. She grappled it. Her motion bumped the hook.
Packets slid off the hook and scattered. One slid under her feet. She turned and her shoe slipped on the plastic. She fell.
He was inside the store before he even realized he’d flown.
Her elbow banged the ground.