by Zoe Dawson
Dragon huffed out a laugh.
Without missing a beat, she climbed up onto Dragon’s lap and looked into his bowl. “Oatmeal. That’s such a healthy choice. It’s really good for the heart.”
Dragon gave Jo a totally-out-of-his-element look, and a soft smile spread across his face. “Uh…that’s right. How did you know that?”
“My mom told me, and I’m like an elephant. I never forget.” She tapped her temple looking completely adorable. She slid him a sly glance. “Elephants like peanuts, you know. I love feeding the elephants. Did you know they breathe through their trunks, ’cept when they’re sucking water up in their noses?” She giggled. “They couldn’t breathe if they were sucking up water. Anyway, they have amazing control of their trunks.” She scrunched up her face. “I tried doing it…breathing water out of my nose.” An experienced expression replaced the inquisitive one. “Miss Stacy said to experiment in life because that was how we would learn stuff. But…that experiment…not fun, let me tell you.”
“You’re being very charming,” Jo said, somehow managing not to laugh, not only at her daughter’s antics, but at Dragon’s captivated look.
“Mom, I’m the perfect daughter. You know that,” she said with a contrived innocence about her that hinted at irrepressible mischief.
“Could it be…I don’t know, you’d like to feed the elephants in the zoo, feed the ducks at Central Pond, and get cotton candy at the carousel?”
There was silence as Ceri stared at her with a dumbfounded look. Jo managed to keep her face expressionless as she let everything sink into Ceri’s devious little mind. Her façade of indifference was nearly shot to pieces when she glanced at Dragon and found him watching her. He had leaned back in his chair with a glint of amusement in his eyes and a hint of a smile around his mouth. As her gaze locked with his, Jo felt a warm flush color her cheeks, and she quickly looked away. She’d have given anything to know what was going through his mind right then.
“How do you know all that?” Ceri asked, her eyes wide with amazement.
She gave Ceri a superior smile. “Because I know you, pumpkin head. Moms have a special kid mind reading radar built right in.”
Ceri tilted her head, her eyes twinkling and completely enjoying the exchange with her mother. “You do not. It’s your incredibly accurate BS meter and my human nature that you’re mind reading.”
“Ceri Jae Moretti! Language.”
“Oops. Slip of the tongue. I apologize. Forgiveness?”
Jo bent down and kissed her on her little pink bow of a mouth and said, “Forgiven.”
Ceri took her face between her small hands and said, “You’re the smartest mommy ever.”
“Right. You want raisins in your oatmeal, don’t you?”
That incredulous look widened Ceri’s eyes into large saucers. “Wow. Maybe you are a mind reader.”
Jo threw back her head and laughed. “You’re way too smart for me.”
Jo heard Gen’s chuckle as she came into the kitchen. “Your mom’s radar is spot on, little girl.”
“Gen!” she yelled and jumped down from Dragon’s lap. Ceri threw her arms around her grandmother, the thought making Jo’s heart hitch a bit. She loved Gen so much; it was so satisfying that she and Ceri were related.
Dragon’s mom hugged Ceri back and then released her. Coming into the kitchen, she stopped at Dragon’s chair and bent down to kiss him on the cheek. His little embarrassed smile combined with his lowered eyes, thick with sooty lashes, wasn’t lost on Jo. God, could he be any cuter?
“Good morning, my angel.”
“Mom,” he said and grinned, just as much as a mischief-maker as her newfound granddaughter. He huffed a laugh and said, “Morning.”
“Oatmeal, Gen?”
“Please,” she said going to the fridge and getting out a pitcher of OJ. She grabbed two small glasses from the cupboard and poured out the vibrant orange juice. “Your juice, my sweet little swan princess.”
“Thank you, oh, noble subject.” Suddenly, she covered her head and said, “Oh, gosh. I forgot my crown.”
She slipped off the chair and ran down the hall at a breakneck pace.
“Ceri, walk, child!” Jo called.
“That’s right,” Gen called after her. “Princesses are regal, not little wild-haired hellions.”
Jo chuckled. “That’s a losing battle,” she muttered to Gen, and they both laughed.
Gen looked over at her son and said, “Yes, it is.” She gave Jo a sly wink.
“What is that supposed to mean?” he murmured.
“I didn’t way a word,” Gen said.
Her subtle and unexpected comment delighted Jo, and she grinned at her. “Gen is the epitome of discretion,” Jo said.
Gen chuckled and nodded. Dragon riveted his full attention on her, as if he weren’t quite sure if Gen was serious or not. But Gen’s face was as innocent as a baby’s as Ceri came back, her jeweled crown on her head, looking more whimsical rather than regal on her wonky-haired head.
He scrutinized her intently. “Why do I have this uncomfortable feeling that the two of you bonding isn’t good for me?” His tone was contemplative and tinged with an undercurrent of amusement.
Still grinning, Jo said, “It must be totally your imagination.”
His amusement grew. “Like hell.”
“Ooh, language, Dragon.”
“I apologize.”
“Mommy, he needs a forgiveness kiss.”
Her gaze slammed into his, and Jo experienced a galvanizing flutter as she fell victim to the laughter in his eyes. She had a sudden and nearly overpowering urge to reach out and touch him, but she drew a slow, measured breath. Her voice was only slightly uneven as she asked, “Golden or regular?” She went to the pan and dished up some oatmeal into two separate bowls.
“Golden to match my heart,” Ceri responded.
“You little dickens. Get in that chair and eat your breakfast or we won’t have time for elephants, ducks, and cotton candy.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Jo pulled the up high pigtail through her hand and set the bowl in front of Ceri as she climbed up on the chair.
“Mommy, don’t forget his kiss, or he will think you don’t forgive him,” Ceri said innocently as she dug into her oatmeal with the gusto only a small child could muster.
“Yeah, Mommy. I’m hanging here. I’m worried you’re going to wash my mouth out with soap.”
Jo shot him a tart look, and her stomach did a crazy flip-flop when she realized how intently he was watching her. His eyes were gleaming with an amused challenge, as though he was silently daring her to kiss him. She narrowed her eyes at him.
The corners of his mouth lifted, and he looked away, the fabric of his T-shirt pulling tautly across his shoulders as he leaned back, his hands in his lap. Ah, God, he was such a warrior, opening up his chest and keeping his body language relaxed. He probably couldn’t help it.
Realizing that he had her cornered, and that she’d get nowhere trying to wiggle her way out of it, she yielded with a grin and tipped her head in acknowledgment.
Gen chuckled, and Jo gave her a betrayed look.
Ceri glanced from Dragon to Gen to Jo then back to Dragon.
An unspoken harmony radiated between them, and that feeling of intimate companionship was so powerful it was almost as if they were physically bound together.
She went around her daughter’s chair and leaned into and invaded his personal space. He looked at her mouth, his eyes full of some unnamed emotion guaranteed to melt her heart, even if she was made out of stone. And, God, she wasn’t. She was flesh and blood, alive and all woman.
Dragon drew in a ragged breath and his gaze slid to her mouth, his touch on her shoulder almost a caress. “We don’t have all day, babe. Elephants, ducks, and cotton candy are on the line here.”
Drawn to him, to the quiet strength and depth of him, she leaned in, a galvanizing charge sizzling between them as their gazes locked, then
silently she lowered her head, covering his mouth with a soft, lingering kiss. Her whole body went weak, and she floated as his mouth moved against hers with immeasurable gentleness.
But Ceri got her mischief somewhere, and the devil settled inside Jo. Her tongue slipped out and swiped at his lips.
He choked on a soft sound, caught between Jo’s sensual kiss and the knowledge that his daughter was sitting there innocently eating her oatmeal. He gave her a strained look. She had a feeling payback would be a bitch. She pulled back just a hairsbreadth, and he hauled in a ragged breath, murmuring, “Forgiven?”
And suddenly, this wasn’t about a silly game between her and Ceri. Dragon’s tone was too serious, his eyes too dark. He was still atoning, and she had to give him the time to absorb the fact that she couldn’t, didn’t, and would never blame him. She whispered back, “Forgiven.”
“You fight dirty, woman.”
She drew a shaky breath. “My middle name is Pulls-No-Punches.”
He slowly nodded his head, his expression softened by a heart-stopping tenderness. “I knew you were trouble the moment I laid eyes on you.”
“You are walking, breathing…” Her voice dropped to a whisper, her words for his ears only. “…drop-dead gorgeous…” Then it strengthened again. “…trouble, so right back at you.”
Jo moved away, and Ceri leaned over and patted his arm, a sympathetic look on her face that only made Jo’s heart melt. “Don’t worry. She says that to me all the time. We can be each other’s support group.”
Dragon just stared at Ceri for a moment, giving nothing away, then he went to his knees beside her chair and gathered her up in a hard hug. “Thank you, Ceri. I’ll take it,” he said, his voice soft.
Clenching her jaw, she clasped her hands around the back of Ceri’s chair. His eyes were closed, but his face told the story of how thankful he was for their acceptance and how moved he was by Jo’s forgiveness.
Jo’s grip on the chair tightened as she fought back the sudden sting of tears, the emotion catching her off guard. She didn’t allow them to overwhelm her, control was the key. But he opened his eyes, haunted by something she couldn’t fathom. An ache formed in her chest. The look in his eyes was like a knife to her heart.
He tried to say something, then closed his mouth and swallowed hard, then tried again, clearing his throat. “Daylight’s burning, ladies. We better get going.”
He let her go, and Ceri cupped his face between her palms. She studied him for a moment, then lifted her hand, clasping her fingers into a fist. “Bump,” she said. “That’s what brosefs do, right?”
She thought he was going to lose it right there, but he was made out of sterner stuff, warrior stuff, and he raised his fist. “Brosefs.”
After she bumped her tiny fist against his, she reared back and wiggled her fingers, expanding them and making explosion noises.
“Okay, that’s enough sympathy against the Big Bad Mom. Drink the rest of your juice, then move it, sunshine.”
Ceri turned to look at her, something much too grown up in her eyes. She knew the question was coming, but she needed more time for them to get to know each other. This was just the tip of the iceberg.
Jo raised her brows.
Ceri gulped down her juice and slipped off the chair.
Satisfied, Jo said, “Pick up all your dirty clothes, put them in the hamper, and make your bed.”
“Aw, but that will take time away from Central Park.”
“Arguing is taking up more time. Get going.”
“I’ll help you, Ceri,” Dragon said.
She brightened. “Brosefs,” she shouted and started down the hall, twirling in beautiful pirouettes as she went.
Dragon slid her a sidelong glance.
“You are incorrigible.”
He smirked. “Would you go so far as to say trouble?”
She set her hands on her hips as Gen chuckled. “You can also pick up your dirty clothes and make your bed.”
He turned and with a wild yell, shouted, “Brosefs!” He disappeared down the hall to Ceri’s room.
Gen cleared her throat. Jo turned to look at her and was caught off guard by the glitter of comprehension in her eyes. “That was interesting,” Gen murmured. Jo focused her full attention on her. She gave Jo a guileless smile and shrugged. “That was good oatmeal, Jo.”
Knowing exactly what was going on in her mind, Jo stared at Gen, her hands still on her hips. “Watch it, Gen, or I’ll unravel your knitting.”
Gen slipped past, chuckling. “I’m making that sweater for you, dear heart.”
Jo laughed and threw up her hands as Gen’s eyes twinkled. “I’m going to shower and get ready to go.”
Jo turned to the dirty dishes and gathered them up from the table. She piled everything into the sink and started to rinse them off.
“Need some help with those?”
Her heart skipped a beat, then started pounding wildly, her hands not quite steady in the hot water. She looked over her shoulder to see him standing in the wide entrance to the kitchen, his shoulder braced against the white frame. His thumbs were hooked in the pockets of his faded jeans, the stance bunching his chest muscles in relief against the black of his shirt. As he shifted his weight slightly, his altered position accentuated the strong contours of his jaw and the muscled thickness of his neck, and Jo was suddenly keenly aware of his powerful body.
Damn him for that.
“I got it covered,” she said.
In the diffused light from the living room windows, his hair had the same sheen as the wing of a raven, complementing his tanned skin and the dark fabric of his shirt. He was watching her with an intentness that Jo found unsettling. Everything about him was disturbingly masculine: his looks, his size, his strength, even the way he moved. He possessed the same animal grace, the same energy as a big panther, his sexuality sitting on him like an enticing promise.
That line of suggestive thinking got her into deep and dangerous waters as the vivid images took shape in her mind, and Jo suddenly found it difficult to breathe. The sensation intensified as Dragon straightened and with the characteristic determination of a seasoned warrior, sauntered toward her.
She dragged her eyes away from his. “Shouldn’t you be picking up your clothes and making your bed?” she asked in a chiding tone, working at keeping it light and neutral.
“You are working that Mom tone perfectly, but you forgot something.”
She turned around, drying her hands on a towel. “What is that?” For a breathless moment, they stood staring at each other, his eyes telling her that he was thinking about the bed and it had everything to do with making it, all right…with her.
“I’ve been through the hardest damned training on the planet. I didn’t ring the bell, Jo. I’m a battle-hardened veteran.” He lifted his chin in a belligerent move. “Why don’t you make me?” he rasped.
That same something that had happened six years ago between them was happening again, and she still couldn’t define it, but whatever it was, it was something she didn’t want to pick apart. This was a temporary thing. Dragon was going to leave. She had to remember he was here to talk to his mom. He had his own mission. He didn’t bank on finding out he had a daughter, but that only made things harder on him, the complexity of what they shared couldn’t be figured out in a couple of days.
“Don’t think I can’t, Ryuu Shannon,” she said, raising her own chin.
“You didn’t use my middle name.”
“I don’t know your middle name, but if I did, I would have used it.”
“It’s David, after my father. My mom doesn’t want me to use it. She hates my dad.”
“Why?”
“He was a drug dealer. He died in prison. That’s why we have different last names. My mom went back to her maiden name.”
“Ryuu David Shannon. Go make your bed and pick up your clothes.”
“Is that an order?”
“Sergeant Mom has spoken.”
&n
bsp; “You tough, Moretti?” The tiny lines around his eyes crinkled as he nearly smiled, and Jo felt her knees go weak. She caught the full force of the Shannon charm as he added very softly, “Yeah, you are. As tough as they come.” He closed the gap between them and wrapped her up in his arms. “You are so good with her. She is…so beautiful. Thank you for letting me in.”
“She needs her dad,” she said. He released her, then closed his eyes, swallowing hard.
She cupped his face, the need to touch him almost a physical pain, trying to give him some measure of tactile comfort.
His voice hoarse, he whispered her name as he crushed her against him. Hauling a ragged breath, he welded their bodies together by the intensity of his embrace. Jo closed her eyes, her body trembling from the explosion of emotion that slammed through her, unconscious of everything except him.
His hold on her slackened. As he sighed softly, he clasped the back of her neck. Her heart raced wildly as she savored the possessive feel of his hold. It was like nothing else. If she had doubts about her feelings for him, they would have been swept away the moment he touched her.
His breath was warm against her skin as his lips lightly brushed her temple. “I think I’ve made a big mistake touching you,” he murmured.
She slipped her palm over his hard chest. “It’s hard for me to have a cohesive thought with you touching me.”
He sighed, nuzzling her. “You don’t fight a fair battle, lady.”
“How can you expect me to do that? You’re a Navy SEAL, and I need all the advantages I can get.”
He laughed softly, his amusement fading on a sigh of capitulation. “I didn’t know how much I needed this until now.”
“What you need to do is quit feeling guilty about Ceri,” she said softly.
His expression softened as he slowly rubbed his knuckles along her jaw. “Guilt dogs me on more than just Ceri.” He shifted as if he said something he hadn’t meant to say. “Do you know you have an annoying talent for heaving people into the proper prospective?”