I Dream of Dragons (Boston Dragons) (14 page)

Everyone nodded and murmured their agreement, but Mrs. O’Malley knew there’d be a small army eyeing that castle come sunrise.

The minute the good father left the pub, the excited hubbub resumed. Mrs. O’Malley was right. The whole of Ballyhoo was heading straight to the castle.

* * *

Rory woke when the sun began to shine through the windows. He had never closed the blinds. That was probably a mistake, considering he could have shifted into his dragon form in his sleep. He hadn’t done that since he was a lad, but he’d had such an erotic dream last night that he was completely heated from within.

As his mind and vision cleared, he glanced over his shoulder and saw the reason for the dream. Amber was snuggled up against him with her arm draped over his waist. A slow smile stole across his face.

As much as he hated to move, he knew she’d be embarrassed if she woke in that position. He also had to use the bathroom, and if she saw him sporting morning wood… Well, her assumption wouldn’t be far from the mark.

He gently lifted her limp hand and tried to slide out without waking her.

“Wh—what the?” She snatched her hand back as if she’d touched a hot stove. “Christ.”

Instead of being embarrassed as he expected, she seemed angry. He swung his feet to the floor and sat up.

“I just woke up meself and found us in that position. I swear I had nuthin’ to do with it.”

“It’s not that. Well, not entirely. You’re burning up.” She too sat up and reached for his forehead. “Are you sick?”

He quickly leaned away and said, “I tend to run hot. I’m fine.”
Change the subject, you dolt, before she questions it further.
“Do you need the bathroom? I’ll let you go first.”

“I will, but I might take a while. Why don’t you go first? I have to pick out some clothes to change into.”

“Thanks.” He bolted off the futon and jogged to the bathroom.
Clean clothes. What a luxury.

He imagined his sisters had gone shopping for new wardrobes since they’d worn different things last night, but he couldn’t leave the apartment to replenish his. Come to think of it, he’d have to call Chloe down and send her off to find him
something
cool to wear. Shannon would take too long. She tended to get distracted by shiny baubles. He wished he could try things on, but Chloe would probably have to guess at his size. The United States used inches, not centimeters, so he had no idea what to ask for.

Ah. Perhaps a bathing suit would be forgiving if she got it a bit wrong.
Amber was right. He was scorching hot just from lying next to her.

* * *

Amber had just stepped out of the shower when she received a phone call from the moving company. They confirmed her request for an expedited pack and move of her whole apartment. It was going to be pricey, but she figured the fast service was worth it. The rent in this beautiful building was so ridiculously cheap that she
had to
have this apartment. She couldn’t help feeling sorry for Rory, however, and that sympathy was getting in the way.

Maybe he could move in with his sisters. They seemed to get along, and his futon would fit in their living room as well as it fit in hers. She secretly hoped he wouldn’t go far.

Mayday, Mayday, Mayday!

“Oh shit,” she muttered.

She glanced at her pile of clothes on the toilet seat and imagined them already on her body.
Poof.
She was dressed. Smiling at her newfound power, she closed her eyes and zeroed in on the air emergency.

A small passenger aircraft, often referred to as a puddle jumper, was losing altitude fast. If she didn’t act fast, a few dozen commuters wouldn’t make it to work in the large Midwestern city they were headed to that day…and who knew how many innocent bystanders could be killed?

Fortunately the plane hadn’t reached the city yet, and the pilot was frantically trying to line up with a highway. A busy highway.

The first thing Amber did was to slow the plane’s descent and then stop the traffic behind her. Up ahead, she created an electronic sign that read:
Plane landing.
Get off at next exit
, and that rerouted everyone off the nearest ramp. It was too late to push the puddle jumper back up in the air. The best she could do was to help with a soft-impact landing.

She leaned over the young pilot’s shoulder and whispered, “Stay calm. You’ve been trained for this. Everyone will be all right.” She knew he couldn’t see her. She would seem like just a voice in his head. She hoped using a calm voice and solid reasoning was all she had to do to perform her job. There was little else she could help with. Correction—she didn’t know what she could do yet. She hadn’t fully tested her powers.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, seeming to gather his courage. The landing gear hadn’t been operational, but Amber whispered, “Try the landing gear again.”

He did, and his eyebrows shot up as it clicked into place just in time. Amber was fairly sure he’d do well from this point on, so she took a peek at the passengers.

Yup. All buckled in and braced for impact—including flight attendants.
She returned to the cockpit and watched as the pilot hit the pavement and bounced. She slowed the plane some more, and the next two bounces were much less dramatic. Eventually the wheels gripped the pavement and the pilot steered the plane to a stop. The passengers cheered.

The pilot let out a deep breath in a whoosh, and then he closed his eyes and whispered, “Thanks.”

Amber imagined he was offering thanks to whatever higher power he might have been praying to. She was humbled to realize it was her.

* * *

Finn and Pat surfaced from the subway in Copley Square. Finn took the map out of his pocket and studied it.

“Okay. We should be right beside the Boston Public Library.” He glanced up at the lettering on the side of the huge building, which proclaimed it was indeed the library.

“Right,” Pat said. “Now what?”

Finn looked for the sun. It was still morning, so the sun would sit in the eastern sky, and according to the map, they needed to go west. He pointed down the long street. “Massachusetts Ave is that way.”

“How far? I’m hungry.”

“We just ate.”

“You call a snack on the go eating? I need a sit-down meal.”

Finn didn’t need any more delays. He could almost feel Shannon in his arms. “I’m sure you can find food at our lodgings. It’s only a few blocks down. Let’s check in first.”

Pat followed his friend’s long strides. “Do you think the leprechauns are far behind?”

“I’d be surprised if they weren’t ahead of us.”

“How do they do that? Travel, I mean? I never saw them on the plane. Did you see them?”

“No. They’re good at hidin’ from people. We know that much.”

After a few blocks, Pat’s stomach growled. “I’m starvin’!”

“We’re almost there, but if you can’t wait, I found a place that sounds like a treat.”

“What’s that?”

“The Mass Ave Tavern.”

Pat’s eyes lit up. “That’s it. That’s where I want to be.”

Finn chuckled. “So you’d rather lug our bags and keep ’em with us while we eat, rather than head straight to the hotel?”

“If it means eatin’ sooner, then aye. That’s what I want.”

Finn shrugged. “Fine. Your stomach rules the day.” Then, as if a lightbulb had snicked on over his head, Finn grabbed his friend’s shoulders.

“What’s wrong?” Pat asked.

“Nuthin’. In fact, somethin’s very right. If I know Shannon’s family, they’ll find a pub to play music in.” He shook his friend’s shoulders. “Pat, you’re brilliant!”

His friend chuckled. “And here I was, just thinkin’ I was hungry.”

* * *

When the movers showed up, they asked if Amber had any special instructions. Without explaining why, she told them to put everything that wasn’t marked for the kitchen or bath in the bedroom.
Everything.
They looked at her strangely, but did as she asked.

As soon as all the boxes had been placed in either her closet or the neutral zones, Amber directed the movers to bring her sofa into her bedroom, along with the end tables, lamps, and two matching chairs.

“Do you really want it all in the bedroom?” one guy asked. “I don’t think your bed will fit.”

“I’ll make it fit,” she said.

While one guy pushed her living room furniture against the walls, the other one carried her queen headboard in. To her shock, Rory jumped up and said, “I’ll help with that.”

“Thanks, man. This sucker is heavy.”

When they had set it against the only vacant wall, Rory came out of her bedroom and spotted the third guy bringing the bed rails up the stairs. He didn’t set foot outside the apartment, but as soon as the item was over the threshold, he reached for it. “Here. I’ll take that. You and your buddies can bring in the mattresses next.”

Amber crossed her arms and frowned.
He’s up to something.

She followed him into the bedroom and watched as he fit the rails together.

“Do you think the movers would loan you a screwdriver if you asked nicely?”

“If I—” She wanted to sputter something about being very nice to people who were helping her, but he was helping her too. “Why are you being so cooperative? Are you giving up the apartment?”

He laughed. “Not on your life, luv. But it seems as if me standin’ in the way wouldn’t make a bit of difference.”

She cocked her head. “No, it wouldn’t. But you’re actually helping. You don’t need to do that.”

“Well, of course I don’t need to. You’re not payin’ me for it.” When she hesitated, he added, “I’m just bein’ a gentleman, helpin’ a lady.”

She tossed her hands in the air and returned to the living room.

The guys were struggling up the stairs with her box spring. She called out to the closest one. “Do you have a screwdriver we could possibly borrow?”

“Yeah. It’s on the front seat in the truck,” he said. “Help yourself.”

She couldn’t set foot out of the apartment and Rory knew it.
Aha! So that’s his game.

“Did you get the screwdriver?” he asked when he joined her in the living room.

She smirked. “Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

After a moment’s hesitation he said, “You’d like it if your bed didn’t fall apart.”

She folded her arms. “I think I’ll let the movers put it together.”

He shrugged and strolled to his futon. “Suit yourself.”

“I will.” The movers came out of the bedroom wiping sweat from their brows. She felt bad for them, but even that wouldn’t tempt her to step outside.

Rory slid over to one side and said, “Have a seat, darlin’.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

“I know what you’re doing.”

He leaned back and crossed his ankle over his knee. “Right now I seem to be doin’ a whole lot o’ nuthin’.”

She snorted. “Yeah, right. You’re just waiting for me to put my big toe into that hallway. Well, that’s not going to happen.” She stomped off to the kitchen and began opening boxes. Everything was wrapped in newspaper.
Great. Soon we’ll have a trash mountain.

As soon as she had unpacked and put away the contents of her entire kitchen, she began stomping the packing paper into some kind of manageable pile.

Rory approached. “Why are you doin’ an Irish step-dance in me kitchen, luv?”

As much as she hated herself for it, every time this infuriating man used an endearment like darlin’ or luv—especially luv, her heart melted a little bit.

“In case you hadn’t noticed,
my
place is becoming very crowded. I hate clutter, so I’m trying to act like a trash compactor. Eventually, I’ll win this stupid standoff and be able to leave the apartment for a minute to throw the refuse in the Dumpster.”

“Ah, bugger. I’ll ask me sisters to get rid of it for you.”

She gazed up at him in amazement. “You’d do that? Why?”

“If clutter makes you crazier than you already are, gettin’ rid of it serves us both.”

Her lips thinned at the insult and she stomped off to her bedroom. “Oomph!” She had tripped over something and landed, splat, on some boxes. Rory came running.

“Are you all right, lass?”

Other than feeling totally humiliated
… “Yes, I’m fine.” She struggled to push herself off the boxes, then felt strong arms lifting her as if she weighed nothing.

Suddenly, she flipped in midair. Before she had a chance to register what was happening, those same strong arms caught her. She grappled and clung to the first solid thing she could find. To her chagrin, it was Rory’s neck and she gazed into his concerned face.

He carried her to the bed and laid her on the mattress. Then he sat next to her.

“Are you sure you’re intact?”

“I might have a couple of bruises, but nothing really hurts—except my pride.”

“Ah, pride is overrated.”

“Says the proudest man I know.”

He cupped her face. “You’re beautiful.”

She didn’t know what to say to that. She just lay there with her lips parted, waiting to think of something.

Without warning, he leaned over and kissed her. And it was
not
a quick peck either. He laid his lips on hers with the perfect amount of pressure. Then he opened his mouth and caught her lower lip between his full, soft lips, tugging on it…but only slightly. A moment later he fondled her upper lip the same way.

It felt incredible. She couldn’t help returning his sensuous kiss. To her own amazement, she slipped her tongue into his mouth. When their tongues met, they began a slow dance.

His hand slid to the back of her neck and he drew her closer. She slipped her arms around his broad back and savored his heat. It had been a long time since she’d been held like it meant something.

But it
didn’t
mean anything. It couldn’t.

She withdrew her tongue. When he didn’t break the kiss, she moved her hands to his chest and gave a slight push.

He spoke first. “Ah, that was nice, wasn’t it?”

She paused but couldn’t think of a single way to disagree. “Yeah, it was. And—unexpected.”