My Wild Irish Dragon (7 page)

At last it was her turn. He started removing the weights, and she said, “Leave 'em.”

He cocked a brow. “Seriously? You think you can lift this?”

“I can.”

He smirked. “All right, princess. I'll let you try…but just so you know, I'm going to hover. You don't need an injury before your next shift.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Hover all you want. I'm tellin' you, I can do this.”

As he stood behind her and she lay on the bench below the barbell, he chewed his lower lip.
Ah, a tell.
Now she knew when he was nervous.

Her toned arms looked even leaner as she reached for the barbell.

“Don't,” he said and clamped his hand over the middle of the bar.

“Excuse me? It's my turn.”

“I know, but I can't let you do this. Even if you did manage to lift it, the strain isn't worth it. You need your arm strength for the job.”

At that moment a woman appeared, dressed as if she were auditioning for a remake of the '80s movie
Flashdance
—complete with leg warmers and a poofy perm.

“I need to speak with you, miss,” she said.

“I'm in the middle of—”

“Now!” The woman grabbed her hand and all but yanked her off the bench, then marched her to the ladies' locker room. When they saw a couple of women chatting, the staff member barked, “Leave!” They immediately scurried out.

“Jaysus, there's no need to be—”

Suddenly the woman transformed into none other than Mother Nature herself. Her hair turned white, long, and loose, and she wore her signature ivory robe, belted with a vine.

Chloe gasped. She had only met the deity once, but it was a meeting she'd never forget. One isn't often lectured by the Goddess of all. And here she was, almost breaking the rule she'd been lectured about.

“What do you think you're doing?”

When she recovered her decorum, Chloe answered, “Defending the right of women to be as strong as a man.”

Mother Nature paced, staring at her with narrowed eyes. “Are you an ‘idjit,' as your people would say?”

Chloe folded her arms. “Not a'tall.”

“I beg to differ. What if I had been a real staff member? Without the muscle to back up your ability, you'd reveal that you're supernatural. You
know
that's not allowed.”

“I—I…”

“Yeah. I-yi-I! Not. Good. Downright stupid.”

“I get it! You don't have to insult me intelligence.”

“Oh, I think I do. If I were sweet about it, would you listen?” She mockingly said in a meek voice, “If it's not too much trouble…that is, if you wouldn't mind…would you kindly refrain from trying to show your strength?”

Chloe had to agree. She'd steamroll a request like that and do whatever she wanted. And she wanted to show Ryan she was his equal.

“I understand your competitive nature. Hell, I gave it to you! I thought women might need it, being the smaller, gentler sex.”

“So you knew we'd have to prove we're equal?”

Mother Nature rolled her eyes. “Again. Just who do you think you're talking to?”

“Oh.”

“Now, go out there and take at least half the weight off that barbell. If you can't do that, make up an excuse to leave.”

Chloe sighed. “Yes, ma'am. I'll make up an excuse and go home.”

Mother Nature's eyes widened and she rose about a foot off the floor. “I
hate
being called ma'am! It's Goddess, or Gaia, or Mother Nature. Understand?”

“I do. My apologies, Goddess.”

She nodded and floated to the floor again. “That's better.” She patted Chloe on the head. “Now be a good little dragon and pretend to be
normal.”

Oh, that rankled. But when dealing with the Goddess of All, the least of her problems was a little patronizing behavior—or would it be matronizing? Whatever. The woman could reduce her to ash if she wanted to. Her fireproof gift could be removed in the blink of an eye, and then where would she be? Reduced to competing with the others on a
human
basis. Ugh.

Chloe changed into her street clothes and found Ryan. She waved her cell phone. “Sorry. I got a call from my brother. Apparently he needs me right away.”

“Oh. Sure,” Ryan said as he put the free weights back in the rack. “Just give me a minute to change and I'll drive you home.”

“Not necessary. I can find my way.”

“Are you sure? I don't mind leaving early. Maybe I can help.”

“Ah, no. It's a family matter. I'll see you at work in a few days.”

When she saw the disappointed look on his face, she impulsively invited him to their session at the Boston Uncommon Tea Room the following night. During training she had told him that her family formed a small Irish folk band and he'd said he liked that kind of music.

Now she had to think up a plausible family emergency and ask Rory and Shannon to play along.

* * *

Ryan walked up to Chloe at the tearoom before finding a seat—if he could. The place was packed. “You know, I was surprised you invited me here. I thought you were hiding your family. Maybe you have a crazy uncle in the attic or something…”

She laughed. “No. The crazy one is me.” She gestured to her brother and sister. “Rory, Shannon, this is one of my fellow firefighters, Ryan Fierro.”

“Ah, Ryan,” Rory said as he shook his hand. “A good Irish name.”

Ryan chuckled. “I don't think I have a drop of Irish blood running through my veins. I was named for a firefighter who saved my father's life when he was on the job.”

Shannon shook his hand. “Sounds like an interesting story. We Irish love stories. You'll have to tell us all about it sometime.”

He smiled. “I'd be glad to. I just have to get Chloe to invite me to your home sometime.”

“Oh, well that may be—”

To his surprise, Chloe clapped a hand over her sister's mouth. “Impossible. Me sister lives out of state. And she doesn't have a big enough place to host everyone.”

Shannon peeled Chloe's hand off. “I can speak for meself, if you don't mind.”

Chloe raised an eyebrow at her sister. “Maybe I do mind.”

Rory sighed. “Jaysus, girls. Leave it.” He turned to Ryan and said, “I have a place that's plenty large enough to host a family dinner. We'll have Chloe tell you when. I assume she knows your schedule.”

Under her breath Chloe muttered, “Now you've gone an' done it.”

Ryan raised his brows. “I'm being invited to dinner?” He stared at Chloe. She nodded, albeit reluctantly. “Sure. I'd love to come. My schedule is the same as your sister's.”

“Grand. I'll tell Amber when she gets here later. She's on a short errand.”

Chloe pointed to an empty seat. “Ah. Someone just left. You'd better grab his chair before someone else comes in.”

Ryan excused himself and took the chair across the room. He noticed Chloe whispering furiously to her brother, but with the background noise competing, he couldn't hear what was being said. At last, Rory held up his hand and the place quieted.

“Good evenin' to you, one and all,” he said. “Tonight we're goin' to play a selection of our favorite songs. Some you may know, so feel free to sing along. First up is ‘My Wild Irish Rose.'”

Ryan thought Chloe certainly fit the song's title. He didn't know the words, but many in the room did. They sang along with Rory's melodious low voice.

It was a love song. He was sure of that much. Chloe peeked up from her flute once, then glanced off in another direction. When the lyrics spoke of the singer hoping someday to take her flower, Chloe's face reddened.

Could she be a virgin?
That thought startled him. Yet the more he thought about it, the more sense it made. She was prickly around any man who hit on her. And even though she was beautiful, not many tried. She gave off a “leave me alone” vibe that was unmistakable.

Crap. Did he want to be the one to “take her flower”?

After an hour of watching her handle the flute, violin, and tin whistles with such reverence and love, he realized he did. As soon as she settled in at the job and relaxed, he was sure she'd lose that brittle edge.

After their set, Rory brought Amber over to him and introduced them. “Amber's me luv, and she decides how many she'll cook for.”

Amber's hazel-green eyes twinkled. They weren't the same green as Chloe's light jade. “Chloe is coming over tomorrow night, anyway, and we'd love to have you.”

“Well, thank you for the offer…but does Chloe want me to come?”
Yikes. I just heard myself.

Amber smiled. “Chloe doesn't know what she wants when it comes to guys. I think you'd be good for her—even if you're just her friend.”

He took a deep breath. “I can be that to her.”
With benefits
.

“Good,” Rory said. “We'll see you at seven. Do you know where we live?”

“Ah, no. I've offered to drive Chloe home, but she prefers to walk.”

“That she does,” Rory said. “I worry about her, even knowin' she can take care of herself.”

“That seems to be a theme with her.”

Rory laughed. “You've got the right of it.”

Amber put her hand on Ryan's arm. “You may be just what she needs. Perhaps you can take her home tonight.”

“I took the subway, but I can certainly walk her home and catch it at Copley.”

“That would be grand,” Rory said. “I'd feel better if she had an escort.” He winked at Amber. “My lass will see me home as she usually does.”

* * *

Chloe couldn't believe Rory and Amber were playing matchmaker. They knew full well there would be no long-term lover in her future. She avoided heartbreak by avoiding short-term relationships in the present.

But Ryan said he needed to know where she lived, so she'd take him to her brother's stoop and never mention she lived next door. At least he wouldn't show up at paranormal central. It was bad enough that her brother and his intended were supernatural beings, but at least they knew enough to keep that to themselves. Chloe had seen her neighbors assume everyone entering the paranormal club on the second floor had to be supernatural whether they knew it was true or not.

So far, they hadn't been wrong, but if they saw Ryan and assumed… Well, a mistake like that would be awkward to say the least.

When they arrived at Rory and Amber's Beacon Street brownstone she turned and said, “Well, here it is…”

He looked up and whistled. “What a beautiful building. I understand why you enjoyed your time renovating it.”

“How do you know I enjoyed it?”

He smiled at her. “By the nostalgic look in your eyes when you talk about the work you did, and the sadness in your voice when you say it's finished.”

She stared at the sidewalk and nodded. “To be sure.”

He tipped her chin up. “Your brother and Amber must have been grateful for your help and proud of the work you did.”

“They are, but heck, I'm proud of meself.”

He was quiet. Too quiet. “Is something wrong?” she asked.

“No. I just…” He took a deep breath. “I know we don't know each other very well—yet.” He smiled. “But I really, really want to kiss you right now.”

“Oh.” Chloe wanted to kiss him too. In fact, just how badly she wanted to kiss him surprised her.

He wrapped his strong arms around her and it felt safe—right. Instead of giving him verbal permission, she leaned in, closed her eyes, and tipped up her face. In less than a second, their lips collided. He pulled her against his chest and she slipped her arms around his neck.

She had no idea how long they stood there on the sidewalk, kissing. His mouth moved over hers with purpose. Eventually, she parted her lips and allowed him to deepen the kiss. He pulled her closer and cupped the back of her head. When he slipped his tongue into her mouth, she swirled her tongue with his. He tasted like cinnamon.

“Hey, get a room,” a passerby joked.

He didn't end the kiss and she was glad. Kissing him was different than she had thought it would be. It was then that she realized she had fantasized about kissing him—and that his real kisses could become addictive.

Ryan found himself wondering if he'd done the right thing by accepting the Arishes' dinner invitation. Sure, his dad had accepted many dinner invitations of friends in the department over the years, but never at the home of a female firefighter.

Especially not one he'd kissed.

Ryan had puzzled over what to bring as a hostess gift. A bottle of wine seemed like a safe bet, so he clutched that in his left hand. He had seen some poor sap selling flowers by the side of the road in the chilly evening air, but decided against buying a bunch. Even if he said they were for Amber, Chloe might be upset thinking they were for her…or disappointed when learning that they weren't.

Regardless, he was annoyed at himself for second-guessing everything. He finally asked himself how he'd behave if she were a guy, and made decisions accordingly.

That theory died the minute she came to the door in a little black dress. Her shiny blonde hair fell softly over her angled jaw, but it didn't hide the long earrings she wore. Sparkling gold triangles cascaded almost to her shoulders. His gaze began to wander farther down to her apple-sized breasts, but he quickly snapped his eyes up to her face.

As she opened the door, he told himself to focus on her earrings. It looked like some kind of Celtic design had been carved in them.

“Evening, Chloe. I didn't realize you were going to dress up.”
Damn, Ryan. What a stupid thing to say. She probably primped all afternoon.

“You don't look too shabby yerself, Mr. Fierro.”

He glanced down at his black Dockers and black sweater. “Hey. We match.”

She rolled her eyes, but at least she was smiling.

“My brother and his wife are upstairs doin' the cookin', but they charged me with gettin' you a beer or…” She pointed to the Chianti he had brought. “Is that wine?”

“Yes. In my family we usually drink wine with dinner. I wouldn't mind a beer though.”

“Well, come in.” She waved him toward the living room on the left. “I'll run this upstairs and be down with your beer in a minute. Do you like Guinness?”

He didn't. It was so dark and thick he was reminded of molasses. “Why don't you just open the wine? Then you don't have to run anywhere.” He winked.
Christ, Ryan. Now you're winking at her. Just stop thinking of her as a woman.
He eyed her round bum as she sashayed over to a freestanding mahogany bar.
Yeah, right.

Wandering around the room, he tried to focus on something else—anything else. The furniture was traditional and elegant. A tufted cream-colored sofa was flanked by a couple of armchairs that didn't exactly match, but went with it as if a designer had picked them out. Hell, the whole place looked like a designer had been there.

“Did you do all this?” he asked.

“What? The furnishings and such?”

“Yeah.”

“I didn't. That was all Amber's department.”

He picked up a gold vase from a plaster pedestal. It looked extremely old and also sported some Celtic designs. “She has good taste,” he said.

“Ah, that she didn't furnish. Me brother brought that from home. We had some antiques passed down from older generations.” She extracted the cork from the wine bottle and poured two glasses.

He replaced the vase gently, even though it looked sturdy enough. “Hey, do you like basketball?”
Changing the subject much, Ryan?

“It's one of those American sports I haven't really followed yet,” she said, handing him one of the glasses.

“Well, it was invented right here in Massachusetts. Our team is called the Boston Celtics. The designs on your jewelry and the vase just reminded me.”

She cocked her head. “Are you thinkin' of askin' me to attend a game with you?”

He hadn't been, but why not? As long as the kiss cam didn't land on them, they'd be okay. And really…what were the chances of that happening?

“Ah, yeah. It might be fun sometime. The season is just starting.”

“Are the Celtics a good team?”

He shrugged. “Depends. There were years when they were unbeatable. Lately, they've been, well…”

“Beatable?” she supplied.

He chuckled. “Yeah.”

* * *

Amber descended the staircase, carrying a tray. “I thought I heard Ryan's voice,” she said. “I brought some cheese and crackers. Dinner won't be for another few minutes.”

Rory jogged down the stairs a few seconds behind her. “Hey, where are you goin' with me cheeses, luv?”

She set them on the bar. “Oh, now they're yours?”

“I picked out the good ones, didn't I?”

“You picked the Irish cheddar. I got the French Brie.”

“As I said…” He grinned at her.

Amber chuckled. “He's so easy. I could feed him cheddar cheese and Ritz crackers every night. As long as it came with a Guinness, he'd be in heaven.”

Oh great. I had Ryan thinking we were elegant people, and now my brother goes and shatters that idea.
Why did she care what he thought? This wasn't a date and there was no need to impress him.

“You'll have to pardon me brother,” Chloe said. “We've been on our own since we were young. No one to teach us proper manners and such.”
And we really did grow up in a cave.

Ryan's face betrayed what she hated most—sympathy. Then he put on a quick smile. “I'm a man of simple tastes, myself.”

At least Rory waited until their guest took some of the appetizers before he loaded up a cocktail napkin.

Amber excused herself and returned upstairs while the three others settled into the living room. Ryan took the end of the sofa closest to the armchair, which Rory plopped himself down on right away. That left Chloe to sit on the other end of the couch, or the opposite side of the room.

Might as well
look
friendly, at least.
She sat on the sofa, leaving one cushion between herself and Ryan.

“Why so far away?” Rory asked.

She gave him the stink-eye.

At last he shrugged, asked Ryan how he liked the training, and then tucked into his cheese and crackers.

“It wasn't bad. Actually, I enjoyed it.” He glanced at Chloe. “I think your sister did too.”

“I did,” she said.

“Have you experienced any hazing yet?” Rory asked with a sly smile.

Ryan laughed. “Yeah, but only one incident…so far.”

Chloe's brows went up. “Really? I haven't. What did they do to you?”

Rory grinned. “I don't know if you should tell Chloe. They might do the same to her. T'would be a shame if she missed the surprise element.”

“I doubt it, since it involved the men's bathroom.”

Rory leaned forward. “Ah, this is gettin' interestin'. What did they do to you?”

“They have a very lifelike plastic baby alligator. It was in the toilet bowl, propped up like it was crawling out. I admit, I was pretty startled at first.”

Rory leaned back and laughed, long and loud. When he settled down, he wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.

Chloe couldn't help chuckling too. “Thanks for the warnin'. I imagine they could put that thing in other places where I might come upon it.”

Rory snapped his fingers. “Ah, feckers. Now she's ready for it. I bet they'll put it in your bed and be hopin' you'll scream like a little lassie.”

Chloe folded her arms. “I wouldn't scream at a baby alligator, in me bed or anywhere.”
Rory should know that.
Dragons were fond of reptiles, being part of the same family themselves. Maybe he was just playing along.

Ryan smirked at her. “Don't feel bad if you do scream. I almost screamed like a little girl, myself.”

She couldn't help liking the guy. He was no longer the pompous ass she'd met in the beginning. He wasn't afraid to show he had a sensitive side now and then…like during their EMT training. When they were told they might be called upon for a SIDS case, sudden infant death syndrome, he hung his head and said he couldn't imagine anything worse.

Suddenly, she thought, what if he wanted children? She couldn't provide him with any. Dragons could only reproduce with other dragons—and only once every five years.
Now why on earth did that thought pop into my head? We won't be getting married.

Amber descended the stairs and announced that dinner was ready. Chloe almost let out a sigh of relief. She needed a change of subject—even though the subject of having a lover and children was only in her mind.

* * *

The day they were to return to work for several consecutive twenty-four-hour shifts finally arrived. Ryan couldn't believe how ready he was to get back to the firehouse. Or was it back to Chloe?

That night he was pranked again. A big, hairy plastic spider waited for him in bed. He threw back the covers with the bedside lamp on, almost expecting something of the sort. When he saw that the tarantula wasn't moving, he chuckled.

“Nice try, guys,” he called out.

A few male chuckles followed. Chloe appeared in his doorway, dressed in a long T-shirt and sweatpants.
How the hell does she make activewear sexy?

“I take it you've been hazed again,” she said.

“It was a valiant attempt.” Some of his phoenix ancestors were from the deserts of the Southwest, so a big-ass tarantula was nothing short of nostalgic. “I haven't heard you scream like a ‘little lassie' yet. Have they tried to do anything to you?”

“Not a thing.” At first she shot him a smile, but her expression soon turned to sadness.

“Feeling left out?” he asked.

“A little. I had hoped they wouldn't treat me any differently just because I'm a woman, but clearly that's their intent.”

He saw two of the guys sneaking up behind her with a bucket of water. Without letting on, he said, “Maybe you should be grateful.”

She shrugged. “Mayhaps I should.”

At that moment, the guys dumped the bucket over her head. It wasn't just water in that bucket. It was ice water! Her openmouthed, shocked expression was priceless.

Whoa! It wasn't just a prank. It was a wet T-shirt contest!

She whirled around, looking like she was ready to give the guys a piece of her mind. Suddenly he saw their eyes bug out of their heads as they stared right at her nipples. She glanced down and wrapped her arms over her breasts.

Ryan jumped in front of her. “Very funny, guys. I know Arish wanted to be treated as an
equal
,” he said, hoping they'd get the implication that dumping ice water over a braless woman was anything but fair.

They grinned. “Welcome to the family, Arish,” Haggarty said.

The lieutenant's warning popped into Ryan's head and gave the word “brotherhood” a whole new meaning. Haggarty seemed to be the only one noticing the difference, and he'd bet money the asswipe had come up with the
ice
water idea.

“That's a grand welcome, guys,” she said with a chuckle.

Whew. She wasn't losing it.
He was afraid she might go apeshit and really stand out—in a bad way.

“Now, if yeee'll excuuuse me.” Her teeth chattered as she sprinted to her bedroom.

Once the door was closed, Ryan narrowed his eyes. “Not cool, guys.”

“Or maybe it was a little too cool,” the quieter of them said with a grin.

Ryan couldn't help the smile that spread across his face. He could never unsee her perky breasts stuck to the soaked white T-shirt. Unfortunately, the other guys wouldn't soon forget it either.

* * *

Chloe didn't know what to think about her “grand” welcome. Was she being treated as an equal, or were her male cohorts treating her to some good old-fashioned chauvinism? She almost had to admire them for thinking up a way to do both at the same time.

Oh well, at least I didn't scream like a ninny.

Haggarty, her partner, hadn't been very forthcoming with information. Oh, he'd answered her questions, but didn't volunteer anything. She got the distinct feeling he didn't want her there.

She couldn't wait for a chance to prove herself. The sooner she carried one of the guys over her shoulder to safety, the better.

But she wasn't sure she'd ever get a chance to. They'd assigned her to the first ambulance. “Seniority” was supposedly the deciding factor. She and Ryan had been hired at the same time. So why was she one slot higher on the totem pole than he was?

She suspected it was her gender again, but when she asked the captain about it, he claimed they'd decided the tie alphabetically. Arish before Fierro.

That put Ryan in the front lines. And she wouldn't be there to protect him.
Feck.
At least he was an outstanding firefighter in his own right. Chances are she had nothing to worry about.

So why was she worried?

That night, she slept lightly…the way dragons used to when they were guarding their piles of treasure from greedy, thieving humans.

Dispatchers were at the ready all night, and she was told that most firefighters got used to tuning out background noise, while being hyperaware of the need to wake up and listen to any announcements over the loudspeakers.

Her first overnight had been quiet, but the others had warned her that tonight might be different. It was an American holiday they called Halloween.

Her ancient roots took her back to the pagan holiday Samhain—celebrated at this same time of year. For those people, it was a solemn occasion when they honored their ancestors. Her only experience with Halloween had been last year when she had seen a few college students dressed in costumes, walking to and from the local dorms. It seemed peaceful enough.

Famous. Last. Words.

* * *

The alarm blared and the dispatcher's voice announced a fire at a nightclub in the Kenmore Square area.