Chapter Thirteen

<^> <^> <^>

Bianca continually surprised him. She’d worried needlessly that the secret matchmaking contract would anger him. Instead, Warrick was the one who had a secret to worry about—that she’d find out about the love spell that apparently went along with the contract.

He believed her when she said she didn’t know they’d been set up. He was also starting to believe that the dragon side of him held no interest for her. Even by the end of a very wonderful second date—third, counting lunch at Mummy’s—complete with the dinner he’d prepared and a proud display of his medieval weapons collection that he knew she adored, Bianca hadn’t asked to see him transform into a dragon.

He was elated. To be fair, she had mentioned being afraid of vampires and dragons until coming to Nocturne Falls.

Bianca smiled in a way that made his heart shudder in his chest with good feelings. “Well, I figured you’d show me when you were ready.”

“This is the first time I’ve been the one to bring it up during a dating situation.”

“Really? That’s interesting. I just didn’t want to be nosy. Lots of nosy folks where I come from, so while I’m certain to see you in all forms, you don’t have to put on a special show for me. Especially not now. The weapons collection was enough for tonight.” She cocked her head to one side and gave him a come hither smile that could knock him for a loop, regardless of what form he was in.

Maybe this would work out after all. He was loath to tell his mother she was right to have set up a matchmaking adventure for him. However, Bianca was perfect. Absolutely perfect.

The fact she was not a paranormal, but wasn’t completely human was an advantage, as he saw it. Now to make her fall in love with him so that once his mother’s spell was gone, it wouldn’t matter. She would still love him.

Bianca moved closer. She had a decidedly saucy look in her eye that he needed to nip in the bud. He would not take advantage of her.

“Listen,” he said as she approached. “I have a special delivery to make tomorrow and I have to get up early. I don’t want to kick you out, but I need my dragon beauty sleep.”

She stopped moving and a knowing look came over her face. “I understand. But you still have to give me a good-night kiss.” She started moving toward him once more and his iron will slipped down a notch. Her lips touched his and he was lost. Their kiss could have powered a city with its intensity. Warrick was nearly mindless when she pulled away and gave him a satisfied smile.

“Will you be busy all day and all night?” she asked.

What? Oh, right. The delivery. “No. Just until early afternoon.”

“I have to work tomorrow morning, but I’m off in the afternoon. How about I cook for you tomorrow night?”

“Deal.”

“My place at eight?”

“Perfect.” Warrick led her to his front door.

“Thank you so much for dinner and for showing me your weapons collection. I loved both the food and the show.”

“You’re welcome.”

She kissed him one last time, nearly blasting his socks off in the process, before officially ending their date by getting in her car. He waved as she pulled out of the drive and watched her tail lights fade in the distance.

Once she was gone, Warrick exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d held. He had a week to convince Bianca they were meant to be together.

Tomorrow night he hoped she’d let him leave after dinner, a kiss or six and more conversation. His resolve was made of iron, but being in her presence—especially the kissing part—was like lengthy salt-water exposure. It invited rust-inducing vulnerability.

<^> <^> <^>

Warrick went to his shop early the next morning to get all of the final touches complete. He packed it carefully and loaded the cheval mirror into his delivery van and drove it to a recently constructed home out near his mother’s place. A long black-top paved road wound through thickly forested property until it reached the house.

Warrick thought about Bianca from the moment he opened his eyes. He couldn’t wait until their date tonight. Couldn’t wait to see what she cooked for him, but mostly couldn’t wait to see her.

He drove into an open space in front of the unique home. It was a tall, stately, perfect example of a gothic mansion constructed with lots of wrought iron, gray stone and a round turret in front that was at last four stories high, topped with a decorative spire. It was set right next to the expansive porch. Flying buttresses accented window frames shaped like pointed arches. He even saw a couple of gargoyles—actual stone ones instead of local residents—on the turret.

Spooky even in the daylight, but perfect for Nocturne Falls. Warrick followed the instructions to the service entrance at the back of the house and rang the bell as he hefted the well-wrapped piece beneath one arm.

A silent, prune-faced butler who took frowning to a professional level used hand signals to lead him to the third floor and a large bedroom where it looked like the lady of the manor resided.

The butler pointed to a wall with a floor-to-ceiling bay window. Warrick nodded, put his package down and began unwrapping all the carefully applied padding.

Once the packaging was gone, Warrick moved the mirror to the bay window, setting it at a bit of an angle.

“Warrick Hart, I presume,” said a deep female voice.

Warrick spun, expecting to see an older woman. Surprisingly, the owner of the voice seemed to be only a few years older than he was. “Yes. That’s me. And you are C. Briarwood, correct?”

“Yes. Cassandra Briarwood. The mirror is lovely.”

“Thank you. I’m glad you like it, Ms. Briarwood.”

“Oh, I love it. But please, you must call me Cassandra.” She approached him stealthily, slowly, like a predator on the hunt for dinner. He didn’t want to be on anyone’s menu but Bianca’s.

When she got close enough to touch him, Warrick stepped back out of range, gesturing for her to enjoy the mirror. She paused a moment, seemingly amused by his disinterest in having her touch him.

Warrick gathered up the packing supplies, stuffing everything into an envelope-shaped bag. The woman moved to the mirror and lovingly stroked the wood around the frame. The very frame he’d shaped, built and flamed to perfection.

“I’m very pleased with this piece, Warrick.”

“Thank you.”

She whirled around, her raven hair flying behind her. She reminded him of Morticia Addams, a character from a television show Viktor used to watch. She stared at Warrick like she wanted more from him. Perhaps more than he’d be willing to give.

“I may wish to commission more work from you.”

“Great. Come on down to my showroom and—”

“No,” she said, interrupting his standard spiel. “I’d prefer it if you came here. I’d like to describe what I want without others listening in.”

“Well, I have a private workroom where we could discuss whatever pieces you’d like constructed without anyone bothering us.”

“As you wish.” Her smile made him feel like she wanted more than just a piece of furniture built. “How about tonight?” Her gaze wandered from his face to his arms to his chest and back to his eyes.

Warrick was never so grateful to have an excuse to say no. “Oh, sorry. I have a date tonight. My girlfriend is cooking dinner for me.”

Cassandra’s eyes flashed with anger. “Girlfriend! When did you get a girlfriend?”

Though he was surprised by her snarling tone, Warrick ignored her outburst. “Why don’t you call me for an appointment later on in the week?” He smiled, turned away and walked to the door, half expecting to feel a bolt of lightning sear his back as he went.

“Warrick Hart,” she called, her voice echoing all the way across the stone-tiled floor.

He stopped, turned, and she was suddenly within arm’s length. He barely kept from jumping a foot in the air. “I’ll be seeing you very soon,” she said with a frightening smile.

Warrick nodded curtly and left the Gothic mansion as fast as he could. He hopped in his van and sped away, grateful to have gotten out of there with his life. And his virtue.

Cassandra Briarwood was danger with a capital D.