BETHANY shoved her way through the casino’s massive, rotating glass doors and trotted across the wide cement sidewalk toward the fountain. Late spring sunlight showered around her, stinging her skin with the promise of the coming desert summer.
The fountain wasn’t running. It hadn’t been flowing yesterday, either, when she’d walked from the parking structure into the casino, squinting at it from a football field away, nor anytime in the last week while she’d been working at the casino.
Weird.
They’d probably paid millions for the fountain. You’d think they’d occasionally turn the thing on.
The huge pool was probably fifty yards across and half that, wide. The fountains were supposed to be laminar-flow projectiles, which meant that smooth jets of water would fly and dance through the gushing geysers. Video could be projected on smooth sheets of water at the back while music played.
But she’d never seen the fountain turned on.
No one had ever seen the fountain working.
Bethany figured out what the problem was as she neared the huge pool, however, because she could smell the fountain before she got near it.
Algae.
The green stink of fermenting algae rose from the fountain and hung in the air like a cloud of noxious gas.
Math was standing near the fountain—but not too near—waiting for her just like he had texted he would be.
He’d taken off his jacket again and probably left it somewhere in the casino. The sleeves of his white shirt were rolled past his elbows again, baring his strong forearms.
Bethany couldn’t stop staring at his arms and hands. Strong muscle wrapped his lower arms all the way down to his wrists, bulging in all the right ways. A man with that much muscle on his arms, not to mention the thick, dark hair on his head, would have a bunch of black wire on his arms, but Math didn’t. The hair on his tanned arms was light brown, almost more like fuzz. She wanted to reach over and stroke his arm to touch it, wondering if it were silky or soft, but he was her boss.
By all that was magic, she was supposed to be a professional. Okay, she had lied on her resumé, even outright fabricating several previous jobs.
But she could do this.
She was doing it. She’d had more correct-magic streaks than she’d ever had. Even today, she’d done four areas of the main casino room in a row without any mishaps.
Nevermind about the glitterbomb incident of two days ago. Ember and Willow had helped her clean it up, so that totally did not count.
And now she just had to clean this up. It was just a grungy fountain. How bad could it be?
Bethany hurried over to where Math stood. “How long has it been like this?”
He raked one hand through his dark hair, messing it up. “I don’t know. I’ve tried looking at the records. It looks like they turned on the pumps once to make sure it worked, but no one has looked at it since. It’s just been sitting out here in the sunlight, stagnant, growing this green sludge.”
Bethany wanted to pull her blouse up over her nose to filter out the stink but refrained because surely a professional wouldn’t do that. She swallowed down the sick she was pretty sure was just about to jump up her throat.
The retaining wall of the fountain’s pool rose almost to her waist, so she leaned over to get a better look at the algae.
The culture in the pool was composed of several different species of algae, growing in various shades of green, gray, and blue, with streaks of yellow-pink. It looked like blended spinach soup mixed with guacamole and sewage.
The plant matter encrusted the fountain’s mechanical parts, waving gently in the dark water. Layers of it had sedimented on the sides and bottom of the pool, half a foot thick. If someone stepped in, their foot would sink ankle-deep into the slime.
Bethany examined algae, trying to figure out how to remediate it. “That’s disgusting.”
“If you think the fountain is bad, you should see the financial records.”
Bethany stared into the green muck.
A gaseous bubble rose to the surface just below where she was bending over and expelled its fumes, a sulfurous stench that stank even above the rotting vegetation. The gas enveloped her face and burned her skin.
Bethany’s head spun, and she stumbled. The bright Las Vegas sunlight darkened as she crumpled and began to slide, head-first, toward the fetid sludge. She couldn’t even move her arms to push herself away as she nose-dived.
Just as the world closed around Bethany and the sun faded out, a force tossed her into the air.
Blessed freshness blew across her face, fanning that awful stench away.
Instead of the acrid swamp gas, a scent like cinnamon and a faraway forest fire filled her nose.
Bethany sucked in a great draught of fresh air like she was quaffing a reviving potion.
A male voice whispered in her ear, “Are you okay? Tell me you’re okay.”
She gulped air and croaked, “I’m okay,” more out of habit than anything because she still felt like she was going to die. Her lungs felt scalded, and she coughed. “Get me away from that thing.”
Air rushed by her head.
The sun dimmed. The light overhead became striped.
She clung to Math—because she knew Math was carrying her in his arms—and huddled closer to his chest.
He carried her like she weighed nothing. He carried her like he was floating on air.
She thought he might be flying.
Another cough exploded in her chest and spewed out her mouth, honking like a horrible goose.
Not that there was anything wrong with sometimes being a goose.
Or a dragon.
Something soft pushed up and under her, and Math’s arms released her.
His eyes—the color of good toffee with streaks of gold—were level with hers. “Can you breathe?”
She nodded, pressing her hand to her chest. “It tried to kill me. It actually tried to kill me.”
“I’m sure it was just a coincidence,” Math said, but he glared at the window like he might fly out and kick the algae’s butt, if it had a butt.
Pressure lifted Bethany’s chin, and she let her head rise.
“Look at me,” Math said.
When she opened her eyes, the tip of Math’s nose was barely an inch from her own, and he was staring intensely into her eyes.
He asked, “Are you all right? You were gasping. Is it hard to breathe?”
Heck yeah, she was gasping. Her heart raced in her chest, and the ends of her fingertips tingled.
“I’m all right,” Bethany repeated, her voice a little steadier and less hoarse that time.
She glanced around herself.
He had brought her to one of the penthouse suites that she had already magicked to orderliness. Her fingertips caught on the ivory silk of the bedspread.
Math’s suit jacket hung over the back of the desk chair over by the wide windows.
Oh, he’d carried her up to his penthouse suite.
She was sitting on his bed as he crouched in front of her, their lips level and only inches apart.
An electric thrill ran through her.
Surely, it was just a reflex on his part.
Surely, he didn’t mean anything by it.
He wasn’t saying anything but was just watching her.
Bethany dug her fingers into the bed’s comforter so she wouldn’t grab handfuls of his shirt and pull his tall, muscled frame down and on top of her. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I’ve ever fainted before.”
Math’s hands still touched her face, and he ran his fingers over her chin and jaw, almost like a caress. “I’m glad you’re all right.”
His other hand slipped around her throat, his fingers insinuating themselves into her hair at the back of her neck.
Bethany asked him, “Are we alone?”
“Yes,” he whispered. “Do you want me to step back?”
“No,” Bethany said.
Math stroked her chin and jaw with his thumb. “I will step back if you want me to.”
Bethany’s attention centered on where Math’s thumb stroked down her jaw, and his other hand was buried in her hair. Her pulse throbbed at her temples, and her fingertips, and between her legs. “You’ll do what I want you to?”
“Anything you want,” he whispered. “Tell me to step back. Tell me to walk away. Do it. I will.”
The streaks of gold glitter in his eyes widened, turning into luminous streams that flowed toward his dark pupils.
Even though his hands still cradled her jaw and the back of her neck, her skin was so sensitive she could have sworn his fingertips were trailing down her arms, up her thighs, brushing the thin skin over her spine, and gently cupping her breasts.
A small part of her mind wondered if this was the dragon’s rumored sexual magic, but even if it was a trick, she didn’t care. Every fiber of her body craved his touch.
He was watching her eyes intently, focusing on every twitch of her eyelashes, as he dragged his thumb gently over her lower lip.
Bethany closed her eyes, feeling that caress like a kiss.
Desire shot through her. Hunger for him leached out every cell of her body. Her hands felt empty because she wasn’t running her palms and fingers over his skin. Her mouth was being denied the feast of his lips.
Math’s thumb stroked her lower lip again, a little more forcefully this time, dragging on her skin.
She was starving for every bit of his flesh.
As he stroked to the center of her lip, Bethany opened her mouth and sucked his thumb in.
Inside her mouth, his skin tasted good and faintly of salt. The male scent of his hand lingered in her nose, and his thumb filled her mouth and rubbed her tongue like a deep, hard kiss.
By all that was holy and magic, she was still doing it.
And yet, as she sucked on his thumb, the craving inside her mouth was satisfied.
Every other part of her body, however, wanted him.
Oh God, he was going to pull away, or laugh at her, or be disgusted by what she was doing. He probably didn’t think of her that way. This was probably just a working relationship for him, and she was nothing more to him than any other maid who was cleaning up the room.
She’d blown it.
Bethany opened her eyes, her lips still sealed around Math’s thumb, terrified of what expression she was going to find on his face. She looked up.
The magic flowing in the golden irises of his eyes cycled faster. His lips parted, and he was breathing harder.
He wasn’t laughing at her.
His other hand, the one already near the back of her neck, reached farther into her hair. He crumpled a handful of her thick hair into his fist, and using where he grabbed her as leverage, he rocked her head forward to take more of his thumb into her mouth.
Bethany closed her eyes. A small moan escaped her throat as the warm meat of his thumb slid on her tongue.
She couldn’t help herself, and she hummed in her throat, moaning with wanting more of him.
He pushed her head forward again, shoving his thumb deeper into her mouth and rubbing her tongue.
When she opened her eyes again, he was watching where his thumb was slipping into her mouth, staring as if mesmerized.
When he caught her watching him, the molten gold in his irises ran faster, and he popped his thumb out of her mouth and wrenched her head up to look at him.
His lips crashed on her mouth, and her lips were already open for him when he thrust his tongue inside to tangle with hers.
One of his hands still grasped her hair in his fist, but his other palm and fingers slid down her neck, over the swell of her breasts, and to her waist to wrap around her and draw her body against his.
Bethany splayed her fingers on his chest, exploring the contours of his heavy pectorals and rounded shoulders through the thin fabric of his shirt, just as she’d suspected he was hiding under those trim suits he wore. He kissed her thoroughly, lips and tongue caressing hers until she gasped for breath and was pulling at his collar, trying to unbutton the tiny buttons of his dress shirt. When she couldn’t make her fingers work, she yanked at his shirt to pull it out of his pants.
Math broke off the kiss and pressed her hand against his chest, stopping her. He rested his forehead against hers, breathing heavily. His eyes were closed, but his arm still wrapped around her waist, crushing her against him. Her elbows were trapped between their two bodies, and the heavy muscles of his chest expanded as he breathed.
Math whispered, “How old are you, Bethany?”
“Twenty-two.” She was pretty sure she was right.
She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. Her body thrummed at a fever-pitch with wanting him, and it was a good thing he was holding her wrists in his huge hand. Otherwise, she might have tried to tear his clothes off of him again.
She shifted toward him, leaning so that her thighs pressed against his muscular legs, and her stomach was against the hard flatness of his torso.
Except that his stomach wasn’t entirely flat.
A ridge ran up his stomach under his clothes, evidence of his desire for her.
Well, at least this wasn’t one-sided. Bethany smiled.
“So young,” Math sighed.
“You’re not much older than I am. You can’t be older than twenty-five.”
“I’m forty-two. Dragons live a long time. Aging slows. Didn’t they teach you that in Magical Biology or Supernatural Sciences?”
“No.” Frustration welled up in her, that he’d stopped, that she hungered for him and couldn’t have him. “Twenty-two is not that young. I’ve done this before. You are not taking advantage of me.”
He lifted his head away from her. A rueful smile softened his words. “You’ve kissed your boss before?”
Bethany flipped her head back, frustration sparking into anger. “No! Of course not!”
His hand on her back stroked her spine slowly, soothing her. “Of course you haven’t. It’s a spectacularly bad idea.”
“It didn’t feel like a bad idea,” she muttered.
“That’s the problem with bad ideas. They always seem like great ideas at the time.”
She forced her arms to relax, and she pulled away from him. “I should get started on that fountain.”
“See, that sounds like a good idea, but I think it’s a bad idea. I think you should wait to begin working on that fountain. You should rest before you try it again, and don’t stand too close to it.” His arms dropped away from her, and he stood and stepped back. “I think you should wait until tomorrow morning.”
“Will you be there?” she asked.
“Unfortunately, tomorrow morning is booked with yet another meeting to determine just how much money is missing from the casino accounts.”
Dammit. “That must be awful, that someone mismanaged your money so badly.”
“We think it’s worse than that. We think someone is stealing, and if there’s anything a dragon hates, it’s a thief stealing from their hoard.”