Tempting The Dragon

One more curve, and there it was. Bathed in yellow warmth from the sun, at this time of day the house appeared to actually glow. Smiling dreamily, Jade sighed with pleasure as she pulled into the driveway. It was a good thing she loved this place so much. Because she, like all the women who’d been given the title of Libby’s caretaker, had been cursed to die if they ever tried to leave. Only the Guardians had to remain—the other women were free to come and go as they pleased.

Or so legend had it. There had been numerous stories over the years. Jade wasn’t entirely certain she believed them. Mostly, she tried not to think about it. While she didn’t like the idea of being trapped, she couldn’t imagine herself making a life anywhere else but Forestwood.

“Here we are,” Jade said as she parked, ignoring her family’s delighted expression as they watched her. Her heart skipped a beat as she wondered when she’d see the handsome stranger from the café. Unable to help herself, she furtively looked around for another car. Seeing none, she relaxed a little, though she still felt on edge.

She couldn’t shake the sense that things were about to change. Her life, most specifically. She could only hope this would be a good thing.

Chapter 2 (#ulink_8a3c7352-a01b-5c5f-a850-33e031e5fcc5)

Once inside the large house, her mother and her grandmother scattered. One of the other reasons Jade loved her home so much was its size. Not only the various hallways and rooms, but the hidden compartments and tunnels had always ensured the one seeking solitude had a place to hide.

Jade had taken advantage of that when she’d been younger. These days, her younger twin sisters, Pearl and Sapphire, were the ones who often hid from the constant noisiness of the family.

Currently, there was only one man in residence—Sam Burnett, Opal’s husband and Jade’s grandfather. These days, due to his worsening dementia, he mostly stayed in his room with the aide the family had hired to look after him. On his more lucid days, Sam would announce to anyone who would listen that he considered himself lucky. He’d always claimed Opal’s first name, which followed the Burnett tradition of naming their women after gemstones, had been a sign that she was his mate.

He was lucky to find her, the rest of the family had always thought. Lucky to have been one of the few men who’d managed to live in the house. Probably because he’d been born a Burnett. Men who’d married into the Burnett family frequently died an early death or the marriage ended in divorce. Most couldn’t deal with the Burnett women’s amazing beauty. More than one bitter divorce had resulted from a Burnett female attracting far more attention than her husband could handle.

And then there were those, like Jade’s father, who hadn’t even attempted to marry a Burnett.

Her aunt Emerald, never named Guardian, had married and moved out, though she and her husband, Jack, and their daughter still lived in Forestwood. Jade saw her cousin Di often enough, though Di’s brother, Jack Jr., had moved to California as soon as he graduated high school. He’d never returned, not even at Christmas or Thanksgiving.

The only ones who couldn’t leave the house were the Guardians. Or so Jade had been told. Like her mother before her, as long as Jade took care of Libby, if she were to marry, her husband would have to agree to reside here. Jade didn’t know too many men—okay, none, other than her grandfather, who was related—who would agree to live in a rambling old house with a bunch of women.

Travel could be prohibitive for those chosen. Even before she’d officially assumed the title of Guardian, but after Libby had named her Amber’s successor, Jade had only gone away once, back in high school during spring break with her friends. In two days she’d become violently ill, and not from alcohol consumption. Her mother had been dispatched to collect her. Once Jade had arrived back home, she instantly felt better. After that, Jade simply stayed put.

These days it was Pearl and Sapphire who were chafing to go on a grand adventure of their own. They were only seventeen, the same age as Jade when she took her ill-advised spring break trip. Since Libby hadn’t mentioned wanting Jade to pass on the mantle to either of them yet, Jade figured they were safe. At least for now, until Libby decided she needed a new Guardian.

The only thing missing, as far as Jade was concerned, was a dog. Her grandmother claimed to be allergic to all pets, so they’d never had any. The longing for a dog was one of the reasons Jade had opened her business, a doggy day care called Dogs Off Leash. DOL, for short.

Jade headed for the kitchen, which was one of her favorite rooms in the house. Her aunt was visiting and, as she often did because she claimed to enjoy the feel of dough under her hands, she was baking bread. The heavenly smell made Jade’s mouth water. Emerald was one of the few talented cooks in the family. When her husband and kids got on her nerves, she frequently showed up and worked out her frustration by baking. Jade loved to be around when Auntie Em visited.

“Hello, dear.” Her aunt held out her arms, wrapping Jade in a mist of perfume and flour. “Did you ladies have a nice lunch?”

“We did.” Jade smiled. “Do you need any help?” she asked. Auntie Em never did, but simply asking was enough to earn a bit of whatever treat she’d made.

This time was no exception. Beaming, her aunt handed her a slice of fresh-baked bread with a dot of creamy butter. After giving her thanks, Jade carried her prize from the warm kitchen and out to the front porch, where she could enjoy it in peace.

She sat down on the wooden swing—her favorite place to sit and watch the world pass by, and took a bite of bread. Soft and fragrant, the white bread contained hints of cheese, onion and herbs and melted on her tongue. She chewed slowly, wanting to savor every single bite. She might even have let out a quiet moan of pleasure.

“You eat that like you’re making love to it,” a dry, masculine voice drawled.

Instantly, she froze, even though every nerve ending flared to life as his voice and words resonated with her. Him. Just like that, her entire body felt energized and taut. Making love. An ache seized her as she dared to let herself imagine—for a second—what it would be like to make love with him.

Damn.

Refusing to let him see how much he rattled her, she concentrated on her bread and took another bite while she tried to do her best to pretend he hadn’t startled her. She chewed deliberately, ignoring him until she’d swallowed.

Slowly, she let her gaze come up to meet his. Again, she felt the sting of desire, a sharp tug of attraction, immediate and undeniable. Her breath caught in her throat, but she let herself study him, aware she needed to size him up unclouded by memories of those dreams.

And what dreams they had been. Her blood heated as she remembered the sensual and provocative images.

Mouth curling in amusement, he stood there while she let her gaze slowly drift over him, up and down, from the top of his dark and shaggy hair to his worn, faded sneakers. His insolent gray eyes gleamed with amusement, and maybe a hint of desire. He had a craggy, handsome face, rugged and masculine. Muscles rippled under his flannel shirt, making her mouth grow dry. The confidence he wore like a shield gave him a powerful, nonchalant appearance. Despite his quiet manner, he radiated sensuality, making her feel a bit like a helpless moth drawn toward a flame. Even so, she sensed an air of isolation around him.

“Are you done?” he drawled. “Because now it’s my turn.”

Instantly, her face heated. She pretended a sudden interest in taking another bite of bread, chewing and managing to swallow even though she felt his gaze like a whisper-touch on her skin.

Normal, she reminded herself. She had to appear normal.

“You didn’t come up the front path,” she commented once she’d swallowed, her voice overly bright. “There’s no way you could have or I would have seen you.”

“I did, but after I knocked on the front door and got no answer, I went around to the back. The lady baking bread in the kitchen directed me back up front here to find you. And yes, she did let me try a taste of her bread.”

Surprised, she glanced up. As she did, he smiled at her. The masculine power of his smile made her entire body tingle. This struck her momentarily speechless and all she could do was stare.

Luckily, she had a little left of her slice of bread to focus on. She took another bite, a big one, the last one, intending to savor it. Instead, the soft bread stuck to the roof of her mouth when she swallowed and she nearly choked. Still, she managed to get it down.

He quietly watched while she coughed and wiped her eyes.

“Are you all right?” he finally asked, the husky drawl in his voice making her think of the overwhelming heat of Texas summers.

She continued to cough, trying not to snort or hack too much, until she could catch her breath. All she could do was wave her hand at him to wait. Finally, she had herself back under control. Gathering what was left of her shredded dignity around her, she stood and met his gaze. “I swallowed wrong. You can be a bit overwhelming.”

He grinned, making her regret her admission. “Coming from a woman who looks like you, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Her own lips curled up in the beginning of a smile. “Touché. Now tell me, why are you here?”

“Because you invited me,” he replied.

“Only to keep you from peppering us with questions at lunch,” she countered. She should have been annoyed, but wasn’t. And he knew it, she could tell. The glint in his gray eyes told her he was accustomed to using his charm to get his own way.

“My apologies.” That Southern drawl had a way of reaching inside her and curling around her entire being. “Speaking of lunch, what exactly did you do to make me move?”

Briefly, she considered batting her own eyelashes. Instead, she went for a steady gaze. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You do realize I’m a photojournalist, right? I told you that earlier, didn’t I?”

She nodded.

“Well, when a journalist has questions and everyone stonewalls him, that only intrigues him even more.”

He had a point. Disconcerted, she swallowed. “All right. You said you had questions. What exactly do you need to know?”

“First, start by telling me how you made me move outside of the restaurant. It felt sort of like being pushed by an invisible hand.”

For some reason, she found this amusing. From the intent way he watched her, he’d see if she tried to hide a smile, so she didn’t bother. “Around town, they call me a witch. Maybe now you can understand why.”

“I’ve heard that. Are you? A witch, I mean?”