Page 26 of Princess Seeks Dragon

Chapter Eight: Favors

“You want to be paidunder the table? How about this?” Graham walks to the fridge in the huge kitchen and drains a quart of orange juice, drinking from the glass bottle.

I can’t help but notice that he downs it all in two long swallows, then licks his lips. He pushes his hair out of his face as he puts the bottle in the sink.

Mundane things seem so sexy on him.

This is not the time to get interested, Angela!

“Uh, yes. I mean, I’ll need money.”

“For room and board, and to pay the bodyguard, right?”

“Uh. Right. Are my parents—”

“Look, you come to work with me each day and work the register or work in the nursery section. I’ll keep you under my wing—I mean, keep an eye on you. I’ll pay you cash at the end of the day. Fifty.”

“Won’t you get in trouble?”

“No. And it’s not enough long-term, but it’ll be enough for this month, because you’re going to stay here and eat here. My guest.”

Or prisoner. I tense for a minute, then relax. I was going to be a prisoner anyway, wasn’t I? “Okay, for short-term, but what about later?”

“Let’s take this one day at a time, a month at a time. In a month, my brother will come back and work out your permanent pay rate, or you’ll know if you have to keep running.”

“My mom said she’d be in touch by then, too.”

“So, short-term is what we’re working with. In a month, I’ll be back in California.”

“Mm. I wish I could go with you. That’s where I’m from. Where all my stuff is.” I let out a sad little chuckle as I trace the edge of the sparkling granite countertop.

“I know the people you’re dealing with. I’d stay clear of that place for now.”

“I know.” I climb up on one of the stools that surrounds the counter and sit my too-hippy ass on the wicker seat. “You know, last week I just wanted to get into grad school. Now, I’m worried about being some mafia dude’s Stepford wife—only with cheetah print spandex and an eighties perm.” I fold my arms and flop my head into the nest I’ve made. “This doesn’t seem like reality.”

“Yeah, well... Reality is stranger than most people think.” Graham pats my back in passing, and I hear dishes rattling and the pantry opening and shutting. “Eat some cookies and milk. It helps.”

“I’m not Santa,” I snap.

“But you’re going to be on my naughty list if you don’t sit up, eat something like a good girl, and let me go make some calls.” Graham slams a carton of milk down next to my head, and I jump.

“Sorry,” I stammer. “I’m not... I’m not having a good day.”

“It could be a worse one. I’m sorry I was stroppy. I wish I could fix things for you, that’s all. All right, the guest suite is up the stairs, first door along. You get settled, and then we’ll go play about in the flowers.” He gives me a wink and a slight smile.

When he walks away, he sheds his long coat, and the irresponsible urges I’m feeling don’t go away. They get worse at the sight of a tight white t-shirt and slightly slouchy jeans that still show off his ass.

I absently grab a cookie from the plate he set beside me. “Maybe I have low blood sugar,” I murmur to myself. Yeah. That’s it. The racing thoughts about how sexy Graham is and how much I love his accent, and especially the way his voice turns into a growl when he’s irritated...

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