Page 32 of Kenna's Dragon

“It’s getting a little chilly. I didn’t bring a jacket, and you’re warm.”

She’s cold? I reach up and start to slide off the suit coat I’m wearing, but Kenna stops me with a hand on my arm and wry humor in her voice, rolling her eyes at me.

“Not necessary. Unless you’re dragging me all the way across the city, I’ll be fine.”

The dragon grumbles his disapproval at that, and I can’t help but agree with the beast. Still, knowing we’re only a block and a half away from our destination and not wanting to start an argument with her when we’ve barely begun our time together, I let the matter rest.

Reaching the bar a couple minutes later, I open the door for her and Kenna throws me a questioning look.

“What?” I ask, stepping inside behind her.

“Just not the place I would have expected you’d pick.”

“Why not?”

Kenna looks around the interior of the bar. Dimly lit and not too crowded, it’s outfitted with dark wood floors and dark walls, gold light fixtures turned down low. Shadowed, private booths perfect for intimate conversation line the walls.

Glancing at me again, Kenna shakes her head. “No reason, and I guess a place like this is good for no one to see or recognize us.”

I frown. That wasn’t my intention in bringing her here. I just like this place. I know the owner, and the bartenders always make a good drink. That Kenna assumes I’d pick it because I wanted to hide her…

Well, she’s not wrong, per se, but the idea still sits uneasily in the bottom of my gut.

Before I can say anything else, Kenna walks further into the bar and chooses an empty U-shaped booth near the back. We slide into opposite sides, and are saved from immediate conversation by a server coming to take our drink order. Kenna gets a gin and tonic and I ask for whiskey neat.

When the server retreats, though, we’re left with nothing to do but stare each other down. Kenna has her chin jutted up slightly, a challenge in her green eyes, clearly expecting me to fire the opening salvo.

Which, fair enough, I was the one to invite her out with me, after all.

“Tell me what brought you to the Bureau.”

She cocks an eyebrow. “That’s really where you want to start?”

“If there’s another topic you’d prefer, by all means,” I allow, throwing an arm up on the back of the booth.

Kenna tracks the movement, eyes fixing on my arm for a moment before she fidgets a little where she’s sitting.

Closer? No, not closer. She’s skittish, still understandably skeptical about what I want and what motivated me to ask her out. There’s no chance in hell she’s moved closer… even if I can suddenly picture her sliding over, tucking herself against me, pressing the side of her luscious thigh against mine, parting her legs just enough for me to drop a hand and…

“No,” she says, snapping me out of it. “That’s fine.”

She thinks for a moment. “The Bureau, the whole graphic design and communications thing, it was more of a backup plan than what I actually wanted to do,” she admits, then frowns. “Shit. I shouldn’t have said that. You’re like, what? My boss’s boss’s boss? I shouldn’t be—”

“I’m not the Director tonight,” I tell her, and her frown deepens.

“Easy for you to say,” she mutters.

I reach over and take her hand gently in mine. “Should we call it a night, ember? Would you rather forget any of this happened and just go back to me being your boss’s boss’s boss?”

Her eyes flicker a little at the nickname and her hand flexes slightly in mine, but she shakes her head. “No. I don’t want to call it a night.”

A small spark of triumph in my chest. And a warning.

The line we’re dancing over is dangerous. Perhaps more for me than for her, but I’ll be damned if I’m able to remember that now. Not when Kenna’s fingers relax in mine, or when her full lips quirk up into a small, mischievous smile.

“Tell me what you wanted to do instead,” I say. “If the Bureau was just your backup.”

She pulls her hand away before crossing her arms over her chest and giving me another challenging little look. “Illustration.”

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