Dragon Maid by Ann Gimpel Read Free Book Online

over. Did you like what you saw?”
    “Och!” She cut more meat, chewed it, and swallowed quickly. “Men! The lot of you are impossible. All you think about is what’s between your legs.”
    The waiter had been headed their way. Jonathan saw him spin and walk quickly in the opposite direction. Poor man. First Britta had treated him like trash, and now he’d overheard something that didn’t comprise most people’s notion of polite supper conversation. Not good. The idea was for them to blend in, not become the waiter’s prime conversational gambit once he went off shift.
    Jonathan reached for the whiskey bottle and ran his hands over places he’d seen the waiter touch. He gathered enough of the man’s essence to send a spell his way.
    “Whatever are ye up to?” Britta sopped up the last of the meat juice on her plate with the last piece of bread.
    “The waiter overheard too much of our conversation. I simply made certain he’d forget about us.”
    She grinned. “Would it include him forgetting to collect for our food and drink?”
    “Now there’s a fine idea. It wasn’t in my mind at the time, but—” Jonathan held up a hand in response to the shocked expression on her face. “Never fear. I’m planning to leave money on the table for what we ate. I’ve never stiffed an establishment yet, and I’m not starting now.”
    She blew out a breath. “Thanks be to Ceridwen. ’Tis bad luck to cheat.”
    He patted her hand. “Good. I have someone to keep me on the straight and narrow. Are you finished?” She nodded and he dug for his wallet, counted out pound notes, and added a generous tip. The waiter wouldn’t remember them, but he would know this had been his table. “What do you want to do with the rest of the whiskey?”
    “I’ve had enough. I suppose we could bring it along with the other things we bought.”
    He located the stopper and placed it back atop the bottle, hoping it wouldn’t spill. Britta was already on her feet, gathering shopping bags into her arms. He picked up his rucksack, and the rest of the shopping bags, before following her out into the evening. The street was much quieter than it had been when they’d entered the restaurant. Light was finally fading from the long summer day. It had to be around ten thirty, maybe even eleven. People still strolled up and down the boulevard, some alone, more arm-in-arm with someone they cared about.
    “Can we travel from here?” she asked.
    He’d been so taken by her beauty, he hadn’t noticed her voice before. It was rich and low with musical under notes. Jonathan felt her spell take shape. People were passing them, so he answered her telepathically. “No. We can’t just disappear. Come on. We’ll go back to the park where we started.” He wanted to take her arm, but his hands were full.
    She looked about. “Which way? I canna remember.”
    Illuminated by a nearby streetlight, her face was so beautiful and so vulnerable, it touched his heart—and drew him like a magnet. He stopped thinking, bent his head, closed his mouth over hers, and waited for the fireworks.
    She didn’t slap him, though. Didn’t even draw away. Instead, she opened her mouth to his kiss and, unbelievably, kissed him back. Her mouth tasted sweet like the Irish whiskey. Her tongue sparred with his. Jonathan wanted to drop the shopping bags crushed between them so he could wrap his arms around her and feel her body pressed against his. His breathing quickened; so did hers.
    “Well, well, terribly convenient you’re here, dragon,” a deep, accented male voice purred from behind them. “And a bonus to boot.”
    Jonathan jumped away from Britta. He raised his hands to draw power; the bags in his arms crashed to the pavement. He heard the whiskey bottle shatter, and the pungent scent of spirits sharpened the damp air. He spun and narrowed his eyes, raking the area around him to see who’d spoken, but he couldn’t locate a man who matched the voice. He felt