Page 37 of Hot for the Dragon

What was wrong with him? He was Archer Hawke, feared dragon shifter. He didn't get flustered over pretty witches with kind eyes and clever tongues.

"Everything okay?" Daphne asked. "You seem tense."

"Fine," he growled, then immediately regretted his harsh tone. "Just... not used to company."

"I noticed." She smiled, and damn if it didn't make his chest tight. "But you're doing great. Haven't growled at me once in the last ten minutes."

Despite himself, Archer felt his lips twitch. "Give it time."

The familiar path to his mansion stretched ahead, and with it came an unfamiliar sensation - anticipation. He actually wanted to show her his work, to see her reaction to the intricate details he'd carved into the schooner's hull.

He was definitely going soft. And somehow, watching Daphne's hair dance in the breeze from the open window, he couldn't bring himself to care.

Archer soon pushed open the French doors to his workshop. The last few rays of sunlight streamed in through the glass panes and danced across his collection of finished wood carvings. The familiar scent of cedar and oak shavings filled his nose, mixing with Daphne's floral perfume as she stepped inside.

"This is incredible," Daphne breathed, moving toward a shelf where an intricately carved wolf pack stood frozen mid-run. Her fingers hovered over the detailed fur texture. "You made all these?"

"Yes." Pride swelled in his chest at her genuine amazement. He'd never shown anyone his workshop before yet watching her explore it felt... right.

"The detail is extraordinary." She moved to examine a miniature dragon, its scales individually carved and polished. "Look at those wings!"

Her enthusiasm sparked something warm in him. "The wings are the hardest part. Getting the membrane texture just right takes patience."

"And this lighthouse!" Daphne circled a three-foot model of the town's historic beacon. "I can see every brick."

Archer found himself drawn closer to her, his dragon instincts purring at her presence in his private space. "Want to see what I'm working on now?"

At her eager nod, he led her to his workbench where the half-finished schooner sat. His tools lay precisely arranged nearby, each with its own purpose, each essential to creating the perfect detail.

"Oh my god, Archer." Daphne leaned in close, studying the intricate rope work along the deck. "This is museum quality. Have you ever thought about selling these?"

He shrugged, distracted by how the light caught the gold flecks in her green eyes. "Never had a reason to."

"You should consider it. People would pay good money for work like this." She turned to face him, her expression earnest. "You have a real gift."

The praise from her lips hit differently than any accolade he'd ever received. His dragon preened under her attention, and something shifted in him – a realization that made him freeze.

He really was falling for her.

The thought should have sent him running. Instead, watching her trace the carved railings of his ship with such care, all he wanted was to pull her closer.

Damn it all to hell. When had this happened? How had this cheerful witch with her endless optimism and genuine heart managed to slip past his defenses?

"You're staring," Daphne said, a smile playing at her lips.

"Just making sure you don't break anything." The lie came easily.

17

ARCHER

Archer watched Daphne work her magic - both literal and figurative - on yet another potential informant. Her quick thinking had caught three of Carmen's suppliers in the past week alone. His dragon preened with pride at her cleverness, even as he maintained his stern facade.

"That's the second store this morning," Daphne said, consulting her notes. "Ready to admit my systematic approach is better than your 'intimidate everyone' strategy?"

"It worked, didn't it?" He fought back a smirk as she rolled her eyes. "Besides, my intimidation got us into The Dragon's Scale yesterday."

"Where I had to save you from starting a brawl." She bumped into him playfully. The casual contact sent warmth spreading through his chest.

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