Page 40 of Hot for the Dragon

But his dragon disagreed, remembering how she defended him to the townspeople, how she sought out his company even when they weren't working. The way she looked at him sometimes when she thought he wasn't paying attention...

"Stop it," he commanded himself, stalking toward his front door. "You're no good for her. She deserves someone who can match her optimism, not a grumpy dragon who's spent years pushing everyone away."

Yet even as he tried to convince himself, his dragon paced restlessly beneath his skin, already anticipating tomorrow's meeting. One thing was certain - he was completely and utterly doomed for falling in love with a human witch.

18

DAPHNE

Daphne watched as Archer signed the last of the paperwork with an impatient flourish. The fluorescent lights of the police station cast harsh shadows across his sharp features, but even they couldn't diminish his commanding presence. A small smile tugged at her lips as she remembered how he'd initially bristled at the idea of working with law enforcement.

"Something amusing?" Archer's deep voice cut through her thoughts, one eyebrow raised as he caught her staring at him.

"Just thinking about how you used to growl every time we mentioned bringing the police in." The autumn sunlight streaming through the station windows painted golden streaks across his auburn hair. "Now look at you, filling out forms like a model citizen."

"I still say we could handle this ourselves." He crossed his arms, the movement drawing her attention to the way his shirt stretched across his broad shoulders. "But your way has... merit."

The grudging admission made her heart flutter. These past three weeks had transformed their relationship from reluctant partners to something that felt remarkably like friendship. Gone was the rigid formality, replaced by comfortable banter and shared looks that sometimes lasted a beat too long.

"Did the great Archer Hawke just admit I was right about something?" Daphne pressed her hand to her chest. "Should we alert the media?"

His coal-black eyes narrowed, but she caught the slight upturn of his lips. "Don't push your luck, witch."

The nickname sent a warm shiver down her spine that she desperately tried to ignore. Friends. They were just friends. Nothing more. Even if sometimes, when he looked at her like that, with that intensity that seemed to burn right through her...

"Earth to Daphne." Archer's voice snapped her back to reality. "The paperwork's done. Unless you'd like to spend the rest of the day admiring the station's lovely decor?"

"Right, sorry." She gathered her things, hoping he hadn't noticed her momentary distraction. "Just lost in thought."

"Dangerous habit." He placed his hand on the small of her back, guiding her toward the exit. The casual touch shouldn't have affected her so much, but her skin tingled even through her sweater.

Daphne's stomach rumbled as they stepped out into the crisp early evening air. The sun hung low on the horizon, painting the sky in shades of amber and rose that reminded her of Archer's hair.

"Hungry?" Archer's lips quirked up at the sound. "I know a place around the corner. My treat."

"You don't have to-"

"I want to." His tone brooked no argument, making her heart skip. "Unless you'd prefer to debate about it while we both starve?"

The restaurant turned out to be a cozy Italian place, all exposed brick and warm lighting. The hostess seated them at a corner booth, and Daphne sank into the plush cushions with a contented sigh.

"This is nice," she said, breathing in the aroma of garlic and fresh bread. "I didn't even know this place existed."

"Best lasagna in town." Archer's commanding presence seemed to fill the space between them. "And they don't water down their wine."

As they looked over their menus, Daphne noticed movement from across the room. A man at another table was staring at Archer with undisguised hostility. The look in his eyes made her skin prickle with unease.

"Archer," she whispered, leaning forward. "That man over there - could he be working for Carmen?"

Archer didn't even turn around. "Dark hair, expensive suit, looks like he's sucking on a lemon?"

"That's the one."

"Not Carmen's." His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "Just someone from my past who thinks they know me."

The waiter arrived before she could respond, and Archer ordered for them both with the easy confidence that seemed to come naturally to him. Daphne found herself watching the way his hands moved as he spoke, strong and sure.

"So," she said, determined to lighten the mood, "are you going to tell me what makes this lasagna the best in town, or do I have to guess?"

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