Dinner With a Bad Boy (2 page)

Meanwhile, a few feet away, Ma Ma's dragon man released a soft sigh, obviously bored, but too polite to be irritated. Or even move. Geez, the man looked like a hypnotized statue. Su Ling couldn't imagine the leather-clad hunk waiting on anything or anyone.

What would it be like, she wondered, just for a few hours, to be on the hunk's arm instead of another soft-spoken, weak-gestured man? And wouldn't that just show Ma Ma the ridiculousness of finding a man by a dragon symbol?

Feeling more daring than ever before, Su Ling made her choice. She abruptly spun around, approaching her leather hunk with an uncharacteristically seductive smile. "Excuse me. I need a loud and obnoxious date right now. You get a free meal, fifty bucks cash, and all the relatives you can insult. Interested?" He pulled back, obviously surprised. Then, before he could respond, she fished a fifty-dollar bill out of her purse. She stared at it, stunned by the exorbitant amount and her own rash promise, but one glance at her other date option steeled her spine. She flashed the bill before the leather-clad hunk before tucking it into her jacket pocket. "Deal?"

His smile came slowly, all the more devastating because he took his time. "Always interested." He slowly straightened. God, was he really that tall? "What's your name?"

"Su Ling. And you've got to make this look good."

He grinned. "No problem, Sue. Anything else?"

"Yeah," she commented, her mind working furiously. "You're a lawyer. No, a judge. No, wait. An undercover FBI agent investigating a banking scam. That's why you're pretending to be an accountant."

"You don't do this very often, do you?"

She shot him a startled glance. "You got any better ideas?"

He shook his head. "Nope. A fed is great."

As he canceled his dinner order, Su Ling quickly scribbled a note to Ma Ma's dragon, apologizing in the nicest way possible while sending him on his way. She didn't doubt he would disappear easily. Ma Ma's dates never did anything uncomfortable or impolite, even if it meant they'd just wasted an evening. After giving the note to a waitress to deliver, she turned back to her definitely uncomfortable, impolite revenge date.

"Your name is Dragon, and you were born in 1976."

"Sorry. January 'seventy-seven."

"Suddenly you're interested in the truth?" Then she glanced at him, seeing his fluid gait as they moved down the hallway. Physically he appeared a very powerful man. A tremor of fear slithered down her spine. Just who was she bringing in to meet her parents? "Uh, look," she began, "maybe this isn't such a good idea..."

"Don't chicken out now, princess. Revenge is at hand." Then he paused, obviously reading the concern on her face. "Relax. I'm an old hand at pissing off parents."

But second and third thoughts had begun to assail her. Just outside the party room Su Ling paused, facing off with the monster she'd just created. "Exactly why are you doing this?"

He shrugged, using his white smile to devastating effect. "Fifty bucks buys a lot of Happy Meals." Then, before she could respond, he pushed through the door.

Su Ling had to go up on her toes to peer over his broad shoulder. At first, all she could see was a large ink brush shrimp painting turning beady eyes her way from over her father's head. Then her dragon moved aside, and she was startled to see their large round table half empty. Right next to her parents, Auntie Wen and Uncle Sammy were greedily eating all the hors d'oeuvres. But the chairs for Su Ling's sister and young niece were conspicuously empty. And that was the last she noticed of the decor as a deafening silence filled the room.

She should have been gratified. She would have been if she were still flush with her rebellious spirit. Unfortunately mortification dominated right now. Her father, as honored guest, sat directly opposite the doorway, his dark eyebrows raised, his jaw clenched as he pulled his head back in horror. Ma Ma and Auntie Wen were even worse, their mouths opening and closing like those of beached fish. But the absolute worst came from not-so-bright Uncle Sammy. He looked up, then snorted with amusement. "Is that Su Ling's date?" He giggled. "No wonder your sister hasn't got many grandchildren!"

But before Su Ling could sink into a perfectly timed faint, Dragon stepped forward to Uncle Sammy, his hand outstretched in a bold Texas howdy. "Why, yes," he bellowed in a voice that echoed off the dark paneling. Gone were the whiskey tones from the other room. Instead he used the thickest, corniest Texas accent Su Ling had ever heard. "Yee-haw, I am the little lady's date," he continued. "But I'm guessing you're not the birthday boy. That must be you, sir." He stepped toward her father, grabbing the smaller man's hand in his and pumping it up and down like a piston. "Why, your little gal's been talking up a storm about how much she admires y'all." He expanded his grin to the room at large. "All y'all."

The silence echoed in Su Ling's head, broken only when her mother leaped up from her chair, grabbed her daughter, and said in a hiss, "Who is he?"

Su Ling blinked, widening her eyes with exaggerated innocence. "He's my dragon." She pointed to the elaborate design on her hunk's jacket. But before she could say anything he stripped it off, revealing the dark stain of a tattooed dragon coiling down his bulging bicep before disappearing beneath his muscle T. Ma Ma nearly choked in horror while Su Ling felt her knees weaken. She never would have credited it, but right then that sinuous Chinese symbol was the sexiest thing she'd ever seen. And all the while her dragon continued to grin and joke like the worst of the B-movie cowboys.

Ma Ma recovered first, hissing another, "Not him!" before disappearing into the hallway, presumably to find the ditched dragon. Su Ling was thankful she knew Ma Ma's wimp had left moments before she and her dragon had entered the party. Then she had no more time to worry, as her dragon snaked his hand around her waist, tugging her close.

"Well, little darlin'," he drawled as he gestured to the specialty food ordered a week in advance. "This here don't look much like meat 'n' potatoes to me." Then he chucked her under the chin as he waggled his eyebrows at her. "But then you, sweet pea, are meat enough for any man."

She felt his hand begin to slide lower, and her face heated, knowing every eye in the room was trained on her rear. She intended to push him away, but as she looked into his rich amber eyes, she felt a shock of warmth course through her. She had no words for what happened, though her mind desperately scrambled to catalog the sensation. She tossed out
thrill of defiance, sexual excitement,
even
simple novelty
as all true and yet none accurate enough. Somewhere inside she knew he wouldn't hurt her, that his act remained for display purposes, and that, in truth, she felt safe with him. No logic could explain the knowledge, and yet she felt it.

And when his eyes widened in surprise, she recognized an echoing intrigue flame within him.

She had no control over what happened next. Instead of pushing him away, she felt her head lifting, moving toward his lips as if of their own accord. Somewhere in the background her mind registered her father pushing angrily up from his chair, her mother's appalled gasp, even the rush of the door as someone pushed it open, but 98 percent of her body and mind remained fixated on her dragon's full and sensuous mouth.

"Mr. Kurtz? What are you doing here?"

Su Ling felt Dragon's body freeze, the sudden chill translating easily through her clothing. With obvious horror, Dragon turned his head to the latest party attendees: Su Ling's sister, Mei Lu, and her daughter, Amanda. "Mandy?" Dragon asked in a choked voice. "This is
your
family?"

"Yeah," the girl answered as she neatly settled into the chair next to him. "I thought that looked like your motorcycle outside."

Nobody gasped. Su Ling doubted anyone had drawn breath, including herself. Well, nobody except for Uncle Sammy who had started giggling again while Ma Ma's face turned a not-so-festive bright red. Then her father spoke, horror dripping from every syllable. "You're my granddaughter's
teacher?"

"And volleyball coach," continued Amanda as she reached out and began serving herself a bowl of egg-drop soup. "He's awesome."

Su Ling stared at Dragon, trying to reconcile the man still wrapped around her waist with her niece and middle school. All the teachers she remembered had been prim women with conservative clothing and comfortable shoes. Not one had ever come close to a twenty-something bulked-out, leather-clad, tattooed revenge date with the most hypnotizing amber eyes. "You're a teacher?"

"Social studies," answered Amanda before Dragon could draw breath. "Cool earring. He normally just wears a diamond stud at school."

Suddenly Dragon—a.k.a. Mr. Kurtz, man who shaped young minds—became a flurry of speed. In one deft movement he sprang away from Su Ling, quickly removed his earring, and grabbed his jacket. Meanwhile he continued to babble, all traces of his fake Texas accent gone, and in its place reigned the flat tones of a Chicago suburb. "Not a real diamond," he stammered. "Cubic zirconium. I couldn't afford a diamond on a teacher's salary." He stumbled slightly as he headed toward the door. "Well, happy birthday, sir. Many happy returns, and all that. Um, gotta go. Lots to do. Christmas break is over tomorrow, you know."

He was out the door before Su Ling could shake off her shock. Then, without conscious intent, she scrambled after him. "Wait a minute!" she cried as he headed for the front door. She caught him outside, snapping his leather jacket against the chill January wind.

He looked up, his eyes heating even as he gave her a self-conscious shrug. "I didn't realize you were Mandy's aunt."

"You're a middle school teacher?" she repeated for what felt like the hundredth time.

"Disappointed?" he challenged. "We can't all be FBI agents."

She didn't know how to answer. Was she disappointed? She'd grabbed a biker bad boy only to find she'd netted a schoolteacher. Except he didn't look so mundane standing beside his motorcycle, his dark hair ruffled by the wind, an intense gleam heating his eyes.

Then he lifted his chin, indicating the restaurant's window, where Ma Ma and Auntie Wen were pressed goggle-eyed against the glass. "We've got an audience."

"They let you wear an earring in school?"

He stepped away from his bike, approaching her with slow, steady steps. There wasn't anything menacing in his movements, merely a focused intensity, but Su Ling shied backward nonetheless. His mesmerizing power remained in full force even as her mind still grappled with the thought of him as a teacher.

"What, teachers aren't wild enough for you?" he challenged, his voice low and throaty.

"Uh..." Su Ling didn't know what to say. He'd voiced her thoughts exactly. Except he seemed plenty wild and thoroughly exciting. She couldn't deny the thrill she felt when her back hit the wall and he continued his advance.

"I didn't get the free dinner you promised," he said as he flattened his hands on either side of her head. Then he leaned in slowly, inexorably pressing his thighs, then his pelvis, then his entire massive chest against her, leaving their faces less than a whispered breath of steam apart. "But maybe this will do."

He lowered his lips to hers, and Su Ling felt the blood rush through her body, pulsing too fast. His kiss took control of her, swept into her mouth, and possessed her, taking her, challenging her until she began to fight back—or rather give back, dueling with his tongue as she arched rhythmically against him She felt his breath catch, but she didn't relent. And neither did he as one of his hands slid down her shoulder, wrapping around her waist to lift her off the wall, jerking her flush against his hard body. Her hands were busy as well, sliding across his butter-soft jacket until she tangled her fingers in his hair. Luxurious curls flowed over her hands as he broke their kiss to begin tonguing across her face and neck in the most erotic patterns imaginable.

Then she felt it—his hand, sliding up her thin blouse, heating her already flushed skin to flash point as his fingers rose firmly, strongly, inevitably to her breast. She ached for him to touch her, to hold her there. She even released a moan of longing as his fingertips met the underside of her bra, beginning the lift, the caress, the seduction she craved.

But before he made it to her peak, before she could do more than close her eyes, he twisted around, deftly plucking something out of her inside jacket pocket before stepping away. When she opened her eyes, he was pocketing her fifty dollars before donning his helmet and roaring away.

* * *

Mitch Kurtz stomped through the school hallway, neatly avoiding the flow of students as nearly three hundred teens scrambled to grab their things before the buses came. Normally the excited chatter about holidays and homework calmed him. Early mornings were filled with preparation for the coming day, but the end of school held the satisfaction of a job well done, a child educated for one more day.

Except today. Today, the Backstreet Boys' latest hairstyle had easily eclipsed Napoleon. Not because the kids were any more difficult than usual, but because Mitch had made one of the most exciting men in history sound like a farm report. Even he'd yawned.

And why? Because last night he'd been propositioned by an exotic Asian temptress, a pinup fantasy who offered him the opportunity—just for one night—to pretend to be someone else. Normally he would have laughed off the chance as too bizarre, but just then, straight from another holiday-in-hell with his repressed family, the opportunity to play a mysterious fed had been too good to resist. Naturally, just as his parents had always predicted, his impulsive nature led him straight into trouble. He'd acted like a jerk in front of a student and her family.