Bearded Dragon

  www.beautifultroublepublishing.com

  Copyright © 2012 by Liz Stafford

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including but not limited to: printing, photocopying, faxing, recording, electronic transmission, or by any information storage or retrieval system without prior written permission from the authors or holders of the copyright.

  This book is a work of fiction. References may be made to locations and historical events; however, names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination and/or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), businesses, events or locales is either used fictitiously or coincidental. All trademarks, service marks, registered trademarks, and registered service marks are the property of their respective owners and are used herein for identification purposes only.

  Published by

  Beautiful Trouble Publishing, LLC

  PO Box 61

  Colfax, NC 27235

  www.beautifultroublepublishing.com

  Cover Art: Les Byerley http://www.les3photo8.com/

  Editor: Barb Wilson

  Proofreader: Novellette Whyte

  http://authorgurunovellette.blogspot.com/

  Formatter: Jim & Zetta, http://www.jimandzetta.com/

  E-book Conversion: Jim & Zetta, http://www.jimandzetta.com/

  ISBN: (e-book) 978-1-61788-243-2

  This is dedicated to anyone who’s loved from afar—and whose dream finally came true. I am not one of those people. My dream man found me. But that’s okay too.

  NOTE ABOUT EBOOKS

  eBooks are NOT transferable. Re-selling, sharing or giving away eBooks is a copyright infringement. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the author or Beautiful Trouble Publishing.

  CAVEAT

  This work of erotica contains adult language and sexually explicit scenes, which are smoking hot. This book is intended only for adults, as it is defined by the laws of the country in which the purchase is made. Keep this book out of the hands of under-aged readers.

  Chapter One

  Carlton raked his fingers through his beard, then dumped bedding into the last cage. Dragon flicked his tail and tilted his head to watch. “There you go, old boy.” Carlton dropped the lid on top. The clatter had Dragon hissing and retreating to the mass of greenery in the corner. “Sorry, bud,” he said again. Not fair to take out his mood on the lizards. It wasn’t their fault Carlton had gotten into this situation. He finished cleaning the remaining nineteen cages and/or aquariums. He threw the dirty bedding in the trash and flung the bag of wood chips into the hall closet.

  Why couldn’t the freaking Patriots have won the Super Bowl? They had the talent. They had the edge. And more than anything, they were favored to win by three and a half points. The game should have been in the bag, then he wouldn’t be forced to go out with some bag named Wanda.

  With a name like hers—a minus-point on his dating chart—she’d have been subjected to ridicule and pranks her whole school life. It would’ve scarred her forever. He had no doubts it had. After all, she was in her mid-thirties and had never been married. That said it all, didn’t it?

  He’d known a Wanda back in high school. A real dog. He was embarrassed to remember once loudly comparing her to a pug. So, another Wanda had come into his life. Carlton guessed this was his payback. He believed in payback. You did something wrong, sooner or later it came back and bite you in the ass. This was his ass-bite.

  Okay, it was only one date. He’d take her someplace dark. Then get her home by nine saying he had to work early at the clinic. He didn’t. He never worked on Saturdays; the younger vets got stuck with that gig.

  Too bad this wasn’t a regular date; he really needed to get out. He’d been cooped up too many nights lately, commiserating with his bosses. Rianna and Tonya were trying to buy a parcel on the outskirts of LA to enlarge the animal hospital and somebody was stalling the permits.

  Damn. Twenty minutes till he had to pick up Wanda in Glendale. He jammed his arms into his Pats jacket sleeves, gathered car keys from the counter and raced out the door. He was only going seven miles an hour over the speed limit when a car shot through the intersection on his left. Carlton spun the Venza to the right. The front tire banged the curb. Even so, the other car’s bumper thumped into his. What the hell did they think they were doing?

  The bright silver Mercedes S550 squealed to a stop just inches in front of him. The driver leaped out and raced back to his car. She was a tall, blonde bombshell—did they call ’em bombshells anymore? Carlton didn’t know. He’d sure as heck never dated one. He climbed out of the car, prepared to give her hell. She feathered a hand over his bumper, stood erect, spun around and, without even making eye contact, was gone.

  Carlton examined the bumper, and then his right front tire. No outward damage but probably the alignment was gone to hell. He got back in the car and followed the directions to Wanda’s place a block away. Nice enough middle-class building. A plus-point for her. He hurried up the steps to the door with the big number 3 on it, smoothed his beard and rang the bell.

  The door opened. And there she stood. Silhouetted by light from the living room, he couldn’t see much except she was quite tall—close to six feet—and had an unruly mass of hair. She wasn’t fat but couldn’t be called thin by any means. Blocky might be a good description. A minus-point.

  “Yes?” said the woman.

  “Wanda?”

  As she stepped aside he got a glimpse of a beak of a nose. Yikes. Another minus. “Come in.”

  Her voice was nice. Smooth and pleasant with no accent. Beyond the point of no return, he stepped into the apartment. It smelled like lilacs, which was nice. The place was well furnished and clean. Another point in her favor.

  “Come sit a moment.”

  In the blue-light from the television, he could see her better. Man, she hadn’t aged well at all. Glenn had said she was in her mid-thirties, but this woman looked fifty at least. Ten minus-points. Good thing he’d reserved a table at Patchouli’s—it had lots of dark corners.

  He sat on the edge of a micro-fiber sofa totaling up the pluses and minuses that were, so far, heavily in the minus category. She had remained standing. He knew it was a ploy to keep the upper hand…to be the alpha. Fine. Just get the freaking night over with. Man, was he going to kill Glenn big-time.

  “Nice weather lately,” was all his brain could think of saying. The dumb-ass comment prompted him to start a plus-minus list for himself.

  “It is,” she said, “mild for this time of year.”

  “What did you think of that Super Bowl?”

  Her frown said she was the only person on the face of the planet who hadn’t watched the game. Okay, so he couldn’t make general conversation. A minus-point for him.

  Shoot, since when did he have a dating chart?

  “Um, we have a seven o’clock reservation,” he said.

  “Wanda will be right down. She’s running a little late.”

  “She’s— You’re—”

  She stepped forward. “I guess I should’ve introduced myself. I’m Beverly, Wanda’s mother.”

  Her mother? Wanda still lived at home? Minus-points pierced him like bullets and warning alarms blared so loud in his head that he couldn’t help slamming his hands to his ears.

  “Are you all right?”

  He lowered his hands and clasped them in his lap. “Huh?”

  “You look like you’re about to throw up.”

  “No. No, everything’s fine.” While Beverly went to shout for Wanda to hurry, Carlton began restoring the ten minus-points he’d given for misinterpreting her age and living situa
tion, till he realized he might be minusing again in a minute anyway.

  Steps sounded on the stairs. She was wearing heels. Walked without hesitation. Plus-point. A shadow appeared on the wall. Carlton stood, swiped his palms on his thighs and stepped toward the hallway.

  Chapter Two

  Wanda had been nervous all day. So nervous she’d misfiled the paperwork on the Tender Hearts Clinic expansion. So nervous, her panties were soaked all day. So nervous, she’d sideswiped a guy and actually left him standing in the street. Thankfully there’d been no damage to his car or she would be in even worse trouble when the cops come to the house.

  But she couldn’t be late. She’d had her eye on Carlton Roberts since their sophomore year in high school. She’d watched his journey through vet school. He made it to the top of his career, worked at a prestigious clinic here in LA where they called him the Bearded Dragon—not for his personality but for his rescue efforts toward the much-maligned reptile. His picture in the clinic’s newspaper ad showed he hadn’t changed in all these years. Except for the beard, which Wanda thought gave him character.

  He’d never been married. Had one close call though. The woman had left him at the altar. Wanda thought the woman needed her head examined, but all in all, leaving him was a good thing. As he remained single, Wanda’s day could come.

  So, this was her chance—her only chance, no doubt. She would not screw it up; hence the mad Toyota-swiping dash home tonight.

  She fluffed her hair off her shoulders wondering if she should’ve worn it up. People said it looked better up. But the doorbell rang and putting it up would’ve made her even later so she pinned up each side in gold barrettes. Wanda slipped into two-inch heels. She’d planned on higher heels—liking the way they made her legs look, but at five foot ten, she feared towering over him. Nothing men liked less than—well, there were probably lots of things men liked less, she just hoped she didn’t find out about any of them tonight.

  Wanda clip-clopped down the stairs, then stepped around the corner and into the living room. There he stood, in the flesh. Did he recognize her? Probably not. They hadn’t seen each other in twenty-odd years. His mouth was gaping down to his chin, which could mean he recognized her—she’d changed that much. She had to admit—she was night and day different from the thick glasses, fifty-five more pounds, oily-haired girl in high school. The girl a jock like him never would’ve looked at twice.

  He was gorgeous—from the wide shoulders that stretched the cotton plaid shirt, to the tapered waist she could only imagine, to the telltale bulge in his chinos. Wanda needed to go back upstairs and blot the moisture in her panties. But he was stepping forward, putting out his hand as if to shake hers. She reached out, too, but he jerked his back, wiped his hand on his pants and apologized as he introduced himself. Okay, so he didn’t recognize her. That was probably a good thing. They said good-bye to her mother.

  Wanda stopped short on the stoop seeing the bright blue Toyota she’d sideswiped. Could things get any worse today?

  Chapter Three

  Wow. In a nanosecond, the tradition of the stereotypical blind date went out the window. This lady was perfect: tall and shapely, with intelligent eyes. He loved eyes. Whoever said they were the mirror to the soul had been right. By the time her mother shut the door behind them, Carlton was half in love. And half-hard. Plus-points pinged like bells.

  But when Wanda stopped on the doorstep, gaping at his car, she lost twenty points on Carlton’s rating chart. He lost his erection. How could she look down on his car? So what if it was small? It was brand new. It was a hybrid.

  He turned to her, ready to say something.

  Tears were running down her face. He melted. Carlton put a hand on her shoulder and changed their plans. They walked west to North San Fernando Road, to Adana’s, where over eggplant caviar, Carlton realized, with mounting horror, that this Wanda was the Wanda from high school. It couldn’t be possible. How could a person change that much? Worse, what would she do if she realized he’d been the one to make the pug comments?

  He covered for a minute, pretending to choke on the food. He patted the napkin against his mouth, then balled it on the table. She’d leaped up and was patting him on the back—and everyone in the place was watching. Carlton sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. Back to the original plan. Get this date over with.

  “I’m fine. Thanks,” he said and she went back to her seat. Graceful, like a swan. The half-erection returned.

  “Let’s get things out in the open,” she said. “I know you’re the one who said bad things about me in school.” The half-erection deflated.

  He picked up the napkin again and balled it tight in his right hand. Then he choked out, “Sorry.”

  “It’s all right. Water under the bridge.” She sipped from the long stemmed water glass. “I guess maybe I should thank you. It made me realize how things were.” She laughed. “How very bad they were. Anyway,” she waved a hand at herself, “this is me now. And I not only forgive you, I announce that, from that moment, I fell in love with you. How could I not love your honesty and forthrightness?”

  This time Carlton’s choking was real. This time, the waiter was the one patting him on the back. Still, everyone was watching. He waved the waiter back to his station, then tried to question Wanda, but all that came out was one letter. “L—”

  She nodded. “Love. I know it’s stupid to say it because it’ll probably send you running for the hills. But I’m an attorney and not one who shies from confrontation.”

  “A lawyer?” Right now, because of Tender Hearts’ permit troubles, attorneys weren’t at the top of his BFF list, but he supposed it was an honorable and well-paying career.

  She shrugged as if she didn’t want to talk about herself. A plus-point. “And you are a vet they call the Bearded Dragon.”

  When his eyebrows shot instinctively upward, she laughed. A nice laugh. Not one of those high-pitched things. Another point.

  “I’ve been keeping an eye on your career. Wondering about that nickname, though.” She shook her head. “No, I’m wondering what makes you want to rescue bearded dragons.”

  He gave two palms up. “Why not? People buy a pet, thinking it’s cool or cute or whatever. One day it loses its cuteness or eats more than they expect.” He waved one hand. “Doesn’t matter the reason. I have over twenty right now. Then I find good, reliable homes for them.”

  The waiter brought their entrees: lamb kabob for him, tapaka for her. Once the waiter had refilled their water glasses, Carlton asked, “If you felt the way you did, why didn’t you ever call me? Try to get in touch?”

  “I’ve been trying to get my cousin Glenn to fix us up for years.”

  “My friend Glenn is your cousin?”

  She laughed again. “Guilty as charged.”

  “Did he tell you how he finally got me to agree to go out?”

  “Losing the bet on the Super Bowl. He tried a dozen times to get you out on a regular blind date, but you’d never go. The bet was the only way he could make it work.”

  They shared a companionable laugh. For the first time, Carlton was able to relax and look at her as a real date. Someone he just might want to go out with a second time. That erection returned—full and hard. Plus-point!

  The waiter returned to collect their plates. Carlton’s was empty. Wanda’s half. They declined dessert and left the restaurant, walking west toward Griffith Park where they settled on a bench overlooking the river. The sky was a midnight blue that was impossible to describe without getting poetic. Something Carlton definitely did not do. Underneath the perpetual scent of smog, the air smelled like some kind of flower. It would be too poetic again to try and think what kind.

  He slid his arm around her shoulders. She settled comfortably against his chest. They sat silent for a long time, watching the sky grow from blue to black. Stars appeared like popcorn. City sounds changed from the rush of traffic to an almost dead silence. It was like an aphrodisiac. She leaned i
n tighter, her elbow on his dick. His boner returned like the rush of a locomotive. He knew she felt it because she leaned just a little heavier against it.

  Carlton used two fingers to lift her chin. They kissed and the locomotive rushed into the station in a burst of colored lights and the crash of fireworks. It was that moment Carlton knew this woman would be his wife.

  Best to take her home, before they made fools of themselves on this park bench. He moved the arm from around her shoulders. “C’mon, I’ll walk you home.”

  Chapter Four

  Wanda didn’t argue when he said the date was over. What would be the point? When a guy decided something wasn’t right, then it wasn’t.

  They moved up onto the main sidewalk and back toward North San Fernando. There was little traffic. A few couples walked there too—but they held hands or linked arms. The most contact she and Carlton had was the bump of elbows as every other step leaned them a bit toward each other.

  Damn. She’d really hoped he’d like her. That he’d want her as much as she’d wanted him for twenty-something years. Twenty years was a fucking long time to carry a torch for somebody. Seemed like two hours together shouldn’t be enough to snuff out such an inferno.

  Oh well, he’d snuff it out anyway when he realized she’d been the hit and run driver earlier. Would run for the hills when he found out she was the attorney squashing the clinic’s permit.

  “You’re very quiet,” he said.

  “I guess I…” What could she say? She’d bared her soul—told him she loved him. And had frightened her Bearded Dragon away.

  No, no. If the admission scared him, he never would’ve brought her to the park.

  Something made him want to go home now. What could it be?

  Maybe she was overanalyzing the situation. It was late. Probably he had to work in the morning.