The coffee shop was cute, at least. The guy sitting at the table was too. He had black hair that had a bit of wave to it, bright green eyes, and a full mouth. His body was rocking, all hard and tight. His smile was weird though, it was like he was having to make himself smile and he didn’t really know how.

The first thing he said, when she asked, “Hi, are you Blake?” was, “Who else would I be? You must be Heather. Wow. You’re beautiful. I really like your hair.”

He was being very ironic or very honest, and she wasn’t sure which as she took the chair across from the one he sat in. He asked, “Do you want coffee or tea? Milk maybe?”

Heather blinked. Milk? Who ordered milk? She said, fast, “Coffee is great, thanks.”

Blake beckoned the server over, and Heather asked for a large coffee double sugar and no cream. Blake asked, “They have food. Are you hungry?”

“Um, no. Thanks.” She surveyed him through lowered lashes. He was hot: really hot, and yet he was also so not her type. He seemed to be very well put together but scattered. He reached for his coffee and nearly toppled it right off the table! He muttered, “Sorry, little clumsy.”

“Me too.” She felt a rush of empathy. “So, your profile said you’re new in town?”

He gave her a toothy grin. Over his wide shoulder, she saw Christy taking a seat at a nearby table, which made her feel less tense and worried. “How long have you been here?”

“It feels like forever.” He gave her a sheepish grin. “I’m afraid I’m not taking to the change well.”

She studied his face. “I know that feeling. I felt like a fish out of water when I first came to the city.”

The server appeared with her coffee. Blake immediately fished bills out of the pocket of his slacks and tossed them to the server, who looked baffled as she stared down at a small wad of twenties. “Um, sir? The coffee’s four fifty.”

He looked nonplussed. “Did I not give you enough? He went back to his pocket.

The server peeled all but a ten off her hand and said, “I’ll get your change.”

He said, “Oh no. Keep it. Tipping’s important. It’s a…” his face clouded. Heather squirmed. Was the guy on meds? Or did he just need some? Was he nervous and confused or was he crazy? It was hard to say, but she had a sinking feeling that things were about to go running right down a very steep hill. “Important thing to do,” he finished on a rather lame note.

The server didn’t argue. She just went. Heather shifted, uncomfortable again, and really getting weirded out by Blake now; she grabbed the coffee with a fast, “Thanks for the coffee.” She took a sip just to be polite. This date was going badly, and she was done.

To her surprise he suddenly relaxed and then he smiled, a real-looking smile, one that lit up his entire face. “I’m sorry. I just haven’t…it’s just that I haven’t been around a woman as beautiful as you in a long time, and I haven’t done this in a very long time either. I’m sort of…I’m really messing this up. I’m sorry, really. Can we start over?”

Oh wow. Total one-eighty! Baffled by her sudden burst of a second wave of empathy and disarmed by the sudden switch from his confused (and maybe off his meds) rambling to the bald and cute admission that was also soaked in some serious flattery, all she could do was stammer out, “Yes, of course. I haven’t been on a good date in a while, so at least nothing’s been that bad on this one.” Yet.

He blew out a long breath. “Thanks. I think.”

She found an unwilling smile cropping up on her lips. “Why no dates as of late?” He was good looking, and he should have had women all over him, she thought. A good-looking man who couldn’t get a date threw off some serious red flags. There had to be something wrong with him.

He chose that very moment to burp. He turned his head, made a fist, and covered his mouth; bonus points for manners, but her nose still wrinkled up. What in God’s name had he eaten? He gave her a guilty grin. “Sorry. It’s the coffee. I shouldn’t have that I think.”

“I guess not.” The awkwardness that was any and every date with someone you’d never met had just intensified. She found herself at a total loss.

He sighed. “I’ve been so busy. I’m in a leadership position, and it takes all of my time. That and there’s no…” He paused and reached for the coffee again, changed his mind, and left it untouched. “Well, it’s just a lot of work. I’m the one who puts out the fires: literally. I’m always trying to keep things even and make sure we don’t get taken over. I have a lot of…there’s a lot riding on how well I do my job.”

Oh. That she could understand. Her sympathy roared back in. It was pretty clear that there was zero chemistry between them, but the date wasn’t so terrible that she’d decided to just bolt yet either. “I get that. I’m a lawyer.”

“Yes, which means you’re smart and pretty.”

Wow. He was great with a compliment. She squirmed a little. Compliments always left her feeling a little awkward. “Why, thank you. So, how long have you been in that job?”

“Most of my life.” He gave her a smile. “It seems that way, anyway. I sort of inherited it.”

Nepotism, or he got the job when whoever had had the position before him left? She wondered what the best way to phrase that question was as he reached across the table and took her hand, the one not holding the coffee, and turned it over. She knew if this date was going to work out she should feel all sorts of little tingles and jolts. Instead, she just noticed that his fingertips were slightly rough and his nails a little long, and his hand, while very strong, was also really dry. Blake really needed some lotion!

He stroked his fingers up her arm, and she stared down at his nails, uneasiness setting in again. He seemed a little enthralled with her veins and he kept tracing the big blue one that ran from her wrist upward. She yanked her hand back, not very subtly either. She stuttered out, “So why’d you start using the dating app?”

“I want a woman who wants to have kids.”

She blinked. The answer had come from so far out of left field she didn’t know how to respond. “Um…yeah. Okay. So, I have to get going.” Really, she had to go. He was handsome, sure. He apparently had a good job, or at least it sounded as if he did, but that lawyerly part of her brain was also busy pointing out that he hadn’t actually said what it was that he did either—and when people weren’t forthcoming about something like that, it was usually because they had something to hide.

Blake grabbed her arm again. His smile went down right ingratiating. “Listen, I want you to bear my children.”

Her face paled. The thought of killing Christy ran through her head. She stammered out, “I beg your pardon?”

He leaned closer, over the table. Close enough that she caught a whiff of cologne, and something that smelled like burnt matches. He burped again, turning his head and curling his fist up around his lips. An eye-watering stench wafted to her face. She got out, “Have you lost your mind?”

Was this a joke? Had Christy set this up like some sort of the most-awful-date’s-been-had-now-get-out-there-and-date thing? Or was Blake serious? What was he? Some billionaire too busy to have a baby but willing to pay some poor woman to bear his dubious seed? Gross! That might be awesome in books or something, but no way was she willing to be some guy’s paid incubator!

She stood so fast the chair rattled and then fell. Christy, who’d been buried in her phone, looked up. Her eyes went round as Heather stuck a finger in Blake’s face and shouted, “I agreed to coffee, not to…to having your children, you pyscho!” Tears hit her eyes. What the hell was wrong with her that she attracted these kinds of men? It had to be some kind of internal, infernal flaw, one that was making her life a real hell too. Todd had been a jerk, she had always known he was a jerk, but she had loved him anyway, and all that had gotten her was single, clueless about how to date, and somehow possessed of some inner magnet that drew weirdos and the unlovable to her like flies to a pot of honey.

Blake stood. He burped again, and that time he didn’t cover his mouth. The belch made a long ripping sound, and she felt heat, actual heat, on her face. Her temper flared even as her stomach rolled. She stepped backward, her hands going up to ward him off. Christy was already there, and she grabbed her arm, saying, “Okay, this is a total bust.” A comic look overtook her face. “What the…what’s that smell?”

Heather, torn between hysterical laughter and real rage, gasped, “He burped!”

Christy didn’t say another single word. They dashed toward the door. The server and barista were nowhere in sight, and since the three of them had been the only customers, Heather was really sure they were about to make a clean getaway.

They ran out the door and onto the sidewalk. Heather gasped, “Come on, we’ll take the side street!”

They dashed to the corner and down that street. Christy looked back and panted out, “Oh my God he’s chasing us!”

He was chasing them? Heather’s feet, in the too-tall heels, chose that very moment to slip in a slick patch created by liquid oozing out of a pile of trash bags on the curb. She let out a short, sharp scream, and then she went flying forward, hauling Christy right along with her, and onto the pile of disgusting trash bags!

“Dam, why me?” Her indignant scream was muffled by trash, and Christy’s hand yanked her backward off the pile, only to snap off the heel on her right boot. Tottering, enraged, and sure she would never date again as long as she lived, Heather grabbed the first thing she saw—the leg off a broken chair, and brandished it as she swiveled around.

“Uhhhhhhhh…” She blinked. Christy let out a soft cry, and then they clutched each other as the dragon descended from the sky.

A dragon. A jet black, fire-breathing dragon with massive wings and gleaming scales dropped right out of the sky. Its taloned feet hit the asphalt of the side street, breaking it into chunks. The last thought that went through Heather’s brain right before she fainted into Blake’s arms was that this was the worst date ever.