Table for Two (13 page)

She turned and rested against the counter. "How do you chop without tearing up? Those don't even smell."

"I refrigerate them first."

"I'll have to try that."

The soup was as good as it smelled. They sat at his old wooden table and chatted about poetry and life, then rescheduled their date—fortunately, Sheffield was performing next Thursday. Cassie promised she would go.

"Rita wants to remarry," Glen said, cleaning up the bowls.

"I'm sorry." She knew it must be hard to realize your ex was really over you. If only she had that problem.

"It's not that I want her back. It just makes me wonder what she sees in that guy. Louis, that's his name. He's a bouncer at a strip club of all things. Sure he's attractive, but he's so uncouth and doesn't treat her as well as I did. Or at least tried to."

"Who knows what people find in each other? Perhaps this guy fulfills a need. Bad boys can be enticing, just ask Adriana."

"I guess so. I loved her so much." Glen sighed and Cassie could hear the musicians taking out their violins. She knew it was time to leave before she was presented with a sob story.

"Thanks for lunch." She kissed him on the cheek. "And no poetry for two days."

He smiled grudgingly. "I'll try. Take care."

* * *

It was humiliating, Drake thought, standing in front of Cassie's door. He was nearly forty years old, but he felt as awkward as a kid on a first date. He was successful, he dealt with people every day, he could handle a simple party. He would find a way to get out of dancing, but he would ultimately prove to Cassie he was the man for her. Proving himself was something he did very well. He took a deep breath and rang the doorbell.

Cassie glanced at her watch and swore with feeling. It said 8:35. He was early and she hadn't finished pinning up her hair. Didn't the man know the importance of giving a woman time to prepare? Glen of course would be sensitive to that fact. She could already picture Drake glaring impatiently at his watch, waiting for her to answer the door.

Fortunately, she was already dressed in an outfit that emphasized every curve and roll on her body. He wanted a night with a full-figured woman and he would get it. She called it her hippo-in-a-tutu dress because of its revealing qualities. It lifted her ample chest and the material moved restlessly against her shape. He probably wouldn't want to leave the apartment.

"One moment," she called around the pins in her mouth. She quickly finished her elaborate hairstyle, then answered the door.

Drake looked handsome in his silhouette uniform—dark trousers and a charcoal shirt. The sense of quiet power swirled around him. Yes, she thought, feeling her heart quicken its pace, if she wasn't careful she would easily fall victim to him.

His eyes roamed over her figure, darkening as it made a path to her feet. He suddenly shut his eyes and held his hands together as if in prayer.

"What are you doing?" she said, wondering if her plan was already working.

He opened one mischievous amber eye. "I'm thanking God you decided to wear that dress tonight. You look sensational."

Cassie sighed, exasperated, and pulled him inside. "Have you been drinking?" she asked, shutting the door.

He lightly touched her cheek. "If I say yes, do we get to stay home?"

Trying to chastise him was as fruitful as kicking a wall. "No."

Drake slid his arm around her waist. "What material is this? Velvet?" He trailed a finger up the back of her dress until it reached her bare skin.

Shivers of delight followed his touch. "Yes, it is. You're early, you know."

"I know. Can't blame me for being eager." He clasped her hand, led her to the couch, and pulled her down beside him. "I didn't want to give you the chance to change your mind. Plus it gives us the chance to make out for a while." He leaned toward her.

She drew back, resting a hand on his chest. "I still have to get ready."

"You look perfect." He rubbed his thumb lightly over her hand. He suddenly sighed and let her hand go. "I have a confession to make."

Cassie held her breath. Now he would admit that it was all a game and ask to bow out of the evening. "What is it?"

"You look more than perfect. I thought tonight might be a trick." He flashed a sheepish grin. "I thought that you would show up in overalls or something dreadful and dare me to take you to the party." His eyes melted into hers. "But now I see that you're as serious about this relationship as I am and I'm ashamed that I thought you were up to something."

"Drake—" she began helplessly.

"Let me finish." His gaze fell. "I'm so used to people wanting me to convince them that I should have a chance that I'm worthy of..." He shook his head, frustrated that he didn't have the right words. "I should have known that you're not like that." He glanced up. "I realize it is hard getting into another relationship after a divorce, but I don't care what other people say. We can make it work."

Cassie tried not to grimace as a headache of guilt hammered its way through her conscience. If only his words were true. It was a shame he was so deluded. Perhaps he hadn't been exposed to many women. Well, tonight he would get an education. Since she had no words to say, she only smiled.

"Here." He pulled a small, golden box from inside his jacket.

She ran her hand over the box. "What's this?"

"Chocolate-covered cherries."

Cassie growled at him. "You're not helping my problem."

He lifted his eyebrows, becoming the picture of innocence. "What problem?" He took the box and opened it.

"Hey, I'm supposed to open it."

"Sorry, but you're too slow and I want to see if you like them."

She laughed. "Why? Did you make them yourself?"

For the first time, he looked very uncomfortable. It was terribly satisfying to see his arrogant veneer slip. She didn't give him the chance to reply; instead she reached for the box. "Let's see. Which one should I choose?" She wiggled her fingers over the selection of chocolates, prolonging the moment of anticipation with wicked enjoyment. "So many to choose from. I don't—"

Drake seized one and popped it in her mouth.

Outraged, she glared at him; he smiled.

She had the childish impulse to tell him how horrible it tasted, but when she bit down into the rich chocolate and fruit mixture, it instantly engaged her tastebuds in an enviable feast she could not deny.

Cassie shut her eyes a moment, sighing in pleasure.

When she opened them, she saw him watching her. His face looked impassive, but his eyes were uneasy. She found it vaguely unsettling how quickly she was beginning to read him. "It's delicious."

He tried to hide his pleasure with a casual shrug, but she'd caught the corner of his mouth kick up in relief.

"Here, have another one," he urged, bringing another candy to her mouth.

She stood. "Tempting, but we have to go."

He ate the chocolate and picked up another.

"Hey, those are mine," Cassie cried, grabbing the box.

Drake sucked the remaining chocolate on his finger. "Sorry, I didn't realize I was so good."

She groaned. "Do you ever tire of yourself?"

"Only when I'm being annoying, which is rare."

She laughed, placing the box in the refrigerator. "Oh, good. You do have a sense of humor. I was beginning to worry." She turned to leave.

He blocked her exit from the kitchen. "You know, there's no reason why we need to be on time."

The suggestion was extremely tempting. One night alone with him without anyone to comment or judge. One night when they would completely belong to each other. She thought of his sensitive fingers and delicious mouth and steeled herself against the memory. She would not indulge; she had to resist.

She squeezed past him, barring herself from his enticing scent and presence.

"Still running, Cassie?" he asked in a soft voice.

She slipped into her high heels. "In these shoes?" she teased to cover the truth. "Not a chance." She grabbed a shawl and her purse and opened the door, eager to get the night over with. "Let's go."

* * *

Kevin Jackson was a rich playboy with a glutton's appetite for women. Cassie had become a friend of his when he had asked her out after one of her seminars. She had declined because she was seeing Timothy at the time, but Kevin had been persistent and soon they became friends.

The Jackson estate was an hour's drive out of the city and sat among one of the exclusive suburbs of Maryland. Situated on ten acres of magnificent grounds, it rose like a monument, exuding elegance, grace, and privilege. The drive past the private lake and row of trees always left Cassie in awe, but Drake looked bored as he parked the car and handed his keys to the valet. He sighed wistfully, watching him drive off. She tugged on his arm.

"Your beloved car will be okay," she assured him.

He looped her arm through his. "Are you sure that kid has a license?"

"It was revoked last year, but he was able to get it back. Joke," she said quickly, when he looked ready to run after his car.

He sent her a cool glance. "Hmm, I'll remember to get you back for that one. Come on. The doorman can only hold the door open for so long."

Cassie's excitement soared when they entered the grand foyer. Its fourteen-foot ceiling looked down into a lavish circular greeting area. Her hands trembled as they walked toward the ballroom. It wasn't the ambience that excited her, it was the ratio. Just as Cassie hoped, there were at least five beautiful women to every man present.

"Impressive," Drake said, as they walked down the main hall with its burgundy carpet and extravagant vases and paintings. She didn't think to ask if he was talking about the decor or the women. Gorgeous women lined the walls as if they were live mannequins, and their eyes lit up at the sight of another man.

They entered the sitting room, which greeted them with low lights, the careful hum of voices, and jazz. The bar was in the form of a large waterfall; couches looked like art pieces—beautiful to look at but uncomfortable to sit in.

Drake released her arm. "Let me get you a drink."

Cassie grabbed his hand. "No, let's mingle first. There are so many people to meet."

He sent her a suspicious glance, but nodded, silently cursing himself. He could already feel an icy trace of panic inch up his spine as he watched the group of strangers. He caught many of them staring at him, no doubt waiting for him to trip on the carpet or crash into a vase. He would be cool; he would be calm, despite the fact that he enjoyed crowds as much as malaria. He needed to be civil. He took a deep breath and smiled at a woman near the window. She smiled back and winked, licking her lower lip in an erotic invitation.

"Ow!" Cassie cried, pulling her hand from his. "Your grip is like a vise."

"I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

"If I develop gangrene and my hand falls off, I'm coming after you."

He cradled her hand in his. "Here, let me see."

She snatched her hand away. "I'm okay."

He shoved his hands in his pockets, feeling like an idiot. "Let me get you something to drink," he said, desperate for something to do.

"I'm not thirsty."

"Are you hungry?"

"No."

"Perhaps I could—"

"Drake, I'm fine. If I need anything, I'll be sure to tell you."

He nodded and glanced around the room like wary prey—a deer trapped in the forest with wolverines.

Cassie laughed, "Will you relax?"

"I am relaxed."

"You're so stiff that if I poked you, you would topple over. At least take your hands out of your pockets."

He did so and his elbow hit a woman's wrist; bright red wine fell down the front of her peach dress.

"You clumsy bastard!" she cried.

Drake turned. "I'm sorry. Look, I'll pay—" He reached into his back pocket and elbowed a woman in the stomach.

She hit him in the back of the head with her handbag. "Hey, watch it!" She readied herself for another swing when Cassie grabbed the bag.

"That's enough," she said. "It was an accident."

The woman glared at her. Cassie would have found the gaze intimidating if it hadn't been clouded by alcohol. "This isn't about you," the woman said, her words coming out in an angry slur.

"I believe it is since he belongs to me. Why don't you calm down and sober up?"

"Why don't you take your fat behind back to the zoo where Kevin found you?"

"Only if you'll return to your street corner," she said sweetly. She seized Drake's arm before he could do more damage and led him into the hallway.

"Did she hurt you?" she asked, turning his face so she could see the back of his head. "God only knows what she had in that bag."

"No, I'm fine." He paused. "Did she hurt you?"

Cassie shrugged. "Sharing witticisms with a drunk always makes for pleasant entertainment."

"Cassie, I'm serious."

She ignored the tone and shook her head. "Now I know why you keep your hands in your pockets. You're a dangerous man. Especially with those elbows."

Drake rested against the wall and stared down at her. "You're laughing at me, aren't you?"

She bit her lower lip and shook her head.

He stared up at the ceiling. "Go ahead. I like to hear you laugh even when it's at my expense."

She couldn't laugh at him. Not when he looked so dejected. She took his hand and pulled him from the wall. "I know what will relax you. Come on, let's dance." The look of horror that crossed his face broke her resolve. She burst into laughter.

When she'd sobered, she noticed he was smiling. "Finished?" he asked.

It was the smile that did it. He smiled so rarely it was always a gift to her. She impulsively hugged him. "Drake, I'm so sorry. The night will improve, I promise."

He wrapped his arms around her. "You can be as sorry as you like." He brushed his lips against her hair. "I liked what you said to that woman."

Cassie rubbed her cheek against his chest. This position felt better than it should, but it was their last night together so she might as well enjoy it "What did I say?"

"That I belonged to you."