The Henson Brothers: Two Complete Novels (23 page)

A week passed and she felt much better about the binge. She had lost five pounds by sticking to a strict low-calorie diet and exercising twice a day. Her book was coming along—slowly, but at least that was something.

She had just flipped on the computer to begin a day's work, when the doorbell rang. She glanced through the peephole, then rested her forehead against the door, gathering her strength. She finally opened it.

Adriana stepped inside. "You haven't returned my calls," she accused.

"I've been busy. I'm working on a book, remember?"

Her friend sat down, smoothing out her white shorts. "How is it going?"

"Fine."

"Liar." She crossed her legs and sat forward. "So how was your date with Glen? I hope you brought enough tissues for the sob stories."

"I had a lovely time."

"Lovely?" She opened her compact and touched up her lipstick. "How boring. So how is Drake doing?"

"I don't know." She headed for the kitchen, ready to avoid the subject. "Would you like anything?"

"No." Adriana snapped the compact closed and narrowed her eyes. "What have you done?"

Cassie folded her arms. "Why do you assume I've done anything? Perhaps he just got tired of me."

"I know this is your fault because you're Ms. Sabotage."

Cassie flopped down onto the couch. "Oh, please."

"Remember Nick Terrel?"

"No."

Adriana waved a finger at her. "He liked you in our freshman year, but you never gave him a chance."

"He was a frat boy."

"What's your point?"

"It wouldn't have worked."

"We'll never know that." Adriana crossed her legs and swung her foot. "So what did you do?"

"I didn't do anything." Cassie stopped—that was a lie. "I really liked him but he wanted more than I could give him and I wanted to save him any heartache." She rested her head back. "He wrote me a poem for heaven's sake."

Adriana stared at her, stunned. "What?"

Cassie sat up. "And had it read at the poetry reading I went to with Glen. Talk about gall!"

"You mean he had the gall to publicly display how much he cares for you?" she said with mock outrage. "That bastard."

"I know," Cassie agreed, missing her sarcasm.

Adriana rested her head back and threw an arm over her eyes. "You could drive a friend to drink," she moaned.

"Why can't you see this from my point of view?"

"I'd be afraid to. Drake was perfect for you. A perfect remedy after a virus like Timothy."

She bit her lower lip. "Actually I went out with Timothy a couple of weeks ago," she confessed.

Adriana sat up and shuddered. "What for?"

"His father is dying. He wanted someone by his side."

"Tell him to get a psychiatrist, he can afford it."

"We had a really nice time," she said, thoughtful.

Adriana rolled her eyes and stood. "Let's go shopping."

She looked at her, confused. "Why?"

"Because it will make me feel better."

* * *

"This is an expensive way to raise your spirits," Cassie said, reading the price tag on the blouse Adriana was admiring.

"Be quiet and pick something. I'll buy it for you."

Cassie adjusted the hat and sunglasses she was wearing. She hated clothes shopping. Nothing she liked was ever in her size. "No, thanks. I don't feel like searching in the big and beautiful section today."

Adriana pointed. "Then check that rack for me. I need to find a silver blouse."

Cassie began searching through the rack and picked up a grayish blouse. She held it up against her to see how the color would look against her slacks.

"Excuse me, ma'am," a sales clerk said. "If you would like to find designer clothes in your size I could direct you to our women's section."

The fact that the clerk was a coiffured older woman with a sweet smile and good intentions didn't quell Cassie's desire to wring her neck.

"I'm looking for a friend," she said in a tight voice.

"Oh." The sales assistant took a hasty step back. "Okay. If you need anything, I'll be right over there." She pointed to the checkout table.

Cassie tried to smooth her sneer into a smile. "Thank you." She put the blouse back and tapped Adriana on the shoulder. "Come on, let's go. I've been spotted as an outsider."

"What are you talking about?" Adriana asked, running her hand over the soft material of a blouse.

"Never mind." She glanced around the store, eager to leave. "Are you ready yet?"

"No. I can't feel better unless I buy something."

"Then I'll be in the bookstore next door."

"Fine." She put the blouse in her cart and picked up another. She sent Cassie a sly glance. "Promise me that if you meet a wonderful handsome man you'll run in the opposite direction."

Cassie playfully bumped her with her hip. "I'll do my best."

* * *

She browsed through the fiction section, then headed for self-help. It was always good to see the competition and borrow some ideas. She was reaching for
1,000 Ways to Be Romantic
high on the shelf, when a large man behind her grabbed it.

"Is this what you wanted?" he asked politely.

She stopped. She knew that voice. She took a step back from the shelf and promptly trod on his foot. She turned to her present nightmare—Drake.

"I'm sorry," she said, making her voice breathy. She lowered her hat and pushed up her glasses.

Drake rubbed his instep. "It was my fault. I was standing too close. Is this the book you wanted?" He held it up.

She took it and held it close, affecting a demure smile. "Yes, thank you."

He took out a piece of paper. "I'm looking for
Surviving Crowds.
Could you help me find it?"

Leave, leave, leave,
her mind urged her, but her body wouldn't move. "It's a rather dull book. What do you need it for?"

"Class reunion in about a month."

"That book is for people with real social dysfunction."

"I come pretty close," he said grimly.

"No, you don't. I mean I doubt it," she quickly amended when his face changed. She searched through the books and picked one.
"How to Please a Crowd.
It's quick and to the point."

"Thanks." He flipped through the pages. "Hopefully this will help, nothing else seems to."

She thought of his dogeared copy of
The Fear of Ridicule
and winced.

"Hey, Drake, make a new friend?" a young woman, asked approaching them.

Cassie cleared her throat. "I guess I should be going." She was ready to make an exit. She didn't want to meet the new woman in his life. She was pretty and petite and looked oddly familiar.

He nudged the woman with his elbow. "This is my sister, Jackie."

"Nice to meet you," Cassie said, inching away.

Drake stared at the book, then at her. "What's your name?"

She glanced at one of the book displays. "Barbara."

"Thanks for the suggestion, Barbara."

The way he said her name made her swallow. He seemed to caress the syllables of her name. He was definitely a flirt.

Jackie took the book from him and began scanning the chapters. "Do you know any good books on how to choose women? My brother could really use some help."

He snatched the book. "She doesn't care, Jackie."

She ignored him. "I mean this one woman pretended to like him, then stomped on his heart and cooked it."

He pushed her away. "Why don't you go find yourself a nice picture book to read?"

She shoved him back. "Let me finish, she'll like this story. Women love to hear stories like this." She turned to Cassie. "Both my brothers wrote this woman a poem and had it read by a famous poet and she didn't even care. Talk about a real—"

Drake covered her mouth and grinned sheepishly. "I made the mistake of encouraging her to speak."

Cassie nodded. "Well, good-bye." She turned and shoved her book in the arts section and left the store— her mind reeling. Was that how his family saw her? Was that how he saw her? She felt awful and thought of a nice place to grab a sundae.

* * *

Drake frowned at the cover of the book given to him, then returned it to the shelf.

"She seemed nice," Jackie said. "You should have asked her out."

"Sort of hard when you're driving her away."

"I wasn't driving her away. I was making her interested. Women like men who write poetry."

He gave her a significant glance.

"Right. Not all." She disappeared into the reference section.

Eric came up to him as he grabbed another book from the shelf. "Was that who I thought it was?"

He flipped through the pages seeing nothing. He wanted to feel anger, but couldn't ignore the layer of hurt. He kept his voice level. "Yes, that was Cassie."

* * *

Cassie almost stepped on the single yellow rose left on her welcome mat, when she returned from the gym the next day. There was no note attached, but she guessed who it was from—Timothy. She preferred it to the large bouquets. She smelled it as she opened the door, then dropped it in the trash bin on her way to the shower.

After her shower, she stared at her computer screen, her mind miles away from the necessity of completing her book. She had hurt him. That was what upset her so much. Not the fact that she had had to end their relationship, but the manner in which it was done. She finished her spaghetti TV dinner—it was supposedly low fat and tasted like it. She threw the tray away and stretched out on the couch. Why was Drake still buying self-help books? Didn't he know how wonderful he was? If she had been the type to settle down and marry, she would have snatched him up right away. She sighed. She hadn't done his ego much good rejecting him the way she had.

No, she had to fix things. She would fix things. She sat up and tapped her foot as an idea came into her mind. Perhaps she could give him confidence, help him through his reunion, and then once it was over he would discover that his desire for her came from a need, a lack of confidence, rather than from attraction. She knew all about transference of emotion and couldn't fault him. She was safe.

She sat in front of her computer once again. Perhaps they would end up as really good friends like she was with Kevin. Then she could feel happy knowing she helped someone reach their true potential, although getting Drake there wouldn't be too hard. She absently tapped her keyboard, watching a row of Es appear on the screen. The problem was how to convince him to take her back.

* * *

He couldn't focus, which was rare and a bad sign. Fortunately, his staff was competent and the business of the restaurant proceeded smoothly, allowing some lapses in the owner's mental capacity. He spent his time talking to Lance about deliveries and staff issues—namely Cedric's inaptitude—but he did so in an absentminded fashion that made the day a blur.

"Uh-oh," Monica, his pastry chef, groaned, shaking her strawberry-blond head.

Drake forced himself to concentrate on the sharp hazel gaze. "Uh-oh, what?"

"That's the second time you've called a dish nice. You've never called a chocolate soufflé sundae nice before, especially after you've tasted it."

"I apologize," he said humbly, taking another bite. "It is brilliant, creamy, with just the right amount of caramel. I have no complaints or suggestions."

"Thank you." Monica had soon gotten over her crush on Drake, but was curious as to what or who now occupied his thoughts. Unfortunately, getting him to open up was like trying to bite into steel.

"Henson, there's someone to see you," Lance called, whizzing through the kitchen.

"I don't have any appointments today." He rinsed his hands at the sink. "Make up an excuse."

"I've used three of our best ones, but she won't buy it."

He dried his hands on his apron. "She?"

"Don't worry, it's not Pamela. She's a cute little thing, you wouldn't think she'd be so stubborn."

Drake silently swore, annoyed with the abrupt speed at which his heart began to race. "You know where to put her," he grumbled, quickly untying his apron.

A few moments later he saw Cassie staring out at the city scene that the gallery dining lounge offered her. She stood in the middle of the arched window, a small figure dressed in a red blouse like a candle in the window of a great cathedral.

He took a deep breath, determined not to weaken first, though the sight of her reminded him of the precious nights they had spent together.

"Well?" His tone was curt.

Surprised, she turned and bumped into a table, causing the vase of flowers to tip over and soak the tablecloth.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, righting the vase.

"Never mind." He seized her hand as she tried to wipe up the mess with a napkin. "Why are you here?"

She sat down. "You have a beautiful place."

He shrugged. It was one of many. "Planning on doing a course here?"

"Would you attend?"

"If you recall, I'm not one of your success stories."

She glanced around. "I couldn't afford it anyway."

Her nonchalance drove through his patience. He clasped his hands behind him. "Cassie, what do you want?"

"Isn't it obvious? I want you."

Damn.
Her words were like water eroding his resolve. He fought the dangerous impulse of grabbing her right now. Surrendering to her mercy. "Is that right?"

"Yes. I made a mistake before. I thought I wanted something else." She let her shoulders rise and fall, her butterscotch eyes melting into his. "But all I want is you."

Impulse won. He pulled her out of her chair and into his arms in one skillful swoop. His lips were on hers before she could speak. For both it was a homecoming. Their lips engaged in all the perfect eloquence that fevered passion communicates.

He drew away. "You didn't expect me to argue, did you?" he whispered, meeting her stunned gaze.

She could only nod.

He smiled, turning her insides to putty. "Isn't it nice to be proven wrong?" He captured her mouth again.

The hunger of his kiss shattered her calm. No longer would she deny him the truth of how he affected her. How his very lips drank in her essence, her soul. How the taste of him was better than any meal she'd ever consumed.