The Henson Brothers: Two Complete Novels (8 page)

He was quiet a moment, then asked, "Are you free to attend a barbecue this weekend?"

His words brought her back to reality, tearing at the seams of her fantasy. She felt her spirits fall; she knew their acquaintance could not last beyond this night. "No."

He lifted an eyebrow, his eyes hopeful. "How about dinner and a movie on Friday?"

She shook her head, determined not to weaken. "No."

"Lunch and bowling on Wednesday?"

"No, sorry."

He rubbed the back of his neck, shaking his head in frustration. "Like I said, I can't get a date."

"It's not that. It's not you." She sighed, wishing this didn't have to ruin her memory of the evening.

He softly swore. "You're going to give me the 'It's not you, it's me' speech.'"

"I'm doing you a favor."

He looked at her, appalled. "By stepping on my ego?"

"No." She stopped in front of her building and glanced up at the seventh-story window where her apartment was. It looked dark and lonely, but it would not encourage her to change her mind. "See, I know the game, but that's okay." She took a step toward the door, but Drake seized her arm.

"Game? What game?"

"The game that men and women play."

He tugged on her arm. "Enlighten me."

Cassie grabbed the hem of her dress and wrung out some excess water. "Many men want to go out with me after a riveting seminar, trying to build up their confidence. I'm safe and comfortable. A nonthreat, you could say." She let the hem go and stared at him. His gaze was still fashioned on her legs. She lifted his chin with her forefinger. "But you don't need a practice run. Go for the real thing."

He moved a strand of wet hair from her cheek. The gentle caress was electrifying. "I am. Trust me." He said the words slowly in a captivating tone that sought to bring her back to the intimate level she was trying to escape.

She grasped his hand. "Stop that."

"Why? I like your face."

"Drake," she said desperately, "you're a classic case. You used to be shy, awkward, and invisible in school, but now you're successful and you ooze confidence, but inside still feel awkward. So you flirt with different women to give your ego a boost, and that is all you're doing now."

He wasn't paying attention. His fingers were gliding over the glitter that still clung to her shoulders. "You're beautiful," he whispered in awe. "Do you sprinkle this on other parts of you?"

She grabbed both sides of his face, forcing him to look at her. "Drake, please pay attention. This is unnecessary. It's not about me. It's about you and Adriana."

"Who?"

She let her hands fall. "The woman you met at the Golden Diner. She told me about you. Now I don't blame you for being intimidated by her. She's elegant, attractive, and smart. But you don't have to worry, just be yourself and everything will work out. Be bold."

Drake pinched the bridge of his nose as if in great pain. "What are you talking about?" He waved his hand. "Wait. I don't want to know. I think we've misunderstood each other, but we'll work it out." He had to go home and think. He knew that if he stayed any longer he would lose his patience and effectively stop her from talking for a while. He brushed his lips against hers. "Remember that for now," he said and left, becoming invisible in the crowd.

"You forgot your umbrella!" she called.

She heard a smug voice full of promise rise above the raincoats and umbrellas. "Don't worry, Cassie. I'll get it tomorrow."

Chapter 4

Cassie. He'd called her Cassie. He'd known all this time who she really was. She shook her head. It didn't matter anyway. He was just a flirt testing his wings and she had to remember that when she saw him the next day.

She turned the key to her apartment and heard the familiar groan of door number 712 as it opened a crack.

"Hello, Mr. Gianolo," Cassie called.

He remained hidden behind the door. "You're late," he said in a harsh Detroit accent.

"I know. I had a busy but successful night."

"A man?"

"Maybe."

He paused. "You're wet."

"It was raining."

"Didn't he have an umbrella?" he demanded.

"Yes, and we used it, but we still got wet."

The door opened a bit farther, revealing a rough older man in worn jeans and a brown shirt with pale blue eyes and a small round nose. "Name?"

"Drake."

"New boyfriend?"

"No."

"Fine."

"Don't forget your soup." She pointed to a container near his door. Everyone in the building knew he and the widowed Mrs. Hill had a flirtation going.

"Thanks." The door closed.

Cassie smiled as she pushed open her door. Since she had moved in, Mr. Gianolo had made it his business to check up on her. He was a widower with his two grown children living in Michigan. He said watching over her gave him something to do; plus he didn't like the idea of women living alone. Cassie didn't mind his meddling. She had gotten used to the sound of his door opening, his quick, rough questions and ultimate acceptance.

The phone rang with an urgent cry for attention as she tossed down her bag. She kicked off her soggy shoes and picked it up, knowing who it would be. "Hello, Adriana."

"Don't hello me," she ordered. "What happened?"

Cassie feigned innocence. "Where?"

"You know where. Did he say anything to you?"

Cassie touched her wet hair and sighed, saddened that her fantasy night had to be ruined by such realities. "The man is obviously very shy about asking you out so he's gathering his courage by asking me out first. Could you wait a moment? I need to get changed."

She laid the phone down, changed into a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, and returned to the phone.

"That makes no sense," Adriana said when Cassie returned to the line.

She plumped up a pillow and fell into the cushions of her couch. It was old but comfortable. "It makes perfect sense." Cassie drew up her knees to her chest. "It's sort of like those Hollywood stars who marry very ordinary women until they can afford trophy wives."

"Drake's not like that," Adriana argued. "He honestly likes you."

She rested her chin on her knees, her voice lowering. "Yes, his kiss would suggest that."

Adriana pounced on the statement. "He kissed you?"

"Yes."

"On the mouth? You know the forehead doesn't count."

Cassie stretched out her legs. "It was on the mouth."

"I just knew he had it bad." Her friend sounded triumphant. "Cassie, I am so happy for you."

Cassie stared up at the ceiling, exasperated. Why didn't anyone understand what was truly going on? "Adriana, please listen carefully He doesn't know what he wants. He flirted with me, then you, now me again."

"He was never attracted to me."

"He was trying to feel your leg. How more attracted can you be?"

"Wait, you've got it all wrong. He—"

A sudden beep interrupted the line. "One minute, I've got another call." She switched over. "Hello?"

"Hello, Cassie." Her ex-husband's smooth voice oozed over the line like an oily vinaigrette. It made her stomach turn.

She rested her head back and groaned. "What do you want, Timothy?"

"Did you get the flowers?"

"Unfortunately." She lifted her head. "Timothy, perhaps because you've never been divorced before you don't understand the protocol, but you're not supposed to send roses to your ex-wife with a note that says 'I love you.'"

"You do if you want her back. I love you and I miss you."

"Uh-huh." She didn't believe him. Timothy was a consummate actor when he wanted to be. Cassie wiggled her toes, wondering what new shade of nail polish she should use.

"I just want—no need—a chance to talk."

A nice mauve. She tucked her feet underneath her. "How's Debra?"

"Who?"

"Oh, dear. Is she out of the picture already? I thought that since you put so much effort into hiding her from me, the relationship was serious."

"We broke up," he said abruptly. "But that's not important. I—"

"Of course it's not important," she agreed in a sweet tone. "Don't worry, you'll find another. In the interim try to catch a disease or something." She switched back to Adriana.

"Who was that?" Adriana demanded.

Cassie tugged on her wet hair and stared at a soggy strand. She had better condition and blow-dry it before it turned into cornhusk. "The jerk."

"I think you should tell Drake about him."

At the sound of his name, Cassie let the strands fall and slap her on the cheek. She would have to think of how she would handle him tomorrow. "He doesn't need to know about my personal life. Besides, he likes you."

"Cassie, he knew you were under the table."

She felt blood leave her face. "He knew?"

"Yes."

"How would he know that?"

"Probably because I pointed to the table when he asked where you were."

"You didn't."

"I did."

He had known she was under the table. He knew that his leg had been brushing against her. Oh, God. Her face burned with embarrassment and guilty pleasure. What was she going to do with him?

"So what is your plan for tomorrow?" Adriana asked.

"After killing you? I'm not sure."

"Come on, Cassie. I did it for your own good."

"Said the vet to the neutered dog."

"Give the guy a break."

Cassie grasped a strand of hair again. "Right leg or left?"

Adriana sighed. "Try to be serious."

"All right. I'll seriously see you tomorrow." She hung up.

* * *

Eric slammed shut the ledgers he was reviewing and glared at his brother. "What's wrong?"

Drake didn't look up, too absorbed by the papers in front of him. "Nothing. Why? "

They were in the back office of the Blue Mango, one of Drake's older restaurants. The light from the morning sun shone on the cool gray elegance of the room.

Eric narrowed his eyes. "Because you're in an extremely good mood today."

Drake was unable to control a quick grin as he ran his fingers down a list of items. "How can you tell?"

"You haven't scowled at anyone yet. You actually said good morning to a busboy. It makes me nervous. What is going on? Discover a new recipe? Was Elizabeth extra kind to you?"

Drake rested his chin on his fist and looked up. "I kissed her."

Eric fell forward. "You kissed your stove?"

"No. Cassie. I kissed her last night and she liked it."

"How did that happen? Did you track her down?"

"I didn't have to. She's teaching a class I'm taking."

"What class?"

His gaze shifted to the window. "Social graces."

"Amazing." Eric sat back. "It could almost make one believe in fate. When are you going to see her again?"

"Tonight. But there's one little problem."

"What?"

"She thinks I'm attracted to her friend."

Eric lifted a brow. "You consider that a little problem?"

"She's just misinformed. Sure I said hello to Adriana in class and talked to her awhile, but I wasn't flirting. Cassie thinks that I'm practicing on her. Something to do with being shy as a child."

Eric shook his head. "A psychology major, beware."

Drake grinned. "I'm not worried. I know a little psychology myself."

"I'd wish you luck, but you already seem to have it. Oh, by the way, I spoke to Patrick the other day. He said you shot down his latest brilliant idea."

Patrick was the manager of Drake's other restaurant, the Red Hut. "I don't shoot down brilliant ideas, only illogical ones."

"He's beginning to feel undervalued and restless. He might leave."

Drake shrugged, unconcerned. "That's his choice."

Someone knocked on the door.

"Come in."

Lance, his manager, poked his head inside. He ran an agitated hand through his thick brown hair; his green eyes offered pity. "That girl is back."

Drake rested his arms on the table. "You mean that annoying one with the short hair, big eyes, and huge gold earrings?"

Lance nodded. "That's the one."

"Don't know her."

A tall, dark-skinned girl pushed her way into the room. Her manner didn't seem to fit her appearance. She had a few more years to grow into her body and her hair was cut into a chic bob, emphasizing her brown eyes. She wore a tailor-made white shirt and blue trousers and looked as if she'd stepped off a movie set as a boarding school extra. "I just need five minutes of your precious time, Mr. Henson."

Drake sat back in his chair and tapped his fingers on the desk. The girl was aggravating, but he had to admire her tenacity. "Three minutes starting now."

"Mr. Henson, please let me work at the Blue Mango. I will work for free if necessary. I know you said that you don't have any positions available, but I'll make one up. I'm very creative, you know, and you'll be so pleased with me you'll wish you had thought of it yourself. I love your restaurant and I had such a wonderful time when you let my cooking class tour here. I want to follow in your footsteps. I notice that occasionally you allow students to intern here and I would do anything to seize that opportunity."