Table for Two (12 page)

"You heard me." His voice was calm, his gaze steady. "Resist me." He removed the throw. "Try really hard." His fingers sensuously stroked her arm, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to become alert. "Very hard." He teased her lips as he cupped one of her breasts, gently massaging it with his large hand, his thumb brushing her hard nipple with tantalizing mastery. His hot lips slid to her neck and shoulders, trapping any amount of protest in her throat. She shut her eyes, savoring the feel of his hard body pressed against hers. She heard the thud of his heartbeat and smelled the musky scent of aftershave, contributing to the heady sensation in her mind. She wanted to bask in the sense of being safe, being beautiful, being wanted. "I'm waiting," he whispered, his breath warm against her skin.

"I can't," she admitted, both ashamed and freed by her honesty.

Pleasure deepened his tone. "I know."

She turned her head away. "You don't understand." And for a moment she was glad. She wanted him to be completely unaware of the truth that would separate them, but she was certain he already knew what it was.

Drake brushed his lips over her now swollen ones. "Tell me then."

Cassie stared at him for a moment, amazed at the heat of emotion that darkened his eyes. Her gaze slid away from his, then returned. "I'm the black sheep in the family."

Some of the fire diminished as he considered this. "And that means?"

She wanted to shake him. "I'm the heaviest one and I really don't want to be a circus act."

He blinked. "What?"

"The fat woman and her gorgeous companion."

"What are you talking about? Who's gorgeous? I'm an ordinary guy and you're not fat."

She lifted the label on the back of her shirt. "Would my dress size convince you?"

He halted for a moment, trying to process what she had said. His jaw suddenly tightened and his eyes flashed with anger, but his voice remained calm. "Are you going to tell me that this is all about your weight? That you hid from me and then left me waiting in a restaurant because of your size?"

"Don't make it sound ridiculous."

He moved away, shaking his head in disbelief. "I can't help it, because it is. I thought perhaps your hesitation had to do with your ex-husband or another bad experience, but this makes no sense. What next? You'll worry about the shape of my ears or whether or not my teeth are crooked?"

Cassie wrapped the throw around her again. "There is no reason to be sarcastic. You're the one who seems to want a relationship. The issue was going to come up eventually."

Drake clenched his jaw tighter, unable to believe he was having this discussion—not when she looked so warm and soft cuddled up on the couch. He stood and began to pace to release energy. He couldn't understand the absurdity of it all. "How could it come up, when it doesn't even matter?"

Fury almost choked her. "Doesn't matter?" Cassie stood and poked him in the arm as he passed her. "Of course it matters! Don't pretend to be blind. That's even worse than admitting your true feelings. I know I'm funny and I know I'm cute, but I also know where I have to shop: the big beauties and luscious ladies section. My bras cost more than some outfits. Being with a big woman is expensive, you know." Once again he didn't laugh at her humor. She rolled her eyes. "Drake, I like you, but will you please honesty look at me?" She let the throw fall from her shoulders. "I clean up quite well, but there's one fact that's hard to hide. Trust me, I've tried."

"So if I gain a few pounds you'll be okay?"

"Don't be silly."

"You've based your entire argument on looks. Because of the way I look you don't want to go out with me."

She held her head for a moment. "Haven't you listened to a word I've said?"

"Words? You've been speaking gibberish."

"Okay. Then let me try, thickheaded man. I'm very fluent. How will you feel when you tell people about your girlfriend and you have to show a picture of me? Or when we go out to eat and people stare, wondering what an athletic guy like you is doing with a woman like me? You're not used to the stares, but I promise you they'll come. How will you feel when your family asks to meet me?"

He stopped pacing and folded his arms, piercing her with a stare that left her paralyzed. "Proud. I will feel proud that a beautiful woman of class, grace, and wit is mine to claim."

She was too stunned to think of a ready reply.

Drake took that opportunity to continue. "I have no problem with your size," he said, appreciating her figure in one sweeping glance, making her face burn. "If
you
have a problem with being a nice healthy woman, then deal with it."

Her tongue returned to her. "A healthy woman," she scoffed. "What a lovely euphemism for fat."

He arched one black brow and began to pace again. "You're not fat, you're confused."

"Confused?"

He nodded.

She poked him in the arm. "What planet did you fall from?"

"One that's infinitely more rational than yours."

"You think I'm some shallow, naive woman who's blown this completely out of proportion, right?"

"I don't think you're shallow or naive," he said carefully. "But I know you're blowing this out of proportion."

"I see." She'd make him pay for that. She would show him how dating her would really be. Since he felt comfortable with her, he assumed everyone else would be the same. Perhaps like her, he was involved in a fantasy of his own and while they were the only ones in this dream, inviting others would restore his sight. An idea formed in her mind. She would show him what it was really like to date a full-figured woman and how much their personalities differed. She began to feel powerful, knowing that she would win this battle. "Aside from the fact that you'd never be able to handle me, I like my men more outgoing."

He stopped pacing. "I can adjust."

"You can't change who you are."

"I didn't say I'd change. I said I'd adjust."

Cassie toyed with one of the buttons on his shirt. "Okay, you believe that we don't need to worry about my size, right?"

He grasped her hand. Her fingers against his chest had begun to distract him. "Not we, you."

"Fine. I'll give us a chance," she said easily, all signs of her previous anger gone. "I'm willing to try new experiences. My friend Kevin is having a party next Friday. I'm going. Would you like to join me?" She hadn't planned to go but she would now.

Drake let her hand go and stared at her warily. She had become too agreeable. That meant she was up to something. Fortunately, he was always ready for a challenge. "Sure."

"Great. Pick me up at nine and dress casual."

* * *

"You're taking her to a party?" Eric asked, staring at Drake in shock. "You hate parties. You either close up like a fly trap or end up talking about food."

Eric stood near the mirror with Malcolm, while his sister, Jackie, sat on the bed. They had come over for lunch and now they all looked at Drake as if debating whether they should commit him to an institution or not.

"So?" Drake replied, unconcerned. "She likes them and I can compromise." He laid out two shirts, trying to decide which to wear.

"You can't even dance."

He picked up a charcoal-gray shirt. "I can move."

"In rhythm?"

Drake glared at him, then began buttoning his shirt.

"You should have told us this before so that we could give you the perfect excuse to cancel."

"I don't plan to cancel."

"You're going to hate it."

"Eric, leave him alone, "Jackie scolded. "Cassie must be some woman to make him go through all this trouble."

"She is something." Malcolm snickered. "A whole lot of—"

Malcolm's statement was aborted when Drake shoved him against the wall, his hand grasping his collar, all of Cassie's accusations rushing back into his mind. He had enough trouble with Cassie believing such nonsense. He would not allow others to lend credence to her claim. "Would you like to discover the wonders of wearing dentures?"

Malcolm held up his hands in surrender and Drake let him go.

"No more snide remarks, understood? It's not wise to talk about somebody's woman. Especially when she belongs to me."

Malcolm tugged at his collar, glad that his head and neck were still attached. "Yes."

Jackie stared at her brother, shocked by such a vehement show of emotion. "Is she a big woman?"

Malcolm snorted, but said nothing.

"She's healthy," Eric said.

"She's beautiful," Drake elaborated. "And kind. You'll like her."

"Perhaps we could have her over for dinner," Jackie said. "I'd love to meet her."

Eric sighed, annoyed that they were all missing the main crucial point. "You are assuming she'll want to go out with him again after tonight."

"He'll be fine," Jackie said with confidence.

"When's the party?" Eric asked.

"She wants me to meet her at nine."

He glanced at his watch. "You realize it's only one-thirty, right?"

"I just want to be prepared."

"Oh, in that case you should have started this morning. At this pace I'm not sure you'll be ready on time."

"Leave him alone," Jackie said. She shooed Eric and Malcolm out of Drake’s bedroom and shut the door. She leaned against it and studied her brother as he tried to straighten his collar. "You're nervous."

"I'm not nervous," he growled.

"Then why have you misbuttoned your shirt?"

He glanced down and noticed that one side was longer than the other. It certainly explained why his collar was crooked.

He sighed and unbuttoned the shirt. "I just have a lot on my mind."

"You really like her, don't you?"

He began to smile. "What is this, high school confessions? 'Do you
like her
like her? Or just like her?'"

"Drake, I'm being serious."

"So am I."

Jackie picked up the remaining shirt off his bed and placed it in the closet. "Did you tell her about us?" She tried to sound disinterested, although the subject was important. Drake rarely discussed his family with anyone.

"No, not yet," he said, assuming the same tone as he tucked in his shirt. "I will eventually." His voice lowered. "She comes from a good family."

His sister closed the closet door with a flourish and held her nose high. "So do you."

He laughed at her assurance. "I guess so."

Jackie stretched out on the bed, picking up the picture he kept on his side table of Eric and her. "Have you slept with her yet?"

Drake stared at Jackie’s reflection in alarm. "What kind of question is that?"

She replaced the picture and bit back a laugh at his expression. "Get that Victorian look off your face. I do know about sex."

"Yes, but you shouldn't be talking about it with your brother," he grumbled, feeling his ears grow warm.

"Why not? Eric and I were worried that you were studying for the priesthood. You've spent so much time taking care of us you didn't carve a life out for yourself."

They were his life, he thought. Seeing them succeed from what little he had been able to offer them had made his life complete. He would never admit that of course. "My life's just fine."

Jackie lay on her stomach, holding her chin in her hand. "So I guess the answer is no," she said, disappointed.

He picked up a pillow and threw it at her. "Get out of here."

Laughing, she darted out the door.

Drake stared at his reflection. He would do fine tonight. He was used to having to prove himself to get what he wanted. And he wanted Cassie. He'd just have to make sure she realized that she wanted him. He turned from the mirror. Somehow he knew tonight would be one he'd never forget.

Chapter 6

Cassie was working on expanding the outline for her book and thinking about what she would wear for the party, when the phone rang.

"So are you ready for our date or do you need a little more time to prepare?" Glen asked.

She groaned and covered her eyes. She had completely forgotten about the poetry reading. "I'm so sorry, I overbooked. Could I take a rain check?"

There was a brief pause; then he laughed. "I forgot how popular you are. I'll file your rain check."

She sighed, relieved. "Thanks for understanding."

"Why don't you come up and let me treat you to lunch instead?"

It would be a perfect reprieve from her work.
"I'd love to. I'll be right up."

The door was open when she reached his apartment. The rich smell of tomatoes and peppers wafted into the hallway and called her to the kitchen. She loved Glen's place, its simplicity and subtle class. He grew flowers on his balcony, had a bookshelf of old volumes only a true lover of literature would read, an old TV in an all-wood cabinet, and woven throw rug. She found Glen in the kitchen chopping vegetables.

"What are you cooking?" she asked, glancing at the bubbling pot.

"Minestrone."

"It smells delicious." Cassie peered over his shoulder. "Do you need help?"

He quickly shook his head and moved to block her view. "No, I'm just chopping onions. I'll be finished soon."