Table for Two (29 page)

She grabbed her things from the couch and pushed Cassie in the direction of the bedroom. She waved a quick good-bye and dashed out the door.

Not knowing what else to do, Cassie entered Drake’s bedroom. It greeted her with a comfortable familiarity, its large mahogany bed and dark-accented furniture unchanged, but the flood of emotions that swept around her was anything but familiar. She was too afraid to try and understand them. She sat on the bed and ran her fingers over the shirt he had casually thrown across the bed. Her head snapped up when the bathroom door opened.

Chapter 12

A cloud of steam drifted out, curling around the air in the room. Drake emerged like a magician appearing from a cloud of smoke.

"Jackie, I'll be ready for your surprise in a minute," he called.

He didn't see her since he was drying his face with a hand towel. A large blue towel clung around his waist, while his body still wet from the shower had streams of water sliding over the contours of his chest. Cassie chewed on her lip, fighting the urge to jump on him.

He tossed the rag away and glanced up. Startled amber eyes collided with her own. "Tell me I'm not dreaming," he said. He'd meant to sound casual, but it came out husky.

She laughed breathlessly. "You're not dreaming."

He leaped on the bed like a skilled jungle cat bouncing on his prey, and gathered her close. "Yes, you are real," he whispered, his hands exploring every part of her.

"You're getting me wet."

"I like you wet." He tugged her panties down and explored the liquid heat between her legs. "Especially when you're ready for me."

"I'm ready," she breathed, burying her head against his throat, eager to have him inside her.

"I should make you wait."

She nipped on the soft, sensitive part of his ear. "You wouldn't dare."

He traced an S pattern from her neck to her stomach. "Are there dire consequences for that?"

"Yes." She yanked off his towel, feeling the hardness of his erection against her thigh. She wiggled suggestively against him.

"I don't think I'll risk it." He rolled on a condom, then entered her with the enthusiasm of a novice deep-sea diver looking for a lost world.

Cassie's nails bit into his back.

"Careful, woman, or you'll leave me with scars."

"That's okay, then everyone will know who you belong to."

His lips hovered above hers. "They already do."

He kissed her. She tasted of strawberries and smelled like vanilla. He held her close, his heart pounding in his ears. Twice she whispered his name, but no other words were spoken. Their bodies speaking for their hearts. When it was over, they lay still as if any movement would shatter their joy and reveal that everything had only been a dream. Outside they heard a squirrel race up a tree and a pigeon land on a branch rustling its leaves.

"I never want to do that again," Drake said with feeling, his head buried in the pillow.

Amazed, Cassie lifted herself on her elbow and stared down at him. "I thought it was pretty good."

"I don't mean the sex." He turned on his back and rested an arm over his eyes. "I mean being away from you. I missed you." He suddenly scowled. "And it was annoying." It was also frightening. He wasn't sure if she was keeping him at arm's length for another reason besides the book, but he didn't want to seem untrusting. Or appear like the type of man that didn't give a woman space to be a professional in her own right. But it had been hard not seeing her or hearing from her. He felt as if a vital organ had been ripped from him, causing an aching gap. It felt too much like how his father had expressed losing his mother. It was ridiculous of course. He was nothing like his father. Fortunately, he didn't have to worry anymore. She was here.

Cassie toyed with his flat nipple, still in awe that this beautiful man was hers to claim. "I missed you too, but I had to finish my book."

"Is it safe to assume it's finished?"

"Yes." She briefly held her hands together. "Thank God. Your sister told me the Red Hut is going to be featured in the
Washingtonian.
Are you nervous?"

"Why would I be nervous? The food is excellent, as well as the service, location, atmospherics, and—"

She kissed his nipple. "Forgive me, your lordship," she said humbly. "How could I have made such a suggestion?"

He tenderly stroked her arm. "You're forgiven. So did you bring your manuscript with you?"

"Yes. I don't know why. I usually don't let anyone but my editor see it."

"You can make an exception." He slapped her playfully on the bottom. "Go get it for me."

Cassie sat up, gathering her knees to her chest, unsure.

"I'm waiting."

She reached for her clothes.

"You don't need those."

"I'm not walking around naked." She pulled on her top.

He sighed, disappointed. "Shame."

* * *

Cassie busied herself with a crossword in the newspaper while Drake read. She always felt awkward to be around when someone read her work. It was like having a seat next to the teacher's desk while he graded an exam. She hoped Drake appreciated the acknowledgment she had added, telling her readers that most of the recipes were inspired by the Red Hut and the Blue Mango, two fine restaurants in northwest DC. It was an unnecessary plug since he probably didn't need the extra publicity, but it was her gift to him.

When Drake turned the last page, a tense silence enveloped the room as Cassie awaited the verdict.

"It's great," he said simply.

"Do you really think so?"

He sent her a cool glance. "No, I just said that for effect."

She slapped his arm. "Don't be facety."

"Sorry, but I've always been poor at gushing."

"Try."

Drake rested his head back and then a sly grin spread on his face. "It's excellent, marvelous, magnificent, stupendous, except..."

She stiffened. "Except what?"

He turned to her. "You could do better."

Cassie’s stomach dropped as her skin tried to recover from the sting of criticism.

"It's very well written," he continued, unaware of how his words hurt. "But there's a lack of emotion."

"This is a self-help book, not a romance," she said, anger clipping her words.

"I know, but I've read your other books and there was an honesty that I don't sense here." He flipped through the manuscript and set it aside. "In
The Fear of Ridicule
I felt that you knew how it felt to be awkward or shy, but here I don't get the feeling that you believe what you're writing. If I didn't know you better, I wouldn't think you believed in romance or even love."

"Of course I believe in love."

He tapped the manuscript. "Then prove it."

She snatched it and shoved it in her bag, then pulled on one shoe.

"You're angry with me," he noticed, surprised.

She searched the room for her other shoe, fighting back tears. "You have no idea how hard I worked."

"I can tell. I didn't say it was bad. I just said—"

"I know what you said," she interrupted, glancing under the bed. She spotted her shoe and pulled it out.

"Cassie," he said gently, "it was just an observation. It's nothing serious."

"It's nothing serious to you. You don't have a career worthy of being flushed down a toilet. I'm a joke, you know. My book sales and popularity have gone down since my divorce. Oh, sure, I can fill a classroom, but I haven't been asked to be a guest speaker in a year. This book is my last chance. If it doesn't work, then my publisher will drop me. And now you tell me the book I've been working on, in spite of my ex-husband's distractions and the up-and-down relationship with my current lover, is dull."

"I didn't say it was dull."

She didn't hear him. "And maybe you're right. Perhaps I'm a fraud. Perhaps like you I don't believe in love and romance. I think relationships are constant chains we happily attach on ourselves."

"You're not a fraud and you're missing the point."

"And what would that be?"

"In the pressure of worrying about book sales and lecture tours you've forgotten why you write in the first place. You inspire people to dare to step out into the world and make their presence known. There's someone out there who's starting a new relationship and wants it to work. You have the tools to help him or her."

Cassie bit her lip. "I don't think I do."

"That's the whole problem. You're thinking too much. As you romantics like to say, 'Write from the heart.'"

She stared at the manuscript.

"It's good," he said.

"But not good enough."

Drake stood and began to change. "You have two minutes to feel sorry for yourself and then we can try out one of the recipes. Excellent selections, by the way."

"Thanks," she grumbled.

"I feel in the mood for chocolate caramels."

She pushed down the need to sulk and managed a small smile. "Okay."

"I'm not sure I have all the ingredients." He tucked in his shirt. "We'll have to go shopping."

* * *

"Who taught you how to shop?" Drake demanded, taking a bottle of corn syrup from her and replacing it on the shelf.

"Nobody had to teach me. You just pick up what you want."

"But you have to know which type to get. Certain brand names have different flavors."

She shrugged. "It doesn't matter."

He slanted her a harsh glance. "I'm going to pretend you didn't say that." He grabbed a name-brand corn syrup and placed it in the basket.

Grocery shopping turned out to be more enjoyable than either could have guessed. Cassie teasingly picked up whatever seemed handy while Drake put it back and got what they needed. She rested against the cart as Drake studied the label of a new olive oil. An older woman draped in a long yellow knitted shawl peered into Cassie's cart, then looked at her.

"You aren't doing your figure any good, honey, picking up those items," she said.

Cassie was ready with a witty reply, but Drake spoke first. He glanced up, his voice soft, but his tone loaded with steel. "Are you implying that there's something wrong with my wife's figure?"

The woman seemed to visibly shrivel under his stare. Cassie came to her rescue. "She didn't mean any harm."

Drake's eyes didn't leave the woman's face. "Then she should learn to keep her opinions to herself."

The woman hurried away.

Cassie watched the woman dart around the corner, then looked at him. "Don't you know to respect your elders?" she scolded.

"Sure, when they're worth respecting." He walked to the next aisle. "Let me show you how to choose walnuts."

"Drake, you can't..." Her voice trailed off.

"What?"

Be my protector,
she silently finished. He couldn't take issue with every person who made a comment about her size, but he'd learn that eventually. "You can't show me how to choose walnuts."

"Just watch me."

* * *

"I'll wait for you outside," she said when they had finished selecting items. "Unless you want to show me how to pay for the items as well." She batted her eyelashes and smiled like a naive schoolgirl.

Drake pulled out his wallet, his expression the perfect caricature of a staid professor. "That will be another lesson."

She clapped her hands in feigned delight. "I am full of anticipation."

Once outside, Cassie rested against the redbrick wall of the building, staring at the traffic and people rushing in and out of shops. Those trying to walk at a leisurely pace were effectively pushed aside.

"Hey, Cassie! Long time no see!"

She turned her head at the greeting and saw two women—one was short in a bright purple pinwheel hat; the other medium height with a necklace that looked like a dog collar: Tanya and Nanj. She had met them through Adriana in college. They were friendly enough, but she didn't want them around when Drake showed himself. They would probably wonder what he was doing with her.

She pushed herself off the wall and walked toward them. "Yes, I've been busy," she said vaguely.

Tanya adjusted her hat. "One should never be too busy for friends," she said, her smile bright and genuine against her pale skin. She wore a dress that looked identical to Cassie's "hope" dress. Cassie saw how it hugged her slender frame and decided she would donate her dress to the Salvation Army.

Nanj frowned. The expression made her face look extra fierce. With a habit of wearing harsh dark eyeshadow, which contrasted with the light gray of her eyes and spiky black hair that made her olive skin look almost chalky, Nanj already looked intimidating. "How are you handling your divorce?"

"I'm a pro now."

"I broke up with Marco a week ago."

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said lamely, wishing her ready wit was at hand.

"We're going to have a cleansing ceremony if you're interested," Tanya said. "Adriana has all the information. We're going to rid her place of his memory."

"I'll check my schedule. I've been really busy working on a..." Her words trailed off as she watched their faces change.

She could feel Drake's presence even before he rested a friendly hand on her shoulder. "I'm done."