Table for Two (5 page)

"They aren't low. You just need to watch where you're going."

"Your place looks like a damn jungle," he grumbled, surveying the many small indoor trees, plants, and vines that occupied the apartment. It was all cleverly done, but today the greenery irritated him.

Eric headed for the kitchen. "Please file the rest of your complaints down the toilet while I find something to eat."

* * *

"So why are you unhappy?" Jackie asked, wolfing down the grilled jerk chicken and brown rice Eric had prepared.

Drake pointed a fork at her. "If you don't slow down, you're going to get the hiccups."

"I'm not going to get the hic–ups."

Drake grinned. "I love being right."

"Oh, shut—up." She took a large gulp of water and held her breath until they subsided. "Now answer my question."

"No."

Eric spoke up. "He met someone and it didn't work out."

"Then it wasn't meant to be. You two think you can control life, but life happens to you. You can't lose the one you were truly meant to be with."

They were quiet a moment and then Eric said, "You just broke up with Richard, right?"

"Yep."

Drake looked stunned. "How did you know that?"

"She's always philosophical after a breakup," Eric said.

"What do you do, study us?" Drake asked.

"How else is the middle child supposed to entertain himself?"

"Ignore him," Jackie said. "What I am saying is true. You won't have to change for the person you're meant to be with. It will just happen and it will be perfect."

Eric nodded. "Good advice. So what did Richard want you to change?"

"He thought that I would look good with a nose job and weave."

Drake leaped from his chair. "That bastard's a dead man."

Eric leaned back in his chair looking cold and vengeful. "Why kill him, when we can bring him to financial ruin?"

"Cut it out, you two." Jackie grabbed Drake's shirt and nudged Eric with her foot. "I knew he was shallow from the beginning."

Drake sat, his scowl still in place. "He insulted you."

"Not really. You two have to promise to leave him alone. I've seen him with Betina Hart—man-crusher number one. When she's done with him, there'll be nothing left. So promise you won't do anything."

They nodded. Satisfied, she kissed them and left.

"She has a point," Eric said, watching Drake take dirty dishes over to the sink. "It wasn't meant to be. Now go along about your business, so that I can get some work done."

"Right."

"Besides, why worry about another woman when you've got Elizabeth?"

Drake only smiled.

* * *

Drake tossed off his apron with triumph. Elizabeth— his beloved stove—had again worked her miracles. After creating raspberry tarts, he was beginning to feel better about his failure. Besides, he was finally going to do something about his social grace.

He glanced at his watch. He still had a few hours before his class. His family didn't know it, but he enjoyed taking courses at the local community center. He'd learned how to play piano, choose antique furniture, and take photographs. He was making up for the lack of education he'd acquired in school. Back then he had spent most of his time either working or asleep. Since he was an unobtrusive student, teachers let him pass. Therefore, he had ended up with a degree and not much else. The adult classes helped him to socialize. He usually hid in the back of the class, but occasionally managed to tag along if a group went for drinks afterward.

The course he was going to take was one he eagerly anticipated, "Attracting Anyone Anytime: the Art of Social Grace." He knew the instructor couldn't work miracles in the three days scheduled, but figured he could learn some much-needed tips.

* * *

The memory of Drake entered Cassie's mind as she changed into Cassandra. It usually took her two hours to transform into the woman of mystery that kept her audience captivated. She heavily outlined her eyes with a smoky gray pencil and sprinkled glitter on her bare shoulders. She glanced down at the turquoise dress she wore that floated about her ankles like a mist. She usually wore a choker, but tonight she tied a gossamer scarf artistically around her neck. She stared at her reflection, always amazed what makeup and clothes could accomplish. She looked like a woman who could capture any man's attention and place him under her spell. The perfect companion for a sorcerer with hypnotic eyes. Cassandra was bold, sexy, fearless, and quite capable of going after anything or anyone she desired. She smiled wickedly as she applied a deep purple lipstick. Good old Cassandra.

"Cassandra" had come about by necessity for a shy girl who lived inside herself. Being the clown worked for a while, but made dating difficult since she always felt she had to provide the entertainment. One day at a party, she pretended she was someone else and was amazed by the response of men. The men who had seen Cassie as a pal suddenly saw her as a desirable woman, and to her disbelief they were entertaining
her
and it was empowering. Through college she perfected her technique, taking cues from her heroine, Elvira, Mistress of the Dark, then wrote a book called
The Shy Girl's Guide to Romance.
To her surprise the book sold well as did its sequel for men,
The Way of the Wallflower
, and
The Fear of Ridicule
. Her success led to conferences, lectures, and seminars. She loved the attention she commanded, watching as people hung on to her every word. It was wonderful being the mentor she hadn't been able to find while growing up. She enjoyed working with people and helping them find their potential.

Cassie glanced at her computer, which frowned at her in the corner of the living room. She had a contract to write a new book on keeping romance alive, but her mind was blank. Since her own romantic life was such a disaster, she was having a hard time giving advice to others. She was too busy thinking of a book called
How to Resist Killing Your Ex
. Her divorce had hurt her ratings, so this next book had to be successful or she might have to find herself a new publisher or a new career.

She sighed, resigned. She just needed to relax and the ideas would come. Perhaps the seminar would revive her. She could think about all the things Cassandra would do to her mysterious sorcerer.

Heat rushed to her face as her mind filled with ideas her mouth would never utter. She pushed the thoughts aside. She had to focus. She slipped into her silver high heels and popped in her contacts. The day was over and the night was now hers.

* * *

The seminar was held in the Acton Center, a converted brownstone on one of the side streets in Dupont Circle. It was popular with both artists and academics alike, offering large and small rooms for speakers to share their knowledge. Cassie had reserved a medium-sized room on the second floor that boasted a view of the lighted garden out back,
 
with rows of comfortable chairs, and a warm, relaxing atmosphere so that her audience could feel comfortable confiding in her.

When she reached the second floor, she saw Adriana in a black bow-back chair waiting in the hallway with a cup of tea. She jumped to her feet when she saw Cassie.

"You look wonderful," she said. "This is a definite improvement."

"Anything would be an improvement to this afternoon." She moved to one side; Adriana did the same. "Why are you standing here?" she asked, wondering why her friend was blocking her path.

"I just wanted to make sure that you were prepared."

Cassie lifted her bag and shook it. "I am always prepared."

"Even for surprises?"

"Especially for surprises. What do we have? A desperate bride, an old sweetheart, a best friend hoping to confess her love?"

Adriana straightened her friend's scarf and smoothed back an unruly strand of hair. "No. Him." She pointed to a man in the corner of the room who was stretched out across a row of chairs. He was dressed in complete black with a baseball cap over his face.

Cassie frowned. "Is he dead?"

"Why don't you go and find out? I'm not sure, but I think he's gorgeous."

Cassie was not impressed. "You call that a surprise?" For some reason good-looking men liked to attend her seminars either to get more tips on the art of being a heartbreaker or to find shy women who wanted a good time. She didn’t know which. Because her seminars were rather expensive, people who attended knew they would meet someone with money to spend.

She walked to the podium and put down her bag, delighted that a number of seats were occupied. She might not make the
New York Times
, but she could still fill a classroom. "Adriana, since you seem interested, why don't you wake him up? You've attended enough of my seminars, you could give him some tips."

"He's not my type. Besides, he might be in the wrong room."

Cassie sighed and walked up to the man, who was fast asleep. She couldn't help smiling at the fact that he slept like a mummy with his arms folded across his chest. His staff—which took the form of an umbrella—lay on the floor next to him. His dark trousers were made of fine wool, his black cotton shirt clung to an impressive chest, and a Rolex smiled smugly up at her from his wrist. If his body spoke for his face, it would be impressive too. She touched his shoulder. "Excuse me, sir, but the class is about to start." When he didn't move, she shoved him, and when that failed to wake him, she pinched him—hard.

The man jackknifed into a sitting position, his cap falling to the ground, and glared up at her. His eyes immediately widened and his sensuous mouth spread into a familiar grin that made her skin tingle. "I've been awakened by the starry heavens," he said, his voice coating her like syrup.

Cassie gasped, taking an involuntary step back, and crashed into the chair behind her. The golden eyes didn't leave her face. It seemed that tonight Cassandra would be dealing with a sorcerer after all.

Chapter 3

Drake stared at her as she spoke, with anticipation, desire, and hunger threatening to consume him, forcing him to fight the urge to take her in his arms. She was so close—a tree branch stretched just out of reach to a drowning man. And he was definitely drowning. His little bowl of sweet butterscotch was now a river of silky cocoa crème, covering him beneath her waves. He closed his eyes for a time, delighting in the fantasy of her completely enfolding him. He opened his eyes and now saw her as a tantalizing vision of the night, seeming to become the starry sky in her blue dress and smooth shoulders that shimmered underneath the lights.

She moved with a slow allure—a present-day Circe, luring men to her island to practice her witchcraft—and he would be the first ashore. He squirmed in his seat, aware of the tightness that gripped his lower body as thoughts of her naked in his arms altered his focus. He wondered what kind of passion she kept hidden under that sleek dress. He shifted again, promising himself that he'd discover the answer another time. Tonight he had only one goal—to find out if her lips tasted like sweetened raspberries.

* * *

She was dying—slowly and painfully—of embarrassment. He was here, Drake the Sorcerer was here, watching her (as she stammered through the introduction), like a cunning rogue waiting patiently for the right moment to pounce and collect his treasure. Whatever that might be. No matter how she tried to ignore him, his eyes were like magnets that kept drawing her to him. Perhaps he didn't recognize her and was just riveted by her performance. There was no other explanation for such an intensely heated stare. She had to remember that she was Cassandra, not the wisecracking Cassie who could be intimidated by a pair of intense amber eyes. No, he didn't recognize her, she concluded, gathering her courage like a talisman against a magician's spell. She was somebody different. Cassandra was a woman of mystery, seduction, and power. He would be at her mercy tonight. Of course, later she would find out why Adriana looked so smug.

The session was going remarkably well despite her halted beginning, and she was discussing her favorite subject about the importance of first impressions when a deep voice spoke up, cutting through her speech like a low thunder.

"What about second impressions?" Drake asked.

Cassie paused, coming out of the cocoon of words that had kept her mind occupied from him. She leaned against the podium and said, "I'm sorry, could you repeat that?"

"You keep talking about the importance of a good first impression, but what if you made a bad first impression? How can you make a good second one?"

Cassie licked her lips, trying to give his question the thought it deserved although she couldn't imagine how it would be a problem for him. "I always thought it was best to be honest. Just say you made a bad impression and would like a second chance. Or come up with something clever."

"Hmm." He nodded, seeming to digest her words. "That sounds complicated. I think I'll need practice."

To her horror, he rose from his chair and came toward the podium. She swallowed with difficulty as he stopped in front of her. She expected him to grin or smile, but he just continued to stare at her in his all-encompassing way.