Table for Two (6 page)

She broke his gaze by glancing at the audience. "You should turn sideways so that the class can see you," she advised, trying to maintain a professional tone, although her insides were shaking.

He lifted a brow and did so.

Cassie cleared her throat and stared at her audience hoping to get help from that direction. She didn't want to handle him alone. "Would someone like to volunteer to help him?"

A number of eager female hands shot up, but Drake defiantly shook his head. "Sorry, but I prefer to practice with the best." His eyes met hers. "You are the best, aren't you?"

She recognized the challenge. "The very best," she said. "So the problem is you've made a bad first impression?"

"Yes," he agreed. "I came on too strong and I'd like to correct that."

"That shouldn't be hard to do." Cassie brushed her hands against her dress, wishing he didn't smell so good; she could picture herself floating on the mere scent of him. "Just say something that would assure me or the woman that you weren't yourself."

He grasped her shoulders and turned her to face him. His eyes danced with mischief. "Tell me when to begin."

She took a deep breath, convinced she was going to regret this. "Begin."

"Hello, Cassandra. I'm sorry our first meeting was not successful, but I promise you, like fine wine, I improve with time." She opened her mouth to tell him his statement was fine, but he shook his head in disgust. "No, too trite. Let me see." He gathered the end of her scarf and ran it through his fingers, the movement as gentle as a feathery kiss. "I'm sorry that our first introduction was poor, but in the presence of such beauty a man loses his head and his senses; however, given a chance they will be restored."

"That's very poetic," she said quickly, embarrassed by how breathy she sounded. His voice had a disconcerting way of invading her senses. "I think that would work." She hoped he would take the cue and return to his seat.

He didn't. Instead he let her scarf go, lowering his eyes for a moment. "Or I could just be very straightforward and say..." He captured her eyes, his deep gaze sending her a secret message she did not want to interpret yet could not deny. "I would really like a second chance to make a good first impression."

Cassie could only stare, not trusting herself to speak.
He does recognize me
, she thought in a panic. His eyes were too knowing. But that was ridiculous. He had been flirting with Adriana only a few hours ago. He was a rogue with a rogue's habit of mischief, and she could feel that mischief challenging her to harness it.

"Honey," a woman called from the audience, "if she doesn't let you I will!"

The class laughed, breaking the moment, and Drake returned to his seat, winking at Cassie as he did so.

Cassie gathered her scattered wits and completed the presentation. It was a resounding success leading to a series of questions afterward.

Once she had answered everyone's question, she told them the restaurant where they would meet for their next class. She gathered her things, hoping she could catch Adriana before her friend could escape. She glanced around the now empty room filled with the shadow of seats.

"Looking for someone?"

All the hairs on the back of her neck stood at the sensuous tenor of a voice. It wasn't an unpleasant sensation. She didn't need to turn around to discover the owner of the voice. She shoved some papers into her bag and snapped it closed.

"I was, but she has obviously left me."

"That's good to hear," he said, tapping his umbrella on his shoulder. "Because we're going for coffee. I have a few more questions to ask you." He grabbed her bag and turned off the lights.

She switched them back on. "I'm glad you enjoyed the presentation but there's no need to take me for coffee. I always have time for questions."

He shut the lights off again. "I prefer coffee," he said quietly, his tone hinting that he intended to win this battle of wills. He gently but firmly took her arm and led her out of the room. A part of her rose up to object his high-handed manner, but another part of her found him amusing and felt indulgent.

They walked to a cafe two buildings down. Cassie loved how DC bustled and glowed at night. The lights from the stores greeted late shoppers with tantalizing smiles; restaurants opened their doors, tempting potential clientele with savory aromas and soft music. The sky was clear black overhead with a few twinkling stars and the air was cool, with the tender scent of rain. As they walked, Cassie noticed the covert glances sent in Drake's direction. She knew people couldn't help themselves, he moved through the crowd like a dark mist, emanating grace and a strong presence.

He shoved his hands in his pockets. "You definitely have a lot of admirers," he said proudly.

Cassie stared at him, stunned. Was the man legally blind? "Me?" She tapped her chest to make sure she had heard correctly.

He nodded.

"They're all looking at you."

He shook his head. "No." He slanted her an amused glance. "They can't believe that a piece of the sky has come down to join them."

She laughed. "This coming from a man who looks like a moving silhouette. Don't you know you're not supposed to wear black at night?"

He tugged on his shirt. "I think it suits me."

"Just be careful crossing the street."

He sighed wistfully, laying a hand on his chest. "She cares about me. I'm touched."

Cassie didn't reply as he held open the door of the cafe.

The cafe was not crowded and it hummed with jazz that complemented the peaceful light that filled the air. They chose a booth near the window.

Cassie ordered tea and he surprised her by ordering hot chocolate.

He read her expression and smiled. "I thought getting coffee sounded more mature than hot chocolate."

"Uh-huh. I bet you just get it for the whipped cream."

He grinned, holding up his hands in surrender. "Guilty." He held her gaze a moment longer, until Cassie turned away. Why did he look at her like that? What did he have to ask her? And why did his gaze make her feel like either ripping off her clothes or running for cover?

Silence fell between them. Cassie pretended to read the menu, which had–at the most– seven items to choose from, while Drake stared out the window at the street and the few cars that rolled past. Cassie was determined that he should be the first to speak. She stole a glance at him above her menu. He had a prominent profile that spoke of strength and an air of command. She wished she could read his thoughts.

His eyes suddenly caught hers. "Do I pass?"

She dropped her gaze to the menu. "I don't know what you mean."

"Hmm. I suppose a gentleman wouldn't admit that he caught a woman staring at him, but since I'm only what I am, I can't help being curious."

She stared at him, her heart constricting. Did he really remember her from this afternoon and was he referring to their talk about gentlemen and rogues? No, it couldn't be. She was Cassandra—bold, mysterious. Not Cassie, no one had recognized her as Cassie before. She tossed the thought aside. "I was merely lost in thought."

"I hope I was in it."

She didn't reply, not bold enough to admit the truth.

Their orders arrived soon after. Drake's hot chocolate was placed before him, heaping with whipped cream. He ran his finger through it, then licked it off. It was a simple gesture, but for a moment Cassie couldn't take her eyes off his tongue as it swirled around his beautifully long finger.

"Tastes good," he said, satisfied.

She swallowed. "I bet it does."

He held up his spoon. "Would you like a taste?"

Of him, certainly. "Yes... no." She shook her head to clear her thoughts. He would not get her stuttering again. "Oh, sorry, um... What was the question you wanted to ask?"

"It can wait." He sat back in his seat and studied her for a moment. "I'm sure you're curious about me. Why don't you ask me a few questions?"

She rested her chin in her hands and watched him with mocking eyes. "Are you always so arrogant? How do you know I'm curious about you?"

"The fact that you're here says a lot."

"It says that I'm interested in your questions, not in you."

"Hmm." That was true enough, but he didn't believe that. He took a sip of his drink, his mind racing with ideas of what to say next. If he wasn't careful he was going to screw up again. He could sense that she was aware of him. Her eyes were perfect mirrors into her thoughts, but she wasn't ready to admit it yet. He sighed, suddenly wishing women came with manuals. He glanced down at his drink. "Okay, then let's say that I hope I can generate some interest."

She shrugged, dismissing his statement as harmless flirtation. "Why did you decide to take the seminar?"

He seemed shocked for a minute, then replied, "The same reason everyone else did."

Cassie sipped her tea and placed it down delicately. She couldn't help him if he wasn't willing to be honest "Right," she said, doubtful.

His lip twitched. "You don't believe me."

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to. I can recognize when you think I'm lying."

"I don't think you're lying. I think you're being evasive. I can't help you if you're not honest."

He patted his shirt in an absent, searching gesture. "I am being honest. I used to be shy as a kid. Then when my life got shifted out of balance only my family became a priority. I never..." He paused, searching for the words. "Had the chance to socialize."

"What shifted out of balance?" she asked, curious as to what made his family a priority.

"My life." He left no room for more inquires.

Cassie recognized a Do Not Enter sign when she saw one. She tried to think of something else to say. "Yes," she said lightly, hoping to fill the now awkward silence. "It has a crazy habit of doing that."

"Hmm." He glanced out at the traffic. "So... sometimes I don't say the right things."

What a bunch of bull. She wondered if he used that pitiful story with every woman he met or if he had fashioned it just for her. He definitely was not shy or had any trouble socially. He wouldn't be as successful as he was if that were the case, and something about him besides his appearance suggested that he was very successful.

"You'll have no problem," she said coolly. "I'm sure there are plenty of women willing to forgive you your social gaffs."

He picked up his mug and watched a group of preppy teenagers go by. "Why don't you believe anything I say?" He held up his hand before she could protest. "And don't deny it. That will just annoy me."

"Okay, I admit I find it hard to believe that a man like you would have any trouble getting women."

He was silent a moment and then met her eyes across the rim of his mug. "I don't want women. Just one in particular."

The hairs on her arm began to tingle at his assessing gaze. "And who would she be?" It was none of her business, but she couldn't help asking.

"The woman I plan to marry."

Of course! He was a man on the prowl ready to shackle the first woman who was willing. Why hadn't she seen that before? Wasn't that how Timothy was able to catch her? "Oh."

He noticed the note of disappointment in her tone. "Why do you say 'oh' like that?"

"Doesn't matter."

His brows furrowed. He watched the elegant manner in which she poured hot water into her cup. It had taken him years to master the grace she so effortlessly possessed. "Don't you believe in marriage?"

"It's great for others, but I've done it before and don't plan on doing it again."

He wrapped his hands around the mug and rested his elbows on the table. "What happened?"

Her eyes were cold when they met his. "I don't discuss my private life with strangers."

"Forgive me, milady," he said gravely.

She was immediately contrite. "Look, I—"

With a shrug, he brushed away her attempt to explain or apologize. "Don't worry about it. I know when I've stepped on a land mine. Hell, I threw a grenade at you a moment ago."

She relaxed, calm in the knowledge that he understood. "Not quite a grenade, more like a brick wall."

"Hmm." He drummed his fingers on his mug with impatience. "This sure puts an interesting spin on things," he muttered.

"What?"

"You don't believe in marriage and I do," he explained, his face closed in a serious mask.

She didn't understand why this was of any importance to him but she hoped to help him understand her point of view. "I believe people can love each other and be committed."

"Where?"

She frowned. "You know what I mean."

He looked at her enigmatically. "So people can be committed, just not married?"

"Marriage changes things."

"It should." He pushed the salt and pepper shakers together. "Two people belong together. They become a family in the eyes of the law."

She picked up the items and shook them at him. "People belong to each other without the law. Love binds them together."

"Love is a dangerous and illogical foundation for any relationship." He'd seen love turn his father into a weak, miserable man. "Commitment is all that matters and marriage is that ultimate commitment."

"Marriage gives lip service to commitment. Love is its truth."

"You are a romantic."

"And you are a cynic."

"I'm a realist."

"On what planet?"

He took the objects from her and placed them against the wall. "I think we should drop the subject." He signaled the waiter to request the bill.

"Very wise," she said, sorry that their time together had ended so badly.

"Hmm." He opened his wallet and shuffled through his bills. "I can be when I put my mind to it."

Cassie fiddled with her scarf. "Of course you have nothing to worry about," she said, trying to salvage the evening. "There are plenty of women out there who want to get married."

He placed the money on the table and stood. "Hmm." Unfortunately, the one he had in mind didn't.

Cassie slid out of her seat. "I am sorry to have made you angry, but I can't help expressing what I think."

"I'm not angry. I always enjoy a good debate with the misguided." He opened the door for her.