The Henson Brothers: Two Complete Novels (4 page)

"That man by the door," she said in a panicked whisper. "I don't want to see him or rather I don't want
him
to see
me
."

Adriana turned. "There are three men by the door."

"The guy in the blue T-shirt."

"Oh." Adriana turned again. "Oh, my God!" She looked at Cassie as if she'd lost her mind. "I can't believe it. You've snapped."

"Don't be silly," Cassie scolded.

Adriana leaned forward, resting her arms on the table. "You're hiding from that! That's like running away from a winning lottery ticket."

"Be quiet!" she demanded.

Adriana looked suddenly concerned. She reached out to feel Cassie's forehead. "Perhaps you're suffering from heat stroke."

She slapped her friend's hand away. "Possibly," she agreed. "Look, I've made an idiot of myself enough today. I'd prefer to stop now while I still have some of my pride to salvage."

Adriana glanced over her shoulder. "Well, you're out of luck, sweetie, because he's coming this way."

Cassie searched for a means of escape, then slid under the table just as two well-built legs stopped in front of the table.

"Excuse me," Drake said politely, confusion evident in his tone. "But wasn't there someone sitting with you?"

"Yes," Adriana replied, trying to appear as if nothing was out of the ordinary. "She just left."

Cassie scooted over to Adriana's side and nudged her friend's leg in warning not to give her away.

Drake sighed in frustration, then asked, "Do you know where she went?"

"And why should I tell you that?"

"That's a good question." He slid into the booth. Cassie shut her eyes in prayer as his legs barely missed touching her knees. When she opened her eyes, she stared straight into his lap. She briefly wondered if he was well built all around. Was the lower half of him as sensitive as his hands? She placed a hand on her forehead to block out the image and the sensation that followed it.

"Let me introduce myself. I'm Drake Henson. I think your friend was the woman I bumped into a few minutes ago."

"Bumped into?" Adriana scoffed. "She said it was more like a tackle."

Cassie pinched her for giving her away; Adriana kicked her in response.

"Great, so you do know her. One of the guys thought he saw her come in here." He sounded satisfied. "Could you tell me how I could reach her?"

Adriana was silent for a moment, then said, "I'm sorry, but if she wanted you to have that information she would have told you herself."

"I didn't get the chance to ask her." Cassie saw his leg bounce up and down with impatience. "Could you at least tell me where she is?"

Again, Adriana paused. "I'm not sure." She reached into her purse for something. Cassie guessed that it was her lipstick. She was going to use her secret weapon, a mouth that had men drooling. She knew Drake didn't have a chance. She felt vaguely sorry for him. "I don't think that would be fair."

"Hmm, I see." Cassie couldn't read his tone, but he didn't sound terribly disappointed, more pensive and curious. For some reason, that annoyed her.

He stretched out his legs and Cassie stiffened in horror as one softly brushed against her bare arm. A jolt of heat shot through her body as his leg rocked back and forth against her. Cassie fought the urge to lean against him and delight in the feel of his hair whispering against her skin. Adriana's plan was working; he clearly thought her arm was Adriana's leg. He suddenly stopped the distracting activity and drummed his fingers on his thigh. "So what is your name?"

"Adriana."

"I'm Drake."

"Yes, you told me."

"Right." There was silence, then, "Well, thanks for your time." He abruptly slid out of the seat.

"No problem."

There was more silence; then he left.

A moment later, Adriana tapped the table in a strange pattern of beats.

"What are you doing?" Cassie asked.

"Morse code. He's gone now, you little coward."

"I know that." She wasn't sure she wanted to move. She felt as if the feel of him had melted her into the floor. She took a deep breath and crawled back into her seat. "You would not believe what he was doing. The man is an incurable flirt. He was flirting with you."

"What are you talking about?"

"He thought he was rubbing against your leg," she explained. "But it was really my arm." She glanced down at her plate, noticing that some fries were missing. Also her friend's lipstick didn't look as if it had been touched up, but Cassie guessed she had done a subtle job of it and didn't want Drake to drool, just be distracted. "So much for charming. He was trying to hit on you. What's so funny?"

Adriana sobered, but her eyes continued to dance with humor. "You crawl under a table when a gorgeous man looks for you; then he rubs up against your arm, and you ask me what's funny?"

"Laugh away. I'm afraid I can't see the humor in this situation." She picked up her sandwich.

"Personally, I think it smacks of romance. A gorgeous man searching for the woman who has captured his heart."

"Don't get carried away. It doesn't take much cunning to know that you'll find a fat woman in a restaurant."

Adriana's smile fell. "You're not fat."

"Oh, I forgot. What is the politically correct word of the day? Big-boned, oversized, rotund?"

Adriana ignored her and held up her drink. "He is so adorable. I'd never seen a man so shy."

"Shy? He's as shy as van Gogh was mentally stable. It was all an act to flirt with you."

Adriana shrugged. "Doesn't matter. You didn't want him anyway, right?"

Cassie nodded. "Right."

Adriana lifted an eyebrow. "Cassie, you really should try to sound more convincing when you lie."

Cassie made a face and finished her sandwich.

* * *

From another booth, someone watched her and smiled. He put down his menu and let a relieved sigh escape. He had been worried for a minute. First, she had been late for her lunch with Adriana. Then that man had come after her. Who the hell was he? He loosened his grip on the table; he wouldn't get angry. Everything would be okay. The man obviously wasn't a concern since Cassie had hidden from him. He allowed his smile to widen. Good old Cassie, she knew to whom she belonged.

Chapter 2

Drake was annoyed. It was a usual emotion after he'd failed to get to know someone interesting. And Cassie was definitely interesting with her wide, teasing eyes, a mouth that softened easily into a welcoming smile, and a body that showed men what womanhood was all about.

He sat in the bar with his brother, Eric, and Eric's friend Malcolm, drinking beer amid the noise of a televised game. He usually enjoyed Eugene's Bar, shouting at the TV, and throwing back a cold one, but now he just wanted to be alone to think. To think about Cassie and why she had run from him. He took a drink of his beer and slammed it down as various thoughts crowded his mind. Yep, there was no doubt about it. He was definitely annoyed.

Why did she feel the need to hide from him? He remembered her friend's face when he had asked her where Cassie was and she pointed to the table. She looked as baffled as he was. At first he thought it was a joke, but when his leg brushed against a silky soft arm he knew it wasn't. Why hide? Hadn't she felt what he had?

"Drake, are you going to finish your pizza?" Malcolm asked, wiping crumbs off his
Sports King
T-shirt.

"No."

Malcolm was a skinny guy with a gigantic appetite and a mouth to match. Drake didn't really like him, but acknowledged that he didn't like most people. He found them arrogant, obnoxious, or boring and his natural tendency to be an introvert didn't help, so he tried to be tolerant of his brother's friend.

Malcolm took a large bite of pizza. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing." He glanced down at the table, wishing Malcolm didn't have the habit of talking with his mouth full.

"He's thinking about that woman he bumped into," Eric clarified with his usual insight. Drake was always surprised how his younger brother could read him so well. Especially when he wasn't able to do the same. No one could mistake them for brothers. Eric was of a slighter build and lighter complexioned with a serious face that could be intimidating. His gold-rimmed glasses gave him the solemn look of a professor. He looked myopic, but he didn't miss a thing. However, their smiles were the same—broad and a little wicked. He flashed one now. "Don't worry about it. Did you get her number?"

He shook his head and lifted his beer.

Eric's smile dimmed. "A last name?"

He finished his beer and again shook his head.

"A birth sign?"

"Nothing."

Eric stared at him in shock. "You mean you were talking to her all this time and all you found out was that her name was Cassie?"

Drake sat back in his seat, irritated by his failure. "Yep."

"The way you two were staring at each other, I thought you were trying to create your own summer heat. What were you two talking about then?"

"Food."

Eric kissed his teeth in disgust. "Food? How did you manage to do that?"

"It just happened naturally."

Eric swirled his drink, then took a gulp. He looked at his brother as if he were a promising student who'd failed a class. "That's the problem with you. You don't know how to talk to women unless it's related to work."

Drake raised his hand to signal the waiter to bring him another beer. It would be his third, perhaps his fourth. It didn't matter, because he wasn't driving. "Trust me. When I was talking to her, I wasn't thinking about work."

"You're hopeless."

"Wait a minute." He rested his arms on the table and looked at his brother's serious face with a smile tugging on his lips. "When did you become an expert on women, Mr. Casanova? Tell me the last time you had a date."

Eric adjusted his glasses in consideration. "The last time I've wanted one."

Drake accepted the beer the waiter handed him with a quick nod and took a healthy swallow. "So that would be in the fifth grade when you gave Margaret a bag of candied hearts."

Eric grinned, not offended by his brother's teasing. "I think you're confusing things. That was what
you
gave your date at your senior prom."

Drake's humor faltered. He hadn't been to the prom or any of the other high school functions. He had wanted to go. He had dreamed of asking Brenda Timmons, taking her to a fancy restaurant, then making out at one of the after-prom parties. He hadn't been able to dream long. He was poor and had to take care of two younger siblings. Whatever money he earned went to them. Nobody expected much from him. Many predicted he would end up a wino. Fortunately, that hadn't been the case. Now he was going to see his old classmates again in two months at his twentieth high school reunion and he would have the chance to prove them wrong.

Eric banged the table with his glass, awakening Drake from the melancholy mood that had hit him. He shrugged good-naturedly. "Okay, so you made your point. I'm not an expert, but I've had more success than you. It's obvious you need to work on your technique."

Drake clasped his hands behind his head. "Things were going great," he said, reviewing the moment in his mind. "I honesty don't know where I went wrong. We were both talking about great meals."

Malcolm leaned forward, feeling safe to join the conversation. "No surprise there. I'm sure she's familiar with every meal around the world. Don't tell her you own a few restaurants. Hell, she'd probably eat you out of business."

Drake's eyes flashed. "What do you mean by that?"

Malcolm delicately cleared his throat, not wanting to get on Drake's bad side. It was not a pretty place. "I'm just saying she's a big woman."

Drake's eyes didn't leave Malcolm's face, like a missile aiming for its target. His voice lowered dangerously. "And your point is?"

Malcolm's eyes slid away. "I don't have one."

He let his gaze fall. "I didn't think so."

Eric hit his brother on the back to ease the tension that hovered over the table.

"Look, we all miss opportunities. I'm sure there's someone out there for you."

"And here she comes," Malcolm said, leering at a shapely woman with caramel skin and spice-colored hair. She had entered the bar and was now speaking to the bartender. Her tiny fluorescent green skirt hitched up her legs as she leaned on the counter.

Drake saw her and turned away, letting his hands fall to his sides. "Oh, her."

Eric leaned forward. "Kristin is someone you can handle. She likes you."

"That's only because I ignore her."

"Then stop ignoring her."

"I'm afraid that would take too much effort."

"At least practice on her. Most times, you're like a statue. This will give you a chance to talk, interact, practice your moves."

"I don't have any moves."

"Then make them up."

He stood. "I call this one 'making an exit.' "

Eric grabbed his sleeve and pulled him down. "Try again."

"Hi, guys," Kristin said, sliding into a seat next to Eric, while she flashed a brilliant smile in Drake's direction.