The Henson Brothers: Two Complete Novels (6 page)

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.

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?"