The Henson Brothers: Two Complete Novels (7 page)

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.

"The misguided?" Cassie closed her mouth, refusing to rise to his taunt. She took a step forward, then hastily stepped back, bumping into him. "It's raining," she said, answering his confused stare. The rain fell in a light drizzle.

Drake casually lifted his umbrella and pulled Cassie close. A secretive smile softened his lips. "Better?"

Her heart lurched madly, excited that he truly was not angry with her. Timothy would say 'I'm not angry,' then sulk for days. She didn't question why that was important to her. "Much better."

"So where do I take you now?"

"Actually, my building isn't far from here." She felt so many conflicting emotions that she had the urge to run in the rain, escaping all the feeling this man brought to her. "If I made a mad dash—"

"Which direction?" he interrupted.

She pointed and he slid his hand down her arm and captured her hand in a warm, solid grasp.

"Drake?" she asked in a hurried whisper, wanting to understand what was happening between them.

"Yes?"

He sounded so ordinary that her anxiety began to ebb. "Never mind."

He squeezed her hand in reassurance. "Hmm."

"Oh, I love a good rain," she admitted, delighting in the giddy feeling that enveloped her. The night seemed so unreal, the man a fantasy. That was how she would remember the evening. Cassandra had battled with a sorcerer and won.

"Hmm," Drake replied. "In that case." He moved the umbrella so that the rain fell on her. She grabbed his arm and pulled the umbrella close to her. She glared up at him. "I didn't mean that I liked to get wet."

He grinned down at her, but soon his expression stilled and his eyes smoldered with a desire that held her captive, for she knew the same expression was in her own gaze. Suddenly, the world consisted of only them, a big black umbrella, and the soft sound of rain.

"A warm summer rain and a beautiful evening," she said quietly, not recognizing her own voice. "Can it get any better?"

He lifted her chin and gently touched her lips with his thumb. "Do you want it to?"

She hesitated but he found answer enough in her eyes and captured her mouth with his own.

He did not expect the impact of her lips to send a shot of desire that tightened his groin in painful pleasure. He brought her body close to his, wanting her to know how much he wanted her.

Cassie was at first startled by his desire, but realized it mirrored her own. The kiss was overwhelming and reassuring, terrifying and exciting. It sent her mind reeling with questions she didn't want to answer. Her only impulse was to enjoy the moment, the feel of his arms around her waist, his commanding mouth moving over hers and devouring her with gentle mastery, demanding a response that she willingly gave with surprising boldness. She quickly darted her tongue into his mouth, eliciting a groan of deep masculine pleasure that had her reveling in her own prowess—the sorcerer was at her mercy. Soon their tongues were twirling around each other and they clung to each other trying to stay afloat in the stormy wave of desire that threatened to encompass them.

A deep grumble of thunder diverted their attention with angry fervor and opened the sky to release a torrent of rain. They broke apart and stared at each other in awe—now both soaking wet, the umbrella lying next to them unnoticed. The feel of rain awakened Cassie from her dream and the reality of what had occurred.

Before she could speak, Drake flashed his devastating grin and placed a finger over her lips.

"I was right," he said.

"About what?" Her voice was barely a whisper.

"You taste just like sweetened raspberries."

Cassie wrapped her arms around herself. "Drake, this was a mistake—"

He took her arms, draped them on his shoulders, and slid his hands around her waist. "No," he said deeply, his mouth hovering above hers. "It wasn't. Don't let fear deny you this moment." He kissed her again. This time slowly as if enjoying a fine dessert. "Hmm, that's better," he said, feeling her respond to him.

She smiled tremulously. He was right. Tonight fear would not take this fantasy away. Not when so many nights had been filled with a bitter emptiness. She would treasure tonight like a precious stone in her memory. "Do I really taste like raspberries?"

"Yes. What do I taste like?"

Cassie brushed her mouth against his, then licked her lips. "Hot chocolate."

"Hmm." He brought warm lips to her neck. "Figures."

"Drake," she protested, trying to pull away from him, "we can't do this here; besides, it's raining."

"I thought you liked the rain," he muttered against her neck.

"I do when I'm under an umbrella."

He scooped up his umbrella and placed it over her head. It was useless now that they were both wet, but still a kind gesture. He pulled her close again, the heat from him seeping through his wet shirt. "Seems I got carried away."

"Do you do that often?"

He considered the question. "No." He lowered his head to kiss her again, but she moved away.

"We're not starting that again," she said.

He sighed dramatically. "Yes, milady." He rubbed his forehead, desperate to find a diverting topic. "Class reunion," he mumbled.

"What?"

"That's the reason I'm taking your course. I have a class reunion in two months."

She stopped and stared at him. "But you'll be fine! You'll have nothing to worry about."

He shook his head and nudged her to walk again.

She continued to look at him in disbelief. Twice Drake had to save her from colliding into a person and a pole. "Don't tell me you were the ugly duckling."

"No, I was too invisible to be considered ugly."

"Well, your classmates are in for a shock." She undid her scarf and retied it around her waist. It had become a soggy piece of cloth around her neck. "So what was her name?"

"Who?"

"The cheerleader you had loved from afar, but who ignored you and broke your young heart."

"Brenda Timmons. She didn't break my heart and she wasn't a cheerleader, but she was kind... considering."

"Considering what?"

He shoved his hands in his pockets. "Did you go to your ten year reunion?"

"Do I look like a masochist to you? My twentieth is a few years off and I won't be going to that either."

"You don't think I should go?"

"Oh,
you
definitely should go. You'll have fun. I, on the other hand, have no need to see the beautiful people, who are of course now more beautiful, the smart people who are now millionaires, and the outsiders who are now in psychotherapy. They would all see me and tell me how much I haven't changed."

"Is it that bad?"

"Would you like to still be invisible?"

"Most times. I like to be left alone."

"Then why are you going back? To prove something, right?"

He frowned. "Sounds pathetic."

"No, it's human nature to see how we measure up. You know, you haven't asked me your question yet."

"Oh, right." He shrugged. "Forgot about that."

Cassie watched as his muscles moved underneath his shirt. She wondered if the rain had caused it to shrink, molding itself to his fabulous form. She didn't dare look down at her dress. She could feel it clinging to her like an eager child, exposing many of the aspects of her physique it was designed to hide. Drake had obviously noticed this because his hungry gaze roamed over her figure and it didn't take much insight to know what he was thinking.

"Aren't you going to ask your question?" she asked, trying to divert his attention.

"Are you seeing someone?"

She blinked. She hadn't expected that. "No."

"Why not?"

"Are you seeing anyone?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Can't get a date."

She laughed until she realized he wasn't joking. "You're serious."

"Yep."

"I'm sure you can get a date."