by Girard, Dara
"Hmph?"
"Cassandra, I hope you're not answering the phone with your mouth full."
Cassie fell into the couch like a lead doll and tugged on her shirt like an awkward teenager. She swallowed and said, "Hello, Mother. How are you?"
"Just wonderful. I went to the spa yesterday and treated myself to a delightful mud bath. So how are you doing? Are you seeing anyone?"
Just what she needed, her mother prying into her life and injecting it with her negativity. How could she tell her mother she was planning on marrying a man she'd known only a few months? That she loved him but that he might be a big mistake? Thankfully, someone knocked on the door, giving her the needed reprieve. "Just a moment, I have to get the door." She put down the receiver, prayed that it was some sort of emergency—a fire perhaps—and opened the door.
Her big mistake was leaning against the door frame like a sexy rogue, dressed in a black turtleneck and trousers, his amber eyes lazily sensuous and his smile even more so. "Hello, Mrs. Henson," he said.
"I'm on the phone," she replied stupidly.
His smile grew. "Don't let me stop you. I'll be in the kitchen."
Drake piled the containers in the sink. He planned to go look at engagement rings once she got off the phone. He had been able to squeeze in an appointment for them that afternoon. Breakfast in the morning and ring shopping in the afternoon. His patience had paid off. It was a good day. He tried not to listen to Cassie's conversation, but found himself eavesdropping anyway. He wanted to make sure it wasn't someone bothering her.
Just when he was about to turn on the tap, he heard Cassie say in a low voice, "No, I'm not seeing anyone special, Mom. Of course I'd tell you. Adriana said what? Uh-huh. Yes, well, he's not important. He's just a close friend. Uh-huh. No, he's not like Timothy." A heavy sigh. "I know you liked him, too bad you didn't marry him. No, I'm not trying to be facety. Uh-huh. That's right. No one. Talk to you later. Good-bye." She hung up.
Drake felt ice spread through his stomach, then shatter as if someone had kicked him. Had he misunderstood her? Had he misread how she felt about him? He took out the note he had carefully folded and tucked in his pocket. He reread the words he had begun to memorize. She had said she loved him, and for a moment he had let that mean something even though he knew she was just being romantic. But her words had been a lie. He crumbled the note in his fist.
"Whew. I'm glad that's over," Cassie said with evident relief as she entered the kitchen. She halted when she saw him. She'd never seen such a look of anger floating in his eyes before. "What's wrong?"
He gestured to the phone. "That was your mother, right?"
"Yes," she said slowly.
"Why did you tell her you weren't seeing anyone important?"
She dismissed his concern with a wave of her hand. "It's just a ruse. If she knew you and I were close, she'd start asking questions and then want to meet you."
"Would that be so bad?" he asked in a quiet voice.
"It would be dreadful. Trust me on this one." Cassie knew her mother would spend the entire time comparing him to Timothy or ask him what he saw in her daughter.
Drake shook his head as if finally solving a riddle that should have been obvious. "You really had me fooled." He laughed without humor. "I actually believed that your insecurities about weight was what kept us apart, what kept me from meeting your family, having you introduce me to your friends, or kept me at a distance in public. But now I know the truth." His intense eyes held her still. "You're ashamed of me."
Cassie glanced skyward. "Don't be ridiculous."
His eyes flashed but his voice remained level. "You really expect me to believe that you didn't want to introduce me to your family and friends because I'll be embarrassed to be with you?" His accent thickened his words. "I used to be that stupid, but now I know it's the other way round. You're scared people will ask about my background or that I'll do something to make you ashamed. I'm good for the back room, but not the front. I don't have Timothy's elegance and polish."
"That's not true. I said I would marry you, didn't I?"
"Through a note. Heaven forbid you would tell me in person where someone else might hear."
She walked toward him, her eyes pleading. "You don't understand."
He stepped back. "I'm tired of going through hoops for you."
"I don't expect you to go through hoops for me."
He walked to the door. "This isn't working."
"I never expected it to," she muttered to his back.
He whirled around, pinning her with his eyes. "Yes, that was the problem from the start. No matter what I did, I was never good enough for you. You never expected me to be around for long and that's why you didn't want to marry me." He stormed to the door.
She grabbed a rolling pin and followed. "You're not leaving until I get a chance to explain."
He opened the door. "I am tired of your explanations."
"You're not leaving."
He lifted an eyebrow in challenge. "How are you going to stop me?"
She slammed the door shut and held up the pin.
He sent her a cool, dark glance. "What are you planning to do, Cassie? Roll me into submission?"
"I'm planning to make you listen," she hissed. "And I don't care how. I won't have you leave thinking that—"
He opened the door again; she closed it. He took a deep breath, fighting a losing battle with his patience. "I'm not in the mood for games and you know I can't hurt you. Let me pass."
"I spent all morning preparing that breakfast for you because I wanted you to know what you meant to me." She threw up her hands. "Didn't it mean anything to you?"
His cold glare left her face and focused on an area above her head. His reply was a whisper. "It meant everything."
"Then is it just me or don't we have something worth fighting for?"
"What exactly do we have? I can't even hold your hand in public and I am continually introduced as your friend even when we're supposedly engaged."
"Let me explain. I—"
He held up his hands. "I don't want an explanation. All you give me are words. You have an explanation for everything."
"If you don't want an explanation, what do you want?"
"I want you to call your mother and tell her that you want her to meet your fiancé."
Cassie shook her head. "That's asking too much. You see—"
"Yes, I do see. I tried to prove myself at the reunion. I tried to show you that I could be cordial and civil when needed. That I wouldn't humiliate you in social situations, but that wasn't enough, was it? I'll never be good enough for you. You tried to warn me, but I was too stupid to listen. So now I'm listening. You wanted to get rid of me from day one. Congratulations, you've succeeded." He bit his lip as if stopping himself from saying more, then walked out the door.
Mr. Gianolo peeked his head out as Drake headed for the elevators. "So when's the wedding?" he asked.
"There isn't going to be one," Drake replied and headed for the stairs.
Chapter 14
He was back where he had started. In Eugene's Bar with a half-empty mug of beer, the background buzz of voices and the enthusiastic shouts of a sports announcer on TV. He inhaled his cigarette, feeling the smoke burn his lungs.
"You can't keep this up," Eric said. "Since your breakup I haven't seen you without smoke coming out of your mouth."
Drake slowly exhaled, lifting his beer. "What's your point?"
"You need to talk to her. Okay, you've ignored her calls and notes for over two weeks; she's been suitably punished, now mend things."
"I have another date with Brenda tomorrow night."
"Brenda isn't the marrying type."
He tapped his cigarette against the ashtray. "That's fine because I'm not interested in marriage."
* * *
Drake's eyes trailed over the informal elegance of the restaurant. The evening had been pleasant as usual, but for some reason he just wanted it to end. He shouldn'
t have come... the ghost of Cassie seemed to float around everywhere.
"This place is everything you said," Brenda gushed.
"Hmm."
"The food was fabulous."
"Hmm."
"And the atmosphere—"
"You don't have to go on. This isn't my restaurant."
She smiled and touched his hand. "I know. I'm just so happy that we've had the chance to become reacquainted. I'm sorry about your impending divorce."
Drake inwardly winced at the lie. For some reason he hadn't been able to admit the truth.
Her finger made a slow circle on the back of his hand. "You know I have a place in San Diego where you could relax for a while."
"I—"
She raised the finger to his lips. "Don't say no yet. Just think about it." She glanced up briefly at something, then leaned forward and kissed him—softly but effectively. She wiped her lipstick from his lower lip and stood. "I'm just going to the ladies' room."
Drake paid the bill, then glanced around the restaurant. His eyes stopped on a large crowd listening enraptured to a woman dressed in a cream sweater and red scarf—Cassie. His heart began to race and his fingers itched for the feel of a cigarette. He hadn't brought any with him since Brenda couldn't stand smoking. He turned away, but his eyes involuntarily slid back to her.
She would be here, he thought, mentally kicking himself. This was the same place she had taken his class. The place where he'd flirted with her like a schoolboy with a crush. His eyes fell on one guy who mirrored what his expression had once been. He tapped his fingers against the table trying to forget the feel of her scarf or the warmth of her skin. He had been a fool to think he could claim her when he had been one of many. He scowled and turned away.
* * *
"Cassie," Adriana whispered urgently when the class broke up.
"Yes, I know," she said with a resigned sigh. "Drake's here."
"Don't you care?"
"Should I? He broke up with me. And now he's happy."
"How can you tell?" she demanded.
Cassie pushed papers into her bag. "A sixth sense of mine. I can feel my heart breaking."
Adriana drummed her fingers against her thigh. "Be serious."
"I am being serious. He's with his first love. Brenda Timmons the aerobics guru. They were kissing."
"So?"
If her friend didn't understand, she wasn't in the mood to enlighten her. "I really don't want to talk about this."
"You're unhappy."
"At least he's not. I want him to be happy."
"And I want you to be happy. He should be with you."
Cassie let her bag fall to the floor, annoyed. "Adriana, we can't have both. I have tried to reach him, but he ignores my calls and my notes. It is obvious he wants nothing to do with me. So will you please drop the subject?"
"You haven't done enough to give up yet."
Cassie sat and held her head in her hands, defeated. "What do you expect me to do? Run over hot coals proclaiming my love, lie naked on his windshield—no, that might scare him."
"You teach people to be bold and go after what they want, but you won't do the same."
Cassie's voice was muffled but firm. "I have succeeded in all that I've set out to do."
"Yes, driving away the man you love because you're too afraid to admit that you deserve him."
She lifted her head and stared, incredulous. "Where do you come up with this? Haven't you heard a word I've said? I've tried to get him back. He doesn't want me. Do we need a translator?"
"Just listen for a minute. The first day I met you, your mother came to pick you up. She wore this stunning black and white polka-dot dress and big round sunglasses like a movie star. When I asked you if that was your mother you said she was your aunt."
"Okay, so I was a liar."
"No, you were ashamed that you couldn't measure up. It was the same with Timothy, that's why you let him stray. You didn't expect him to treat you right."
"Well, that's a good argument for infidelity. Actually it coincides with his statement that he did it to save the marriage."
"You're not listening. You love Drake and you deserve him. He belongs to you. He's yours, don't let some other woman take him away."
Cassie stared at her for a moment "I'm waiting for a point."
"He doesn't believe you love him. So you have to prove it."
"If you don't get off my back I can prove how fast a friendship can end." She grabbed her bag and headed to the ladies' room. She saw Brenda coming out and stopped.
"What a surprise," Brenda said.
"I see you're here with Drake."
"Yes."
"I hope you have a good time."
"Don't worry, I know how to keep my men."
Cassie watched her go, anger shooting through her veins. Brenda might have Drake, but she'd make his complete surrender difficult.
* * *
Drake felt Brenda's fingers inching their way up his thigh as he drove home and he knew it wasn't going to work. Instead of feeling aroused he felt annoyed. He hadn't changed much, he still didn't like people enough to be civil longer than necessary. For all her intelligence and beauty he always found that he wished to be elsewhere. He would have to end it. It might be a relief to her; he wasn't the most exciting guy to date, hardly responding to any of her invitations. She might even be eager to end the evening.
She smiled at him and whispered, "I'm not wearing any panties."
Then again he'd never been able to read women well.
* * *
The chilly air was invigorating—perfect for his morning jog. He loved the smell of fall mornings, the color of the changing leaves, the sound of the city beginning to wake. A week had passed since he'd seen Cassie in the restaurant and he was doing fine. He was completely over her. Although at quiet unwanted moments he did miss her face, the way she would poke him when making a point, the delicate way she ate. He swore, fiercely trying to control his wayward mind.
"So what did you say?" Eric ordered, breaking into his thoughts. "You don't just stop a story at the point where a woman mentions she's not wearing panties."
"I said then she must be cold and turned up the heat."
Eric pushed up the glasses sliding down his nose. "Are you joking? That's the first thing that came to your mind?"
"No, not the first," he admitted. "But that's what I said."
Eric let out a breath. "I was worried about you for a minute. So you admit you still care for Cassie?"
"I'm over her."
They continued the last lap of their jog in silence. Drake looked at his building and groaned. Great, now he was hallucinating. Cassie was standing right in front of the glass doors with one of her determined looks.
Eric squinted. "Isn't that—"
"Yes."
He spun around. "Talk to you later."
"You don't have to—" But Eric had already jogged away.
Drake slowed his jog to a walk and headed for the door.
Cassie spoke up as he passed her. "I know that I messed up, but I'll do whatever it takes to get you back."
He stopped with his hand on the handle. "Why?"
She stared at him as though the answer was obvious. "Drake, I miss you. I love you."
She loved him. Why the hell did those words mean so much? "Today maybe." He ground his teeth, fighting the need to believe her, and opened the door. "I don't have time for this."
"So you and Brenda are together."
No. "Yes."
"She may have you, but she'll never love you like I do."
He looked at her, his eyes sharp. "I don't want her to love me. I don't want you to love me. I want you to stop being ashamed of me. Ashamed of who I am or how I act. I want you to give a damn that I'm in your life. Brenda may not love me, but she's made me feel better than you ever did. Romantics like you use love as a weapon because you know how much guys like me—" He turned away.
"Drake, you have to let me explain."<
br />
He grabbed her shoulders and shook her. "I've told you that I've had enough of your explanations. I haven't returned your calls or responded to your notes. In case you haven't noticed, that's a hint that I don't want you in my life." Even as he said the words he hated them, hated how cold they sounded, but he wouldn't be hurt again. "I don't want to see you or hear from you. I want you to go away." He threw a hand in the air. "Disappear. Pretend that we never happened."
"I'm not ashamed of you." She grabbed the front of his shirt, desperate to make him understand despite how his words hurt her. "Give me another chance. I'll show you how much I love you. I'll prove it to you. No more words, just actions. I promise." She smiled weakly. "I haven't sung yet, so this show can't be over."
He seized her wrist, loosening her hold. Her butterscotch eyes were wide and soft and slowly melting into tears. For a moment he let his lips brush against her forehead, inhaled the sweet scent of her. He abruptly pulled away. "How can you love me, when you don't even like yourself?" He turned and went inside.
Cassie wrapped her scarf tighter and stared at the intimidating glass doors. He had every right not to want her. She didn't deserve another chance. He'd already given her one before and that was more than she'd given Timothy.
He was right. For a woman in love she'd done a poor job of showing it, her own insecurities shadowing her true feelings for him. She had introduced him as a good friend for the last time and ultimately pushed him away. As a gentle wind blew her hair, the magnitude of what she had lost hit her. She felt the soft stream of tears down her cheeks. Brushing them aside, she slowly headed down the road.
* * *
How could you love me when you don't even like yourself? Those words echoed like a church bell in an empty cathedral over a week later. At first they made her sad, but she soon became furious. Who was he to judge her when he wore his background like broken armor? Soon her anger led to an eating binge. How dare he criticize her! He didn't love her. He only wanted what she could give him—the prestige of a good background and a few kids that she would raise while he set out on his next conquest. He'd done her a favor by leaving. He didn't even like her work. She grabbed her manuscript and threw it in the air, letting it scatter like large snowflakes.
