Casey loved the restaurant’s briny blend of nautical paraphernalia. A ship’s wheel hanging from the ceiling. Fishing nets draping the bar’s knotty pine perimeters. A webby network of sea-beaten ropes cascading down its reddish paneling, bulging with blue glass floats and colorful wooden lobster trap buoys.
They sat around a large table. Casey and Trevor with four of his friends. Jill, a pediatrician, and her husband Steve, another gym teacher at North Cove high where Trevor worked. Trevor’s weight lifting partner, Kyle, and his wife, Lindsay. They ran a charter fishing boat and marine supply shop in New Suffolk.
Casey forced herself to chat and nod while she ate her Pignoli Nut Crusted Grouper, grateful for once that Trevor was so bad at reading her thoughts and feelings. He didn’t even notice she was drinking far more than usual, downing glass after glass of Pinot Grigio while picturing the studio she loved being turned into a restaurant by that trio who visited her this afternoon.
The fact that she hadn’t even considered telling Trevor about her dilemma made her realize how shallow their relationship was. She doubted he would understand the artistic and psychological reasons why her little academy was so important to her. And when she thought about it, Casey didn’t really know what went on inside Trevor beneath the surface of his love for sports and fitness. Was there anything beneath the surface?
Casey knew it was time to level with him and end their fake relationship. But she wasn’t about to ruin his birthday night with a breakup. And she worried about how they’d continue teaching the summer fitness program together should he resent her for it.
Especially since Drew was taking the class.
Thanks to the encouragement of Madame Lumina.
Despite Casey’s eye-opening glimpse of Drew on the reality show episode, she had to admit she was disappointed he didn’t appear tonight. In fact she’d chosen the dress she was wearing, a purple and black halter top mini, with him in mind.
Jill talked about her two-year-old, and Casey gulped more wine, making appropriate appreciative sounds. She felt smarmy having Mr. Mega-Bucks spinning her head around while she was supposed to be here with Trevor. And later when Trevor drove her home he would probably push to spend the night with her.
Casey began rehearsing excuses in her head. If only she’d come in her own car. Then she might have been able to fake a tummy ache after dessert and drive herself home.
As the waiter cleared their dishes and Casey whispered to him about bringing the birthday cake, her bad day got even worse. Drew Byrne walked into The Captain’s Quest with the well-known fashion model Riley Ward. Just what Casey needed. Another reminder of what a loser she was.
Heads turned. Star worshippers’ jaws dropped and horny dudes’ eyes bulged, their attention focused on the lanky blonde with the perfect face and awesome body in a black lace sheath. And I deluded myself into thinking my flat-chested boy bod in a Macy’s special would catch Drew’s attention?
Wearing a pale blue shirt opened at the collar, Drew stood there with one hand on Riley’s back, his eyes panning the room. He spotted Casey and gave her a quick grin that started her heart pounding. It took a lot to force a return smile to the man-of-the-moment making the grand Hollywood entrance.
Drew and Ms. Supermodel weaved through the hubbub of customers to the birthday boy’s table.
Looking a tad put-off, Trevor said, “See you made it, Big Guy.”
Drew introduced himself and his date to the group as the others gushed at Riley, telling her how much they admired her. Casey kept her smile plastered on and nodded along with the rest.
Kyle signaled a waiter for two more chairs. Drew stood in the space between Casey and Trevor, and when the chairs came he slid them in there, dividing her from Trevor. Casey waited for her usually possessive boyfriend to object, but when Riley gave him a happy birthday peck on the cheek, Trevor quickly moved his chair over to make room for the beauty to sit next to him.
Drew of course took the chair beside Casey, saying, “Next round for everybody’s on me.” As he settled in, their shoulders almost touched. Heat radiated off his body along with that sandalwood scent she remembered.
A moment ago Casey had thought of running for the ladies room, feigning a headache and finding a way home. But when Drew turned toward her with a sexy baritone greeting, his face only inches away, her competitive ballerina instincts rose to some kind of challenge she read in his teal blue eyes. She reminded herself that Drew had asked her to go for a drink with him after the fitness class. What was that about? She didn’t understand it, and was too drunk to try, but something in him got under her skin and ignited a passion to tangle.
Or to tangle her legs around him.
Just then Marty, one of the bartenders who functioned as DJ on karaoke nights, cut through the din over the speaker system. “S’up, everybody. Welcome to the CQ. Now, I want you all to help me wish a happy birthday to Trevor!”
Whistles and claps. That old familiar tune began. “Happy birthday toooo youuu, happy birthday to youuu…”
Trevor stretched back in his chair basking in the spotlight and wearing that little smirk Casey had to admit had always turned her off. A waiter strode in with a white cake dressed in candles. He placed it on the table directly in front of Trevor.
“Make a wish,” Lindsay said.
He closed his eyes and followed with a hardy exhale into the delicate ring of miniature flames.
“What did you wish for, Trevor?” asked Jill.
Instead of answering, he eyed Riley with a wolfish grin. The model gazed back at him, pursing her very full lips. There was a slightly awkward moment at the table as the two hovered in a sultry exchange.
Although the “poor Casey” glance from Lindsay embarrassed Casey a bit, she couldn’t very well fault Trevor for flirting with Riley while she sat here lusting over Drew.
Ever since Casey had turned down Trevor’s marriage proposal a couple months ago their relationship seemed to limp along out of habit. Trevor had aggressively hung on to Casey, but watching him now as he put the moves on Riley made her wonder if he also realized they were finished. Or was this a picture of what her future would have been had she married him?
Either way, it didn’t do Casey’s ego any good.
The waiter passed out pieces of cake, coffee and drinks. Filtering out the cutesy, flirty chatter between Trevor and Riley, as well as Kyle’s tongue-hanging expression and the raised eyebrows of the two other women, Casey lowered her head and focused on her dessert. And she refused to look at Drew, who was probably reveling in the glory of being a guy who actually dated this stunningly beautiful supermodel.
They’d all had plenty to drink already, but apparently someone ordered champagne because a young waiter arrived with a bottle of Moet. He cradled it in one hand while loosening the wire cage.
Pop! The cork shot across the table like a bullet. Right toward Casey’s face.
In a split second Drew made a lightning quick move, his hand snatching the cork inches from her eye.
A round of applause went out for Drew Byrne.
“Whoa! Dude snared a laser.”
“Talk about reflexes.”
“Wish I could see it on the replay.”
Great. The Smart Cork ammo had to hone in on her face. The last thing she was in the mood for was paying homage to Mr. Super Ego, even if he did deserve it.
Jill leaned forward and said, “If I were you I’d give him a big kiss.”
Drew turned to Casey with a smug, expectant grin.
Even though she wanted to do a lot more than kiss him, she just said, “Thanks. That was a nice grab you made.”
He bowed his head. “At your service.”
The apologetic waiter poured the champagne. Toasts were made to Trevor, and the chatter moved on to other subjects.
But Casey wasn’t really listening. She couldn’t stop looking at Drew’s hands, the way he picked up his wine glass and held his fork. Such a blend of masculine sureness with a certain kin
d of eloquence. It told her he was not only a man who went after what he wanted, but also one who paid attention to detail. And that he’d be a terrific lover.
As the supermodel he’d brought could no doubt vouch for.
Frustration building inside, Casey couldn’t help turning to Drew and murmuring, “I would have caught that myself, you know.”
Drew snorted, pinching his lips as if holding onto a laugh. “No way.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “I have very fast reflexes.”
“Not as fast as mine.”
“Need I remind you of a certain ping-pong game we played last weekend?”
He moved his face closer to hers. “I let you win.”
Her mouth dropped open. “What bull. You were tripping over your feet trying to keep up with me.”
He looked ready to implode. “I never trip over my feet. I was first-string running back at USC. Just ‘cause you’re a ballerina you think—”
“I think ballerinas are better athletes than football players.”
“You want to make a bet?”
“Sure.”
“How about we shoot some hoops? A little one on one.”
“You got it.”
“Shake on it.” Drew flicked out his hand and Casey shook it. He moved closer, his thigh pressing against hers under the table, that sexy mouth of his forming a slow, predatory smile.
Oh no. She had the feeling she’d just been baited into a trap and fallen in. And that it would all be quicksand from here.
Casey pulled away and looked around to see if anyone had witnessed her manic debate with Drew. But the others were talking and laughing amongst themselves, Trevor whispering to Riley, everyone a little giddy and inebriated.
Feeling a bit guilty for enjoying the way Drew’s thigh edged close to hers again, she tried to catch Trevor’s eye, but failed. He got up and strolled to the hallway where the restrooms were located. A couple minutes later Riley did the same. As Kyle refilled Casey’s champagne, she wondered if she should stick to coffee at this point in case Trevor had birthday’d himself into unsafe driver status.
She downed more cake and coffee and joined the conversation about yet another vineyard springing up on the North Fork. There were already over thirty now that folks had discovered that the climate and soil of this little strip of land was ideal wine country. Casey was glad. Vineyards blended with the farming and fishing communities of the North Fork and brought in mostly day-tripper tourists, unlike the South Fork where bumper-to-bumper traffic clogged the streets every summer and builders chewed up the land for more vacation homes.
Casey noticed Drew glancing at the hallway every few minutes and realized neither Trevor nor Riley had returned from the restrooms. She saw two women try the ladies room door, only to retreat after finding it locked.
Casey kept watching. Finally the ladies room door opened. Riley slipped out with Trevor trying to make himself invisible right on her heels.
You sonofabitch.
Riley and Trevor took their seats at the table, their pretentious, business-as-usual faces a dead giveaway. Casey felt like asking them straight out, “So tell us, how was your bathroom quickie?” Simmering in her anger, she realized she wasn’t the only person slighted by their little impromptu micro-affair. Drew sat there poker faced, but shaking his head.
He turned to Casey. “Want to get out of here?”
“Sure.”
Chapter 8
A summer rain tacked against the windows of the blue Porsche as they sped down Route 25. Casey chewed her bottom lip, thankful Drew didn’t try to prod her into talking. She felt him snatching glimpses of her from the driver’s seat, no doubt worried that he would have a bawling female on his hands. But she was more angry than hurt. And most of her anger was at herself.
During her early twenties she’d worked so hard at figuring out who she was and tried to be true to that. She’d sworn off getting involved with guys who might be what her libido wanted, but not what her psyche needed. She prided herself on avoiding the phony hotshots like Jeff Renstadt and aiming instead for a good solid Joe who’d be there for her when the chips were down. That was what she’d thought Trevor was.
But now Casey could see that she’d been so leery of guys like Drew that she’d put blinders on when it came to Trevor.
She let out an ironic laugh.
Drew glanced at her and said, “I’m really sorry for bringing Riley. I could tell Trevor was an asshole, but I didn’t expect this to happen.”
Casey’s fingers toyed with the strap of the leather purse in her lap. Trevor was a bona fide asshole. How could she possibly have gone out with him for a whole year without realizing it? Meanwhile, Drew got it down after one meeting. “What about your illustrious date? You don’t seem too upset over her.”
“I’m not. Riley and I were never serious. Every so often we just go out for, well, fun.”
“I’ll bet.”
“Hey, you’re boyfriend told me to bring a girl,” Drew said, surprisingly defensive. “And I wasn’t about to play deadbeat to that jerkoff after he laid that old alpha male crap on me.”
“In other words, you came tonight to show him up.”
Drew kept his eyes on the street ahead. “No. I came because I wanted to see you.”
Casey felt a blush color her cheeks, hopefully hidden by the dark shadows inside the Porsche. Her anger had kept down her awareness of being alone with him in the confines of the car’s close space. Suddenly the space seemed so intimate. And she liked it. She thought of how good it had felt to touch Drew when he’d fallen against her at the fitness class. And remembered how he’d told Madame Lumina he had a crush on her.
Yikes. Madame Lumina. If he ever found out.
“Well, you certainly made the evening a lot more interesting. Gave Trevor one spectacular birthday gift.”
“I’m sorry, Casey. But don’t worry. Trevor will be back, begging with flowers in hand. Riley picks up buff dudes just for hook-ups and reserves the long haul for rock stars and billionaires.”
“Actually, I’d already decided to break up with Trevor, but thought I’d wait. Didn’t want to spoil his birthday,” she added through clenched teeth. “He just made my job a lot easier.”
Drew turned down a tree-lined street of North Cove. A smattering of farmhouses and colonials on each side, silhouettes submerged in the wet darkness, their positions marked only by the soft yellow glow coming from their windows.
“Josh said you live in the studio?”
“On the second floor.”
“So, did you dance with New York City Ballet or something?”
Casey knew he’d get around to asking this question sooner or later. It was inevitable when she ran a dance school. But she had no names to drop, no glories to tout. She’d become well practiced at giving parents her carefully crafted statement about the famous teachers she’d studied with and the Vaganova teacher training courses she’d taken. Mainly to preserve her dignity and the respectability of her dance academy.
But for some reason she couldn’t give this answer to Drew. Tonight her little explanation felt like the alibi of a failure. A girl who always saw herself as a little bit of this and a little bit of that. A little talented, a little pretty, a little smart. But never quite enough of anything to actually succeed.
“No,” Casey said. “I never made it into a company. I started training too late. But I danced in a few MTV videos, had a couple walk-ons in a sitcom, got chosen for a hosiery commercial—just my legs.”
“Not surprised. About your legs, I mean. Yours are great.”
“Thanks.” She shifted nervously in the seat. “Not exactly my goal, but it paid the rent for a while.”
They came to the two-story brick building that sat on the corner of a side street leading to the main part of town. One wall still had an old Leland’s Hardware sign embedded in it.
“Would you mind pulling into the driveway? The back door goes directly to my apartment.”
The
tires crunched across the gravel drive. Her porch light cast a humid haze over the small parking area behind her building.
“Thanks for getting me home,” Casey said, and got out of the car.
Drew did as well. “I’ll walk you to your door.”
The rain had stopped, and a choir of crickets filled the night. A breeze steeped in ions and salt air from the Long Island Sound sent a rush through Casey. That and the delectable man strolling beside her.
Some guys were just born to keep women up at night.
Casey reached the door, her mind racing. She didn’t want to say goodnight yet. And he didn’t seem eager to leave. Should she invite him up? Or was that asking for trouble? She stalled, digging a hand into the purse that hung over her shoulder, pretending her key was not right there under her fingers.
“What made you decide to open a dance school?” Drew asked.
His tone sounded curious and thoughtful. Casey guessed he wasn’t just making conversation, so she gave him a real answer. “I wanted to try earning a living doing something I loved, something I find meaningful. And I love helping kids discover the discipline and beauty of an art form. Teaching them what it means to train hard and experience the reward of mastering something difficult like a pirouette or jeté en tournant. But I think the best part is seeing the thrill they get from the sheer joy of movement.”
He studied her, his eyes intent. “Must be great to work at something you can put your heart into. Something you actually enjoy.”
“From what I hear you took to your trucking business with relish.”
Drew shook his head. “Never had a choice. My dad was always there pushing me. Not just in our business. In everything. On my case constantly. Since I was a kid.”
He dropped into a crude imitation of what was obviously his father’s voice: “How many touchdowns did you score? How many homeruns did you hit? Did you win the fight? You better ace that exam.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Boy, I didn’t dare come home with anything less than an A on a report card. He wanted me to be the toughest, smartest, richest, top dog, ace of all aces, you name it.”
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