Petite Madeleine: Drew's Story (Meadows Shore Book 3) (3 page)

Thinking about her breasts did nothing to appease his erection, and he shifted uncomfortably under the covers. The shower, he needed to get in the shower.

The Blues won handily, giving him a reprieve from the stinging barbs the Boston press had been firing at him all week. The team had done its job, and now it was up to him to do his—to win Cassie back.

He shoved the phone back in his pocket. She’d insisted on meeting at the restaurant, and now he was pacing on the sidewalk out front, checking his phone every two minutes, for the time, or for a message cancelling their date. His breath hitched when he spied her rushing around the corner, dark hair sailing behind her, caught in a passing breeze.

“Sorry, I’m late. I had trouble finding parking.”

“You’re here now, that’s all that matters,” he said leaning over to place a kiss on her cheek. She stiffened in response, grimacing when his lips touched her skin, leaving him cold despite the sweltering temperature.

The hostess led them to a cozy table in a quiet corner of the restaurant.

“Nice place. How’s the food?”

“Amazing.”

“They serve anything besides zucchini blossoms?” he teased before opening one of the menus the hostess had left with them.

“The paella is to die for, you’ll love it. But you are trying the zucchini. I brought my camera,” she added in a sassy voice that made him want to leap across the table and claim her mouth.

But instead, they busied themselves behind menus, commenting on the offerings, hiding from the raw emotion, and avoiding the sparks of crackling energy laden with nerves, anticipation, and fear. Neither looked up until the waiter approached the table.

“Good evening, and welcome to
Uma
. May I get you something to drink while you’re deciding on dinner? An aperitif, perhaps? You’ll find a complete list of offerings at the beginning of the beverage menu.”

“I’ll just have seltzer with an orange slice, please,” she said.

“A beer for me. What do you have on tap?”

“I’d recommend the Heavy Seas. It’s a local brew, very popular.”

“Perfect, thanks.”

“I’ll give you a little more time with the menu,” the waiter said before walking away.

“You don’t drink anymore, or are you keeping your wits about you? I know how irresistible I am.”

“You are adorable,” she said, unfolding the napkin onto her lap. “I drink, but rarely, maybe a glass of champagne on New Year’s Eve, and another on my birthday. Although I don’t have any hard and fast rules about it.”

“Adorable, but not irresistible, huh?”

She shook her head, and the corners of her mouth lifted slightly. “Still drinking?”

“I only drink to celebrate now, never to forget.” He fingered her charm bracelet. Aphrodite was almost indistinguishable from the other trinkets dangling from the gold links around her wrist. It pained him to see her there.

He’d given Cassie the charm for her birthday, the first year they were together. He thought she would put it on her bracelet, but instead, she’d taken a thin gold chain from a wooden box on her dresser and placed the goddess of love on it. “Not on my wrist, I want her near my heart.” And it had hung from the delicate chain, nestled between her breasts, always. When they showered, made love, or trudged through the snow on a blustery day, it had always rested near her heart. She never took it off.

“It’s part of my life story,” she said while his thumb caressed the gold charm.

He should be grateful she hadn’t just tossed it in the trash or had it melted down for scrap. “I tried to find you after I finally got my act together. But you’d changed your number and your email address. Was that to avoid me?”

“I was starting a job, and it came with a new phone and e-mail address.” Her shoulders slumped, as if weighed down by the past. “I thought if I changed all my contact information, you wouldn’t know how to reach me, and I could stop thinking you’d get in touch. I changed them, not only because of you—but it was a bonus.”

He winced. And although the dagger she’d thrown carried no malice, the gash was deep and painful.

“Cassie, I’m so sorry about the way it ended between us. So sorry it took me such a long time to get in touch with you. It took me much longer to pull myself together than I’d expected. But I tried to reach you as soon as I had my feet on the ground again. I called Reece, went by your parents’ apartment, sent letters.”

“I know,” she whispered.

“It was excruciating. I couldn’t accept that you wouldn’t see me. That you didn’t want to see me … And then you got engaged.”

“You told me not to wait for you. I figured it was your way of moving on.”

He’d sent her the note about a month after he left Brown.
Don’t wait for me. I’ll find you when my head’s on straight
, he’d written. But he’d been really screwed up, and it had taken the better part of a year before he could face her again.

He studied her from across the table. Something wasn’t quite right. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was something else she wasn’t saying.

“You had a lot to deal with,” she said softly.

“And I dealt with it like an immature little boy.”

“Have they written the definitive book on how to handle the sudden death of one’s parents? I haven’t heard about it.”

“Well I certainly could write the book on what not to do. A tome.”

“You lived through a catastrophe no one should have to experience in their lifetime, and coped in the best way a twenty-one-year-old kid could cope. I never blamed you for that.”

“But you pitied me. I saw it in your eyes, every time I looked at you. But I can’t blame you, I was pitiful.”

“My heart broke for you, but I never pitied you.”

The waiter set out a pan of paella between them to share. Drew used a small fork to lift the meat from a hinged shell and brought it to her hungry mouth.

“
Mmmm
. So good. I love littlenecks.”

“I know.”

She sat back in her chair. “Drew…”

“I told you, Cassie, there’s not a thing I don’t remember. The way your eyelashes flutter when you’re dreaming, the briny taste of your skin after you’ve been in the ocean, the soft mewling sounds you make when I kiss your neck where it meets your shoulder. Right here.” With two fingers he brushed the very spot, with a light, feathery sweep that made her shudder.

He was moving too fast, careening out of control, but he couldn’t rein in his emotional response to her, any more than he could rein in his body’s response. So he forced himself onto flatter terrain, before she ran from the restaurant. “Tell me about the trip from Wall Street to Baltimore.”

“It’s a long story, but I’ll give you the condensed version. I was working for my father, and the more money I made for the firm, the less happy I became. I was essentially stuck in an office using the part of my brain that didn’t give me any pleasure.”

His chest rumbled when she said the word pleasure, and he picked up his fork to busy his fingers.

“I’ve always loved to bake, and feed people sweets that make them happy. One day, when I couldn’t take it for one more second, I went to my father and bared my soul.”

“How’d he take it?”

“Like a champ. It wasn’t a surprise to him. He sat on the edge of his desk, listening to every word, giving me his full attention. ‘Cassia,’ he said, ‘I was wondering when you’d come to me. You’ve been so miserable, and all I want is for you to be happy.’

“I told him I wanted to go to France and study under a pastry chef, and he nodded. ‘But first go to Greece,’ he said, ‘sit by the ocean and let the Mediterranean sun heal you. Let your grandparents dote on their only granddaughter, and ask your grandmother to teach you how to make baklava. Then, when you come back, you’ll make some for your papa.’ And that was the end of it. He loved the business he’d built, and he hoped I would too, but he didn’t expect me to exchange my dreams for his.”

“I’m not surprised, given how much your parents love you. You were always the center of their universe.”

She shivered, and rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “Just a passing chill.” she said when he noticed, and then swiftly changed the subject. “Can you believe Jay’s getting married?” Jay had been his college roommate, and apart from Cassie, his closest friend at Brown.

He scoffed, and shook his head, smirking. “I never would have pegged her as his type.”

“What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. She’s so different from the girls he hooked up with at Brown. Have you met her?”

“They were in town a few months ago, and we had dinner. She’s lovely, and they seem very happy together. People grow up, their tastes change.” She shrugged.

“Not mine,” he said locking his eyes with hers until she looked away. “He’s a great guy. I owe him a call. I sent back the response card from the invitation, but I want to get in touch with him before the wedding.”

“You’re going to the wedding?”

He looked at her over his water glass. “You asked that like you somehow knew already that I wasn’t going.”

“Well…”

“Well what, Cass?” he asked in a low voice, with a tone that indicated he expected an answer.

“When I received the invitation, I … I wasn’t going to go. I … I … didn’t want to go if … and Reece called Jay, and he said you wouldn’t … be there,” her voice trailed off.

The base of his glass met the table firmly. “Jesus, Cassie, you hate me so much that running into me at a wedding creates a major problem for you?”

“I don’t hate you. I never hated you. Ever. But I didn’t see any reason for our paths to cross again after so many years. To put ourselves, or anyone else, in an awkward position.”

“We need to talk, get it all out on the table. Every bad feeling, every disappointment, all the crap. It’s the only way we’ll ever be able to move forward and build … some type of relationship.”

“I’ve enjoyed catching up, Drew, but I’m not looking for a relationship with you.”

His stomach knotted, and he bit down hard on the edge of his index finger.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“It’s okay, I can take it. Probably deserve it.”

“It’s just that it’s been so long, I don’t have those feelings anymore.”

She didn’t meet his eyes when she spoke. Instead, she looked down and swallowed hard, digging her fingernails into the palm of her hand. It was a good thing she rarely lied, because she sucked at it.

Although she was blinking back tears, there was no way he was letting her off the hook. He leaned across the table. “You’re lying, sweetheart. Or kidding yourself. When you let your guard down, when you forget to hold up the damn wall, it’s like old times between us. Like not a day has passed. I can see it in your face, Cass, in your eyes. And I can feel it in my bones. You wouldn’t be here with me if you didn’t want a relationship, too.”

“That’s not why I came.”

“Isn’t it?”

“It’s unrealistic to think we can just start over.”

“I don’t want to start over. I want to continue where we left off. I want to work through the problems we had at the end, and put them behind us.”

They both sat back and took a deep breath when a man wearing a white apron and an Orioles’ cap approached their table holding a magnificent dessert. “Cassie, I heard you were dining with us tonight, and I created something special for you. Nothing like what you make, but I hope you’ll find it acceptable.”

“It’s stunning! And I’m sure every bite will be to die for.” She beamed at him like he’d just offered her a priceless bauble.

Drew watched the scene unfold with a critical eye, careful not to display the possessive feelings simmering near the surface.
What kind of asshole hits on a woman while wearing a baseball cap with a goofy bird on it, and an apron?

“Peter, this is Drew, a friend from college. Peter’s the pastry chef here, and if I can bring myself to share my dessert, you’ll taste for yourself just how talented he is.”

Talented, my ass.
A friend from college, huh?
It sounded so impersonal, so sterile. But what did he expect?

“I’m not bad, but not quite in your league, beautiful. I’ll leave you to your dessert. It was nice to meet you, Drew.”

Beautiful. Damn straight, and off limits to you, doughboy.
“You have another admirer,” he said when Peter was gone.

The tops of her cheeks were pink. “The community of pastry chefs is small in Baltimore. We all know one another. Peter and I are just friends.”

“I’m happy you found something you love to do.”

She nodded. “Me too, at least for now. Eventually I’ll open the teahouse. A place where women can meet friends, or do business, but comfortable enough to sit alone with their thoughts and a journal. Somewhere beautiful and frivolous, without a shred of stodgy or staid. A place where little girls can celebrate birthdays wearing hats fit for the Derby and oversized strands of colorful beads, all while licking icing from their fingers.”

She was animated, and her face glowed in the muted light of the room while she shared her dream with him. He gripped his thighs, hoping to stop them from vaulting over the table and pinning her under him until he’d coaxed every drop of pleasure from her.