Table for Two (3 page)

Cassie washed her face, tried to attack the grass stains that stubbornly decided to cling to her clothing, and then combed back her hair. She looked at her reflection again. It was an improvement, although a small one. She put on some lipstick and left to meet her friend.

They usually met at the Golden Diner for lunch. The place was called a diner because of its easygoing atmosphere; the word
golden
was added because of the prices. Only successful professionals could afford to frequent the cozy DC restaurant. It was imperative to look one's best, which was why her friend Adriana gaped in horror as Cassie approached the table.

"You're filthy!" she cried.

Cassie tossed down her purse and sighed. "There is no need to exaggerate."

Adriana had been her best friend since grade school. Both knew how it felt to survive the wilds of the rich suburbs while living with island parents who wanted to keep traditional ways. On a number of occasions, Cassie had organized Adriana's escapes so that they could attend parties, and Adriana, in turn, found ways to handle Cassie's overly critical mother. Their backgrounds were similar—good schools and good families—but in appearance they were opposites.

While Cassie had grown from cute chubby kid into cute chubby adult, Adriana had metamorphosed into a tall, svelte woman. She had dark brown eyes and purple-black hair that fell to her shoulders in silky curls, and a sensuous mouth that had men panting when she used it appropriately. She was not beautiful, but interesting, and that was enough to gain men's attention. Today she looked casually elegant in cream trousers, a white blouse, which offset her coffee skin, a pearl choker, and large gold hoop earrings.

"Why are you dirty?" she amended.

"I accidentally walked into a football game and was tackled."

Adriana winced. "Sounds painful."

"It was." To both her body and her pride.

"Hi, ladies," the waitress greeted. The young woman wore what the Golden Diner considered a uniform: Purple fluorescent top and skirt, clunky black shoes, and cap. She held a tray expertly in one hand as she tried to adjust the cap that was falling over her eyes. Cassie's stomach grumbled, reminding her of the grapefruit she had eaten for breakfast.

"What happened?" she asked, staring at Cassie.

"Long story. If you're willing to feed me, I might tell you all about it."

"I'd love to hear it, but I don't have the time." The waitress placed a plate of food in front of Adriana. Cassie glanced at her friend, confused that food would already arrive when they hadn't yet placed their orders.

"I ordered for us. My treat," Adriana explained as the waitress placed a grilled chicken sandwich, French fries, and coleslaw in front of Cassie.

She groaned, remembering Drake's breathtaking physique, and stared at the curvaceous woman in front of her with a brief stab of envy. "Great! The perfect food for a woman on a diet."

Adriana paused with a French fry midway in her mouth. "You had better not be."

"I'm not. Just thought about it." There was no need to mention the cottage cheese diet.

Adriana thoughtfully munched on her fries, then shook her head. "I don't believe in diets."

"That's because you don't have to."

"The problem is you're living in America. In another country you'd be a prized possession."

Cassie rolled her eyes. Somehow, they always came to this conversation. Adriana was convinced that she would be a beauty elsewhere. The problem was she wasn't elsewhere. "Yes, I'd make a perfect sacrifice. I'd keep the fire burning."

Adriana frowned. "Not funny."

"I'm sorry." She wasn't, but said it anyway so that she could drop the subject. She took a bite of her sandwich. Unfortunately, the bite was too big, which she usually did when annoyed, and she ended up maneuvering her food so that she wouldn't choke.

"So why were you walking into football games?"

Cassie swallowed with difficulty, then took a gulp of her drink. "Timothy sent me flowers," she explained. "Red roses to be exact."

Adriana swore.

"Exactly," Cassie agreed. "You'd think after a year he'd get the hint, but he always was a slow learner. He refuses to believe that we're really divorced and that I'm completely over him."

"Yes, of course." Adriana held her nose in the air and affected the tone of a snotty socialite. "How could
anyone
get over Timothy Milton the Third, heir to the Milton Furniture chain, Ivy league graduate, and all-out ass—"

"That's enough," Cassie said before her friend warmed to the subject "Although I agree with you, it only makes me sound jealous calling him names all the time." She didn't think it necessary to talk about the number of choice words she had used when the flowers had arrived.

Adriana tapped her foot, her brows furrowed. "I'll never forgive myself for not shooting him when I had the chance. You know how I feel about controlling the rodent population. You have to get rid of them before they reproduce."

"It was a shame the rat poison didn't work," Cassie teased.

Adriana shook her head mournfully. "You didn't use enough."

Cassie laughed. "I deserved what I got anyway. I was so flattered when he chose me over you that I didn't think." She had met him after she had survived a crash diet that caused her to lose her hair. Consequently, she had gained the weight back and her hair grew back as thin as new grass—she felt like a Chia Pet. As a result, she had eagerly accepted his attention. Timothy had looked so handsome and refined that first night she had met him. Any woman's dream—her ultimate nightmare.

"I wasn't surprised that he had good taste. Most jerks do. So what did you do with the flowers?"

"Set them on a grave site."

Adriana nodded in approval. "Too bad it's not his own. Are you sure you don't want me to have my brothers talk to him?"

Cassie knew what her friend meant by talk. Adriana had two older brothers who were very skilled in primitive rhinoplasty and orthopedic surgery. They had developed their skill on playgrounds and back alleys when their classmates made the unwise decision to tease them about their accents or foreign manners. Cassie and Adriana were spared from any teasing because of that.

Cassie shook her head. "When I want him physically harmed, I'll let you know. I can handle him."

"When you can't handle him, let me know." Adriana pointed a manicured nail at her. "So have you gotten your seminar speech all set? I can't wait to hear it."

"You're still coming?" Cassie asked in disbelief. She squirted ketchup into her plate. "You've already heard what I am going to say at least a hundred times."

Adriana waved that fact away in a dismissive gesture. "So what? First, it's great for business." Adriana owned several lingerie boutiques and Cassie's seminars sent women running into them. "Second, I love to hear you speak and watch the way you capture an audience. Sometimes I forget that you're the same woman."

Cassie swirled a fry into the ketchup and smiled with triumph. "Ah, then Cassandra has succeeded."

Adriana frowned. "I don't see why you have to be two different people."

"It's the illusion that counts." She swept her hand through the air. "The presentation is of the utmost importance. Nobody would look at me now and think I could teach them how to be seductive." She stared down at herself. "Especially not now. They would expect me to do a comedy routine. Cassandra is more convincing. I just—" She stopped and stared at the entrance of the diner.

A man stood there like a giant shadow with a sliver of sunlight peeking behind him, giving shape to his massive form. When he stepped into the light—tall, virile, and real, like a shadow transferring from one world into another—he glanced around the restaurant as if he was looking for someone. Instinctively, Cassie knew who that was.

She squeezed into the corner of her booth, her heart pounding so quickly she was afraid it would leap from her chest and run. "I have to hide."

Adriana stared at her, baffled by her friend's behavior. "What is wrong with you?"

"That man by the door," she said in a panicked whisper. "I don't want to see him or rather I don't want
him
to see
me
."

Adriana turned. "There are three men by the door."

"The guy in the blue T-shirt."

"Oh." Adriana turned again. "Oh, my God!" She looked at Cassie as if she'd lost her mind. "I can't believe it. You've snapped."

"Don't be silly," Cassie scolded.

Adriana leaned forward, resting her arms on the table. "You're hiding from that! That's like running away from a winning lottery ticket."

"Be quiet!" she demanded.

Adriana looked suddenly concerned. She reached out to feel Cassie's forehead. "Perhaps you're suffering from heat stroke."

She slapped her friend's hand away. "Possibly," she agreed. "Look, I've made an idiot of myself enough today. I'd prefer to stop now while I still have some of my pride to salvage."

Adriana glanced over her shoulder. "Well, you're out of luck, sweetie, because he's coming this way."

Cassie searched for a means of escape, then slid under the table just as two well-built legs stopped in front of the table.

"Excuse me," Drake said politely, confusion evident in his tone. "But wasn't there someone sitting with you?"

"Yes," Adriana replied, trying to appear as if nothing was out of the ordinary. "She just left."

Cassie scooted over to Adriana's side and nudged her friend’s leg in warning not to give her away.

Drake sighed in frustration, then asked, "Do you know where she went?"

"And why should I tell you that?"

"That's a good question." He slid into the booth. Cassie shut her eyes in prayer as his legs barely missed touching her knees. When she opened her eyes, she stared straight into his lap. She briefly wondered if he was well built all around. Was the lower half of him as sensitive as his hands? She placed a hand on her forehead to block out the image and the sensation that followed it.

"Let me introduce myself. I'm Drake Henson. I think your friend was the woman I bumped into a few minutes ago."

"Bumped into?" Adriana scoffed. "She said it was more like a tackle."

Cassie pinched her for giving her away; Adriana kicked her in response.

"Great, so you do know her. One of the guys thought he saw her come in here." He sounded satisfied. "Could you tell me how I could reach her?"

Adriana was silent for a moment, then said, "I'm sorry, but if she wanted you to have that information she would have told you herself."

"I didn't get the chance to ask her." Cassie saw his leg bounce up and down with impatience. "Could you at least tell me where she is?"

Again, Adriana paused. "I'm not sure." She reached into her purse for something. Cassie guessed that it was her lipstick. She was going to use her secret weapon, a mouth that had men drooling. She knew Drake didn't have a chance. She felt vaguely sorry for him. "I don't think that would be fair."

"Hmm, I see." Cassie couldn't read his tone, but he didn't sound terribly disappointed, more pensive and curious. For some reason, that annoyed her.

He stretched out his legs and Cassie stiffened in horror as one softly brushed against her bare arm. A jolt of heat shot through her body as his leg rocked back and forth against her. Cassie fought the urge to lean against him and delight in the feel of his hair whispering against her skin. Adriana's plan was working; he clearly thought her arm was Adriana's leg. He suddenly stopped the distracting activity and drummed his fingers on his thigh. "So what is your name?"

"Adriana."

"I'm Drake."

"Yes, you told me."

"Right." There was silence, then, "Well, thanks for your time." He abruptly slid out of the seat.

"No problem."

There was more silence; then he left.

A moment later, Adriana tapped the table in a strange pattern of beats.

"What are you doing?" Cassie asked.

"Morse code. He's gone now, you little coward."

"I know that." She wasn't sure she wanted to move. She felt as if the feel of him had melted her into the floor. She took a deep breath and crawled back into her seat. "You would not believe what he was doing. The man is an incurable flirt. He was flirting with you."

"What are you talking about?"

"He thought he was rubbing against your leg," she explained. "But it was really my arm." She glanced down at her plate, noticing that some fries were missing. Also her friend's lipstick didn't look as if it had been touched up, but Cassie guessed she had done a subtle job of it and didn't want Drake to drool, just be distracted. "So much for charming. He was trying to hit on you. What's so funny?"

Adriana sobered, but her eyes continued to dance with humor. "You crawl under a table when a gorgeous man looks for you; then he rubs up against your arm, and you ask me what's funny?"

"Laugh away. I'm afraid I can't see the humor in this situation." She picked up her sandwich.

"Personally, I think it smacks of romance. A gorgeous man searching for the woman who has captured his heart."

"Don't get carried away. It doesn't take much cunning to know that you'll find a fat woman in a restaurant."

Adriana's smile fell. "You're not fat."

"Oh, I forgot. What is the politically correct word of the day? Big-boned, oversized, rotund?"

Adriana ignored her and held up her drink. "He is so adorable. I'd never seen a man so shy."

"Shy? He's as shy as van Gogh was mentally stable. It was all an act to flirt with you."

Adriana shrugged. "Doesn't matter. You didn't want him anyway, right?"

Cassie nodded. "Right."

Adriana lifted an eyebrow. "Cassie, you really should try to sound more convincing when you lie."

Cassie made a face and finished her sandwich.

* * *

From another booth, someone watched her and smiled. He put down his menu and let a relieved sigh escape. He had been worried for a minute. First, she had been late for her lunch with Adriana. Then that man had come after her. Who the hell was he? He loosened his grip on the table; he wouldn't get angry. Everything would be okay. The man obviously wasn't a concern since Cassie had hidden from him. He allowed his smile to widen. Good old Cassie, she knew to whom she belonged.