The Henson Brothers: Two Complete Novels (13 page)

Malcolm held up his hands in surrender and Drake let him go.

"No more snide remarks, understood? It's not wise to talk about somebody's woman. Especially when she belongs to me."

Malcolm tugged at his collar, glad that his head and neck were still attached. "Yes."

Jackie stared at her brother, shocked by such a vehement show of emotion. "Is she a big woman?"

Malcolm snorted, but said nothing.

"She's healthy," Eric said.

"She's beautiful," Drake elaborated. "And kind. You'll like her."

"Perhaps we could have her over for dinner," Jackie said. "I'd love to meet her."

Eric sighed, annoyed that they were all missing the main crucial point. "You are assuming she'll want to go out with him again after tonight."

"He'll be fine," Jackie said with confidence.

"When's the party?" Eric asked.

"She wants me to meet her at nine."

He glanced at his watch. "You realize it's only one-thirty, right?"

"I just want to be prepared."

"Oh, in that case you should have started this morning. At this pace I'm not sure you'll be ready on time."

"Leave him alone," Jackie said. She shooed Eric and Malcolm out of Drake's bedroom and shut the door. She leaned against it and studied her brother as he tried to straighten his collar. "You're nervous."

"I'm not nervous," he growled.

"Then why have you misbuttoned your shirt?"

He glanced down and noticed that one side was longer than the other. It certainly explained why his collar was crooked.

He sighed and unbuttoned the shirt. "I just have a lot on my mind."

"You really like her, don't you?"

He began to smile. "What is this, high school confessions? 'Do you
like her
like her? Or just like her?'"

"Drake, I'm being serious."

"So am I."

Jackie picked up the remaining shirt off his bed and placed it in the closet. "Did you tell her about us?" She tried to sound disinterested, although the subject was important. Drake rarely discussed his family with anyone.

"No, not yet," he said, assuming the same tone as he tucked in his shirt. "I will eventually." His voice lowered. "She comes from a good family."

His sister closed the closet door with a flourish and held her nose high. "So do you."

He laughed at her assurance. "I guess so."

Jackie stretched out on the bed, picking up the picture he kept on his side table of Eric and her. "Have you slept with her yet?"

Drake stared at Jackie's reflection in alarm. "What kind of question is that?"

She replaced the picture and bit back a laugh at his expression. "Get that Victorian look off your face. I do know about sex."

"Yes, but you shouldn't be talking about it with your brother," he grumbled, feeling his ears grow warm.

"Why not? Eric and I were worried that you were studying for the priesthood. You've spent so much time taking care of us you didn't carve a life out for yourself."

They were his life, he thought. Seeing them succeed from what little he had been able to offer them had made his life complete. He would never admit that of course. "My life's just fine."

Jackie lay on her stomach, holding her chin in her hand. "So I guess the answer is no," she said, disappointed.

He picked up a pillow and threw it at her. "Get out of here."

Laughing, she darted out the door.

Drake stared at his reflection. He would do fine tonight. He was used to having to prove himself to get what he wanted. And he wanted Cassie. He'd just have to make sure she realized that she wanted him. He turned from the mirror. Somehow he knew tonight would be one he'd never forget.

Chapter 6

Cassie was working on expanding the outline for her book and thinking about what she would wear for the party, when the phone rang.

"So are you ready for our date or do you need a little more time to prepare?" Glen asked.

She groaned and covered her eyes. She had completely forgotten about the poetry reading. "I'm so sorry, I overbooked. Could I take a rain check?"

There was a brief pause; then he laughed. "I forgot how popular you are. I'll file your rain check."

She sighed, relieved. "Thanks for understanding."

"Why don't you come up and let me treat you to lunch instead?"

It would be a perfect reprieve from her work.
"I'd love to. I'll be right up."

The door was open when she reached his apartment. The rich smell of tomatoes and peppers wafted into the hallway and called her to the kitchen. She loved Glen's place, its simplicity and subtle class. He grew flowers on his balcony, had a bookshelf of old volumes only a true lover of literature would read, an old TV in an all-wood cabinet, and woven throw rug. She found Glen in the kitchen chopping vegetables.

"What are you cooking?" she asked, glancing at the bubbling pot.

"Minestrone."

"It smells delicious." Cassie peered over his shoulder. "Do you need help?"

He quickly shook his head and moved to block her view. "No, I'm just chopping onions. I'll be finished soon."

She turned and rested against the counter. "How do you chop without tearing up? Those don't even smell."

"I refrigerate them first."

"I'll have to try that."

The soup was as good as it smelled. They sat at his old wooden table and chatted about poetry and life, then rescheduled their date—fortunately, Sheffield was performing next Thursday. Cassie promised she would go.

"Rita wants to remarry," Glen said, cleaning up the bowls.

"I'm sorry." She knew it must be hard to realize your ex was really over you. If only she had that problem.

"It's not that I want her back. It just makes me wonder what she sees in that guy. Louis, that's his name. He's a bouncer at a strip club of all things. Sure he's attractive, but he's so uncouth and doesn't treat her as well as I did. Or at least tried to."

"Who knows what people find in each other? Perhaps this guy fulfills a need. Bad boys can be enticing, just ask Adriana."

"I guess so. I loved her so much." Glen sighed and Cassie could hear the musicians taking out their violins. She knew it was time to leave before she was presented with a sob story.

"Thanks for lunch." She kissed him on the cheek. "And no poetry for two days."

He smiled grudgingly. "I'll try. Take care."

* * *

It was humiliating, Drake thought, standing in front of Cassie's door. He was nearly forty years old, but he felt as awkward as a kid on a first date. He was successful, he dealt with people every day, he could handle a simple party. He would find a way to get out of dancing, but he would ultimately prove to Cassie he was the man for her. Proving himself was something he did very well. He took a deep breath and rang the doorbell.

Cassie glanced at her watch and swore with feeling. It said 8:35. He was early and she hadn't finished pinning up her hair. Didn't the man know the importance of giving a woman time to prepare? Glen of course would be sensitive to that fact. She could already picture Drake glaring impatiently at his watch, waiting for her to answer the door.

Fortunately, she was already dressed in an outfit that emphasized every curve and roll on her body. He wanted a night with a full-figured woman and he would get it. She called it her hippo-in-a-tutu dress because of its revealing qualities. It lifted her ample chest and the material moved restlessly against her shape. He probably wouldn't want to leave the apartment.

"One moment," she called around the pins in her mouth. She quickly finished her elaborate hairstyle, then answered the door.

Drake looked handsome in his silhouette uniform—dark trousers and a charcoal shirt. The sense of quiet power swirled around him. Yes, she thought, feeling her heart quicken its pace, if she wasn't careful she would easily fall victim to him.

His eyes roamed over her figure, darkening as it made a path to her feet. He suddenly shut his eyes and held his hands together as if in prayer.

"What are you doing?" she said, wondering if her plan was already working.

He opened one mischievous amber eye. "I'm thanking God you decided to wear that dress tonight. You look sensational."

Cassie sighed, exasperated, and pulled him inside. "Have you been drinking?" she asked, shutting the door.

He lightly touched her cheek. "If I say yes, do we get to stay home?"

Trying to chastise him was as fruitful as kicking a wall. "No."

Drake slid his arm around her waist. "What material is this? Velvet?" He trailed a finger up the back of her dress until it reached her bare skin.

Shivers of delight followed his touch. "Yes, it is. You're early, you know."

"I know. Can't blame me for being eager." He clasped her hand, led her to the couch, and pulled her down beside him. "I didn't want to give you the chance to change your mind. Plus it gives us the chance to make out for a while." He leaned toward her.

She drew back, resting a hand on his chest. "I still have to get ready."

"You look perfect." He rubbed his thumb lightly over her hand. He suddenly sighed and let her hand go. "I have a confession to make."

Cassie held her breath. Now he would admit that it was all a game and ask to bow out of the evening. "What is it?"

"You look more than perfect. I thought tonight might be a trick." He flashed a sheepish grin. "I thought that you would show up in overalls or something dreadful and dare me to take you to the party." His eyes melted into hers. "But now I see that you're as serious about this relationship as I am and I'm ashamed that I thought you were up to something."

"Drake—" she began helplessly.

"Let me finish." His gaze fell. "I'm so used to people wanting me to convince them that I should have a chance that I'm worthy of..." He shook his head, frustrated that he didn't have the right words. "I should have known that you're not like that." He glanced up. "I realize it is hard getting into another relationship after a divorce, but I don't care what other people say. We can make it work."

Cassie tried not to grimace as a headache of guilt hammered its way through her conscience. If only his words were true. It was a shame he was so deluded. Perhaps he hadn't been exposed to many women. Well, tonight he would get an education. Since she had no words to say, she only smiled.

"Here." He pulled a small, golden box from inside his jacket.

She ran her hand over the box. "What's this?"

"Chocolate-covered cherries."

Cassie growled at him. "You're not helping my problem."

He lifted his eyebrows, becoming the picture of innocence. "What problem?" He took the box and opened it.

"Hey, I'm supposed to open it."

"Sorry, but you're too slow and I want to see if you like them."

She laughed. "Why? Did you make them yourself?"

For the first time, he looked very uncomfortable. It was terribly satisfying to see his arrogant veneer slip. She didn't give him the chance to reply; instead she reached for the box. "Let's see. Which one should I choose?" She wiggled her fingers over the selection of chocolates, prolonging the moment of anticipation with wicked enjoyment. "So many to choose from. I don't—"

Drake seized one and popped it in her mouth.

Outraged, she glared at him; he smiled.

She had the childish impulse to tell him how horrible it tasted, but when she bit down into the rich chocolate and fruit mixture, it instantly engaged her tastebuds in an enviable feast she could not deny.

Cassie shut her eyes a moment, sighing in pleasure.

When she opened them, she saw him watching her. His face looked impassive, but his eyes were uneasy. She found it vaguely unsettling how quickly she was beginning to read him. "It's delicious."

He tried to hide his pleasure with a casual shrug, but she'd caught the corner of his mouth kick up in relief.

"Here, have another one," he urged, bringing another candy to her mouth.

She stood. "Tempting, but we have to go."

He ate the chocolate and picked up another.

"Hey, those are mine," Cassie cried, grabbing the box.

Drake sucked the remaining chocolate on his finger. "Sorry, I didn't realize I was so good."

She groaned. "Do you ever tire of yourself?"

"Only when I'm being annoying, which is rare."

She laughed, placing the box in the refrigerator. "Oh, good. You do have a sense of humor. I was beginning to worry." She turned to leave.

He blocked her exit from the kitchen. "You know, there's no reason why we need to be on time."

The suggestion was extremely tempting. One night alone with him without anyone to comment or judge. One night when they would completely belong to each other. She thought of his sensitive fingers and delicious mouth and steeled herself against the memory. She would not indulge; she had to resist.

She squeezed past him, barring herself from his enticing scent and presence.

"Still running, Cassie?" he asked in a soft voice.

She slipped into her high heels. "In these shoes?" she teased to cover the truth. "Not a chance." She grabbed a shawl and her purse and opened the door, eager to get the night over with. "Let's go."