The Henson Brothers: Two Complete Novels

by Girard, Dara

  Cassie toyed with his flat nipple, still in awe that this beautiful man was hers to claim. "I missed you too, but I had to finish my book."

  "Is it safe to assume it's finished?"

  "Yes." She briefly held her hands together. "Thank God. Your sister told me the Red Hut is going to be featured in the Washingtonian. Are you nervous?"

  "Why would I be nervous? The food is excellent, as well as the service, location, atmospherics, and—"

  She kissed his nipple. "Forgive me, your lordship," she said humbly. "How could I have made such a suggestion?"

  He tenderly stroked her arm. "You're forgiven. So did you bring your manuscript with you?"

  "Yes. I don't know why. I usually don't let anyone but my editor see it."

  "You can make an exception." He slapped her playfully on the bottom. "Go get it for me."

  Cassie sat up, gathering her knees to her chest, unsure.

  "I'm waiting."

  She reached for her clothes.

  "You don't need those."

  "I'm not walking around naked." She pulled on her top.

  He sighed, disappointed. "Shame."

  * * *

  Cassie busied herself with a crossword in the newspaper while Drake read. She always felt awkward to be around when someone read her work. It was like having a seat next to the teacher's desk while he graded an exam. She hoped Drake appreciated the acknowledgment she had added, telling her readers that most of the recipes were inspired by the Red Hut and the Blue Mango, two fine restaurants in northwest DC. It was an unnecessary plug since he probably didn't need the extra publicity, but it was her gift to him.

  When Drake turned the last page, a tense silence enveloped the room as Cassie awaited the verdict.

  "It's great," he said simply.

  "Do you really think so?"

  He sent her a cool glance. "No, I just said that for effect."

  She slapped his arm. "Don't be facety."

  "Sorry, but I've always been poor at gushing."

  "Try."

  Drake rested his head back and then a sly grin spread on his face. "It's excellent, marvelous, magnificent, stupendous, except..."

  She stiffened. "Except what?"

  He turned to her. "You could do better."

  Cassie's stomach dropped as her skin tried to recover from the sting of criticism.

  "It's very well written," he continued, unaware of how his words hurt. "But there's a lack of emotion."

  "This is a self-help book, not a romance," she said, anger clipping her words.

  "I know, but I've read your other books and there was an honesty that I don't sense here." He flipped through the manuscript and set it aside. "In The Fear of Ridicule I felt that you knew how it felt to be awkward or shy, but here I don't get the feeling that you believe what you're writing. If I didn't know you better, I wouldn't think you believed in romance or even love."

  "Of course I believe in love."

  He tapped the manuscript. "Then prove it."

  She snatched it and shoved it in her bag, then pulled on one shoe.

  "You're angry with me," he noticed, surprised.

  She searched the room for her other shoe, fighting back tears. "You have no idea how hard I worked."

  "I can tell. I didn't say it was bad. I just said—"

  "I know what you said," she interrupted, glancing under the bed. She spotted her shoe and pulled it out.

  "Cassie," he said gently, "it was just an observation. It's nothing serious."

  "It's nothing serious to you. You don't have a career worthy of being flushed down a toilet. I'm a joke, you know. My book sales and popularity have gone down since my divorce. Oh, sure, I can fill a classroom, but I haven't been asked to be a guest speaker in a year. This book is my last chance. If it doesn't work, then my publisher will drop me. And now you tell me the book I've been working on, in spite of my ex-husband's distractions and the up-and-down relationship with my current lover, is dull."

  "I didn't say it was dull."

  She didn't hear him. "And maybe you're right. Perhaps I'm a fraud. Perhaps like you I don't believe in love and romance. I think relationships are constant chains we happily attach on ourselves."

  "You're not a fraud and you're missing the point."

  "And what would that be?"

  "In the pressure of worrying about book sales and lecture tours you've forgotten why you write in the first place. You inspire people to dare to step out into the world and make their presence known. There's someone out there who's starting a new relationship and wants it to work. You have the tools to help him or her."

  Cassie bit her lip. "I don't think I do."

  "That's the whole problem. You're thinking too much. As you romantics like to say, 'Write from the heart.'"

  She stared at the manuscript.

  "It's good," he said.

  "But not good enough."

  Drake stood and began to change. "You have two minutes to feel sorry for yourself and then we can try out one of the recipes. Excellent selections, by the way."

  "Thanks," she grumbled.

  "I feel in the mood for chocolate caramels."

  She pushed down the need to sulk and managed a small smile. "Okay."

  "I'm not sure I have all the ingredients." He tucked in his shirt. "We'll have to go shopping."

  * * *

  "Who taught you how to shop?" Drake demanded, taking a bottle of corn syrup from her and replacing it on the shelf.

  "Nobody had to teach me. You just pick up what you want."

  "But you have to know which type to get. Certain brand names have different flavors."

  She shrugged. "It doesn't matter."

  He slanted her a harsh glance. "I'm going to pretend you didn't say that." He grabbed a name-brand corn syrup and placed it in the basket.

  Grocery shopping turned out to be more enjoyable than either could have guessed. Cassie teasingly picked up whatever seemed handy while Drake put it back and got what they needed. She rested against the cart as Drake studied the label of a new olive oil. An older woman draped in a long yellow knitted shawl peered into Cassie's cart, then looked at her.

  "You aren't doing your figure any good, honey, picking up those items," she said.

  Cassie was ready with a witty reply, but Drake spoke first. He glanced up, his voice soft, but his tone loaded with steel. "Are you implying that there's something wrong with my wife's figure?"

  The woman seemed to visibly shrivel under his stare. Cassie came to her rescue. "She didn't mean any harm."

  Drake's eyes didn't leave the woman's face. "Then she should learn to keep her opinions to herself."

  The woman hurried away.

  Cassie watched the woman dart around the corner, then looked at him. "Don't you know to respect your elders?" she scolded.

  "Sure, when they're worth respecting." He walked to the next aisle. "Let me show you how to choose walnuts."

  "Drake, you can't..." Her voice trailed off.

  "What?"

  Be my protector, she silently finished. He couldn't take issue with every person who made a comment about her size, but he'd learn that eventually. "You can't show me how to choose walnuts."

  "Just watch me."

  * * *

  "I'll wait for you outside," she said when they had finished selecting items. "Unless you want to show me how to pay for the items as well." She batted her eyelashes and smiled like a naive schoolgirl.

  Drake pulled out his wallet, his expression the perfect caricature of a staid professor. "That will be another lesson."

  She clapped her hands in feigned delight. "I am full of anticipation."

  Once outside, Cassie rested against the redbrick wall of the building, staring at the traffic and people rushing in and out of shops. Those trying to walk at a leisurely pace were effectively pushed aside.

  "Hey, Cassie! Long time no see!"

  She turned her head at the greeting and saw two women—one was short in a bright purple pin
wheel hat; the other medium height with a necklace that looked like a dog collar: Tanya and Nanj. She had met them through Adriana in college. They were friendly enough, but she didn't want them around when Drake showed himself. They would probably wonder what he was doing with her.

  She pushed herself off the wall and walked toward them. "Yes, I've been busy," she said vaguely.

  Tanya adjusted her hat. "One should never be too busy for friends," she said, her smile bright and genuine against her pale skin. She wore a dress that looked identical to Cassie's "hope" dress. Cassie saw how it hugged her slender frame and decided she would donate her dress to the Salvation Army.

  Nanj frowned. The expression made her face look extra fierce. With a habit of wearing harsh dark eyeshadow, which contrasted with the light gray of her eyes and spiky black hair that made her olive skin look almost chalky, Nanj already looked intimidating. "How are you handling your divorce?"

  "I'm a pro now."

  "I broke up with Marco a week ago."

  "Oh, I'm sorry," she said lamely, wishing her ready wit was at hand.

  "We're going to have a cleansing ceremony if you're interested," Tanya said. "Adriana has all the information. We're going to rid her place of his memory."

  "I'll check my schedule. I've been really busy working on a..." Her words trailed off as she watched their faces change.

  She could feel Drake's presence even before he rested a friendly hand on her shoulder. "I'm done."

  "Good." She smiled at her friends. "It was nice seeing you again." She began to turn.

  "Aren't you going to introduce us?" Nanj asked.

  "Another time. We're in a hurry."

  Drake challenged this by stepping from behind her and stretching out his hand. "The name's Drake." He shook both their hands.

  "Nanj." She pointed to her companion. "And that's Tanya."

  Tanya wiggled her fingers. "Pleased to meet you. We knew Cassie in college," she explained. Her eyes darted between them. "So are you two..." She trailed off, leaving them to fill in the blanks.

  "We're just friends," Cassie said.

  "That happen to sleep together," Drake added.

  Cassie stared at him, horrified. Tanya laughed; Nanj grinned. "Well, that explains a lot," she said. "See you around. Hope to see you at the cleansing."

  "How dare you!" Cassie said in an angry whisper once they were a good distance away.

  "How dare I what?"

  "Imply that we're sleeping together."

  He blinked. "Hell. Have I been sleeping with another woman?"

  "No, but that's none of their business." She jerked a thumb at the pair.

  "At least I didn't say I planned to marry you."

  "You're not marrying me and you can't change my mind about that. Not with your looks or your money, so don't even try."

  "Is that all you think I have to offer?" he asked quietly.

  She didn't reply. She didn't know how to.

  They walked in silence until he asked, "Why didn't you want to introduce me to your friends?"

  "It just didn't seem important. I wasn't thinking. We're not close anyway."

  He didn't believe her, but would accept the explanation for now. "All right." He reached for her hand; she pulled away.

  "I don't like being affectionate in public, remember?" she said.

  He tightened his grip on the grocery bag. "I just want to hold your hand. I don't think that counts as a lewd act."

  "I explained this to you before."

  "You let me hold your hand last time."

  "That's only because..." She stopped.

  "Because you felt sorry for me," he finished grimly.

  "Let's not ruin this day by arguing."

  His jaw tensed. "Fine," he said in a clipped voice.

  At home, they made the chocolate caramels as if they were two colleagues instead of lovers. Drake barely uttered words that required more than one syllable. Later, they watched a movie since the caramels had to sit overnight, then went to bed with the fight still between them. Cassie felt miserable, knowing he had felt slighted. She squeezed her eyes shut and swore as the truth hit her. She couldn't face anyone judging their relationship. It meant too much to her. Being friends was so much safer, it didn't allow for any scrutiny. But they'd passed that threshold long ago and she knew she could never go back. A deep part of her didn't want to. She had been trapped into what she had been running from. She had set out to befriend the sorcerer with his compelling eyes and tender heart and he had won. Damn him. She punched him in the shoulder.

  "Ow!" He sat up and turned on the lights. "What the hell was that for?"

  "What you did was arrogant and inexcusable, but I apologize for not introducing you."

  He was quiet for so long she wondered if he would continue to ignore her.

  "Why didn't you want to introduce me?" he finally asked.

  She rested her hands behind her head and stared up at the ceiling. "I just like keeping you to myself, I guess."

  He turned off the lights and she heard the sheets shifting as he turned away from her.

  "I still feel awkward about us," she admitted in a rush. "You should have seen the look of shock on their faces when I married Timothy. They couldn't believe it. I just didn't want to see that expression again."

  "Is that why you keep me at arm's length in public?"

  "I don't keep you at arm's length."

  "If I brush up against you, you snap at me."

  She rolled her eyes. "That's not true."

  He turned to her and rested on his elbow. "Except for our first night, I haven't been allowed to kiss you, hold your hand, or touch your face in public. I feel like I'm having an affair with a married woman."

  "That would include dark hidden places," she teased.

  "How many times have we gone to the movies, or sat in the dark corner of a cafe?"

  She sighed. He had a point. "I'm still getting used to us," she said. "Being part of a couple again."

  Drake lay down and gathered her close. She rested her head on his shoulder, glad the wall between them had crumbled. "My reunion is next week. You had better get used to 'us' fast."

  "Why?" she asked sleepily.

  "Because I plan on introducing you as my wife."

  * * *

  The woman was crying. He slipped on his shoes and tossed her a tissue. He'd learned early that some women liked to cry. Liked to find some man to give them grief. His sister had shown him that, choosing any bad boy with a trigger fist she could find.

  He looked at the woman. Her dark frizzy hair covered her face; her skinny knees came together like a triangle over the side of the bed. She'd known he wasn't going to stay but she hadn't believed him. Too bad. He glanced at his watch. He had to go by Cassie's place. Being at a distance was beginning to get to him.

  He was annoyed when she wasn't home. Where was she? She shouldn't be out this late. He heard 712 open. He shook his head. The old man was pathetic.

  "You might as well leave her alone," he said.

  He grimaced. The man's voice made his skin crawl.

  Mr. Gianolo continued. "I tell her who's good and she doesn't need you or want you anymore. She's got a real man now."

  He only smiled. He didn't want to upset him. The man was as harmless as a little barking dog tied up in a yard. But he had no idea the dangerous game he was playing.

  * * *

  She was going to be Drake's wife. It was even worse than being his girlfriend. She could just imagine the people's faces when he introduced her. She had argued with him in hopes of changing his mind, but he was adamant and she had ultimately succumbed. She was to be his support and if having a wife made him feel more comfortable at the reunion, then she would do it. Besides, it would be a role she would play in front of people she would never see again. The major question was, after the reunion where would they go from there?

  "This is your last chance to change your mind," she warned as he parked the car in front of a crumbling cement barr
ier.

  Drake shut off the car and unlatched his seat belt. "I don't plan to."

  Cassie glanced at the ring that shone on her finger. "How were you able to guess my size?"

  He lifted her hand and kissed it. "I suck them often enough, I should know them by now."

  "Drake," she said, embarrassed by his honesty.

  He shrugged and opened the door. "What? It's the truth."

  They walked up to the building. It was formidable even in the warm glow of the setting sun—angry redbrick walls sported graffiti and dull windows stared sightless. Inside was no better, although clean. The lockers were a pale green against the peeling white walls.

  "They've fixed the place up nicely," Drake said. "That was a joke."

  "I sincerely hope so," Cassie said seeing something scurry into a hole in the wall.

  He took her hand. "We're married now, remember?" he reminded her when she instinctively began to pull away.

  "I remember."

  They entered the gymnasium. Gold and black balloons complemented a stream of ribbons of the same colors. Drake received his badge and frowned at it.

  "Do you recognize anyone?" Cassie asked, studying the crowd—a sea of love handles, receding hairlines, and cosmetic surgery.

  He briefly looked up, then returned his gaze to the badge. "Yes."

  "Aren't you going to say hello?"

  He flipped the badge over. "No."

  "Why not?"

  He glanced up. "They wouldn't know who I am. What am I supposed to do, go up to them and say, 'Remember me? No, of course you don't, I was invisible'?"

  "I doubt you could ever be invisible."

  He held up his badge. There was a blank box with a line through it where a picture should have been.

  Cassie smiled sheepishly. "At least you have nothing to hide. Point to someone you recognize. Or do they all look different?"

  He surveyed the group for a moment, then nodded to a man near the wall with a model-like wife. "Voted Most Popular." He glanced to their right at a woman surrounded by men. "Voted Best Dressed."

  "Not for long."

  He smiled, then told her of others.