by Dara Girard
"Can I have my hands back?" he asked in a teasing tone.
Cassie saw that she had her hands wrapped around his wrists. He had large worker's hands. She wouldn't have expected them to be so gentle. She quickly released them, embarrassed. "Oh, sorry."
"Are you sure you're not hurt?"
"Nothing that a bowl of asparagus vichyssoise can't cure," she said without thinking. She instantly regretted such a gauche statement, knowing that she should have said, No, my body does not feel as if it had been crushed by a car, and left it at that. She opened her mouth to retract what she’d said, but he didn't let her.
He stretched out next to her, resting on an elbow, and said, "Garnished with chive oil and asparagus tips."
She paused, surprised that he would be knowledgeable of one of her favorite dishes. "Naturally." She decided to test him some more. She narrowed her eyes, wishing she could distinguish his features and read his expression. However, at the moment all she could decipher was a beautiful voice and flashing smile. "Then there would be a shrimp, avocado, and mango salad."
He shook his head. "No, you've already had avocado." He reached up, gently pulled a strand of grass from her hair, and twirled it between his fingers. "How about chicken with olives and preserved lemon with an Old World Pinot Noir?"
Her heart began to pound from both his touch and his words. Could it be? A man who loved food as much as she did? She bit her lip, wondering if she should continue but unable to stop herself. "And for dessert? It must be something chocolate."
He thought for a moment, then snapped his fingers. "Chocolate and banana pie."
She grabbed her chest and stared up at the sky. "A man after my own heart. I have died and gone to heaven."
The man watched her return her butterscotch gaze to his face, the expression lovely and wistful. He doubted she knew how adorable she looked with her red blouse and khakis stained with dirt and her dark brown hair springing from its braid. She had a pleasant round face the color of cocoa, and a mouth that looked as if it would taste like sweetened raspberries. He licked his lips at the thought. That was something he would definitely like to find out.
He stared at her, searching his mind for something else to say, when she suddenly looked worried and began hunting through the grass.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"I'm looking for my glasses." She felt around in the grass, trying to find her frames. She hoped she would not hear the crunching of someone stepping on them.
"Oh." He didn't feel the obligation to mention he had them safely in his grasp since she was offering him a very enviable view of a nicely formed derriere.
She raised her voice. "Damn, where are they?" Her hands curled around an object that felt like her glasses, but it turned out to be a twig. In disgust, she threw it away.
"Ow!" a distant voice cried.
She glanced up and saw a hazy form, rubbing its forehead. "Watch what you're doing," an older man ordered.
Cassie squinted, trying to see the man. "Oh, I am so sorry." Whether the older man accepted her apology or not she couldn't tell. He just walked away, muttering something about the dangers of careless people.
She could hear her companion softy laughing behind her. On any other occasion, she would have found the sound pleasurable, but at that moment it irritated her. She turned to him and saw he had stretched out like a lazy animal of prey that had completed a very successful hunt.
She frowned at him. "I'm glad you find this so amusing. If you were a gentleman you would help me find them."
"I'm afraid gentlemen don't exist anymore. The world is full of rogues." He held out his palm.
Cassie glanced down and saw her glasses, dwarfed in his large palm. She reached for them, but he moved them out of her grasp.
She folded her arms and glared at him. "I see you revel in your rogue status." She narrowed her eyes. "You've had them the entire time and watched me look for them?"
He sat up, resting an elbow on his knee. "Yes," he said without apology. "I like watching you. You look sweet and vulnerable forging through the grass like a blind mole."
"I'm hardly blind." She lunged for the glasses; he moved them out of her reach. She ended up wrapping her fingers around his hand and falling across his bare chest. Up close, she could see the contours of his muscles. She resisted the urge to skim her hands across them, wondering if they would constrict under her touch. For a man who enjoyed food, he kept his body in top condition. Unfortunately, she couldn't say that about herself. Her decidedly round figure hinted at her love of a good meal. No amount of kickboxing or aerobics could alter her shape. She quickly pushed herself off him, aware of how heavy she must feel against him.
"I'm sorry," she gasped.
"No need to apologize," he muttered, trying to recover from the feel of having her against him, the touch of her breasts against his chest.
She held out her hand. "May I have my glasses?"
"In exchange for a trade."
She was immediately suspicious, not trusting the deepening tone of his voice. "Of what?"
"A name."
He was flirting with her. She recognized the intimate teasing and suddenly felt relieved. If he had been solicitous or worried, she would have become flustered, but a flirt was someone she could deal with. Besides, if he was secretly laughing at her she would never know since she couldn't see his face clearly.
She sent him a mysterious smile. "I'm not sure that's a fair trade. A person's name is quite a valuable possession."
She didn't realize how enchanting she looked with her eyes sparkling and her mouth quirked in an inviting expression. She didn't notice the man's eyes darken or the secretive smile that touched the corner of his mouth that meant her fate was sealed.
The man rose to his feet and offered her a hand. For a moment, he saw hesitation cloud her eyes, but he did not want her to hesitate or think too much about the attraction that hummed between them. He lifted her up in an effortless pull. She stumbled against him, placing a hand on his chest to balance herself. Her touch was quick and soft, but he felt as if he'd been branded. His attraction for her was so sudden and fierce that it scared him and he backed away as if she'd slapped him.
Cassie decided to laugh at her clumsiness. No doubt, the poor guy had not expected her to weigh so much. "Not used to a real woman, huh? I'm afraid these curves come with a heavy price." She expected him to smile at her joke, but he didn't. He continued to stare at her. She licked her dry lips. "Your friends are probably anxious for you to join them. Could I have my glasses back please?" Her tone was firm. She was ready to end this encounter for both their sakes.
"Not yet." His voice was odd, as if he was considering something.
She could feel her temper replace her embarrassment. "Listen, I am not in the mood for your games."
"I am not playing any games."
"Then what are you trying to do?"
"I'm still trying to find out what a man has to do to elicit a name."
Cassie now regretted that she could not read his expression. They were close, but he was a whole head taller than she was. She couldn't understand his need to prolong the encounter. She placed a hand on her hip, ready for any challenge he had to offer. He would not intimidate her. "You want a fair exchange? Then give me something I couldn't resist." Hoping to catch him off guard, she quickly reached for the glasses but he moved them easily into his other hand.
"Hmm." He tapped her glasses against his chin. "How about strawberries dipped in chocolate fondue served with a light dry wine?"
She paused. The man was good. She tilted her head to the side and narrowed her eyes in playful accusation. "You've been reading my diary, haven't you?"
He slowly smiled. "No, otherwise I would already know what your name is."
"My name is Cassie and it just so happens that the other day I wrote that the first man who offered me strawberries dipped in chocolate would be the father of my children."
He thought about this, then nodded. "We'
ll have three of course."
She grinned at his solemn tone. "And just what is the name of my children's father?"
"Drake Henson."
"Drake Henson." She tasted the name in her mouth, then nodded in approval. "Yes, that will do."
"And all our children will enjoy food as much as we do."
"I'm not sure. As you can very well tell, that’s a fault of mine."
His voice lowered and she could feel his eyes skimming her figure. "From where I’m standing, I see no faults at all."
Cassie swallowed. It had to be the heat that sent the trickle of sweat gliding down her back. It was a hot day after all. "That's where you have me at a disadvantage. I can't see you at all."
"Hmm, I suppose our delightful companionship will end once you discover I have no teeth and one eye."
"Don't be ridiculous. I'm not that blind. The fact that you have teeth is something I can see."
"Here." He put the glasses on her face. His fingers brushed against her cheeks, sending jolts of awareness through her body.
"Thank you." She glanced up at him and froze.
She had indeed crossed paths with a mythical charmer. His eyes were the color of hot amber, gazing at her intensely, which made her wish she had stayed on her cottage cheese diet just one more week. He wasn't classically handsome. His jaw was too harsh as if life had not always been kind, and although he did not look older than thirty-six, gray was fighting through his black hair with vicious determination.
He was dynamic. A ball of sexual potency. A man that should be served on top of a banana split and eaten with great enjoyment. His smile was more sensuous than wicked, more inviting than taunting, and it drew her like a beacon. His long eyelashes half shielded his eyes as he casually stood watching her. His jeans hung low on his hips, leaving plenty to admire of his upper torso. She must be hallucinating from the fall and the heat, he couldn't be the man she had been so boldly flirting with.
She had flirted with a lot of men, but something about this one made her feel uneasy.
She took a quick step back, dusting off her trousers as an excuse not to look at him. "I'm sorry I ruined your game."
"You didn't. I still caught the ball." His wicked grin turned smug. He took a step toward her, his voice lowering. "Umm... since you like to eat..."
"Yes," she readily agreed, annoyed that he felt the need to mention that. She could easily bury her face in banana cream pudding right now. "Yes. I do and as I said, it shows. I don't have the athletic aptitude of some. It's a good thing I didn't land on top of you. I could have flattened you like a Swedish pancake." She expected him to laugh. People usually did, but he frowned instead. Cassie sighed. Didn't the guy have a sense of humor? "I'm sorry for this... this inconvenience, but I really must go."
"No, wait." Drake grasped her arm as she turned, but immediately let go when she looked up at him startled and annoyed. He couldn't understand why the warm, sexy woman was now looking at him with something akin to dislike. Where had he gone wrong? He knew if she gave him a chance, he could explain it. "Give me a minute. I want to talk to you. I'll be right back. Wait here."
He was a man obviously used to obedience. Instead of waiting for her to agree, he turned and walked to his companions.
Cassie stared at him, watching the easy grace with which he moved, how the muscles in his back worked like a well-oiled machine when he folded his arms. He started to talk to his companions, and one man in shorts and a shirt that read Sports King glanced in Cassie's direction with disbelief. She didn't want to imagine what Drake was saying about her. Probably congratulating himself on such an easy conquest. She glanced away and saw an old woman who looked like a colored negative. Everything was pink. From her pompadour hair, high-heeled shoes, and upscale clothing to the poodle she was walking. Cassie started to laugh; she needed to laugh. Wasn't life absurd?
The woman briefly looked in her direction, shaking her head in a tut-tut manner, and walked away. Cassie sighed, sobering. Who was she to laugh at anyone? She knew she looked a mess. She was a normally tidy person and could only imagine what she looked like. He must be secretly laughing at her. A chubby woman offering to have his children over chocolate-covered strawberries. How amusing. She shrugged. She was used to it, but today she had better things to do than be a source of entertainment. She glanced at the group once more, then turned and fled.
Dara Girard is a multi-published, award-winning author of fiction and non-fiction, including The Writer Behind the Words: Steps to Success in the Writing Life. She loves to travel and hear from readers. Visit her online at: http://www.daragirard.com
Table of Contents
Cover
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Epilogue
Excerpt – Table for Two by Dara Girard
Meet Dara Girard
Table of Contents
Cover
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Epilogue
Excerpt – Table for Two by Dara Girard
Meet Dara Girard