Table for Two Read online

  Table for Two

  by

  Dara Girard

  © 2003, 2011 by Dara Girard

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior permission of the copyright owner.

  Please Note

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The scanning, uploading, and distributing of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the copyright owner is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Thank You.

  This book is dedicated to my family,

  who know the importance of a good meal.

  Dear Reader,

  Before I wrote category romance novels, I started my career in mainstream romance. Ten years ago, I decided to write about a character that was a complete contradiction: An overweight, insecure woman who’s a successful self-help instructor. And her love interest? An anti-social guy who loves food and owns restaurants. I didn’t realize at the time that romance heroines were supposed to be beautiful and confident. Okay, I’ll be honest. I didn’t care because I loved this story.

  The characters intrigued me. I loved that Cassie’s rival for Drake’s affection was a fitness guru (the chocolate scene between the two women still makes me laugh). I liked Drake’s sly brother Eric, his impish sister Jackie and Cassie’s sassy best friend, Adriana. I had a blast writing this story. It wasn’t the first novel I’d written (not by a long shot, it was probably book number fifteen and that’s not counting the plays, essays, articles…you get the point), but it was the first novel when I realized my true passion—creating stories.

  For years I’d focused on publication, but suddenly I realized publication was just icing on the cake—creating was divine. Suddenly, I didn’t care if I became the most prolific unpublished writer around.

  Which seemed likely because the moment I put my manuscript in the mail it returned to me like a boomerang. I was disappointed but not defeated. I was gloriously stubborn and ambitious (if not a little insane) and didn’t stop writing and submitting. After a year of effort I finally got ‘the call’ and a year later Table for Two was published.

  It has flaws and I’ve learned a lot since I was a young writer with a dream, but I wrote this story with love and joy and I hope that still comes through.

  All the best,

  Dara Girard

  Chapter 1

  Cassie Graham knew the moment of impact would be painful. She was certain it was impossible to have more than six feet of well-muscled male fall on top of her without suffering a few lasting bruises. She landed with an undignified ooof! on the grassy turf of the park with any belief that grass was softer than concrete forgotten. The impact knocked off her glasses, turning her world into an impressionist painting of hazy trees and buildings. She briefly wondered if all the nineteenth-century masters were just myopic.

  "Are you all right?" the man asked. His voice was unusually kind, which it had no right to be since she was the cause of the collision. His concern made her feel even more foolish.

  Cassie glanced up and two meltingly rich golden brown eyes came into focus, gazing at her like a medieval charm that had the ability to put someone under a spell. She was not sure if it was the expression or the color that brought heat to her face, but something made her cheeks grow very warm. She opened her mouth to say that she was fine and assure the poor man that there was no reason to worry, but words caught in her throat when she glanced down and realized that he was half naked. He was shirtless, proudly displaying his Brazilian nut skin in the summer heat. He hovered above her like a large cat, his solid arms on either side, trapping her as if she were some unfortunate prey. She knew that she was in no danger, but the image of his powerful arms and torso made her wary.

  "Is she okay?" an impatient male voice asked.

  Another spoke up. "Where did she come from?"

  Cassie transferred her gaze to stare at the blurry faces of a small semicircle of mostly half-naked males. She briefly shut her eyes and groaned. Could the day become any more humiliating?

  "I'll handle this," the man above her said. He tossed the football to one of the men. "Start without me."

  The first man stared at the ball and began to protest. "But—"

  "I said start without me," he repeated, his voice firm.

  The group of men mumbled among themselves and left. Cassie kept still. Perhaps if he thought she was hurt he would not be angry.

  She heard the man softly swear as he moved off her with the agility of the athlete he obviously was. Cassie breathed a sigh of relief now that she was free of him and his speculative gaze. Suddenly, his hands were all over her, expertly searching for broken bones or torn flesh. She gasped when his sensitive fingers slid down her side like a series of butterflies. She sat up, grabbed his hands, and bit back a giggle. "Stop that! I'm very ticklish."

  He smiled, flashing brilliant white teeth. "That's good to know." He had a pleasantly deep voice like marmalade on toast. She also recognized a soft musical lilt that suggested an island birth. It reminded her of her extended family back home in Jamaica.

  "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 ent
ire 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.