disappointment."
"So true. All I know is that I never want to be paired with him again."
Cassie was amazed and too curious to keep her mouth shut. She came up to them. "Are you talking about Drake?"
The woman briefly stopped buffing. "You mean Drake the fake?" She laughed at her own wit. "He certainly fooled me."
"What happened?"
The first woman put her buffer away. "You mean besides him sitting like a statue?"
"Or talking about the benefits of tomatoes?" the other added.
She glanced at her buffed nails. "At first I didn't know why a guy like that would need this class. Now I know."
The other nodded, adjusting her sweater. "A toad—"
"In prince clothing."
Cassie cringed. "I'm sorry."
The woman in the sweater shook her head. "It's not your fault. You've got your work cut out for you."
They both headed for the bar.
"Can I add my two cents?" a little voice asked behind her. Cassie turned and looked down into a cherub face surrounded by frizzy red hair.
"Certainly."
"I think he's obnoxious, arrogant, spiteful, and mean I told him about my great-uncle Walter's funeral up in New York and how my second cousin was found sleeping with the widow of Mr. James Masters and the family scandal that happened afterward but he didn't show one ounce of interest. He actually yawned, he didn't even care about the fact that my mother's third husband ran off with the deacon's wife from Second Story Baptist Church. Now I've always been told what a great storyteller I am and though my stories tend to run long sometimes, okay not just sometimes, but most times, but I'm working on it which is why I'm in your class, which I love by the way. I love your clothes and your confidence I have confidence it's just that sometimes I get carried away while in conversation I'm sure you know all about that since you did that talk about 'sharing the floor' I really am not as bad as I used to be did I ever tell you—"
"You have obviously been working hard," Cassie interrupted, afraid the woman was getting her second wind. "But I suggest you learn to breathe between sentences. Remind me tomorrow to give you more tips. I am sorry your partner was so unpleasant."
"Such a shame since he's so good looking but I've found that most good-looking men are jerks it's as if—"
"You're forgetting to breathe again." Cassie smiled kindly to soften the criticism. "We'll talk about it tomorrow." She turned and searched the restaurant for Drake. She found him at the bar, smiling for the first time that evening, at something the bartender said.
She came up behind him and heard him compliment the bartender on his selection of drinks. She tapped him on the shoulder. "I need to talk to you."
He spun around and looked at her, a gleam of interest shining in his compelling eyes. "All right."
She took a step back. He was like an eclipse. She had to remember not to look directly at him or suffer something infinitely worse than blindness.
"Is that the one?" she heard the bartender ask.
He nodded, his gaze not leaving her face. "Yep. This is the one. This is Cassie."
"Nice to meet you, Cassie."
She pulled her eyes from Drake's. "Oh... uh... thank you."
The bartender smiled, then attended another customer.
"What did you tell him about me?" Cassie asked as Drake led her to a table.
"Take a wild guess," he said as she slid into the booth.
She glared at him. "What is wrong with you?"
The warm liquid eyes turned to stone. "What do you mean by that?"
She hastily apologized. "That came out all wrong." She glanced around the restaurant as if she could find the right words floating around her. "What I mean is, why do you give the impression of being an obnoxious jerk when you're not?"
He rested his arms on the table. "Would you like to order something?"
"No. Drake, you haven't answered my question."
"I'm not sure if it's a question or an accusation."
"It's not an accusation. I know you're not a jerk."
He nodded grimly. "Thank you."
"I'm not criticizing you. I'm just
"So true. All I know is that I never want to be paired with him again."
Cassie was amazed and too curious to keep her mouth shut. She came up to them. "Are you talking about Drake?"
The woman briefly stopped buffing. "You mean Drake the fake?" She laughed at her own wit. "He certainly fooled me."
"What happened?"
The first woman put her buffer away. "You mean besides him sitting like a statue?"
"Or talking about the benefits of tomatoes?" the other added.
She glanced at her buffed nails. "At first I didn't know why a guy like that would need this class. Now I know."
The other nodded, adjusting her sweater. "A toad—"
"In prince clothing."
Cassie cringed. "I'm sorry."
The woman in the sweater shook her head. "It's not your fault. You've got your work cut out for you."
They both headed for the bar.
"Can I add my two cents?" a little voice asked behind her. Cassie turned and looked down into a cherub face surrounded by frizzy red hair.
"Certainly."
"I think he's obnoxious, arrogant, spiteful, and mean I told him about my great-uncle Walter's funeral up in New York and how my second cousin was found sleeping with the widow of Mr. James Masters and the family scandal that happened afterward but he didn't show one ounce of interest. He actually yawned, he didn't even care about the fact that my mother's third husband ran off with the deacon's wife from Second Story Baptist Church. Now I've always been told what a great storyteller I am and though my stories tend to run long sometimes, okay not just sometimes, but most times, but I'm working on it which is why I'm in your class, which I love by the way. I love your clothes and your confidence I have confidence it's just that sometimes I get carried away while in conversation I'm sure you know all about that since you did that talk about 'sharing the floor' I really am not as bad as I used to be did I ever tell you—"
"You have obviously been working hard," Cassie interrupted, afraid the woman was getting her second wind. "But I suggest you learn to breathe between sentences. Remind me tomorrow to give you more tips. I am sorry your partner was so unpleasant."
"Such a shame since he's so good looking but I've found that most good-looking men are jerks it's as if—"
"You're forgetting to breathe again." Cassie smiled kindly to soften the criticism. "We'll talk about it tomorrow." She turned and searched the restaurant for Drake. She found him at the bar, smiling for the first time that evening, at something the bartender said.
She came up behind him and heard him compliment the bartender on his selection of drinks. She tapped him on the shoulder. "I need to talk to you."
He spun around and looked at her, a gleam of interest shining in his compelling eyes. "All right."
She took a step back. He was like an eclipse. She had to remember not to look directly at him or suffer something infinitely worse than blindness.
"Is that the one?" she heard the bartender ask.
He nodded, his gaze not leaving her face. "Yep. This is the one. This is Cassie."
"Nice to meet you, Cassie."
She pulled her eyes from Drake's. "Oh... uh... thank you."
The bartender smiled, then attended another customer.
"What did you tell him about me?" Cassie asked as Drake led her to a table.
"Take a wild guess," he said as she slid into the booth.
She glared at him. "What is wrong with you?"
The warm liquid eyes turned to stone. "What do you mean by that?"
She hastily apologized. "That came out all wrong." She glanced around the restaurant as if she could find the right words floating around her. "What I mean is, why do you give the impression of being an obnoxious jerk when you're not?"
He rested his arms on the table. "Would you like to order something?"
"No. Drake, you haven't answered my question."
"I'm not sure if it's a question or an accusation."
"It's not an accusation. I know you're not a jerk."
He nodded grimly. "Thank you."
"I'm not criticizing you. I'm just
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