Mastered (The Enforcers 1)

They continued to eat in silence as he pondered the puzzle that was Evangeline Hawthorn. And more and more, he came to the realization that she was unlike any other woman he’d ever known, and he wasn’t sure what to do with that. Or with her. He was finding himself in a predicament he’d never before experienced.

He handled all the women he’d taken up with, no matter how short of a time it was, with practiced ease. Never missing a step. He performed by rote and his efforts were greatly appreciated and met with delight.

For the first time in his life, he felt doubt over how to handle a woman. The irony wasn’t lost on him. It was obvious that he couldn’t employ the usual strategy with Evangeline because she wasn’t like any of his past women. It might have annoyed another man, but it filled Drake with an eagerness he hadn’t ever felt.

She was perhaps going to be his greatest challenge, and he thrived on challenges. He would have to figure out just how to handle her. What pleased her. Because the last thing he wanted to do was insult her or damage her pride. And pride was something she had in abundance. He admired and respected that because he understood pride all too well.

His thoughts drifted to his earlier acknowledgment that he hadn’t already set a time limit on his relationship—yes, relationship, a word he’d never before used when referring to time he spent with a woman—with Evangeline. Because one thing he knew for sure. It would take more than a few days, weeks or even months to fully learn everything there was to know about his angel. And he looked forward to every moment.

Realizing his plate was completely cleaned, he leaned back in his chair and settled his gaze on what was his.

“That was wonderful, Evangeline. You were wrong when you said you were pretty good at cooking, though.”

Her eyes widened, but before she could draw the wrong conclusion, he continued.

“You’re an amazing cook. I’ve eaten in more five-star restaurants than I can count, and that was the best meal I’ve ever eaten. And the fact that you made it for me only makes it more special. Thank you.”

She blushed furiously, but her eyes shone with happiness at his compliment. Her entire face lit up and he was momentarily robbed of breath at how radiant she looked. Good God, how had the woman gotten to the age of twenty-three before losing her virginity to an asshole? Men had to have been trying to get into her pants since she was a teenager.

But then he already had his answer to that question. Men hadn’t figured into Evangeline’s plans or goals. She’d been too busy taking care of her family and working all hours of the day to entertain thoughts of a relationship.

He frowned to himself as he also remembered one very important reason Evangeline wasn’t experienced. She had no clue how beautiful she was. She thought she was nothing and nobody.

If it was the last thing he did, he was going to damn well make her see herself the way he—and the rest of the world—did.

“There’s dessert too,” she said. “No good meal ends without dessert. I only had time to whip up something simple given time constraints, but you have your choice of homemade chocolate mousse with whipped cream topping or cupcakes.”

“Both,” he said without a single moment of hesitation, prompting her to laugh.

“Somehow I didn’t see you as a cupcake person,” she said with amusement.

“If it’s got sugar, I like it.”

“Wait until you try my caramel Heath Bar pie,” she said in a dreamy voice. “It’s sinful.”

“I can’t wait,” he said in a husky voice that suggested there were other things he couldn’t wait for as well.

She smiled and hurried away, returning with an elegant sterling silver tray bearing two cupcakes and two artfully prepared crystal serving dishes of the chocolate mousse. He eyed both, knowing that if dessert lived up to dinner, he was going to be groaning afterward.

He was not disappointed.

“You’re already spoiling me,” he said as he slid the dishes away and took his dinner napkin to dab at the crumbs that were no doubt clinging to his mouth.

“Certainly not as much as you are me,” she said pointedly.

“Good.”

Evangeline rose, a smile still shining on her lips, and began collecting the empty plates. Drake frowned and then wrapped his fingers around her wrist, effectively halting her.

“Leave them,” he said. “The cleaning lady will be in tomorrow morning. That’s what I pay her to do. You and I have things to discuss.”

Her instant look of uncertainty made his chest tighten to the point of discomfort. He purposely dropped her wrist and then rose and held out his hand to hers, waiting for her to make the choice of whether to take his hand. He was shocked over his actions. He never allowed others to dictate matters. Or allowed someone else to take the initiative. He was a take-charge man. Ruthless even. And yet here he waited for one small woman to trust him enough to decide to take his hand.