Petite Madeleine: Drew's Story (Meadows Shore Book 3) Read Online Free PDF

glass met the table firmly. “Jesus, Cassie, you hate me so much that running into me at a wedding creates a major problem for you?”
    “I don’t hate you. I never hated you. Ever. But I didn’t see any reason for our paths to cross again after so many years. To put ourselves, or anyone else, in an awkward position.”
    “We need to talk, get it all out on the table. Every bad feeling, every disappointment, all the crap. It’s the only way we’ll ever be able to move forward and build … some type of relationship.”
    “I’ve enjoyed catching up, Drew, but I’m not looking for a relationship with you.”
    His stomach knotted, and he bit down hard on the edge of his index finger.
    “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
    “It’s okay, I can take it. Probably deserve it.”
    “It’s just that it’s been so long, I don’t have those feelings anymore.”
    She didn’t meet his eyes when she spoke. Instead, she looked down and swallowed hard, digging her fingernails into the palm of her hand. It was a good thing she rarely lied, because she sucked at it.
    Although she was blinking back tears, there was no way he was letting her off the hook. He leaned across the table. “You’re lying, sweetheart. Or kidding yourself. When you let your guard down, when you forget to hold up the damn wall, it’s like old times between us. Like not a day has passed. I can see it in your face, Cass, in your eyes. And I can feel it in my bones. You wouldn’t be here with me if you didn’t want a relationship, too.”
    “That’s not why I came.”
    “Isn’t it?”
    “It’s unrealistic to think we can just start over.”
    “I don’t want to start over. I want to continue where we left off. I want to work through the problems we had at the end, and put them behind us.”
    They both sat back and took a deep breath when a man wearing a white apron and an Orioles’ cap approached their table holding a magnificent dessert. “Cassie, I heard you were dining with us tonight, and I created something special for you. Nothing like what you make, but I hope you’ll find it acceptable.”
    “It’s stunning! And I’m sure every bite will be to die for.” She beamed at him like he’d just offered her a priceless bauble.
    Drew watched the scene unfold with a critical eye, careful not to display the possessive feelings simmering near the surface. What kind of asshole hits on a woman while wearing a baseball cap with a goofy bird on it, and an apron?
    “Peter, this is Drew, a friend from college. Peter’s the pastry chef here, and if I can bring myself to share my dessert, you’ll taste for yourself just how talented he is.”
    Talented, my ass. A friend from college, huh? It sounded so impersonal, so sterile. But what did he expect?
    “I’m not bad, but not quite in your league, beautiful. I’ll leave you to your dessert. It was nice to meet you, Drew.”
    Beautiful. Damn straight, and off limits to you, doughboy. “You have another admirer,” he said when Peter was gone.
    The tops of her cheeks were pink. “The community of pastry chefs is small in Baltimore. We all know one another. Peter and I are just friends.”
    “I’m happy you found something you love to do.”
    She nodded. “Me too, at least for now. Eventually I’ll open the teahouse. A place where women can meet friends, or do business, but comfortable enough to sit alone with their thoughts and a journal. Somewhere beautiful and frivolous, without a shred of stodgy or staid. A place where little girls can celebrate birthdays wearing hats fit for the Derby and oversized strands of colorful beads, all while licking icing from their fingers.”
    She was animated, and her face glowed in the muted light of the room while she shared her dream with him. He gripped his thighs, hoping to stop them from vaulting over the table and pinning her under him until he’d coaxed every drop of pleasure from her.
    “Somewhere airy,” she continued, “with soaring ceilings and an