Single and Searching

Single & Searching

The Author's Cut Edition

by

Rita Herron

Previously published as
Thief of Hearts
, Kensington Zebra Books, 1997

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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.

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Copyright © 1997, 2011, 2012 by Rita Herron. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.

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Thank You
.

Dedication

To Stephanie Hauck,

my Tuesday night support group and critique partner...

~

And to my loving husband of 36 years

who still curls my toes.

Chapter 1

Casey McIntyre had the voice of an angel. But judging from her personal ad, she was probably a lunatic, an obsessive-compulsive, or worse: a thief.

Gabe Thornton had purposefully chosen her ad because of its possible correlation to the ABC robberies, hoping to get two stories in one: the end to the personal ad dating story he'd been assigned and possibly a lead to the recent crime wave hitting Atlanta. He checked the mailbox address again and pulled into the driveway, suddenly attacked by a feeling of impending doom as his gaze zoomed in on Casey's ad.

Antiques, bluebells, cinnamon, daffodils, ebony, fireplaces, grapes, hugs, ice cream, jogging, kaleidoscope, laughter, movies, neverending, olives, pasta, quilts, rabbits, silk, teddies, unusual, violet, writing, x's,x's,x's, yellow, zinnias.

Hell's bells. The woman hadn't written one personal thing about herself, just an alphabetical listing of random words. The list made no sense.

As he read the other ads, all lonely pleas for companionship, a snort of disgust rumbled from deep in his throat. Just when he'd contemplated looking for a serious relationship with a woman, his boss, Hank had ordered him to write this silly piece. This was the fifth ad he'd responded to. And he hoped to God, the last. Then he could concentrate all his efforts on finding the elusive ABC robber before his competitor outscooped him.

"Blast it, Gabe, you're letting the cases get to you," Hank had told him. "Take a lighter assignment. Have a little fun."

Hell, work gave him all the excitement he needed. And Hank called dating women through the personal ads fun? The man had been out of commission way too long. After four dates, Gabe had more than enough information to write an article. Sweet heavens, he could write a book.

Memories of the past few evenings splintered through his mind. He tried his best to banish them. Brenda the brainy mathematician had cut her meat into exactly eight equal-sized pieces. Miserable Moreen had sobbed about her ex and spilled wine on his pants, then tried to mop his clothes with her spaghetti-stained napkin. And Sandra the tattoo artist had offered to tattoo her initials on his butt. That night he'd had nightmares of a giant-sized drill coming toward his posterior while Brenda carved his anatomy into cereal-sized portions.

To top it all off, he'd lost an evening's sleep last night on a commuter flight tying up the loose ends of another assignment. Gabe gripped the door handle to his car with one hand and massaged his temple with the other, attempting to fight a headache. A yawn stretched across his face. He glanced at his watch. 7:00. He hoped to hell Casey was ready, so he could get this evening over with.

Forcing himself out of his Bronco, he strode up the driveway. A reflection of his image stared back through the glass in her front door. Gabe grimaced. He was a mess. He'd gotten tied up in a shady part of town meeting an informant who'd practically assaulted him. During the brawl, he'd torn a couple of holes in his jeans, then his car had broken down and he'd had to change his tire, so his clothes looked even more rumpled. On top of that, the five o'clock shadow of his beard gave him a grungy look.

His poor grandmother would be ashamed if she saw him picking up a woman dressed like a bum. Casey would probably take one look at him and boot him out the door. He should have gone home and changed, but he'd run out of time and being punctual was one of his pet peeves. Maybe she'd ride with him to his house and let him shower.