Single and Searching (12 page)

He remembered the way her face had flushed when she'd pulled down his pants. How many times had he imagined her stripping him?

Of course, in his fantasies he hadn't been filthy and wet, and he certainly hadn't had a worm crawling up his shorts. But even so, for a fleeting moment, he'd noticed her violet eyes flicker with heat. She had wanted him.

She'd seen his arousal, too. She'd felt his desire when she'd looked into his eyes. That was the reason she'd run.

Did she run from Brick? Hell, he wanted to pound Brick.

Rubbing his head with the towel, he sopped the extra moisture from his hair while venting his frustrations. He had to get out of her bathroom and fast.

Did Brick keep personal items at Casey's all the time? Quickly, he scanned the bathroom cabinets for men's toiletries. Zilch.

Then he peeked in Casey's closet. A row of tasteful but simple dresses and skirts lined one wall. Shoes, mostly casual, were displayed on a shoe rack. Sweatshirts and jeans and shorts were folded on shelves. No men's clothes. Hmmm.

Stepping into her bedroom, he glanced at her desk and noticed a small organizer. On the first page, he read. NEEDS: 35 mm camera, computer printer, fax machine.

Thank God it wasn't a journal telling lustful accounts of her evenings with Brick. A crumpled paper drew his eye and he picked it up and scanned the page, rubbing his chin in confusion. The note sounded like a threat. Who was Travis Satterfield? And why would he write Casey nasty notes?

Then he noticed a box shoved underneath the desk and bent to examine it. A slightly used-looking laptop, printer, and fax machine. Casey must be redoing her office. But why buy used ones?

He dropped the towel and reached for the sweat pants. The door swung open, and a naked little Henry S. ran in and closed the door. Henry S. seemed oblivious to his own nudity, in fact he seemed to be enjoying his freedom. He crawled onto the bed and jumped up and down. Gabe chuckled at the toddler's antics.

Then Henry S. spotted him.

"Hi, sport," Gabe said.

"Mommy find me," Henry S. said.

Gabe grinned. So, Henry S. was playing hide and seek from Casey.

Henry S. stood in front of the mirror, balled his hands into fists and pounded his chest, bellowing like Tarzan.

"That's good, buddy." Gabe joined Henry. S. so they were both facing the mirror. Giving his loudest Tarzan yell, Gabe imitated Henry S. Henry S. tried it again, this time making his voice deeper like Gabe's. Gabe bellowed another Tarzan call. Neither one heard the door open. Neither one saw Casey peek inside. Only her gasp of surprise brought Gabe's gaze away from the mirror.

"I'm... sorry... I called out," Casey stammered.

Henry S. squealed with delight.

Gabe shrugged, forcing himself not to embarrassed by his nudity. He worked out. He had a good body. At least, he hoped Casey thought so. Her reaction made it difficult to tell. In fact, she stood speechless, her face flaming red.

Henry S. bellowed again, his tiny body shaking as he pounded his chest. "Mommy caught me," he said proudly.

"I think Mommy caught us both." Gabe scooped up Henry S. up and swung him down off the bed.

Pointing at Gabe's lower body, Henry S. shouted. "He big, Mommy. Hairy."

Casey floundered for words. "Yes, honey, you'll be big one day, too. Just... just like that."

Gabe patted Henry S. playfully on the shoulder. "Go with Mommy now, sport."

Henry S. darted across the room and out into the den. "Catch me, Mommy!"

"I... I'll..."

Gabe had never rendered a woman speechless before. The idea of her finding him attractive pumped his self-esteem up a few notches. He felt like pounding his chest again.

"I'll get dressed now. That is, unless you have other ideas."

Casey's eyes widened. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

Tenderness for her coursed through him. She was an interesting puzzle. One minute she acted nonchalant about everything, the next minute she blushed like an innocent virgin.

Instead of responding to his tease though, she backed out of the room without answering, her gaze still riveted to his hardened body as she closed the door.

Disappointment filled him. What had he expected, Casey to jump his bones?

He glanced at the t-shirt she'd given him and tossed it aside. He refused to wear another man's shirt, especially Brick's. But he couldn't go naked, so he yanked on the sweatpants. It had been difficult to hide his reaction to Casey, but without underwear and in these ragged sweats, it was going to be damn near impossible.

But the fact that the sweatpants belonged to Brick and the thought of Casey and Brick together instantly cured his problem.

* * *

She'd acted like a fool.

She'd stared like a woman who'd never seen a naked man.

What if Gabe knew?

Innocence and virtue didn't seem a priority to most men she'd met. In fact, none of the guys she'd dated valued it at all. Some had gotten angry with her hesitation to have a meaningless sexual encounter. One man had even called her selfish, old-fashioned and a cold fish.

But she wasn't a prude, just selective. And after meeting Gabe, she definitely wasn't a cold fish. She'd just never experienced this kind of desperate desire before.

Gabe Thornton had changed everything. Now, every nerve cell in her body screamed with hunger. For him. Why him?

"Can't get me," Henry S. teased.

Casey forced herself to concentrate on Henry S. The sooner she dressed him and Gabe dressed, the sooner he could leave. Then she could crawl into a tub and mope over fantasies that couldn't come true.

Only she didn't want Gabe to get dressed. She wanted him to crawl into the tub with her and
make
her fantasies come true.

"Come here, Henry S. Mommy is tired and dirty, and I want to get a bath," Casey said. Shivering, she brushed back her soggy hair.

"I'll get him dressed. Why don't you take a shower? You're so cold you're shaking."

Gabe Thornton's deep voice made Casey shiver again. She wasn't cold. Her tremors stemmed from unbridled passion, and it was all his fault.

He nabbed Henry S. with one hand, then hauled him up against his bare chest. Henry S. giggled and flopped against Gabe's broad shoulders. "Come here, sport. Let's get your p.j.'s on."

"Gabe, you don't have to do this," Casey said.
Please just go.

Heat scorched her toes at Gabe's intense stare. "Go on and change, Casey. You'll be sick if you don't get out of those wet clothes."

She wrapped her arms around her upper body as another shiver assaulted her. "Don't you need to get going?"

Gabe pressed his hand over hers. "I won't stay long. Now go on."

Reluctantly, Casey retreated to her bedroom.

Her room smelled of Gabe. A strong masculine scent lingered in every corner now, by her bed where he'd stood, in her bathroom where he'd dried off, in her shower where he'd bathed. Casey closed her eyes and groaned as warm water pelted her body. Something was definitely wrong with her.

Tomorrow after she talked to her lawyer about Travis, she'd call her friends. A good, old-fashioned, male-bashing party would cure her of this craving for Gabe.

She'd had one more response to her ad, too, some guy named Delk. He sounded normal over the phone, a CPA, and she'd promised Jenna to give dating one last shot. She just didn't see how things could work out with Gabe.

After toweling dry, Casey slipped into a pair of faded jeans and a loose pink cotton t-shirt. Forget the bra, she told herself. You're not exactly busty; he probably won't even notice.

He noticed. How could he not? The minute she saw him, her nipples beaded into tiny hard buds.

And she quickly realized that he'd dimmed the lights. On the floor in front of the fireplace lay a blanket, a basket overflowing with blueberry muffins, and two cups of cappuccino. The flicker of firelight cast hazy shadows around the room and highlighted the streaks of brown and gold in his hair.

"Catch!" Henry S. yelled.

Gabe glanced at Henry S. and held out his hand. Henry S. wound up his arm and tossed a Nerf ball. Gabe leapt over the steaming cups of coffee to save the ball from knocking over the lamp. Henry S. ran around the blanket pretending it was a baseball field. Gabe chased him, laughing as he tagged him.

"Again," Henry S. begged. Henry S. tossed the ball, but it landed in the basket of muffins.

Gabe righted the basket, grabbed the ball and gently tapped it on Henry S. stomach. "Maybe later. Hot chocolate's ready. Here, climb up on the stool."

Henry S. sipped hot chocolate at the breakfast bar, and munched on a muffin Gabe had placed in front of him. Crumbs from another muffin lay scattered on the floor where Dog took his time lapping them up.

"The letter 'b.' Gabe, you didn't have to do this," Casey said surprised at the picnic and the rapport between Henry S. and Gabe. She'd worried about Henry S. growing up without a father. Maybe she'd been selfish in keeping him. As a baby, his chances of being adopted by two parents had been good. But she would never have taken the chance on him growing up in a string of foster homes the way she had.

A slow seductive smile that warmed Casey's heart and, made it flutter wildly stretched across Gabe's face. "I had the basket with me when I dropped by. I figured we'd all need something to warm us up after that rain."

I'd rather have you.
Casey's bold thoughts shocked her. Thank goodness, she hadn't spoken. Or had she? Gabe's wicked grin warned her that he would certainly accept her invitation if she voiced it.

"Let's drink the cappuccino before it gets cold."

Casey and Gabe shared the blanket, their knees touching, his looks smoldering.

Avoiding Gabe's knowing eyes became a monumental task, avoiding looking at his hair-dusted chest impossible. Still, Casey concentrated on stirring the whipped cream topping her coffee. "I love to watch the fire," Casey said, sipping the cappuccino. "It feels so cozy."

"I know what you mean. My dad used to build a fire outside when I was little, and we'd sit around and roast marshmallows."

Casey's thoughts wandered back to her past. Her life had been so different from Gabe's. She'd hovered around outdoor fires, too, but they'd been built in garbage cans where the homeless people gathered to keep warm on cold nights just to survive. Marshmallows had been nonexistent. So had a hot cooked meal.

No fathers around, especially Pulitzer Prize-winning ones.

"Penny for your thoughts." Gabe's husky voice brought Casey back to the present.

The past was over. She refused to remember those awful days. She'd changed her life, owned a home now, had a son, and plenty of food. She was a published author, for heaven's sake. She should be proud of her accomplishments.

So, why did being around Gabe trigger the memories?
To remind you of how different the two of you are. He's out of your league.

"Casey?" Gabe offered her a muffin.

Casey shook off her dark thoughts, refusing to answer the questions lingering in Gabe's eyes. "I was just thinking how great these muffins look. Did you make them?"

Gabe scoffed. "All two dozen? Not on your life. I can do a lot of things, but cooking isn't one of them. I guess my mom spoiled me."

"Sounds that way," Casey said. He probably wanted a stay-at-home wife who kept an immaculate house, had dinner on the table at five, and brought him his slippers when he arrived home from a hard day's work.

She glanced around at her messy den and sighed. Some things weren't meant to be.

Then she remembered the cartoon sketch in his office of the woman wearing the teddy. Now, that part she could handle.

Gabe bit into a muffin. "Tell me about yourself, Casey. You haven't mentioned your family."

Casey tensed. "I don't have any," she said, resorting to her standard answer.

Gabe leaned forward and wiped a crumb off her mouth, letting his finger trace her lower lip. Disappointment shadowed his smile. He looked hungry for more information, hungry for anything she could offer. Her lips trembled as his finger outlined them.

"Mommy, wead story?" Henry S. plopped down on the blanket with a handful of books.

"In a minute, sugar. Let Mommy finish her muffin."

"What do you have there, sport?" Gabe dropped his hand to his lap and thumbed through the books. "
The Little Engine That Could,
a great choice, one of my favorites. Hey, what's this one?" He held up a brightly colored book and examined the cover.

"Mommy's book," Henry S. said.

Gabe's gaze met Casey's. "You wrote a book?"

Casey flushed at his surprised expression. "It's a children's cookbook."

Gabe traced his finger over the title and then her name. His expression suddenly changed. "Brick Dazzleton. He illustrated the book?"

Casey nodded. "Yes. We're doing another book together now. That's the reason he was over the other night."

"I see." Gabe thumbed through the pages.

"There's a recipe for each letter of the alphabet. The directions are simple so kids can prepare the dishes themselves," Casey explained.

He studied a few of the pages, and she wished he'd say something. Did he think her work was dumb? It wasn't Pulitzer material, but she had won an award from the children's field.

Gabe continued to flip through the book, stopping to read a few of the "fun food facts" she'd included.

"I conduct teacher and parent workshops," Casey added. "I show teachers how to incorporate the book into classroom activities, how to use themes in the class, how to teach language, math, and science skills through cooking." She was rattling, but Gabe's stunned expression made her nervous. "I'm working on an alphabet art book now," Casey continued. "I'll have an art idea for each—"

"This is wonderful," Gabe said. "I'm impressed." When he looked up, Casey recognized the sincerity of his words.

His praise meant more to her than he could ever know. "I had no idea you were published. This is the most creative book I've ever seen. You're brilliant."

"Not brainless?" Casey looked away, nervously folding her napkin into a tiny square.