Single and Searching (5 page)

Not ever again.

* * *

Gabe tore his gaze away from the woman's cleavage and swallowed a sip of wine. His slacks felt too tight, the room was too hot, and he hoped it would thunder outside so this woman couldn't hear his heart pounding.

For Christ's sake, he didn't even know her name.

One minute she looked at him like she was going to pounce his bones and rip his clothes off and the next moment this vulnerable expression flashed through her eyes, making him wonder if there was more to her story than a simple lunch. Maybe Hank was right. Maybe being a reporter had caused him to instinctively mistrust people.

"I'll have the shrimp creole," Casey said.

"A dozen raw oysters." Gabe's gaze met Casey's. Why the hell was he ordering oysters? There was nothing like being obvious. Then Casey's lips twitched into a smile, and he relaxed.

"And I'll have the steak, rare, baked potato, butter on the side—no sour cream, and the vegetables steamed with lemon butter," he finished. The waiter started to leave. "No, wait. I'd like the fish, broiled, not baked, lightly seasoned with lemon pepper."

The waiter jotted down the order and turned to leave again. "No, wait. Be sure the steamed vegetables are crisp. And lowfat Italian dressing on the side."

Casey tapped her fingernails gently on the table. The waiter shot Gabe an annoyed look and cleared his throat. "Will that be all, sir?"

"Oh, yes. But please be sure the salad has romaine lettuce." Gabe shifted in his seat as he heard Casey's shoes click on the hard floor underneath the table. He'd had other dates razz him about his picky eating style. Did it bother this woman or was she as impatient as him to get lunch over with?

"You must be hungry," Casey said.

You have no idea.
"Just a little," Gabe answered instead.

A twinkle sparkled in Casey's eyes as if she'd read his mind. Gabe sipped his wine, savoring the taste as he imagined himself pouring the sweet liquid over this woman's body and lapping it up. He grabbed his napkin, unfolded it and laid it across the bulge in his lap. He'd never reacted like this to a woman in public.

"I've read your work, but tell me more about yourself, Gabe." And she had read his work. This morning she'd dug out every newspaper in her garage and skimmed everything Gabe Thornton had written in the past six months. Begrudgingly, she'd been impressed. He was a very talented reporter. "What's the real Gabe Thornton like?"

Horny as hell,
he wanted to say. But he bit his tongue and decided that he really was curious about this woman so he took her hand in his. She'd walked into his office and literally swept him away. He was a reporter. He knew how to get information. He'd tell her about himself. Then she'd do the same, without even realizing it.

"Well, I grew up in Atlanta."

"Ahh, a native. That's unusual. So am I."

Gabe grinned.
It was already working.
"My dad was also a writer."

Casey's eyes widened. "Your dad is Gerome Thornton?
The
Gerome Thornton, Pulitzer Prize winner?"

Gabe laughed. "One and the same. He was my inspiration."
And she's educated to boot.

The waiter brought their food, but Gabe sensed something different about Casey, as if she shrank away from him. She picked at her food and stabbed a green pepper with her fork, sending it flying off her plate. Obviously embarrassed, she quickly retrieved it and refused to look at him.

Why would it bother her to know about his father? Then it hit him. Maybe she was a reporter looking for a story. His father's life was private, and he intended to keep it that way.

"My dad doesn't give interviews," Gabe said, scooping out one of the oysters.

Casey nibbled at her salad, her innocent eyes brimming with understanding. "I don't blame him. I guess he knows you can't trust reporters." Casey winked as she made the comment, and Gabe feigned a smile.

What did she mean by that?

Then he shook his head, disgusted with himself. He was being paranoid, reading double meanings into everything. Maybe Hank was right. Maybe he needed a vacation.

"What about your mom?" Casey asked.

Gabe sucked down another oyster, his gaze level with Casey's breast. The oyster slid down without him even tasting it. He didn't need oysters. Looking at this woman made his mouth water for her.

"Mom passed away a couple years ago." He hesitated, his sigh filled with emotions. "I know he misses her terribly. They were married thirty-five years."

Casey squeezed his hand in a comforting gesture. "I'm sorry. It sounds like you had a nice childhood."

"Yes, it was. Nice and stable. Not like some of the kids these days. Runaways. Kids living on the streets."

Suddenly, a coughing spell attacked her, and she gulped large sips of water.

"Are you okay?" Gabe stood and moved to her side.

The minute he touched her back, his skin burned. The waiter appeared at that moment with ice and attempted to refill Casey's glass. As Gabe patted her back, the waiter bent, and a family hurried by. One of the children pushed the other, and bumped the waiter. His tray wobbled, and the ice cube slipped from the tongs and flew down the front of Casey's dress.

Casey froze as the cold ice slipped into her bra. Gabe's gaze locked with hers. Someone had to get it out.

Horrified at his blunder, the waiter grabbed a napkin and leaned toward Casey. "Madam, I'm so sorry."

Casey pushed the waiter's hand away, embarrassment heating her cheeks. "It's all right. Really."

The waiter rushed away, ran into another customer causing him to drop a bowl of salad into a lady's lap. The lady shrieked and jumped up, dragging the tablecloth with her. Several pieces of silverware and a lobster tumbled to the floor. Mortified, the waiter ran from the room.

Casey laughed. Gabe grinned, grateful the attention had been diverted from this beautiful woman. He hadn't wanted the waiter looking at her, much less the other men in the room.

"I'd be glad to help you," Gabe teased.

The freezing ice made goosebumps shimmy up Casey's arms, and her nipples tightened even more beneath the silk dress. He already knew she didn't have on much of a bra. When he'd patted her back, the damn thing felt like a shoestring.

"That's okay, sugar," Casey said. "I'd like that, but I think we might upset the customers. I'll be right back."

Gabe sat down and pushed his oysters aside as Casey hurried to the ladies room. He didn't need anything but this woman in his arms and in his bed. He hoped like hell that the service was fast and that Casey didn't want dessert.

That is, unless she wanted him for dessert with a cherry like her on top.

* * *

Casey slipped into the ladies' room, her skin so hot from Gabe's gaze that the ice melted in seconds. She retrieved it, dabbing at the damp spot on her dress and drying her cold breasts. She wished Gabe was here to warm them.

Stop it Casey!

Why couldn't she get through one day without a disaster? No, why not even one hour?

She straightened her clothing, at the same time trying to straighten the jumbled thoughts racing through her mind. She wasn't supposed to like Gabe Thornton, but when he'd talked so lovingly about his family she'd felt some sort of connection. Why, she didn't know? Their pasts were total opposites? What would he think if he knew the truth about her life?

Gabe was an investigative reporter. What if he decided to investigate her further? And what would he think about the kind of writing she did? His father was famous. He'd won a Pulitzer prize. She didn't even know her father's name.

Just eat lunch and get out.
Even if you'd met last night, this guy's out of your league. Finish the plan.

Casey positioned herself in front of the dryer, punched the machine and angled her chest to dry the wet spots. Minutes later, she smoothed her dress and pranced back to the table. Gabe glanced up as she approached and the look of desire on his face almost made her turn and run.
Forget those killer dimples. Remember the article, Casey. He used you.

"Did you get that little problem taken care of?"

As if to betray her, her body tingled at the mischievous look on his face. "Yes."

Gabe leaned back in his chair. "So, are you going to tell me about yourself now? What is your name?"

Casey chewed her bottom lip. She wanted to wait until dinner was over. "I was intrigued by your article," she said instead.

A puzzled expression crossed his face. He was obviously disappointed with her answer. He was going to be even more disappointed when he learned her identity.

The waiter brought their entrees, and Casey sighed with relief. She nibbled the shrimp, frowning at the way Gabe raked his potato away from his fish and separated his vegetables.

Uneasiness filled her. He ate like her stepfather, Lou, and seemed to be just as picky. She shivered, tearing her gaze away as dark memories assaulted her. Suddenly her appetite vanished.

"Don't you like the creole?" Gabe asked.

Casey nodded. "I'm saving room for dessert."

Gabe groaned.

Casey gave him a teasing smile. "I'm not sure which I like better, double fudgecake or strawberries with whipped cream."

Gabe's fork clattered onto his plate. "Do you suppose we could get it to go?"

Casey squeezed Gabe's hand. "First, tell me about the article and those silly dates. Did that woman really eat four pieces of fudgecake?"

Gabe chewed a bite of fish. "Four. Big ones, too. I don't know where she put it." He looked at Casey, narrowing his eyes for a moment. "You want to know the truth?"

Casey nodded. She thought she did, that is unless he had some more names to call her.

"I didn't want that assignment in the first place. I was beat. I'd been undercover for two solid weeks with hardly any sleep trying to track down this junkie. When Hank gave me the assignment, I balked. My job is my life and dating through the personal ads: what a crock. I didn't want to try it. I wanted to look for... I thought... well, I've been thinking about looking for the right woman and you know... settling down."

"I see." And Casey did. Lots of things she wanted to see. Some she didn't.

Gabe looked sheepish for a minute, as if his admission made him less macho. He was wrong. His admission only fueled Casey's desire for him. She was actually beginning to like Gabe Thornton. That would never do.

A heartbeat of silence stretched between them, the tension palpable as his gaze penetrated hers. For a second, something otherworldly transpired between them, as if they'd been connected by a strong sensual force. Sensual and almost spiritual.

Then Gabe cleared his throat, and his gaze slid from her eyes to her mouth. Casey ran her tongue over her mouth in an attempt to wet her dry lips. Gabe's jaw tightened as he zeroed in on the movement, his stormy look echoing the thunder that had begun rumbling outside, and the storm brewing between them.

"How about that woman with the alphabet ad?"

Gabe chuckled. "That one was a surprise. I have to admit I was beat when I arrived at her house, but at least I'd saved a couple of kids from the streets. When we finally found the junkie, he had two boys about fourteen working for him."

"And you helped them?"

Gabe nodded. "They're back with their families now."

Casey's anger wavered. How could he be all bad? He saved kids.

Maybe she should cut him some slack. After all, he was exhausted because he'd been out all night playing Superman.

Hadn't she made mistakes when she lived with her stepfather and asked for forgiveness only to be given a harsh no? She'd promised herself never to be like him. And she had to admit she had looked like hell the night before.

"Anyway, from the time I walked into that woman's house, I felt like I'd been swept up by a tornado."

Casey gritted her teeth. "What about her ad? Didn't you think it was... um, kind of clever?"

Gabe's eyes narrowed. "Clever? It didn't make sense. Just a random list of words. It didn't tell me anything about the woman."

Anger rolled through Casey, but she forced her voice to remain soft and seductive. "Oh? I thought it was creative. Each word described something the woman liked. Take the letter "a." The woman obviously loves antiques."

Gabe's wine glass paused in midair, hovering near his mouth as if he was thinking about what she'd said. Then he took a long slow slip, his lips working as he savored the drink, and she had an insane urge to reach her tongue out and lick the wine from his lips.

"You know you're right. I was so tired I didn't even see it."

A small triumphant feeling drummed through her. "Maybe this woman is the creative type," Casey offered. "You know the theories of right-brained people."

Gabe nodded. "Maybe. She certainly was creative with her hair color and her make up. And right brained? If she had a brain, then I guess it would be called right-brained." He chuckled at his own humor, and Casey bit the inside of her cheek to keep from telling him off.

"Would you like dessert now?" the waiter asked.

"I'll have the strawberries and cream," Casey said. While listening to Gabe's barbs, she'd worked a knot in her napkin.

"The fudgecake," Gabe said. "We can share, or we could order it to go."

Casey forced a coy smile. "You know a dessert like this is meant to be savored. Besides, it's very sexy watching you eat."

Gabe squeezed Casey's hand. "You're the sexy one, lady. Now, tell me your name. The suspense is killing me."

The waiter interrupted, bringing their desserts. Casey groaned at the oodles of whipped cream. If she wasn't so angry at Gabe, she could think of all kinds of places to put it. And lick it off.

Still prolonging his torture was fun, so she sucked the tip of a strawberry and watched as Gabe squirmed in his seat. "I'd rather tell you about my dream instead."

Gabe arched an eyebrow.

Casey offered him a strawberry and watched him lick the whip cream off the top, then he sucked the ripe berry inside his mouth. It was the most seductive movement she'd ever seen.