Single and Searching Page 5

  Gabe's hand flew to his watch. A sinking feeling enveloped him. Casey was absolutely right.

  "You were an hour early, Gabe. And I'm the one without the brain." Several long seconds ticked by while Gabe searched for words. Casey shivered as a rumble of thunder shattered the silence. "I need to leave before this storm breaks."

  "It'll pass," Gabe said, his voice filled with regret.

  She chewed her lip while she studied him. "I don't think so, Gabe."

  His chest tightened. "I wasn't talking about the storm."

  Casey glanced away, then opened the car door. "I know."

  He fisted his hands by his sides. Damn. She was leaving. Walking out of his life.

  "Let's try again. We'll have a real first date. Forget about last night. Forget about today." Gabe hated the way he sounded, like a begging, pathetic lover. He took his handkerchief from his pocket. When he cupped Casey's face in his hand, she tensed.

  "You've got a grease smudge on your face. I'm just going to wipe it off. I'm not going to hurt you." The unsteady sigh Casey exhaled spelled disbelief.

  Hadn't he already hurt her with his thoughtless article? He hadn't really considered those women's feelings when he'd written the piece. He'd just wanted to finish the assignment. In his haste, he'd cranked out a creative and witty piece of work. But it obviously wasn't funny to Casey.

  Gently Gabe brushed his handkerchief over her cheek. Casey's breath fanned against his face. The scent of peaches invaded his entire body. Without thinking about what he was doing, he traced a finger gently down the length of her delicate jaw and drew her mouth to his. She tasted like strawberries and cream and wine. Casey's lips were soft and pliant, and if she hesitated, it was for only a second. Gabe's heart raced when he felt her small hand press against his chest. He thought she was going to push him away.

  But she didn't She clutched his shirt with those long red fingernails and parted her lips in a lover's invitation. Groaning aloud, Gabe covered her lips with his own, deepening the kiss, tasting, stroking, teasing, savoring the sensations that assaulted him. He pulled her small frame close against him so their bodies touched, so her breasts pressed against his chest. Desire, bold and strong, thundered through him. "Oh, Casey," he whispered.

  Casey suddenly went rigid. When Gabe felt her withdrawal, he fought the disappointment building inside. Gently, he brushed his lips against hers, then ended the kiss, dropping his forehead against her head while their breathing steadied.

  Casey's hands trembled against his chest as she pushed away, and Gabe took pleasure in the realization that she had been affected by the kiss almost as much as he had.

  "It won't work, Gabe," Casey whispered. "Now that I've met you, I know that."

  Gabe clenched his jaw. "What do you mean, now you've met me? I'm not the jerk you think I am."

  Casey arched an eyebrow and eased his hands away from her. "Maybe. Maybe not. But it still wouldn't work."

  "Why the hell not?" Maybe if he kissed her again, she'd realize they couldn't walk away from each other without exploring this powerful chemistry between them.

  Gabe reached for Casey's arm, but she shoved his hand away.

  "Please. Something's happening between us, Casey. I know you feel it, too."

  "No, Gabe."

  Casey's denial irked him. How could she say that when he'd felt her tremble in his arms? Hadn't she opened her mouth and willingly offered herself to his sweet invasion? Had it all been a game of revenge? "So, you're telling me you aren't attracted to me?"

  Casey feigned indifference but a sliver of desire flashed in her eyes. "It doesn't matter, Gabe. It just wouldn't work."

  "I'm just asking for a date, Casey," Gabe said through clenched teeth. "A chance to get to know each other."

  "We already know enough."

  "Maybe our first impressions were wrong. I'm big enough to admit when I've made a mistake."

  "Good. Maybe you can write an article on it." Casey flung her hand up in the air. "But I have to go."

  "Why won't you see me?" he asked again, bristling at the mention of another article. He'd never pushed a woman before. Why was he doing it now?

  Casey caught her bottom lip between her teeth. "Because you... you separate your vegetables."

  Gabe froze. "My... vegetables?"

  Casey clasped her hands together. "Yes, you separate them. You won't let your food touch."

  "You won't date me because I separate my food? That's the most ludicrous thing I've ever heard."

  Casey's eyes bore into his. "Well, it's just the kind of thing you should expect from a brainless, weird loser."

  Her words halted Gabe's next comment. Thank God. He'd have sunk himself in further.

  Casey slid into the seat.

  Gabe leaned over so his face was only inches from hers and held the door open. Casey gripped the steering wheel and stared out the window. All the anger faded from his voice as he watched the tension gather in her shoulders. He wanted to massage it away, but she'd balked every time he touched her.

  "Look, I really am sorry. I want you to believe that."

  "It's over, Gabe, apology accepted. Let's just forget it."

  Casey's comment felt like a sharp kick. It wasn't over. She had a right to be angry, but she couldn't deny the attraction between them.

  And she was lying. It wasn't because he separated his damn vegetables. She looked terrified.

  "It's not over, Casey. If you think I can forget you after today, you're wrong."

  Casey tugged at the door to shut it. "Let me go, please."

  The distress in Casey's voice almost made him back off, but he refused to give up. "Just tell me one thing," he said softly.

  "What?" In that one word, Gabe recognized fear.

  "Was the dream real? Did you make that up just to torment me, or was it real?"

  Casey glanced around the car, anywhere but at him. When she finally turned to face him, anger and hurt glittered in the violet depths of her eyes.

  "You'd like for me to tell you that it was real, wouldn't you? You'd like to hear that while you were home making fun of me, I was in bed dreaming about sleeping with you?"

  Gabe didn't move a muscle. He forced his face to remain stoic so he wouldn't give away his thoughts. His insides burned with memories of her erotic words. Of course, he wanted her to say that. What man wouldn't?

  Maybe he was the crazy one.

  Casey shoved the key into the ignition. Her voice came out low and strained. "I can't do that, Gabe."

  Gabe's heart pounded. "You can't because it isn't true, or because you refuse to?"

  Casey started the engine. "I guess that's something you'll never know." She closed the door, gunned the engine and peeled out of the parking lot just as a bolt of lightning struck the sky.

  * * *

  "Mommy crying?" Henry S. patted various kinds of cereal onto the glue-streaked paper.

  "No, Mommy's fine," Casey said, swiping at her eyes. "That's good, Henry S. When you finish that, we'll dip the cookie cutters and toy cars in paint and make prints."

  Jenna pulled up a stool, munching on chips as she watched the mother-son art project. "I can't believe you teased the guy that way, Casey. He deserved it, but you're usually so... so shy with guys."

  Casey groaned and mopped up a glob of glue running across the counter. "On the paper, Henry S." She glanced at Jenna. "Don't remind me. I can't believe it either. I felt like a different person when I was with him. I mean he looked so turned on that it just got me turned on." It was just like in my dream. Except better.

  Jenna chuckled, her red ponytail swinging wildly, her green eyes widening. "Uh-huh. So that's the way it goes."

  Casey wrinkled her nose. "What do you mean by that?"

  "Exactly how cute is this guy, Casey?"

  Casey guided Henry S. to the paint and helped him choose a toy car, then instructed him how to make car prints. Then she flipped her computer screen toward Jenna.

  "On a scale of one to ten, I
'd say a three-thousand on sex appeal, five-thousand on heartbreaker material."

  Jenna gasped "Oh, my god, he is hot. If he wants to see you again, why not give him a chance?"

  "You know why not. I told you about his father. And besides, he thinks I'm brainless. What if he found out I was a juvenile delinquent? A teenage thief. There's Henry S., too. He probably wouldn't want to get tangled up with a woman involved in a custody battle with a known gambler."

  "Maybe, maybe not." Jenna twisted her ponytail around one finger. "By the way, have you heard from Travis again?"

  Casey picked up a letter and waved it in the air. "I got this today. A little warning note that I'll be sorry if I don't give him Henry S."

  Jenna sighed. "That creep is the worst. Maybe Gabe would help you."

  "I don't need anyone's help," Casey said, tapping her fingernails against the white counter. "Besides, I'm just not Gabe Thornton's type. He needs someone classy and sophisticated. Look at me and my house. I'm totally country, right down to the bunnies and bears I collect. I've got homemade gingham curtains while he probably has custom-designed drapes." Casey swept her hand across the country blue and white kitchen.

  "And you should have seen me at the restaurant. I made a fool out of myself. I flipped a green pepper on the linen tablecloth. The waiter dropped ice down my dress. Then I left the keys in the restaurant and crawled underneath the car to get a spare one."

  "So? Everyone has accidents and forgets things. And you're not brainless, Casey. You're one of the most creative people I've ever met. Look at the book you're working on now. And your other book is going to receive an award."

  "I am proud of my work. But it's just that I'm right-brained. He's left-brained. He's an investigative reporter, and his father won a Pulitzer."

  Henry S. held up paint-splattered hands, diving for the refrigerator. Casey caught him just before he streaked red and green on the walls.

  Jenna shrugged, laughing at Henry S.' attempts to sidestep Casey. "None of that matters, Casey. Now when are you seeing him again?"

  "I'm not."

  Jenna propped her face on her hand with a sigh. "What did you tell him?"

  Casey snatched Henry S. and stuck his hands under the faucet, then flipped the water on. "Other than the obvious, that he'd insulted me in front of the entire city of Atlanta?"

  Jenna laughed. "Yeah, other than that."

  Casey grinned at Jenna's coy expression and put Henry S. on the floor, drying his hands. "I told him it was because he separated his vegetables." Casey's hand flew over her eyes as she gauged Jenna's expression.

  "Oh, Casey. You told him about Lou?"

  Casey shook her head. "Of course not! You know I don't talk about my stepfather." She sensed a "Jenna" lecture about to be delivered, so she gave her friend a warning look. "Don't start about him either. We've been over this a zillion times."

  "Well, you'll have to hear it again. Your stepfather was an obsessive jerk. It wasn't your fault he didn't like children or messes."

  Casey exhaled. "I know. That's why I try not to harp on Henry S. for his toys being out of place."

  Jenna turned inquisitive eyes to Casey. "So, what did you tell Gabe?"

  "Just what I told you. That it wouldn't work between us because he separated his vegetables."

  Jenna stood, pulled two bottles of beer from the refrigerator, handed one to Casey, and burst out laughing. "Oh, Casey. And you wonder why the guy thinks you're nuts!"

  * * *

  "I guess you'll never know." Casey's last sentence, along with the images of her erotic dream, taunted Gabe.

  Was the dream for real or had she made it up? I guess you'll never know. The hell, he wouldn't. He had to know. The question was driving him crazy.

  He grabbed a cab and headed back to work. If anything could take his mind off Casey, it was his job.

  Suddenly remembering the mayor's press conference and luncheon, he had the cabby switch directions. Maybe the mayor's daughter would help him forget Casey. After all, she fit his description of the ideal woman perfectly; tall, dark, and sophisticated.

  An hour later, after enduring the press conference, Gabe begged off the luncheon, his mind replaying the strawberry scene with Casey. Dessert would never be the same. The mayor's daughter did fit every description on his list. But she was the most boring, snobbish woman he'd ever met. When she talked, her whiny voice sounded as if someone had clamped a clothespin on her nose.

  Hank greeted him at the door to his office. "Gabe, there's been another robbery." He gave him the address.

  "Thanks. I'll get right on it."

  Hank patted his back. "Good job on that dating piece, too. The phone's been ringing off the hook. I think we should run a whole series. Maybe you could check out a few more ads."

  "Forget it," Gabe groaned. "I don't want to hear anything else about advertising for a date."

  "Too late, honey."

  Gabe's head snapped up. He stood face to face with Frita the Fudgecake Queen, holding an entire chocolate cake in one hand.

  "I thought you might like this one to replace the one you bought me." Frita's steely black eyes raked over him.

  Before Gabe could dodge, the cake came flying toward him, hitting him in the face.

  Gabe yelped, then wiped whipped cream away from his eyes and face, licking away some of the thick goop around his mouth. Howls of laughter erupted from the outer offices. He glanced up through cake splattered lashes to see his cohorts doubled over, enjoying the show. "Thanks, Frita. It's real tasty," Gabe muttered, fingering a piece of icing from his lip. One hand mopped off a hunk of chocolate wedged in his hair, and he dropped it into the trash. Still, hot fudge dribbled down his neck and seeped into the collar of his shirt.

  "Another message came for you," Hank said as he shoved a fax of tattoo designs toward him.

  Gabe groaned as he read the paper. "Great, a gift certificate for a tattoo from Sandra. Just what I need."

  "She included sample drawings of her favorites and suggestions for places to put them, too." Hank hooted with laughter.

  A sob broke through the laughter. Gabe wheeled around, instantly recognizing miserable Maureen's cries.

  "I thought my ex was bad, but at least he didn't slander me in the newspaper." Maureen rushed forward and started beating him with a rolled-up paper, mashing the cake all over his shirt.

  "Listen, I'm sorry, ladies." Gabe covered his face to ward off the blows. Cake crumbs dropped onto the floor. His shoes squished into the gooey mess as he backed away.

  Maureen bellowed.

  "Maureen, don't cry. He's not worth it." Frita took Maureen in her arms, comforting her.

  Gabe dragged his handkerchief out to offer it to Maureen, but recognized Casey's scent and shoved it back in his pocket. Quickly, he retrieved a box of tissues for her instead. "So where's Brenda?" he muttered, checking behind the door.

  "I'm right here, sweetheart."

  Gabe froze, bracing for another attack, but to his surprise, Brenda rushed forward and kissed him. "Thank you so much."

  "What?"

  "I've never had publicity like this before." Brenda beamed with excitement. "I've always been the brainiac. Even though what you said about me wasn't flattering, it shook Harry up."

  "Harry?" Gabe wiped his ears, wondering if he had a piece of cake stuck inside.

  "Harry is my fiancé!" Brenda waved her hand, a diamond glittering. "That is, he is now, because of you! He was so jealous when he read the article and realized I'd gone out with someone else that he ran out and bought me a ring. See!"

  Frita and Maureen hugged Brenda, screaming congratulations.

  Gabe inched toward the door. Why had he come back here? This place was a madhouse. He certainly wouldn't get any more work done today. And he would never understand the female psyche. These three women had never met, and here they were crying over Brenda's engagement.

  Hank chuckled as he made a break for the door. Once outside, Gabe decided he didn't care if he
ever figured out the female population.

  The memory of Casey's angelic face stopped him short. She was the only woman who mattered.

  He had to make Casey McIntyre fall in love with him.

  Well, no, maybe not love. He had to make her forgive him.

  No. He definitely wanted more than forgiveness.

  He wanted her to look up at him with admiration. He wanted her to like him. No.

  He wanted more than that.

  He wanted her to lust for him.

  He wanted her in his bed.

  He wanted her arms around him, her naked body writhing beneath his. He wanted her calling his name over and over in a fit of passion until she screamed with pleasure.

  At least once.

  No, he wanted more than once.

  At least a dozen times. Maybe a hundred.

  The words Casey said about her own ad sprang to mind. "I think the woman was very clever and creative. She used the alphabet to tell you things she liked." Hmm, the letter "a." Casey liked antiques.

  An idea suddenly struck him, and he headed to the car on a mission.

  He knew exactly what he was going to do. First he had to clean up, then check out the robbery scene. Then he would woo Casey with her own words.

  * * *

  Gabe knocked on the door of the small house, hoping this lead would help him solve the alphabet robber case and give him the story he needed.

  The door swung open and a tiny frail man wearing what looked to be a woman's pink chenille robe and purple slippers, shuffled forward.

  "What you want, mister?"

  Gabe stifled his surprise by clearing his throat, his gaze scanning the room. "I'm a reporter investigating this latest string of robberies."

  The old man grunted and wiped a gnarled hand over his wrinkled face. "Police done been here."

  "This will just take a minute."

  The old man tightened the lacy sash around his waist.

  Gabe sniffed. Was the man wearing perfume? The scent seemed familiar but he couldn't place it. "Can I ask your name, sir?"

  "Name's Carla. I was Carl fifty years; I plan to spend the next fifty as a woman."

  Gabe almost choked in surprise. "Okay, well, ma'am, can you tell me what was stolen?"