by Lori Wilde
“Dang it, Al, you made me ruin my art,” Tommy muttered. Frowning, he turned his bowl around, studying the damage.
Since his painting was—put nicely—abstract, Michael wasn’t sure how Tommy could tell any harm had been done. But he decided to snuff out the brewing confrontation before Tommy launched into a verbal attack. Michael repeated, “Tell me the plan.”
Al leaned back in his chair, and Michael braced himself for pontification. He wasn’t disappointed. Before reaching the main point, Al waxed on about life in general for almost ten minutes. Michael was about to say something when Tommy burst out with, “Al, we’re old men. Get to the point before Michael has to bury one of us.”
With a snort, Al shifted in his chair to face Michael. “Anyway, as I was trying to say before I was interrupted, we should have a Big Band Night. You know, get a snazzy group in, serve a fancy dinner like they used to at the great New York clubs in the late forties, and have dancing. All the town muck-a-mucks will want to come.” With a grin, he added, “Great idea, right?”
Michael had to admit, the idea had possibilities. “What did Casey say when you told her?”
“I haven’t told her yet. Tommy thought it was a crazy idea since we’d need some money to secure the band and someone to guarantee expenses if we don’t raise enough money. I think the city could back us.”
“You know they won’t,” Tommy said, setting his bowl gingerly on the table.
“Like you know anything. You’re just jealous ’cause I thought of it.”
“Barrett Software could underwrite it,” Michael said, startling himself as much as he did both men. They stopped arguing and stared at him.
“You think so?” Al asked.
The more Michael thought about it, the more he liked the idea. “Where would you hold this fundraiser?” he asked.
“I don’t know. We can’t hold it here. The place is falling apart,” Al said.
“I think we could use the cafeteria at Barrett Software. It’s huge.” Michael shrugged. “I’m sure my boss would go along with it.”
“You really think he’d agree?”
At the question, the three men turned. Casey stood behind them. She smiled somewhat self-consciously, her gaze skittering off Michael and landing on the two men. “Let me gather the group, and you can tell us your plan.”
When everyone was assembled, Al recapped his plan, ignoring the occasional critiquing from Tommy. When he finished, Elmira said, “It sounds wonderful.”
Al beamed. “I knew you’d like it, Elmira.”
“I always said it was an idea with merit,” Tommy piped in.
Michael bit back a smile. The two men reminded him of high school rivals. To her credit, Elmira rewarded both of them with an equally bright smile.
“So, do we all agree with Al’s idea?” Casey asked.
The group made it clear they more than agreed. “It’s going to be a lot of work,” Casey pointed out. “And Michael will need to make sure we can hold it at Barrett Software.”
“We can do it,” Tommy said. “We’ve got almost three weeks.”
Casey laughed, the sweet sound pulling at Michael. He glanced at her and found her watching him. Their gazes met for a long moment, then she looked away. The look she had given him shot his pulse through the roof. He blinked and returned his attention to the group. What had they been talking about?
Oh, yeah. The fundraiser. Now they were in his element. He knew how to put an idea into action, how to give a plan life. For the first time since Casey had told him about the fundraiser, he started to think it might actually happen.
And after that, he’d be gone. He ignored the unexpected sadness that thought brought. All that mattered right now was that the seniors got their money.
Casey glanced briefly at Michael. At some point, he’d taken off his jacket. As he listened to the conversation, he rolled up the sleeves on his white shirt. He picked up a pen off the table and grabbed a couple of sheets of paper.
“So, Casey, where do you want to start?”
She had expected him to hand her the paper and pen like she was his assistant. Instead, he clearly intended on letting her lead the conversation. It drove her nuts when Michael was considerate. How was she supposed to resist him then?
Casey tried to focus on the conversation swirling around them. When Al and Tommy burst into another vocal discussion, she used the distraction to lean slightly toward Michael.
“Thank you for taking notes,” she said softly.
Michael shrugged. “Just trying to be a helpful volunteer. But I’ll warn you, I’m sure I’ll be an opinionated pain-in-the-butt before this is over.”
She should be so lucky. If he annoyed her, then maybe she’d stop thinking about how appealing he was. “I’m sure I’ll have my fair share of opinions, too.”
“Hey, you two, what do you think about Elmira’s idea?”
With effort, Casey pulled her gaze away from Michael and forced herself to focus on the group. “I’m sorry, I missed the suggestion.”
Elmira moved forward. “I offered a little something extra to the evening. My late husband had a car, a 1970 Dodge Charger, which he just adored. Since his passing, I haven’t had the heart to sell it, but I don’t want to keep it in storage forever. No one in my family wants it. Do you think...” She waved one manicured hand. “Do you think people might bid for a car?”
“Elmira, we can’t let you do that,” Casey said, determined not to let the older woman part with something so valuable. “I’m sure your husband’s car is worth a lot of money.”
“Not really, and I want to donate it,” Elmira said. “It’s just sitting in the storage shed, costing me money. I’ve always thought of that car as, well, as almost magical. It’s what finally made me fall in love with my husband. A car that special shouldn’t be hidden away.”
To her amazement, Casey realized from the approving gazes she was receiving that the group was siding with Elmira.
“What? We can’t let her make a sacrifice like that,” Casey repeated.
“But I want to.” Elmira turned toward Michael. “Do you like my idea?”
“I think it’s a great idea,” Michael said. “But I have to agree with Casey. We can’t let you make that sacrifice.”
A sudden warmth crept through Casey, and she struggled to suppress it. But when Michael leaned forward and took Elmira’s hands in his, her breath caught in her throat. He looked at the elderly woman with respect and kindness, and Casey couldn’t believe she’d ever thought Michael was cold.
Well, yippee and let the cows come home. Working with the seniors was obviously having a positive effect on him.
“Your husband would want you to use that car to help provide for your needs,” Michael said to Elmira. “He would—”
“No offense, dear, but he would want me to do what I wanted to do,” Elmira said firmly. “And I want to donate it.”
Michael turned to Casey. “Looks like the lady has her mind made up.”
Casey had to try one more time. “Are you certain about this?”
“Yes. Absolutely.” Elmira added with a small smile, “Unless one of you two wants the car. Who knows? That car could put a little magic in your love lives.”
Casey refused to look at Michael. “Um, no, thanks.”
“I have an idea,” Michael said. “We could find out what this car is worth. Then after the auction, we’ll pay that amount to Elmira and use any extra cash for the center. Add that money to what the dance brings in, and we...you should be set.”
The seniors enthusiastically agreed with his plan.
“That’s a great idea,” Dottie said. “I knew you were a smart boy.” She patted Michael’s cheek, then looked at Casey. “And cute, too.”
With amazement, Casey watched a tinge of color highlight Michael’s face. He was embarrassed. When the seniors continued to fuss over him, she decided to take pity on him.
“Okay, so now that we’ve settled the car, let’s get to work.�
�� Casey shot a smile at Michael.
After a second, he smiled back—a sweet, sexy smile that sent Casey’s nerves into hyperdrive. Focus. All she needed to do was focus. Then she’d be all set. Yep. All set.
9
Michael glanced at Casey as they tugged the cover off Elmira’s car. It had been four days since the seniors had come up with the idea for Big Band Night, and Casey was just now able to break free long enough to come see the car.
But coming to the small storage shed together was probably a bad idea. Over the last couple of days, he’d found it increasingly difficult to treat this woman simply as a friend. Now, in the warm, close confines of the storage area, his libido was straying in dangerous directions.
Forcing himself to keep his mind on the task at hand, he helped Casey finish removing the cover. He’d found that the more days he spent at the center, the more he shared Casey’s goal. Now, he too wanted Big Band Night to succeed. But not for him. Not even for Casey. He wanted it for the seniors who deserved a center that wasn’t falling down around them.
“Wow!” was all he could think to say once he saw the big black car. He’d never been a car nut, but this one might just change his mind. What had Elmira said? The car had made her fall for her husband. He shot a glance at the wide back seat and bit back a chuckle. He could only hope that wasn’t what she’d meant.
“This is such a cool car,” Casey said. “I can see why Elmira and her husband loved it.”
Michael glanced at her, and despite his good intentions, he felt his pulse rate kick up. Tonight she wore her usual outfit—jeans and a T-shirt. Her clothes were perfectly respectable, but somehow, they did a little voodoo dance on his brain. The jeans were just a little snug; the T-shirt molded her curves with loving care. He wouldn’t mind getting her into the back seat of that car and seeing what sort of magic they could conjure up.
He blinked. Man, he needed a cold shower—make that a dip in an ice bucket—and right now.
Casey grinned at him over the hood. “Do you think Elmira’s right? Do you think this car could be magic?”
Michael pulled his thoughts away from his own little bag of tricks and focused on her question. “Didn’t Steven King write a story about a possessed car? Seems to me that didn’t work out so well.”
Her soft laughter ran across his skin like a warm breeze, further fanning the flames he’d been trying to douse. “Oh, come on, you have to have a little fantasy in your life.”
Oh, he was doing a bang-up job in the fantasy department at the moment. He could see himself tugging her T-shirt free from those tempting jeans. He’d run his hands up her torso, then slowly, with agonizing care, he’d run just the tip of his finger across her—
“Michael? Are you okay? You look kind of funny.”
Before he could stop it, a groaning sort of sound escaped his lips. With effort, he switched his hormones off and jump-started his brain. What had she said?
He looked funny. Funny. Yeah, he’d probably looked like a cartoon character with his tongue dragging on the ground and his eyes bugging out of his head. He scrubbed his hand across his face, shaking off the fantasy he’d woven around this woman.
“I’m fine,” he managed in a strained voice. “Just fine.” Except he wasn’t. He was losing his mind in slow degrees to a sexy little siren of a director. Even his dreams were no longer sacred. She’d finagled her way into them in such enticing detail that he often woke up aching for her.
Up until now, he’d never believed a man could die from lust, but he seemed to be giving it one heck of a shot. Worse yet, she wasn’t even his type, and although pretty, Casey certainly didn’t possess the flawless looks of a model.
Rather, her beauty grew from her personality, fueled by her kindness and humor. Her warmth drew him to her, enticed him into her circle of caring. Just looking at her made desire burn within him, licking at his soul.
He needed to do something about his feelings. The question was—what? A smart man would stop this disaster before it reached titanic proportions. A smart man would back away from this woman—and fast. Well, he might have been a smart man once, but he sure didn’t seem to be one anymore.
He took a step forward, toward Casey. That wasn’t so difficult. Then he took another. And another. Until he stood directly in front of her.
A tiny frown crossed her brow as she gazed up at him. She must have seen the hunger in his face. “Michael,” she said slowly, “I thought we agreed to just be friends.”
He trailed his fingers down the side of her face. Her skin was so soft. “I’ve changed my mind.”
“Yep, me too,” she said. “I seem to have forgotten my good intentions. We should be ashamed of ourselves.”
“Ah, hell, we should be proud of ourselves for lasting this long,” he said.
“True,” she said. “And you owe me a dollar.” Tipping her head, she gave him a flirty smile. “I think the magic of this car is getting to you, hotshot.”
Michael backed her up against the car, pressing his body full against hers. “Lady, you have no idea.”
When his lips met hers, he didn’t even pretend to be a gentleman. He was hungry for her, and he let her know it. It was quickly obvious she shared his hunger. She wrapped around him like a vine, meeting his passion with her own.
It was crazy. It was wild. They were acting like two teenagers in heavy-duty lust. Hands wandered. Lips lingered. The only sound in the tiny storage area was the two of them breathing deeply and murmuring words of pleasure and encouragement.
By tiny degrees, sanity started to seep into the corners of his mind. What in the great blue beyond was he doing? Okay, well, he knew what he was doing, but why? This woman was seriously dangerous to every single plan and goal he’d worked toward for years.
Yeow.
But he figured reason and logic could just wait a couple more minutes. If he was going to do something so beyond stupid that it fell straight into the asinine pit—well, what could an extra few moments hurt?
Especially when she pressed to him harder, and at this particular moment, he couldn’t seem to get enough blood to his brain to form a sentence. All he knew was he wanted Casey. Wanted her with a driving need he couldn’t seem to contain.
He slid his hands down to her hips and pulled her closer. Rather than being offended, Casey shifted even closer, her body pressed tightly to his.
Oh, yeah. Looked like reason and logic were doomed. Flat-out doomed.
When breathing became almost impossible, Casey tore her lips free from Michael’s. For one really long second, she just stared at him. Then reality flooded over her like a bucket of cold water.
She’d gone and done it again. She’d kissed Michael without making the slightest protest. Unless, of course, you considered kissing him back a protest. Sheesh. Where was her mind? Better yet, where were her self-preservation instincts?
“That was a surprise.” Casey slipped away from his arms and put as much distance as possible between them.
“It’s getting to be more of a habit than a surprise,” Michael said.
His rueful tone brought a reluctant smile to Casey’s lips. It was a really dangerous habit.
Glancing at her watch, Casey realized she had absolutely no place to be for a couple of hours, so she said, “I’m late for a meeting. Mind driving me back to the center?”
At first, Michael looked like he might object. Finally, with a shrug, he said, “Sure. No problem. We can come back later and start cleaning up the car.”
“The car. Right. We’ll come back later.” Not if she could help it. She’d come back later on her own and clean the car. No way was she coming back here with Michael.
Silently, they left the storage shed and climbed into Michael’s Mercedes. Thankfully, once they were driving, Michael turned on the radio, and it covered up the complete lack of conversation between them.
It also gave Casey a chance to gather what little of her wits seemed to be left. She simply couldn’t keep kissing Michael.
The man lived and breathed his job, so kissing him was playing Russian roulette. Sooner or later it would blow up in her face.
By the time they reached the center, the tension level in the car was sky-high. After parking, Michael turned to face her. When his gaze dropped to her lips, Casey flashed him a warning look.
“This thing between us keeps getting out of control. We need a strict hands-off policy,” she said, refusing to dwell on how cute he looked at the moment, with his hair slightly mussed. Okay, so he was cute. Oh, all right, he was sexy as sin. But he was a workaholic, and at times, well, a real pain in the butt. That was what she needed to focus on, not how cute he was.
Even if he was.
“I guess you’re right. No more kissing,” he said. When she moved to open her door, he placed a restraining hand on her arm. At her questioning look, he said, “But just so you know—I didn’t want to stop back there in the storage shed. I couldn’t help wishing things would get even more out of control.”
Great. That helped a lot.
“Think of something else to wish for,” she advised him. Then she slipped out of his car and out of his reach.
For the next two days, Michael avoided Casey and refused to feel guilty about it. He was only doing what a sane man would do. After all, a sane man didn’t drop an electrical appliance in his bathtub. And a sane man didn’t hang around Casey Richards.
Not unless he wanted to find himself in deep trouble. Because Casey was soft, sweet, and sexy, three deadly traits in a woman. She made him think things best not thought and feel things best not felt.
Emotions made him uncomfortable. They made him antsy. The feelings Casey made dance around inside him were completely new to him. He hadn’t grown up with kindness and frankly didn’t know how to handle it.
So he’d done the smart thing—he’d avoided her. Not that Casey had exactly sought him out either. Even when he’d hired a handyman to come in and fix the hole in the wall he’d made, she’d just said thanks to him as she walked by on her way to her office this morning. Things would probably work out okay if he just kept his distance from her.
