by Rita Herron
Well, she'd teach him a thing or two about jokes, because she planned to have the last laugh.
* * *
Gabe accepted praise and shoulder pats for his article, amazed at the amount of attention the fluff piece had drawn. Reporting facts and chasing down crimes didn't bring out his creativity the way this article had. Maybe he'd write a few more.
A tiny flash of guilt niggled at him when he realized he'd forgotten to call Casey and deliver an excuse for standing her up. He'd been so damn tired last night he'd almost fallen asleep at the wheel on his way home. He'd typed the article and faxed it to the office to meet the morning deadline, then crawled into bed and crashed.
Now, here he sat contemplating the ABC case. When he'd first seen Casey's ad, he'd been suspicious of it and even bragged to Lieutenant Harper, his friend at the police department, that he might have a lead. But after meeting Casey, he'd told him it was a deadend.
Casey might be nuts, but she wasn't a criminal.
Chaos in the outer office drew his gaze, and he peered through the glass window of his office. The word thunderstruck came to mind. Reporters, all male, hovered around the most gorgeous woman he'd ever laid eyes on. She smiled and Gabe's gut clenched.
Pint-sized. Delicate. She couldn't be more than five feet, two inches tall, maybe five-three with those heels. Her shapely legs were sexily encased in sheer black hose, the rest of her curves accentuated by the soft lines of her silky dress. His body hardened with desire. Was she wearing a garter belt, too?
Surprise jolted through him when one of the reporters pointed to his office. The woman shook her glorious blonde hair and headed his way. Her skin reminded him of peaches and cream. Her hair looked as if it had been kissed by sunlight, streaked with gold and brown and light shades of blonde. It had to be natural. Lord help him. His search for a serious relationship might have to be put on hold for a while.
Gabe sat down, hiding himself behind his desk. Damn, his hormones were raging like a teenager's. Arousal thrummed through his lower body and would be difficult to disguise if he stood.
The woman tapped on his door and poked her slender angelic face in. It would be impolite not to stand, so he stood, but kept himself situated behind the desk.
"Mind if I come in?" Her soft southern drawl sent heat searing through his veins.
Although her voice sounded familiar, and for a minute, Gabe had the uncanny feeling he knew this woman. He took another look at her and groaned. There was no way he could have met this beauty before and not remember.
He offered his hand and tried to speak but lost himself in her luminous eyes. They were a startling shade of blue. No, not blue. Violet. To his surprise, her slender hand trembled when she placed it in his.
* * *
Casey placed her hand into Gabe's annoyed when her traitorous body shivered with desire.
Play the game, Casey. Don't let him affect you. You're supposed to drive him wild, not the other way around.
But the images in last night's dreams popped into her mind making her dizzy with the sensations they stirred. Maybe revenge wasn't such a good idea. It might backfire in her face.
In an attempt to halt her provocative thoughts, she glanced down, spotting the newspaper lying open on Gabe's desk. Several copies of the article lay in view. Reality slapped her in the face.
Forcing a smile, she prayed she wasn't going to make a fool out of herself. What if he didn't find her attractive?
"I read your article this morning. I suppose you could say that's the reason I came." Her soft, seductive voice sounded foreign to her own ears.
Gabe smiled and motioned toward a chair. "It has gotten a lot of attention. Please sit down, Ms...."
"We'll get to names later, sugar. I wanted you to know how much I enjoyed your work. You certainly have a way with words." At least in the newspaper. Casey gritted her teeth, forcing her smile to remain intact. Last night, you certainly didn't.
Gabe grinned, obviously pleased at her compliment. His broad shoulders rose in a shrug, and he leaned back in his chair, offering Casey a good view of his massive frame. Dressed in a crisp white shirt and navy slacks, he looked more handsome than she remembered.
Obviously, he dresses differently for work.
Then her gaze strayed to a drawing on his desk. The cartoon was labeled The Perfect Wife and featured a cartoon sketch of a well-endowed woman dressed in a teddy greeting her husband at the door. Casey's hackles rose even more. No wonder he'd been so disillusioned when he'd seen her in her robe. "So, that's what you expected from your date?"
Gabe grinned sheepishly as he shoved the cartoon in his desk. "Uh, no. That was just a gag the guys passed around. One of the reporters was getting married so... well, you know." He shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
Casey gave him a saccharine sweet smile.
"Um... about the article. It was a new kind of piece for me," he rattled, obviously trying to distract her. "I must admit I had fun with it."
Casey jerked her gaze from his chest and tried to concentrate on his words, then stroked the silky fabric of her dress and crossed her legs. Intentionally making the movement slow and provocative, Gabe received a smashing view of her upper thigh as she slid her hand over the hem and inched it up. Her plan was working perfectly. Gabe's piercing stare traveled from her face down the length of her body and rested on her leg. He seemed to lose his train of thought as his words faded into silence.
Good, she was distracting him. It was only fair. The man had her brain tied in knots.
"Yes, you're very talented," Casey said. You have hidden talents, too, like sneaking around unsuspecting women and lying to them. "Reading about your dates was interesting. It sounds as if you didn't have much luck."
The muscles in Gabe's throat worked as he swallowed.
"No," he said. "I found some real losers."
Something painful stabbed at Casey. She'd been called a loser before. But having this handsome man call her one caused a low, deep ache to settle inside her.
"Well, that's why I'm here." Casey forced herself to continue the plan. "I'd like to take you to lunch."
Gabe's big hand rushed through his hair, pushing back the thick strands. Suddenly looking hot, he unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, then leaned forward, elbows on his desk, meeting Casey's eyes. Heat simmered in the charcoal gray depths of his. Desire scorched Casey's insides.
"Honey, you can take me anywhere you want." He reached for Casey's hand and pulled her to her feet. "I'll tell my boss I'm on assignment for the rest of the day, that you're here to give me information about an article I'm working on."
One you've already finished, Casey said silently. Her heart thundered as she watched Gabe talk to his boss, a short pudgy man who looked as if he wore a toupee. Gabe Thornton was smooth.
Sexy. Dangerous.
Whether he was a dimwitted plumber or a charismatic reporter, he definitely ranked as heart-breaker material. A man she needed to avoid. Which was exactly what she intended to do. That is, once she taught him a lesson.
"Ready to go?" Gabe extended his arm.
Casey batted her lashes and leaned into him. "I'm looking forward to it, sugar. You just can't imagine how much."
Sexual awareness simmered in the air as Casey and Gabe drove in silence to the restaurant. Casey had borrowed Brick's car, a BMW convertible, wanting to create the proper effect. It worked. After switching the radio to a station playing love songs, Gabe rewarded her with a heartstopping smile.
Casey gritted her teeth. The man was grinning like he was on his way to a harem.
Steering the small car into a parking spot, she slid out, strode to Gabe's side and smiled when he offered his hand. She let it brush over her hip as they wrapped their arms around each other's waist. She had an urge to pinch his butt and watch him jump.
"I hope you like this restaurant," she said.
"Are you kidding? Ray's on the River is one of the finest in Atlanta. I still can't believe you're treating me."
"Oh, I wanted to," Casey said. "I feel like I owe it to you." After all, you left before I paid you for repairing my toilet.
A hostess led them to a corner table overlooking the river. The gray overcast sky outside enhanced the intimate atmosphere of the dimly lit room. Candlelight and soft pastel linens added to the ambiance. Casey's body felt like it would explode with the sexual tension racing between her and Gabe. She'd always dreamt of coming to this restaurant with a special man, but with Gabe she didn't need the ritzy atmosphere.
He could be standing in a ditch and still be sexy.
Good grief. She'd wanted to show him what he'd missed last night. Instead she was realizing how much she was missing by not having a real date instead of this little charade. Every time she looked at Gabe, she envisioned him naked, the way he'd been in her dreams.
The way she wanted him now.
"Would you like wine?" Gabe asked. "The chardonnay sounds good."
"Perfect," Casey said. Wine would calm her. Wine would help her get through this. Wine would make her crave him even more.
"Oh, and a diet soda, too," Casey said. She'd better counteract the alcohol or she'd be in deep trouble, and she'd have no one to blame but herself.
She was playing a game she didn't even know how to play. Writing alphabet books for children hadn't prepared her for being a seductress. And her plan hadn't included the fact that Gabe Thornton made her blood sizzle and her nipples tighten up like pearled beads. She stole a glance down and wondered if Gabe had noticed.
He had. His gray eyes turned smoky, his face tight with restraint. It should have made her feel good. Her plan was working.
Instead, it made her feel sick inside.
At first, she'd wanted to make a point. Now, she didn't know what she wanted, except for Gabe Thornton to throw her on the floor and ravage her. And that was just for starters.
Cursing silently, Casey reminded herself that Gabe had called her a loser. People were wrong when they said sticks and stones could break your bones, but words could never harm you. She'd tried desperately to overcome all the taunts she'd heard as a child. And it had been hard.
Now, she wouldn't put up with anyone calling her a loser.
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.
