by Rita Herron
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.
Gabe cupped her chin in his hand. "No. I really am sorry about that article."
"I know." She sipped her coffee. "I realize how important your work is, too. Have you ever bypassed a story because you thought it might hurt someone?"
Gabe frowned. Was she talking about the personal ad piece or the ABC story? "I try to report the truth," he said, being as honest as he could.
"Mommy, wead." Henry S. slapped the book into Casey's hands interrupting them.
"Henry S., what's the magic word?" Casey asked.
"Pwease." Henry S. thumped his finger on the book.
"I'll do it," Gabe offered. "That just happens to be my favorite story. I do a mean train imitation, sport."
Henry S. climbed into Gabe's lap, and he opened the book, then started to read.
Casey blinked back tears. The two of them looked so cozy together. One day Henry S. would realize his father was missing from his life. Then what would she tell him? The truth, that his father had wanted him, but for the wrong reasons? No child should have to hear that.
Gabe pumped his arm up and down, imitating a train's horn.
Henry S. giggled and copied the motion.
Casey's heart warmed. Gabe would make a wonderful father. But was she becoming attached to him just because he was potential daddy material?
No. She and Gabe shared an obvious physical attraction. Neither one of them could deny that. And they also shared the same favorite childhood story. It was a small thing to have in common, but to Casey, an important one.
She'd carried a tattered copy of the book with her when she'd run away from home, and even when she'd been too old for the story, she'd still read it The famous passage "I think I can, I think I can," had become her mantra. That story also motivated her own interest in writing children's books. She hoped her books could offer something inspirational to children as well.
"He's falling asleep," Gabe whispered.
"I know. It's been a busy day. Here, I'll take him to bed." Casey started to take Henry S., but Gabe stood.
"Show me where his room is." He cradled Henry S. to his him as if he weighed nothing, and Casey envied Henry S. Henry S. looked so small, Gabe so loving and protective.
Loving and protective? When did she start having those thoughts? Gabe's entire persona radiated danger and sex appeal, not warm and fuzzy or happily-ever-after.
"Which way?" Gabe asked.
"The first room." Casey hurried in front of Gabe to turn down the covers.
"He doesn't sleep in a crib?" Gabe asked.
Casey shook her head. "He kept climbing over the rails. I was afraid he'd fall and hurt himself. One night I got up and almost tripped over him. He was sound asleep on the bathroom floor."
Gabe chuckled. "He's a handful, isn't he?"
"That's putting it mildly." Casey tucked the covers around Henry S. and kissed him. She tiptoed back into the den, her heart fluttering as Gabe followed.
It was time to get Gabe out of her house before temptation won. Sharing coffee, a cozy fire, and a bedtime story with him had fueled dangerous fantasies for her, ones she knew couldn't come true. She didn't just want to make love to Gabe, she wanted to make a family with him.
Which would never happen.
But Gabe cut off Casey's words by drawing her into his arms and covering her mouth with his. Tenderly, he traced his tongue over her lips, probing her lips apart with his tongue. Casey swallowed her protests and opened her mouth, inviting his tongue inside. Need and desire spiraled through her.
"I've been wanting to do this since the moment I saw you tonight," Gabe whispered.
Casey leaned into him, her pulse pounding. "Out there in the rain?"
Gabe nodded. "Yes, even out there." His hands tunneled through her hair. One hand cupped her face, tilting her mouth for his invasion.
Casey's laughter died, her entire being succumbing to the passion Gabe ignited. She grew bold enough to kiss him back, to test her own tongue against his lips the way he had hers, to delve inside his mouth, seeking, yearning, wanting.
A low groan erupted from deep within him as she wrapped her arms around his neck. At the sound of his raw desire, Casey pressed her breasts against his bare chest. Gabe's fingers traced her shoulder blades, her arms, the small of her back, then the curve of her hips as he pulled her against his arousal.
"You taste like heaven, sweetheart." His hands were everywhere, kneading her hips, pressing her into his hard aching body, stroking her thighs. Shards of pleasure and heat raced through her everywhere he touched. Gently, his lips found her neck. He suckled the sensitive skin there and then traced the soft shell of her earlobe. One hand massaged the underside of her breasts, then shifted to cup her warm flesh. This time, Casey groaned and arched into him, begging for more.
"God, Casey, I want you," Gabe whispered. He fondled her breasts, then lowered his mouth to trace the swell of her cleavage, teasing her nipple with his tongue.
Casey's legs weakened. Clutching Gabe's arms for support, she reveled in the sensations he stirred within her. How could this be wrong when it felt so right?
A small beeping sound suddenly penetrated her senses. Casey's hands stilled in the thick waves of his hair, but Gabe tugged her nipple into his mouth, wetting her t-shirt with his ton
gue.
The sound beeped again. Casey pulled back. Gabe tensed.
"Damn."
"What is it?" Casey asked, still clutching his arms. Her pounding heart felt like it would explode, her body ached with unfulfilled needs.
Gabe rested his head against Casey's breast, and Casey felt his ragged breath beat against her shirt. "My damn phone," Gabe muttered.
"You have to answer it?" Casey whispered.
Reluctantly Gabe nodded then cupped Casey's face in his hands, brushed his lips gently across her cheek and kissed her soundly on the lips. "Don't move."
The moment he pulled away, Casey hugged her arms around herself, suddenly feeling empty, alone and embarrassed. It's for the best, Casey, Something had to remind you to stop. Your brain must have fallen asleep. Your traitorous body certainly wasn't saying no.
In fact, her body yearned for more.
* * *
Gabe cursed the person who'd invented cell phones. Normally, he didn't mind being interrupted. Hank only called if he considered it important. But today, nothing seemed more important than Casey. She'd been melting in his arms, and the damn machine had interrupted it.
Quickly he punched Hank's number and peeked back at Casey. She looked tousled, aroused, sexy as hell, and scared to death.
Hell. He was in trouble here.
Shaken by the thought, he tore his gaze from her and focused on the magnetic alphabet letters stuck haphazardly to her refrigerator door. Something about them seemed familiar, but he couldn't budge the memory from his befuddled mind. He absentmindedly picked one up and rolled it between his fingers.
"Constitution, Hank Thomas speaking."
"Hank, what's up?" His voice sounded like a growl, but he couldn't help it. He glanced at Casey. She'd pulled her knees up to her chin and wound a strand of hair around one finger. He realized she was starting to think.
Thinking was dangerous when a woman was involved. Right this moment, she was probably inventing a thousand excuses for him to leave.
"Someone left an envelope for you earlier. I think you should come by the office."
Gabe sighed in frustration. He didn't want to leave Casey. "Just open it."
"Are you sure?" Hank asked.
Casey stood and paced nervously. It could be confidential, but he trusted Hank. "Yes. Open it."
