Single and Searching (11 page)

"I know, it's getting cold, sweetie. Go put all the worms we saved on the grass over there. Then we'll go in, get a warm bath and have some hot chocolate."

Henry S. ran off, swinging the bucket of worms, dragging the wet dog beside him.

Casey glanced back at Gabe. Gabe flung his hand sideways to free a clump of mud prompting a giggle from Casey.

"What's so funny?" Gabe shifted his leg and shook it, hoping to dislodge the worm crawling up his leg.

Casey covered her mouth to stifle her laughter. "It's just you look so... so different. So... messy." Casey swiped at her hair. "If you'd wanted to play in the mud, you should have signed up at the arena last night."

Gabe pointed to Casey's legs. "Very funny. You wouldn't exactly win any cleanliness contest yourself."

Casey brushed her hand across her poncho. "I know, but it doesn't bother me. You should see your face. You look... disgusted."

Gabe felt disgusted, but it had to do more with the worm than the mud. He could feel it sneaking inside his underwear as they spoke. He jostled his leg and jumped up and down trying to shake him loose.

"What are you doing?" Casey doubled over with laughter.

"It's not funny!" Gabe shouted. Thunder rumbled louder. The worm wiggled. Gabe bounced up and down faster.

Casey's laughter grew wilder.

"I said it's not funny." Gabe jumped higher, smacking his leg with his hand. "There's a worm in my pants."

"A worm?" Casey's violet eyes widened. "Looks bigger than a worm to me."

Gabe's face reddened as he noticed Casey's blatant stare. "A real worm, one of Henry S.'"

Casey narrowed her eyes as realization dawned. Her laughter died. "Well, don't kill it!"

If Gabe hadn't been so angry, he would have laughed himself. He knew he looked ridiculous, but the thought of the little animal on his private parts made him nauseated.

Henry S. darted up. "Hot choc-wit?"

Casey grabbed Gabe's hand. "Come on inside." The three of them ran through the downpour, splattering mud as they went. As soon as they stepped inside, Casey jerked her boots off and tossed her poncho to the floor. Strands of wet, soggy hair clung to her face and lay plastered to her head. She knelt and peeled Henry S.' shoes and rainslicker off, then jerked the edge of her t-shirt up to dry the moisture from his face.

The edge of a pink, lacy bra caught Gabe's eye, and her beautiful bare stomach took his breath away. The idea of her stripping her clothes the way she was stripping Henry S. brought a smile to his lips. The thought of them both stripping appealed to him even more. But having a two-year-old audience brought reason back to mind.

So he stood ramrod straight on the rug. A naked Henry S. slid back and forth across the wood, squealing with delight as if he wore roller skates. Then Gabe froze in shock as Casey reached up and unfastened his pants.

"What are you doing?" he muttered.

His question came too late.

With one swift movement, Casey jerked his pants down to his knees.

Chapter 5

He was soaking wet.

Muddy as hell.

And aroused.

Casey inhaled sharply. Gabe was too big for his britches, literally and figuratively, and sexier than any man had a right to be. It took every ounce of willpower she possessed not to strip those black paisley boxers off of him and run her hands over his body. A tingling sensation spiraled through her in places she hadn't realized could tingle.

At least he wasn't wearing those boring white cotton briefs. Maybe he wasn't stodgy after all. Glancing down, she stifled laughter. Gabe's underwear matched his socks.

"Casey," Gabe croaked. He caught her hands in his to keep her from removing his shoes.

"For heaven's sake," Casey said. "I'm just trying to help you, Gabe. How can you get that worm out of your pants if you don't take them off? It's not like I've never seen a man before."

"Well, of course I wouldn't think that," Gabe snapped. "Not with Brick and Mike and all your other dates!"

Casey winced at his angry tone, but on the heels of his anger rode her own. What did he think she was, some floozy?

"I'll have you know..." Casey halted her next words. What was she going to say? I've never been with a man before, Gabe? That would probably send him running.

Gabe looked down at his pants, which were now wrapped around his ankles. The worm's head peeked under his shorts. He and Casey both noticed the creature's roving direction.

"Worm!" Henry S. squealed. Casey, Gabe, and Henry S. reached for the squiggling bug at the same time, but Henry S. grabbed it first. He bounced up and down with delight as it dangled from his fingers.

"Open the door and put it outside," Casey said.

Henry S. darted to the door, opened it and deposited the worm on the porch. "Bye, bye, Fred."

"Fred?" Gabe asked.

"He names all worms," Casey explained. "We went fishing once, and when he realized the fish ate the worm, he saved it, brought it home and called it Fred. Ever since then, well... let's just say he doesn't like to fish anymore."

Gabe chuckled. "Sweet kid."

"Yeah he is." Casey stood, unable to remain at eye level with his lower body any longer. She'd never seen a man get so aroused.

Gabe was definitely virile. Just looking at his taut stomach and muscular thighs made her pulse accelerate. As for the mystery underneath those shorts, the suspense grew every minute. In fact it was still growing. How could she ever have thought this man a virgin? From the wicked gleam in his eyes, he wouldn't argue if she stripped the rest of his clothes off, too.

"You can't stay in those clothes," Casey said, dragging her gaze away from the thin line of whiskey-colored hair tapering into his boxers. She wondered if it was darker around his manhood. The urge to kiss his stomach and ease the wet silk down over his hips so she could see almost overpowered her.
For goodness sakes, Casey get a grip. You are in no way prepared to deal with this man.

"Look, why don't you get cleaned up in my bathroom while I bathe Henry S," she offered as she scooped up Henry S.

"Uh, Casey, I don't know. I... don't have any other clothes to put on."

That would be fine. Then I could see your entire body. And maybe touch it.
Casey bit back the words, grateful she was holding Henry S. Looking at her son squelched the comment she would have otherwise spoken. "I think Brick left some sweats here, and I can probably find a t-shirt that would fit you."

Anger flashed into Gabe's eyes again. Now what have I done wrong? she thought. She was just trying to be nice. After all, he had saved Henry S.

Or at least, he
thought
he had.

"Okay," Gabe said. He slid his feet out of his shoes and finished stripping his pants. "Where's the bathroom?"

"Bath?" Henry S. asked.

"Yes, buddy. I'm going to let you soak in your tub. Gabe's going to use Mommy's shower."

"Pway boats," Henry S. said.

"Yes, honey, you can play with your boats." Casey stepped over the clutter of toys Henry S. had left, trying to ignore Gabe's questioning look when he saw the mess. She led him through her bedroom to her private bath, slipped inside her closet and came out carrying a pair of baggy, gray sweatpants and a huge t-shirt that said "Big men do it better" printed on the front. When she handed the clothes to Gabe, his jaw grew so tight a muscle twitched in the side.

"Um, I think they'll fit you," Casey said. "It's all I've got." Gabe's gaze traveled to her bed, and Casey's mind took a dangerous journey to the two of them tumbling around on the sheets.

But she banished the thoughts and forced herself to fill in the tense silence by telling him where he could locate towels and soap.

Still, Gabe continued to stare at the four-poster bed draped in lace. Some people might describe her as wicked for having a lace canopy and satin sheets. But she didn't care. When she was a little girl, she'd slept in dozens of people's houses and never had a room of her own. Later she'd crashed in parks, abandoned warehouses and the group home. She'd always dreamed of a big canopied bed like she'd seen in a catalog. After selling her first book and moving into the house, she'd bought the entire bedding ensemble to resemble the one in her childhood dreams.

"I bought the lace at Jenna's shop, the Love 'n Lace," Casey said. She wished she could stop chattering, but an odd feeling swept over her when Gabe raked his fingers over the lace. Although the bed coverings looked completely feminine, she easily pictured him lying in the middle, his powerful masculine body contrasting with the soft sheets, his black silk boxers tossed across the stark white satin.

"Jenna?" Gabe asked as he touched the silk piping of her pillowcase.

"Yeah." Casey cleared her throat. What happened to her voice? It sounded husky and seductive.

That was impossible. Except for her little game of revenge that day with Gabe, she'd never been seductive in her whole life.

"Jenna's a good friend of mine. Her shop is on Spalding Drive. It has everything. Lace, linens, lingerie." Heat crept up her cheeks at Gabe's slow smile. Did he think she was inviting him to her bed because she'd offered him a shower and clean clothes?

Panic quickly jerked her from her fantasies.

"The bathroom's right in there." Casey pointed to her bath, spun Henry S. around and exited the room before he could reply.

Casey filled the bathtub with bubble bath and helped her son inside.

"Boats," Henry S. said.

"Here, little buddy." Ankles crossed, Casey sat on the floor while Henry S. played in the water. The sound of the shower drumming in her bathroom made her entire body prickle with a need that only Gabe could fulfill. What would he say if she peeled off her clothes and joined him?

If he looked tantalizing wearing wet silk shorts, how would he look completely naked with warm shower water pelting his body? Wet, his whiskey colored hair would probably turn a rich, dark brown.

You can't do it, Casey. You've got a little boy to think of. You've waited all your life for the right man. Gabe isn't the right one. He's just the sexiest male specimen you've ever met.

Henry S. cupped a handful of bubbles and blew, spit dribbling down his chin. Casey laughed, remembering when she and Jenna and Jill had become spit sisters. Jill had refused to slash her finger so they could be blood sisters, so instead they'd all spit into a cup and buried it.

They'd been only kids when they'd met, but each of them had their problems. She and Jill had been hurt, lonely adolescents sharing a life of rejection, anger, and isolation while Jenna had struggled with her hearing impairment. Kids could be so mean.

Then she and Jill had gotten caught for stealing food, was arrested and sent to the group home.

They'd both worked hard to overcome that past though and shed their baggage, but sometimes it cropped up, nagging at her that she had been a juvenile delinquent.

No, there was no way she could pursue Gabe. Women probably crawled all over him. He could have his choice. Not only was she naive and inexperienced, but if he knew about her past, he certainly wouldn't choose her.

"Bubbles go bye-bye." Henry S. swatted the water, laughing as it splashed onto the floor.

"Okay, time for you to get out." Casey wrapped him in a towel and cuddled him as she dried his small wiggling body. "Now, we'll get your jammies on, then Mommy has to get cleaned up." Casey glanced at her clothes. "Come on, Henry S. If Gabe is finished, I'll send him packing, and see if I can scrape the dirt off of me. It'll probably take years."

Henry S. dropped the towel, squealed and ran out of the bathroom naked.

"Henry S., come back here." She'd been lost in thoughts of Gabe and forgotten her son's favorite game. After his bath, he streaked through the house and hid. Sometimes it took her half an hour to catch him and put his pajamas on.

"Get Henwee!" Henry S. squealed.

Casey chased him down the hall, but stopped abruptly when Henry S. ran into her room. "No, Henry S., you can't go in there! Wait, Gabe might be naked!"

* * *

Gabe turned off the shower, grabbed one of Casey's fluffy white towels and dried himself. Everywhere he turned, he inhaled her sexy scent. Peaches.

A bottle of peach lotion sat on her counter, peach-scented powder in a crystal dish beside her tub. The scent was driving him crazy, just like Casey. One minute she stripped his pants and stared at his body like she wanted to ravage him, the next minute she offered him Brick's clothes. She'd brought them from her closet just like they belonged there.

Fury swept through him every time he imagined Brick in that big canopied bed with Casey. The bed reminded him of a romantic haven out of a decorator's magazine, completely at odds with her tornado-swept living room. For a brief minute, he'd allowed himself to imagine tossing Casey onto those satin sheets and drawing those little lace curtain things around them so they would be locked in their own private world. He wanted their bodies entwined in passion.

But Casey wanted to deny the attraction. Why?