Single and Searching (9 page)

Gabe's smile tightened another notch. Maybe Brick didn't mind sharing, but he did. He hadn't done well with it in kindergarten. In fact, he'd failed the subject, and he refused to start now.

Thinking about Brick, condoms, and Casey all in one sentence made his stomach cramp. Casey quickly glanced away from his dark look. Had he frightened her? Was she embarrassed to have her lover and date here at the same time? Motorcycle guy lumbered up, his helmet slung over his shoulder, his long dark hair drawn into a low ponytail at the nape of his neck.

"Cycle," Henry S. squealed.

"Yes, sweetie, that's a motorcycle," Casey said.

"Hey, I'm Mike." The guy's all-encompassing look roved over Casey, his dark eyes practically devouring her. The man obviously liked what he saw on a very primal level. Moving closer to Casey, Gate squared his shoulders, unashamed that the other men recognized the gesture.

He was staking a claim.

How had he gotten himself into this situation? He wasn't her date or her lover. He was making a fool of himself over a woman who didn't want to date him because he separated his vegetables.

"Hi, Mike, I'm Casey." She smiled at Mike, intentionally ignoring Gabe's move. That irked him even more.

"These guys your brothers?" Mike asked, a frown making his dark eyes look beady.

Gabe bit his jaw. Casey's face paled. Good, she felt uncomfortable, too, Gabe thought. He sure as hell felt awkward, and he didn't want to be in this thing alone.

"No, friends. And this is my little boy, Henry S."

Henry S. pointed to the motorcycle. "Wide?"

Mike shook Henry S.' hand, making the little boy giggle. "That's up to your mom, sport."

Casey hesitated. If she let Henry S. ride with that maniac, he would have to speak up. The little fellow could get killed!

"This is my friend, Brick," Casey stammered. "He's watching my son tonight. And this is... Gabe Thornton. He's... he's a reporter."

Gabe ground his teeth. He wasn't here as a damn reporter and she knew it. She could have at least introduced him as last night's personal ad date. Single and Searching...

She had to have found this creature, Mike, out of the paper, too. What the hell was she doing? Dating a different guy every night?

Mike's thick, bushy eyebrows formed a straight line. "You doing a story here, man?"

"No," Gabe said. "I'm here for Casey."

Mike's expression hardened as he glanced at Casey. "You've got a date with me tonight, right, baby?"

A nervous expression flitted across Casey's face. "Right," Casey said in a weak voice.

"Then come on, let's go." Mike glared at Gabe and took Casey's hand. "You'll have to wait in line, man."

Gabe grabbed her other hand. "Casey, don't go," he said in a quiet voice.

Casey pulled her hand free and sighed. "Listen, Gabe, I told you this afternoon—it won't work."

Henry S. tugged at Casey's skirt. "Mommy, bye-bye?"

Casey shook Mike's paw off, then leaned down and kissed Henry S. "Yes, little buddy. Now you be good for Brick, okay?"

"Watch Superman!" Henry S. raced across the yard flapping his arms as if he could fly. Dog trotted by. The toddler grabbed his fur, then attempted to climb on top of him and ride him like a horse.

The kid was mischievous, but definitely all boy. He wondered if he liked baseball. Would Henry S. like to go to a game?

"Have fun," Brick said. "I'll have him in bed by two."

"You'd better not let him stay up that late." Casey wagged a finger at Brick. "And if you let him watch one of those horror shows, you can get up with him during the night."

Brick's easy laugh made Gabe dig the toe of his shoe into the ground. Was Brick spending the night? Would he have Henry S. all tucked in for the night and be waiting in Casey's bed when she got home?

Dammit. The two of them were practically flaunting their intimacy in front of him and Casey's date.

Brick and Casey exchanged hugs. "Thanks, Brick, I owe you."

Red colored Gabe's vision. How did Casey repay her debts to Brick? Their relationship was too strange for him to even think about.

Hell. When he got Casey in bed, her relationship with Brick would be finished.

"If you go somewhere, take my station wagon," Casey told Brick. "It's already got the carseat inside."

Mike cleared his throat, impatience evident in his rigid stance.

"Casey?" Gabe's voice thundered with emotion. What could he do? Beg her not to go? Club her over the head and tell her she belonged to him?

Casey's violet eyes brimmed with sweetness as she glanced at him. Her peaches and cream skin glowed with a faint blush. And he realized at that moment that this woman had an incredible power over him.

The power to hurt him.

Never before had anyone affected him this way. Never before had he cared about a female. His past experiences involved fly-by-night kind of women. Although on first appearance, Casey appeared to be flighty, she definitely didn't strike him as a one-night-stand type. But her strange relationship with Brick puzzled him.

Still she drove a little station wagon and her house screamed of hominess. He was totally confused.

Casey's soft voice interrupted his thoughts. "Gabe, thank you for the gift. It... it'll always be special to me."

He swallowed hard against his emotions. Even if Casey walked away from him, he was glad he'd brought her the present. Her face had lit up like a child's, and the surprise in her eyes made him wonder about her past.

Had someone hurt her? Henry S.'s father? But if Henry S. was Brick's son and he'd hurt Casey, how could Casey stand here and act so civil to him?

It didn't make sense. Of course, nothing had since he'd met Casey. For the life of him, he didn't have a clue as to why he'd decided to pursue her with a vengeance. She didn't fit any of the characteristics on his list for the ideal woman. So much for his neat, organized list.

"Goodbye," Casey said.

Words lodged in Gabe's throat. He had no idea how to stop her. He didn't even have a right to stop her. She'd made it clear she wanted him to leave her alone, but something in her eyes said otherwise.

Mike tugged at Casey's hand. "Come on, baby."

Gabe broke out in a sweat as she followed Mike, and he cursed when Mike brushed her hair away from her face to strap the helmet on. Before climbing on the bike, Casey hiked up her skirt, revealing her luscious, creamy thighs. That was the final straw.

Mike's eyes lingered on Casey's exposed legs, then he rested the palm of his hand on her leg.

Gabe's hands fisted by his side and he silently willed Casey to get off the bike and come back to him.

She didn't.

In fact, Casey looked everywhere in the yard but at him. She waved to Brick and Henry S., then blew her son a kiss. She even waved to her monster dog and blew him a kiss.

But Gabe received nothing. She purposely avoided looking at him, fueling his anger more.

Then she wrapped her dainty little hands around Mike's hulking waist and they roared off on their adventure.

Was she crazy? She didn't even know this man. What if he was a mass murderer? The damn guy probably belonged to one of those motorcycle gangs. He probably had ten tattoos on his butt. He probably knew the tattoo artist intimately.

Hell, he probably stirred all his vegetables into one big mountain and wolfed them down in one gulp like an animal. Casey would probably like that.

Sullen, he stalked to his car and climbed inside. His stomach rolled. He'd have to stop and get some antacids. Casey was giving him an ulcer.

What if the guy tried to seduce Casey? His stomach rolled again. Worse yet, what if Casey let him?

* * *

A motorcycle ride.

Chili dogs.

And mud wrestling.

Mike's idea of a fun date differed considerably from Casey's. One hour into the evening, and she'd contemplated a dozen different excuses to go home. Ever since Henry S. had come to live with her, she'd used him as her reason not to date. What a crock. Now she remembered the real reason.

As Jenna had said, most men were scumbags.

"You wanna try it, baby?" Mike whispered.

Casey froze at Mike's words. "Try what?"

Mike slipped his arm around her. "Mud wrestling. It's amateur night. They have sign ups after the show."

Casey stared at Mike in disbelief. "You're kidding, right?"

"Naw, baby. It's kind of fun. Nothing's sexier than watching two babes in bikinis crawl around and grab each other. Just look."

Casey peeked through downcast eyes. She'd avoided watching the "show" as Mike called it, ever since they'd walked in. Mike pointed to the arena where two women rolled and slipped in the thick vat of mud. Hair pulling, mud slinging, fighting, screaming, and dunking initiated catcalls and hoots from dozens of men. Testosterone oozed through the room.

Loud whistles and offensive gestures pierced the air. The smell of cigarettes and cigars hung thick around her. Worse, the man sitting next to her wearing a flannel shirt and overalls kept spitting something black and stringy into a small cup. At least most of the time, he hit the cup. A tiny stream ran down his jaw and he swiped it with one sleeve.

Casey wound her fingers around her soft drink and shook her head. "I... I don't think so, Mike."

"Ah, come on, baby. I'd like to watch you." Mike planted a wet kiss on Casey's neck and tickled her jaw with his tongue. Casey fought the urge to slap him. He smelled like motor oil and through the front of his thin faded t-shirt, she'd noticed an earring piercing his nipple.

And his kiss felt like Henry S.' or worse—Dog's. He drooled like a Saint Bernard.

So unlike the kiss Gabe Thornton had given her.

"It'd be a real turn on," Mike whispered. "And I'll help you clean up later."

Maybe to you, but not to me.
The words were on the tip of Casey's tongue when she spotted a familiar face staring at her. Gabe Thornton. What was he doing here?

Casey's eyes widened when he threw up his hand and waved. His jaw looked etched in granite. His gray eyes were black, and he hugged the edge of his chair as if he might leap up and attack someone any minute. The direction of his dagger-look seemed focused on her date.

"Excuse me for a minute," Casey said, sliding out of Mike's embrace. "I'm going to the ladies' room."

"You want me to sign you up while you're gone?" Mike ran one finger down Casey's arm. "I'll help you clean up afterwards."

Casey glanced at Mike's hopeful expression, stood and dodged a swat on the behind. He was the first man she'd ever considered telling to shave his hands.

"No. I'm not a fighter," Casey said, wincing at her own lie. But his groping hands tempted her to knee him in the groin.

She definitely was a fighter. She'd learned to stand her ground at a young age. Without her tenacity, she never would have survived the streets as a teenager.

Gabe's mocking grin taunted her across the room. Tonight, though, she had in mind another kind of fight, one with a certain reporter who seemed to be following her.

Broken peanut shells covered the floor, creating a sticky mess that made Casey feel like she was walking on peanut butter as she strode toward him.

Lewd invitations followed her, but she ignored them. When she'd lived on the streets years ago, those kind of invitations had become routine. Now they reminded her of a life she'd tried desperately to forget.

By the time she stopped at Gabe's table, fury at all the men in the place had seized her, and she glared at him, her hands planted firmly on her hips. At least Gabe remained sitting down, making him more approachable than when he stood towering over her. Then he had the nerve to grin, and Casey's heart pounded so loud she could hardly hear the vulgar screams of the audience. Damn his dimple.

"What are you doing here?" Casey asked.

Gabe shrugged, relaxing in his seat. "Just enjoying the show." His gaze slid toward the women in the ring as he sipped his drink.

"I guess you would. After all, you are into mud slinging." Anger bubbled inside Casey. She was tempted to pick up a blob of the mud and smear it on Gabe's shirt.

He swung his gaze back to her, his smile fading. "I guess I deserved that. But I tried to apologize."

Casey frowned. "Are you following me for another article? Hunting for more dirt to write? What happened, Gabe? Everyone love the story so much you're going to do a whole series now?"

"No." Gabe looked directly into Casey's eyes, capturing her gaze. "As a matter of fact, my editor did ask me to do a series, but I turned him down. I'm not here for a story."

Casey hated losing control, but Gabe's serious expression frightened her more than the thought of another article. "Then what? You're here because you get all turned on watching these women mud wrestle, too?"

Gabe studied her with heated eyes. Several tense seconds later, he sat his drink down. "Is that what motorcycle man said? He wanted you to participate."

His husky voice made Casey back away. She wrapped her arms around herself in a protective gesture. Did the man have telepathic qualities? "I... have to get back."

Standing, Gabe blocked her path. "I'll take you home if you want." He inched closer, then lowered his voice so his next words sounded like a combination apology and seduction. "I would never have brought you here."

Casey shivered at the sultry undertones of his statement. A pot-bellied man staggered forward to accept his beer from the waitress and bumped Casey knocking her sideways.

Peanut shells crunched beneath her feet. Casey slid then clutched at Gabe's arm, and he steadied her.

For a fleeting second, she considered his offer. She'd be crazy not to accept. One more minute of this loud, heckling place, and she might scream.

But undisguised, raw desire turned Gabe's gray eyes a smoky hue that reminded Casey of hot steamy nights and cool, crisp sheets. She wasn't prepared to deal with the kind of passion a man like Gabe exuded. And he would probably laugh at her naive innocence. For goodness sakes, she was a virgin; he was a ladykiller.

"No, thanks. I came with Mike. It would be rude to just leave."