totally country, right down to the bunnies and bears I collect. I've got homemade gingham curtains while he probably has custom-designed drapes." Casey swept her hand across the country blue and white kitchen.
"And you should have seen me at the restaurant. I made a fool out of myself. I flipped a green pepper on the linen tablecloth. The waiter dropped ice down my dress. Then I left the keys in the restaurant and crawled underneath the car to get a spare one."
"So? Everyone has accidents and forgets things. And you're not brainless, Casey. You're one of the most creative people I've ever met. Look at the book you're working on now. And your other book is going to receive an award."
"I am proud of my work. But it's just that I'm right-brained. He's left-brained. He's an investigative reporter, and his father won a Pulitzer."
Henry S. held up paint-splattered hands, diving for the refrigerator. Casey caught him just before he streaked red and green on the walls.
Jenna shrugged, laughing at Henry S.' attempts to sidestep Casey. "None of that matters, Casey. Now when are you seeing him again?"
"I'm not."
Jenna propped her face on her hand with a sigh. "What did you tell him?"
Casey snatched Henry S. and stuck his hands under the faucet, then flipped the water on. "Other than the obvious, that he'd insulted me in front of the entire city of Atlanta?"
Jenna laughed. "Yeah, other than that."
Casey grinned at Jenna's coy expression and put Henry S. on the floor, drying his hands. "I told him it was because he separated his vegetables." Casey's hand flew over her eyes as she gauged Jenna's expression.
"Oh, Casey. You told him about Lou?"
Casey shook her head. "Of course not! You know I don't talk about my stepfather." She sensed a "Jenna" lecture about to be delivered, so she gave her friend a warning look. "Don't start about him either. We've been over this a zillion times."
"Well, you'll have to hear it again. Your stepfather was an obsessive jerk. It wasn't your fault he didn't like children or messes."
Casey exhaled. "I know. That's why I try not to harp on Henry S. for his toys being out of place."
Jenna turned inquisitive eyes to Casey. "So, what did you tell Gabe?"
"Just what I told you. That it wouldn't work between us because he separated his vegetables."
Jenna stood, pulled two bottles of beer from the refrigerator, handed one to Casey, and burst out laughing. "Oh, Casey. And you wonder why the guy thinks you're nuts!"
* * *
"I guess you'll never know." Casey's last sentence, along with the images of her erotic dream, taunted Gabe.
Was the dream for real or had she made it up? I guess you'll never know. The hell, he wouldn't. He had to know. The question was driving him crazy.
He grabbed a cab and headed back to work. If anything could take his mind off Casey, it was his job.
Suddenly remembering the mayor's press conference and luncheon, he had the cabby switch directions. Maybe the mayor's daughter would help him forget Casey. After all, she fit his description of the ideal woman perfectly; tall, dark, and sophisticated.
An hour later, after enduring the press conference, Gabe begged off the luncheon, his mind replaying the strawberry scene with Casey. Dessert would never be the same. The mayor's daughter did fit every description on his list. But she was the most boring, snobbish woman he'd ever met. When she talked, her whiny voice sounded as if someone had clamped a clothespin on her nose.
Hank greeted him at the door to his office. "Gabe, there's been another robbery." He gave him the address.
"Thanks. I'll get right on it."
Hank patted his back. "Good job on that dating piece, too. The phone's been ringing off the hook. I think we should run a whole series. Maybe you could check out a few more ads."
"Forget it," Gabe groaned. "I don't want to hear anything else about advertising for a date."
"Too late, honey."
Gabe's head snapped up. He stood face to face with Frita the Fudgecake Queen,
"And you should have seen me at the restaurant. I made a fool out of myself. I flipped a green pepper on the linen tablecloth. The waiter dropped ice down my dress. Then I left the keys in the restaurant and crawled underneath the car to get a spare one."
"So? Everyone has accidents and forgets things. And you're not brainless, Casey. You're one of the most creative people I've ever met. Look at the book you're working on now. And your other book is going to receive an award."
"I am proud of my work. But it's just that I'm right-brained. He's left-brained. He's an investigative reporter, and his father won a Pulitzer."
Henry S. held up paint-splattered hands, diving for the refrigerator. Casey caught him just before he streaked red and green on the walls.
Jenna shrugged, laughing at Henry S.' attempts to sidestep Casey. "None of that matters, Casey. Now when are you seeing him again?"
"I'm not."
Jenna propped her face on her hand with a sigh. "What did you tell him?"
Casey snatched Henry S. and stuck his hands under the faucet, then flipped the water on. "Other than the obvious, that he'd insulted me in front of the entire city of Atlanta?"
Jenna laughed. "Yeah, other than that."
Casey grinned at Jenna's coy expression and put Henry S. on the floor, drying his hands. "I told him it was because he separated his vegetables." Casey's hand flew over her eyes as she gauged Jenna's expression.
"Oh, Casey. You told him about Lou?"
Casey shook her head. "Of course not! You know I don't talk about my stepfather." She sensed a "Jenna" lecture about to be delivered, so she gave her friend a warning look. "Don't start about him either. We've been over this a zillion times."
"Well, you'll have to hear it again. Your stepfather was an obsessive jerk. It wasn't your fault he didn't like children or messes."
Casey exhaled. "I know. That's why I try not to harp on Henry S. for his toys being out of place."
Jenna turned inquisitive eyes to Casey. "So, what did you tell Gabe?"
"Just what I told you. That it wouldn't work between us because he separated his vegetables."
Jenna stood, pulled two bottles of beer from the refrigerator, handed one to Casey, and burst out laughing. "Oh, Casey. And you wonder why the guy thinks you're nuts!"
* * *
"I guess you'll never know." Casey's last sentence, along with the images of her erotic dream, taunted Gabe.
Was the dream for real or had she made it up? I guess you'll never know. The hell, he wouldn't. He had to know. The question was driving him crazy.
He grabbed a cab and headed back to work. If anything could take his mind off Casey, it was his job.
Suddenly remembering the mayor's press conference and luncheon, he had the cabby switch directions. Maybe the mayor's daughter would help him forget Casey. After all, she fit his description of the ideal woman perfectly; tall, dark, and sophisticated.
An hour later, after enduring the press conference, Gabe begged off the luncheon, his mind replaying the strawberry scene with Casey. Dessert would never be the same. The mayor's daughter did fit every description on his list. But she was the most boring, snobbish woman he'd ever met. When she talked, her whiny voice sounded as if someone had clamped a clothespin on her nose.
Hank greeted him at the door to his office. "Gabe, there's been another robbery." He gave him the address.
"Thanks. I'll get right on it."
Hank patted his back. "Good job on that dating piece, too. The phone's been ringing off the hook. I think we should run a whole series. Maybe you could check out a few more ads."
"Forget it," Gabe groaned. "I don't want to hear anything else about advertising for a date."
"Too late, honey."
Gabe's head snapped up. He stood face to face with Frita the Fudgecake Queen,
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