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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.
    "Did you get that little problem taken care of?"
    As if to betray her, her body tingled at the mischievous look on his face. "Yes."
    Gabe leaned back in his chair. "So, are you going to tell me about yourself now? What is your name?"
    Casey chewed her bottom lip. She wanted to wait until dinner was over. "I was intrigued by your article," she said instead.
    A puzzled expression crossed his face. He was obviously disappointed with her answer. He was going to be even more disappointed when he learned her identity.
    The waiter brought their entrees, and Casey sighed with relief. She nibbled the shrimp, frowning at the way Gabe raked his potato away from his fish and separated his vegetables.
    Uneasiness filled her. He ate like her stepfather, Lou, and seemed to be just as picky. She shivered, tearing her gaze away as dark memories assaulted her. Suddenly her appetite vanished.
    "Don't you like the creole?" Gabe asked.
    Casey nodded. "I'm saving room for dessert."
    Gabe groaned.
    Casey gave him a teasing smile. "I'm not sure which I like better, double fudgecake or strawberries with whipped cream."
    Gabe's fork clattered onto his plate. "Do you suppose we could get it to go?"
    Casey squeezed Gabe's hand. "First, tell me about the article and those silly dates. Did that woman really eat four pieces of fudgecake?"
    Gabe chewed a bite of fish. "Four. Big ones, too. I don't know where she put it." He looked at Casey, narrowing his eyes for a moment. "You want to know the truth?"
    Casey nodded. She thought she did, that is unless he had some more names to call her.
    "I didn't want that assignment in the first place. I was beat. I'd been undercover for two solid weeks with hardly any sleep trying to track down this junkie. When Hank gave me the assignment, I balked. My job is my life and dating through the personal ads: what a crock. I didn't want to try it. I wanted to look for... I thought... well, I've been thinking about looking for the right woman and you know... settling down."
    "I see." And Casey did. Lots of things she wanted to see. Some she didn't.
    Gabe looked sheepish for a minute, as if his admission made him less macho. He was wrong. His admission only fueled Casey's desire for him. She was actually beginning to like Gabe Thornton. That would never do.
    A heartbeat of silence stretched between them, the tension palpable as his gaze penetrated hers. For a second, something otherworldly transpired between them, as if they'd been connected by a strong sensual force. Sensual and almost spiritual.
    Then Gabe cleared his throat, and his gaze slid from her eyes to her mouth. Casey ran her tongue over her mouth in an attempt to wet her dry lips. Gabe's jaw tightened as he zeroed in on the movement, his stormy look echoing the thunder that had begun rumbling outside, and the storm brewing between them.
    "How about that woman with the