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after layer, taking my sweet tune. We made love under a billowing oak tree with millions of stars glittering above us, a soft breeze fluttering my hair so that it tickled your stomach when I lay down upon you."
    Gabe, very methodically, placed his fork and napkin on the table, never once letting his gaze leave Casey.
    "It was chilly, and goosebumps covered my body. You wrapped your arms around me and hid me from the cold. My body was tight, and I was nervous, afraid someone would see us out in the open. But you mumbled such erotic things in my ear that I suddenly didn't care if anyone saw us. Or heard."
    Casey swallowed against the rising tension in her voice. This was exactly what she'd dreamed. And saying it out loud only intensified her yearning that it be real. "I felt the thick coarse hair of your chest touch my naked skin, and it made me go wild." Casey looked into Gabe's eyes. "I'm usually shy, not like this at all. But the dream was so vivid... you were so real... I had to meet you."
    "Let's go," Gabe said in a choked voice. He clutched Casey's hand in his, brought it to his lips, then tenderly kissed the palm of her hand. With his other hand, he motioned for the waiter.
    When the waiter laid the check down, Gabe reached for it, but Casey quickly slipped it from his hand.
    "No, I invited you. I owe you for last night."
    "For the dream? It was that good?"
    Tingles raced up Casey's spine. Gabe's charcoal gray eyes were almost black. She nodded. "It was that good."
    "I want to hear the rest of it when we're alone."
    Casey forgot about Gabe the plumber, forgot about her plan, forgot everything as passion flared in his eyes. She wanted to tell him every detail of the dream and then act out the fantasy.
    The waiter handed Casey a pen, and she quickly signed her name.
    "Thank you, Ms. McIntyre," the waiter said.
    Casey nodded, then turned to face Gabe. It took a fleeting second for realization to dawn, and when it did a horrified expression turned Gabe's face chalky.
    A hollow, sad feeling washed over Casey. She'd never get to tell Gabe about the rest of the dream. She'd never get to act it out.
    Gabe stuttered something unintelligible, reminding Casey of the night before. Her voice was barely above a whisper when she spoke.
    "That's right, Gabe. I'm Casey McIntyre."

Chapter 3

     
    It was impossible.
    Ridiculous.
    A joke.
    Gabe clenched the tablecloth with white knuckles. The gorgeous, sexy woman who had just aroused him to the point of pain was Casey McIntyre? The same woman he'd met last night with the wild hair and green face? The woman he'd verbally maligned in his article?
    Gabe groaned and dropped his face into his hands as Casey walked away. Images of a woman in a tattered robe revealing slender, long, red toenails popped into his head. Following that vision flashed memories of lacy lingerie and neon green condoms, triple extra-large size. Casey's soft southern drawl echoed in his mind. Yes, it was the same woman. The woman of his dreams.
    He glanced up. When she reached the door, she turned back one last time. She wasn't just leaving; she looked mad as hell.
    Every word of the article, every detail of their conversation pounded through his head. He'd called her a loser, implied she didn't have a brain—what else? His article insinuated that people shouldn't expect personal ads to lead them to true love.
    He thought of the neatly typed list of requirements for the perfect woman hanging on his refrigerator and shook his head. Maybe Casey wasn't his future wife, but the images from her dream raced through his mind, and his list didn't seem to matter. The powerful attraction between them did. Answering her ad might not have led him to his ideal mate, but it had definitely led him to his fantasy woman. Only he hadn't recognized it. And now he'd blown it.
    He noticed the car keys lying on the table, grabbed them, then darted for the exit. He'd never groveled before, but he'd get down on his hands and knees to apologize