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?
He remembered the way her face had flushed when she'd pulled down his pants. How many times had he imagined her stripping him?
Of course, in his fantasies he hadn't been filthy and wet, and he certainly hadn't had a worm crawling up his shorts. But
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?
He remembered the way her face had flushed when she'd pulled down his pants. How many times had he imagined her stripping him?
Of course, in his fantasies he hadn't been filthy and wet, and he certainly hadn't had a worm crawling up his shorts. But
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