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doorknob.
    Everything in Casey's house spelled disaster. Disorder. Disarray.
    The woman was a total wreck, a far cry from the obsessive compulsive neatnik he'd envisioned. There was no way in hell this scatterbrained woman was a criminal. Why, she'd never be able to find a weapon underneath the mess in her house, much less pick a lock or methodically rob another person's domain.
    He took a long look at the bathroom. Obviously, Casey thought he was a plumber. He couldn't remember exactly what he'd said that had given her that impression. Maybe he should be offended she thought him a blue collar worker. Then again, maybe it was his lucky day.
    A faint scent filled his nostrils, and he glanced toward the kitchen. Cinnamon apples. The smell reminded him of the kind of home he wanted, the kind of woman he was looking for. But Casey? No way.
    Sure, when she'd stuck her slender foot out, he'd been shocked at her perfectly manicured red toenails. A smile eased onto his face. Her sultry voice and that little southern drawl made his groin tighten. The lacy underwear had been a pleasant surprise, and neon green condoms—whoa, he hadn't been that daring since college. But, still, all that shrieking, the colored hair, blue lips, and that green gunk were enough to stifle any man's desire.
    And who the hell was Brick? Casey actually expected him to fish another man's condoms out of her toilet! And triple extra large? There wasn't such a thing, was there?
    Was Brick some stud machine?
    Gabe stood at the bottom of the steps, pondering what to do. Casey thought he was a plumber. Maybe he wouldn't tell her any different. He would fix her toilet and sneak out the door. That way he could go home, catch some much-needed sleep, escape a date with what must be the craziest woman he'd ever met, and still have plenty of information for his article.
    His decision made, Gabe soothed his conscience by deciding that even though he would be standing Casey up, he was fixing her flooded bathroom. For free.
    Getting Brick's condoms out should certainly pay her back for missing their date.
    He could telephone later and leave an apology on her answering machine. That should be enough to satisfy Grandma Maude and the southern breeding she'd instilled in him. And his boss, Hank, would love the article he planned to write.
    Casey didn't know it, but her wild appearance and her son's taste in teddy bear attire had just given him his opening line.
    * * *
    Casey patted her swollen eyelids with a cold cloth and raced toward the telephone, muttering every vile word she could think of and a few she'd just made up. After having such a horrid day yesterday and then being stood up last night, she'd cried herself to sleep. A ridiculous thing to do, she thought, as she realized that her burst of emotion had prompted her morning migraine.
    And to top it all off, she'd dreamt about making love with the plumber!
    Her body still tingled from the unsated passion his broad hands and rough unshaven jaw had provoked. In her dream, she'd rearranged the holes in his jeans in the most strategic of places, savoring each exposed area of flesh with her tongue and teeth and fingers. The man had taken her in a storm of passion, caressing her with beautiful erotic words that he'd whispered in answer to her most secret desires. The only stammering and stuttering he'd done had been out of excitement, when she'd driven him to the brink of desire and he'd panted her name like a crazy man.
    The phone jangled again, and Casey jumped. She was the crazy person! Cursing herself for her lewd thoughts, she caught the phone just before her voice mail picked up.
    If this was Travis, Henry S.' father, calling again, she'd call the police. If it was Gabriel Thornton finally calling to apologize, she intended to hang up on him. "Hello."
    "Hey, Casey, how was your date?" Jenna's cheerful voice was almost more than Casey could handle.
    "He never showed." Casey tossed two aspirin down her throat and chugged a