Real Men Sell Bras

Real Men Sell Bras

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Cathy McDavid

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Dear Reader,

Here we are again. September, summer is coming to an end and the early morning dew coats the grass and with it comes a fresh smell that brings forth beginnings of early fall. We have a varied selection of books for you to enjoy this month, so sit back and check out the sneak peak. From Our Isis Reprints come Dream Angel and Dream Dancer from Denise Dietz. Both are set against an exotic backdrop of a 19th Century Circus. Then there’s Australian author Anna Jacobs writing as Sophie Jaye, Marrying a Stranger. A delightful story about a marriage of convenience. From Cathy McDavid Real Men Sell Bras for C’est La Vie! A quirky contemporary. From Amethyst Inferno this month we bring you three sizzling hot tales. These stories are sure to increase the heat. Lynn Warren brings us Eternal Flame a wickedly devilish Vampire that will have your pulses racing and the first in a Trilogy about The Blackthorn Triplets. Stolen Courage comes to us from Rae Monet. This story will have you running through a gamut of emotions. It’s highly sensual, deeply emotional with a fine dose of suspense. Just to keep you on the edge of your seat. From Shelly Laurenston comes a fantasy tale To Challenge A Dragon a spunky heroine and a sexy shapeshifting dragon will keep you delightfully entertained. This month for Amethyst Flashburn we have Trail Boss by Julia Templeton. A smoldering hot contemporary set on a dude ranch. This one is for all you Cowboy lovers. Finally, Amethyst Flame Kally Jo Surbeck a medieval fantasy, Sudden Fall. A princess has to find her soul-mate or her kingdom will be lost. This is the first of two books in the Yadderwal Balance series. And don’t forget, Operation: Pleiades & The Curse of the Midnight Star continue this month. Well, we have something to suit everyone’s tastes. I hope you enjoy September’s releases and come for more.

Gail Northman Editor: Triskelion Publishing

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REAL MEN SELL BRAS by Cathy McDavid Triskelion Publishing www.triskelionpublishing.com

Published by Triskelion Publishing www.triskelionpublishing.com 8190 W. Deer Valley Road, Peoria, AZ 85382 U.S.A. First e-published by Triskelion Publishing First e-publishing September 2004 ISBN 1-932866-34-5 Copyright © Cathy McDavid 2004 All rights reserved. Cover art by Triskelion Publishing PUBLISHER’S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to persons living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Chapter One

Casie Malcavey drew in a deep breath and let out a weary sigh, careful to move the telephone from her mouth so her mother didn’t hear. Not that Arlene Malcavey would. She hadn’t stopped talking about the impending birth of her first grandchild since calling Casie at work. “Joyce’s blood pressure’s slightly elevated, but the doctor says not to worry.” “Hmm.” Casey only half-listened, her mind preoccupied with the column of numbers on her computer screen. For some reason, she couldn’t get the budget report to balance, and her boss needed it in the next thirty minutes. “She hasn’t gained much weight, either. That worries me. The baby may not be getting enough nourishment.” “She looks okay to me, Mom.” Casie adjusted one of the formulas and mouthed a silent ‘yes’ when the total matched. “Really, dear.” Arlene gave a short laugh. “How would you know?” “Got me there. Can’t say I’ve ever been pregnant.” “Of course not. You’re not married. Yet.” Casie had no intention of rising to the bait her mother dangled. At twenty-eight, she had plenty of time left to find Mr. Right. She only just started her job as Administrative Assistant to the Finance Director at Connecticut Indemnity and Casualty Insurance. With over three hundred employees, the large

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majority of them male, the possibilities were encouraging. It took Casie a moment to realize her mother had asked a question. “What did you say?” “The ultrasound. It’s next week. Want to come? The doctor told Joyce she could bring her whole family.” “Come? Like in watch?” Casie’s stomach pitched, and she made a face. “Yes! I can hardly wait. My first glimpse at my darling grandbaby.” “Uh…I have to work.” Even though Casie didn’t share her mother’s enthusiasm, every aspect of her older sister’s pregnancy was reported to her, then painstakingly recorded for prosperity in Joyce’s mother-to-be journal. Recorded by Arlene, that was. Joyce couldn’t manage it. Sitting at a desk or table for long stretches gave her a cramp in her lower back and, as far as Casie was concerned, another excuse to be fussed over by her adoring family. Casie often wondered if all the Malcaveys had gone off the deep end. They acted as if Joyce was the only woman on the face of the earth capable of reproduction. “That’s too bad.” Genuine disappointment tinged Arlene’s voice, then she brightened. “But you’ll be able to watch the video. Joyce is having an extra copy made for me.” “Oh, the video,” Casie answered flatly. “Won’t that be fun.” She turned her attention back to the budget report, making a footnote on the source documents she used to prepare it. “Now we’ll know for sure if Joyce is having twins.” “Twins! Honestly, Mom. Why would you think that? You just said she wasn’t very big.” “Well, twins run in our family.” “Since when?” Casie scoffed. “Auntie Flo had twin cousins.” “Isn’t that kind of distant?” “Twins skip a generation.” Casie scrunched her mouth to one side. “That would be three generations once removed.”

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“A small technicality.” “Whatever.” Casie saved the budget report to a floppy disk and with another click of the mouse sent it to her boss’ computer in his office. She glanced at her watch and smiled, she beat the deadline by fifteen minutes. Lastly, she printed a hard copy for the file. “Maybe the doctor can tell us what sex the baby is. I’m sure it’s a girl, Joyce is carrying low.” “Carrying low? She’s barely been showing a month. That’s just an old wives tale.” “It isn’t,” Arlene stated with conviction. “When I had you and your sister, I carried so low, I still had a waistline the day I delivered. With your brother, I felt like I had a watermelon under my bosom. And speaking of bosoms—” “Sorry, Mom. Gotta run. I have a staff meeting in twenty minutes and want to grab a sandwich first.” “You haven’t eaten lunch yet? Honestly, sweetie, you need to take better care of yourself. It’s almost two o’clock.” “You’re right.” Casie retrieved her purse from the bottom drawer of her desk and removed a few dollars from her wallet. She didn’t much care for vending machine food, but she been too rushed that morning to pack a lunch. “I’ll see you soon.” “Wait! Before you hang up, there’s a favor I need. Actually, Joyce needs a favor.” Casie groaned. “What now?” So far, she’d filled a prescription for prenatal vitamins, checked out pregnancy books at the library, and spent the longest and dullest afternoon of her life at the Indoor Baby Expo in East Hartford. “Tell me it’s not another expo.” “Whatever do you mean? We had a wonderful time there.” “You and Joyce did.” Her mother had blind-sided Casie during a weak moment, convincing her to tag along. The three of them walked the exhibition twice over, which must have covered five full acres, until Casie’s strength gave out. Her sister and mother, on the other hand, operated on an endless energy source. It was the only time Casie could recall since Joyce’s big announcement that her sister hadn’t complained of being tired.

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She and their mother flitted from booth to demonstration to exhibit, charge cards clutched in their outstretched fingers, ready for scanning. When Casie couldn’t take any more, she collapsed in a lifeless puddle on the floor near the entrance. She crawled to the wall and sat with her head on her knees, oblivious to the commotion around her. “What’s wrong?” her mother asked sometime later, giving her shoulder a gentle nudge. “Baby overload,” Casie mumbled. She gratefully poured herself into the backseat of Joyce’s new minivan, acquired just for the baby and with every available safety feature in mind. She hoped for a welldeserved nap on the way home. No such luck. Her sister stuck a purchase from that afternoon in the tape player. All the way home, Casie listened to “Choosing Your Child’s Name – Forming a Life Long Identity”. She didn’t know if she would survive the remaining four-and-a-half months until her sister delivered. Casie wasn’t against babies, she just had no interest in bearing one herself at the moment. Sure, some day, in the distant future, but right now, she had more important priorities in her life. “It’s nothing much.” Arlene went on with her request as if Casie hadn’t tried to worm out of it. “I’d like you to drive Joyce to The Happy Stork tonight so she can pick up some maternity bras.” “You’re kidding.” Casie cradled her forehead in her free hand, keeping the telephone tucked beneath her chin. This was worse even than the Indoor Baby Expo. “You should see the poor thing. Her breasts have gotten enormous, and they hurt her something awful.” Arlene rambled, not letting Casie sneak a word in edgewise. “She called ahead and spoke to a Mrs. Berinhart, the owner, and made sure they have her size in stock. Can you believe it? She’s gone from a D to a double D.” Casie didn’t think her sister’s already generous bust line capable of expanding, but it apparently had. Some women got all the luck. The two sisters looked alike, except for one significant difference. Joyce had inherited an unfair share of the Malcavey bosom genes, leaving Casie with barely enough to fill a B cup.

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“No, I can’t believe it. The poor thing.” Casie’s sarcasm was lost on her mother. “It won’t take long, darling. Mrs. Berinhart promised to set the bras aside. You can just run in, pay, and leave.” “Shouldn’t Joyce try the bras on first to make sure they fit?” “Normally, yes, but she went to the manufacturer’s web site and picked out the style she wants there. She used their sizing chart, so I’m sure there won’t be a problem.” Casie’s head shot up. “She bought maternity bras off the Internet?” “No, no, just verified the style and size. One of the ladies in her FTM chat told her about it.” “FTM chat?” “Uh, huh. First Time Mothers. Joyce has made some wonderful friends from all over the world. There’s even one from Hartford,” Arlene said. “Isn’t that great?” “Something else.” Casie tried to imagine an online chat room full of pregnant women, but couldn’t. She wanted to ask her mother why Joyce could sit at a computer for hours in a chat room, yet not write in her mother-to-be journal. She wisely refrained. “Why am I thinking this trip to…what did you call it, The Happy Stork, isn’t a good idea?” “You’re being negative.” “Can’t Joyce drive herself? They’re her breasts.” “Her ankles are swollen. Something to do with her circulation. The doctor said she should keep her feet elevated. She’s resting on the couch. I told her to stay put until dinner.” “Mom, don’t make me do this,” Casie whined. “Think of your poor sister.” Arlene pushed the right button, expertly manipulating Casie. “She’s all alone, Troy is thousands of miles away.” Casie’s resolved crumbled like dry crackers. She and her sister often bickered as siblings are apt to do, but they had a deep and abiding love for one another. Casie did feel terrible that Joyce’s husband, a Captain in the Army, was currently stationed in Bamberg, Germany. Should all go well, he’d be home in time for the birth of their child. He hadn’t wanted to leave his pregnant wife alone while out of the

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country, so Joyce moved in with her parents for the duration. She’d have gone with him, but minor complications early in her pregnancy prevented it. Family and friends had a secret pool going on whether or not Arlene would permit her daughter to leave Connecticut and return to Fort Drum in upper New York State before her grandchild made an appearance. Odds were heavily stacked against it. “Fine, I’ll do it,” Casie relented. “Thank you, sweetheart.” Casie couldn’t blame her mother. Joyce did need some pampering at this difficult time in her life. What kind of sister would Casie be if she didn’t lend a hand? Besides, how tough could picking up a few bras be? “Mom, I’ve got to run.” Casie glanced at her watch again and calculated how much time she had to eat before the meeting started. Her stomach growled loudly, reminding her to hurry. “I’ll see you later.” “Later tonight.” “Tonight?” “When you come by to pick up Joyce, silly.” “Ugh!” A dull pain throbbed in her right temple. Maybe some food would alleviate her headache. “See ya.” Casie managed to forget about her errand until right before five. The staff meeting tied her up for most of the afternoon. While collecting her purse and jacket, she listened to her voice mail messages on the speaker phone. Her mother came on, reminding her about the bras and giving her the address for The Happy Stork. She also promised Casie dinner in exchange for her troubles. Lasagna. Casie’s favorite. “I guess I can be bribed,” Casie told the phone as she deleted the message. Hard snow crunched under her feet as she hurried to her car in the employee parking lot. Patches of asphalt showed through here and there, remnants of a recent warm spell. It hadn’t lasted long enough for Casie. She yearned for summer, when she could spend endlessly long weekends at her family’s

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cottage on Coventry Lake or drive to Hammonassett for a day at the beach. She spotted her fifteen-year-old, rusted out Pontiac up ahead and winced. Casie hated her car and would gladly sacrifice her annual two-week vacation for the down payment on a new one. However, her bank account, recently depleted from holiday gift giving, had something else to say in the matter. The Lush, as Casie called the car, lived up to its name, getting no more than seven miles to the gallon. And like any respectable lush, it was undependable and frequently broken. Her parents had offered to lend her money for a new car, but Casie refused, wanting to earn it on her own. While not crazy in love with her job, she made a decent salary and hoped to qualify for an automobile loan within a few months. The modest year-end bonus she received a few weeks earlier also helped.

In the meantime, she scrimped and saved every penny.

She’d begun reading automobile

magazines and studying the ads, readying for the day when she would walk into a new car showroom, point, and say, “I’ll take that one.” After a few worrisome attempts, The Lush finally started. Casie drove to the exit and pulled in line behind the other cars. When she reached the automatic security gate, she rolled down her window. It screeched as if in pain. She inserted her I.D. card in the slot and a moment later, the red and white mechanical arm rose, allowing her leave. With a good-bye to the security guard, she drove onto the street. She studied the scrap of paper on which she’d scrawled the address to The Happy Stork. By her calculations, the shop was a good twenty minutes from her parents’ home. She grumbled. Thank goodness Joyce wouldn’t be pregnant forever. Someday soon, life would return to normal. Buying bras on the Internet? Really. What next?

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Instead of a jingling bell, Brahms Lullaby played from an overhead speaker when Casie pushed open the front door of The Happy Stork. A giant stuffed stork sat in a wicker rocker just inside. His long

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bill hung open in a mocking smile, as if to say, “What are you doing here? You’re not pregnant.” “Hold up.” Joyce, suspiciously light on her feet for someone with swollen ankles, followed Casie inside. She wore a plaid coat that didn’t quite button all the way in the front and toted a giant purse with no less than thirty-two separate compartments. She stopped and stared, open-mouthed. “Look at this place. Isn’t it wonderful?” Slim mannequins wearing shapeless blouses resembling ship sails stood poised by racks of clothes, displaying signs such as, Casual, Sleep Wear, Business Attire, and Formal. A tall case by the front door held books, magazines, video and audio tapes, calendars, coffee mugs, and greeting cards. Casie remembered most of the same stuff from the Indoor Baby Expo and, seeing no need to torture herself again, turned in another direction. She wanted to locate the owner before Joyce discovered some treasure she simply had to have and Casie spent the rest of the evening watching her sister shop till she dropped. “I have to go,” Joyce said in a loud stage whisper. Relieved that for once her sister didn’t plan on dallying, Casie answered, “What about the bras?” “No. Joyce hugged her belly, looking distressed. “I have to go, like in, like in…you know.” “Ah.” Casie should have guessed. Her sister had practically taken up residence in the bathroom the past month. “There’s probably a public restroom in the back of the store.” “I’ll check. Be right back.” Left alone, Casie wandered the store. From floor to ceiling, the place was packed with strange contraptions and paraphernalia the likes of which mystified Casie. Feeling self-conscious, she stepped over an infant car seat and made her way to the cashier’s stand decorated in pale pink and blue ruffles to resemble a bassinet. She tapped a silver bell on the counter. No one appeared. Growing inpatient, she perused the items on display in the glass cabinet. Did women really buy this stuff? She read the labels: stretch mark reduction cream, belly massage lotion, skin discoloration lightener, nipple salve, Bag Balm. Bag Balm! As in udder? Was that a joke? She looked closely at the square green tin. Sure enough, there on the front was a black and white Holstein

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cow. Casie continued her tour down the cabinet. She saw nursery monitors, cold-air humidifiers, bottle warmers and, she gulped, rectal thermometers. Now what? She leaned forward and put her nose to the glass. Attached to the top of a cylinder-shaped container was a funnel of some kind with a battery pack mounted to the side. It looked more like an automotive part than any nursery equipment. “That is too weird.” “Are you interested in a breast pump?” Casie popped upright, startled by the deep voice. She twirled around and inadvertently bumped into the cabinet. The items on top rattled noisily. Her pulse skyrocketed, and her lungs refused to inflate. She raised a shaky hand to the side of her face and openly gaped. If this was Mrs. Berinhart, she had just morphed into the best-looking man Casie had ever seen. She moved her lips, but nothing came out. Not even a squeak. The man observed her from a commanding height well over six feet, an amused expression on his face. Large dimples appeared in the middle of both cheeks and a shock of brownish-black hair fell across his forehead. Eyes unbelievably dark focused squarely on her and held a hint of laughter. No way could this man be a maternity shop owner. Not with shoulder that wide and arms that muscular. A body builder or a ski instructor, now that she’d believe. Had Casie not felt so foolish, she’d have considered flirting with him. As it was, she babbled incoherently. “B-b-br-bra.” “You’re here for a bra?” Casie nodded limply. Her mouth hung open, much like the stork’s. “Maternity or nursing?” Nursing? There was more then one kind? “Ma-maternity.” “Of course. This way.” He motioned for Casie to follow. “You’re what, a thirty-two B?” Her feet stuck to the floor, rendering her motionless. The man had correctly guessed her bra size. How unnerving. “Uhh, no. Thirty-four double D.”

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He stopped mid-step and turned around, very slowly. Scrutinizing her with enough heat to ignite a small brush fire, he zeroed in on her chest. “Really? When was the last time you were sized? We might want to fit you first.” Casie’s insides shriveled. She tried to visualize the process. Did he take measurements? Did patrons remain dressed or…not? “I don’t need to be fitted,” she stammered. “The bras are for my sister. She’s the pregnant one.” His eyes lowered to her flat tummy. Casie shifted her purse to cover it. “She called ahead and had the bras put aside.” When he didn’t respond, she reiterated. “It’s not me.” “Too bad.” He dragged his gaze back to her face. His eyebrows lifted, and one corner of his mouth tilted up. “Another time, perhaps.” Casie made a sound like a dying housefly. “Let’s see if Mrs. Berinhart left anything behind the counter. That’s usually where she does.” With decidedly more composure, Casie said, “My sister’s in the bathroom. She’ll be out in a few minutes.” Or so Casie hoped. Joyce’s bladder seemed to have a will of its own lately. Left with no other choice, Casie trailed after the man, half of her wishing this fiasco were over and the other half enjoying the view. He wore a snug polo shirt and a pair of tight-fitting jeans that did justice to his athletic physique.

When he situated himself behind the counter, he smiled at her again.

Encouraged, Casie smiled back and enjoyed seeing him respond with obvious interest. That was until he placed a stack of three bras in front of her. A piece of paper with her sister’s name on it was taped to the top, the bra size printed in large block letters. To her dismay, the man lifted one up. “Are these them?” As he spoke, the bra dropped open, revealing cups the size of small mixing bowls. “Oops. Sorry,” he muttered. “My word!” Joyce appeared beside Casie and eyed the man appreciatively. “I’m thinking those are my bras, but you can’t possibly be Mrs. Berinhart.” “I’m her son.” Without the least trace of self-consciousness, he folded the bra, his large, strong hands returning it to a compact bundle.

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He wasn’t without experience in handling ladies’ undergarments. As Casie watched his fingers work the lacy material, a shiver of the warm and pleasant variety inched up her spine. When he caught her looking at him, he winked. Her knees turned to pudding, and she flushed. Joyce doused the sparks flying between them with a question. “Can you put them in a bag?” “Sure.” He bent down. Joyce elbowed Casie and together they checked out the contour of his shoulders as he rummaged around beneath the counter. “All I’ve got are these jumbo sacks,” he said in a muffled voice. “Well, seeing as my bras are jumbo size…” Joyce cackled. She’d been collecting formula, diaper, and photography coupons from a rack in front of the cash register. Casie covered her face with her hands, wishing she could dematerialize and reappear elsewhere, minus her sister. She quickly whipped her hands away when the man stood back up. “Here we go.” He placed the bras in a blue plastic bag along with a twenty-percent-off sales flyer and rang up the sale. A stray lock of hair fell forward into his eyes. When he brushed it back in place, Casie’s heart emitted a series of power bursts. Their eyes locked for a third time. Life could be so unfair sometimes, she mused. She finally met an interesting guy worth pursuing, but, not being pregnant, there was little chance she’d see him again. Unless she talked Joyce into returning with her. Casie peered at her sister from the corner of her eye. Joyce bent over the black hole she called her purse, rummaging through it. “Where’s my wallet? I just had out it this afternoon.” She bit her lip in frustration. “Do you suppose I left it by the computer?” “Why did you have it by the computer?” Before her sister could respond, Casie held up a hand. “Don’t tell me. You were placing an order online and needed your credit card.” “A small order.” Joyce pouted. Casie started to complain, then stopped when an idea popped into her head. For once, her sister’s forgetfulness might come in handy. She beamed at the man and smartly tossed her hair back, sending out

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what she hoped were clear signals. “Do you take checks?” Apparently his radar was in good operating condition because he braced his hands on the counter, leaned forward and said, “Yes, with a valid driver’s license.”

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“Have a nice day and come again.” Scott Karstetter passed the sack containing the bras to the pregnant woman, who clutched them to her ample bosom as if they were a cherished gift. “Thanks,” she said and turned to leave, taking her sister with her. The younger woman flashed him a Mona Lisa smile and sashayed from the store. Scott grunted with male appreciation. He didn’t know what accounted for the change in her, but he liked it a lot. Not that he hadn’t liked her to begin with. He strolled over to the large storefront window and stared out into the parking lot illuminated by several tall street lamps. He admired the woman’s trim figure as she and her sister wove between the parked cars. She works in an office, he decided by the three-inch high heels and wool suit she wore. Her short, tight skirt clung to her like wet Saran Wrap to a ceramic bowl. When she reached an older model sedan badly in need of a paint job, she opened the driver-side door and slipped inside. A moment later, a bluish stream of fumes shot out from the exhaust pipe. The engine backfired once and stalled. “Somebody should shoot that car and put it out of its misery.” He fingered the check still in his hands. “Casie Malcavey,” he said, reading her name at the top. “From Manchester. What is it about that name?” He searched his memory as she backed out of the parking space. “If we met before, lovely lady, I’d surely remember it.” He clucked and shook his head. “No phone number. You aren’t making this easy for me.” She hadn’t been in the shop before, that much was apparent. Her initial discomfort hadn’t bothered him. Women didn’t expect to find a male sales clerk. He usually put them at ease by asking questions. Most mothers-to-be were eager to discuss their condition with anyone who would listen, and

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that included him. Casie drove out of the parking lot and disappeared down the road. Scott experienced a small let down. “Time to get back to work.” As he passed the stuffed stork, he patted it on the head. “What do you think, Ernie? Am I her type?” Ernie didn’t have a response. He never did. Scott chuckled on his way to the storeroom. He’d been unpacking a support hose shipment when Casie and her sister came in. Before he reached the door, the phone rang. He grabbed the extension on the wall. “The Happy Stork. May I help you?” “Hey, hey, buddy!” “Rick!” Scott recognized his golfing partner’s voice. “What’s going on?” “Lenny’s place. Tonight. Pay-per-view game. You coming?” Scott checked the Precious Moments clock on the wall. “I can’t get away for another half-hour.” “We’ll be here. Starting time is eight sharp.” “Want me to bring anything?” “Just yourself. We’re having pizzas and wings delivered.” “All right. Maybe I can close up five minutes early.” “What? You mean you’d tear yourself away from all those hot babes?” Rick snickered. “It’ll be a sacrifice, but one I’m willing to make under the circumstances.” Scott took the needling in stride. His friends didn’t understand why he occasionally worked in his mother’s maternity shop, and he’d long since quit trying to explain. Instead, he fell back on the old standby excuse of helping out his mother when she needed time off. How could he convey the total amazement he felt when he placed his hands on a woman’s belly and the baby kicked, or how the joy of carrying new life transformed even plain women into radiant beauties? Scott preferred to keep his longing for a family of his own to himself. “Now, I can see working in a bikini shop, or better yet, lingerie.” Rick whistled low and long, no doubt envisioning such a job. “You aren’t gonna meet any cute single chicks in a maternity shop.”

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“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Scott placed Casie’s check in the cash drawer. “A potential candidate comes in every now and again.” He thought of the information he learned about Casie from her driver’s license: five feet, four inches tall, one hundred eighteen pounds, blonde hair, and blue eyes. Next, he thought of all those things not on the driver’s license: a smattering of freckles across her nose, a tiny mole at the base of her neck, no wedding ring and a thirty-two B bra, if he wasn’t mistaken. “I gotta make a couple more calls,” Rick said. “Hurry up and get over here. Who knows, you might see a play or two you can use, Coach Karstetter. I hear you ended football season on a winning streak.” “We did okay.” A rush of satisfaction coursed through Scott. His boys had worked hard and he was damn proud of them. “Nine wins, one loss for the season.” “Give us the scoop when you get here, buddy.” “You’re on. Bye.” For the next thirty minutes, Scott tried to concentrate on his tasks, with little success. Casie continued to occupy his thoughts. She was so embarrassed at first, he hadn’t known whether to poke fun at her or feel sorry for her. In the end, she completely enamored him. Fortunately, after she left, business slowed to a standstill. By the time he locked the front door and set the security alarm, he’d reached a decision. He’d find a way to meet her and soon. As competitive in his personal life as he was in his professional, the boys’ P.E. teacher at Manchester Junior High School faced challenges head on and with every intention of defeating them. Especially challenges as intriguing and attractive as the lovely Casie Malcavey.

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Chapter Two

Casie opened the door on the refrigerator and stuck her head inside. “What looks good?” She poked around the meager contents, her brow furrowed. “Pretty slim pickings, if I do say. I need to make a grocery run soon and stock up on supplies.” Buried in the back of the vegetable drawer, she uncovered a cucumber, the skin just beginning to pucker. She tucked it in the crook of her arm and rummaged though the shelves on the door, having better luck there. Balancing a jar of mayonnaise, a squeeze bottle of honey, and the cucumber, she headed over to the sink. As she dumped her bounty on the counter, the microwave beeped. “Perfect timing.” Casie pressed a latch on the front of the microwave and the door sprung open. “Looks good.” She removed a steaming bowl of oatmeal and set it next to the other food items. “Smells good, too.” She drizzled honey on the oatmeal, then stirred it in. While the cereal cooled, she peeled the cucumber and sliced off two pieces. Taking a clean tablespoon, she opened the jar of mayonnaise and scooped out a large glob. With dramatic flourish, she dumped it on top of her head. She worked it through her hair, then put on a plastic shower cap and tucked the loose ends inside. After gathering the oatmeal and cucumber slices, she padded to the living room, turning on the CD player along the way. Leaving the food on the coffee table, she plunked down in the middle of the couch

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and snatched up a jar of A and D Ointment. Though the strong fish odor made her grimace, she applied a liberal amount to her bare feet before pulling on a pair of thick socks. Next, she took the bowl of oatmeal, which had cooled to room temperature, and dug out a large helping with her fingers. She smeared it all over her face, paying careful attention to her forehead, nose and chin. Having finished with that, she lay down, stretched out, and placed the cucumber slices on her closed eyes. The vanilla candle she lit beforehand gave off a light, relaxing scent. As she listened to her favorite pop music group, her mind drifted, right to The Happy Stork and the very handsome, very male clerk. Not a night had passed she hadn’t dreamed of those sinfully sexy dimples and bedroom eyes. He’d invaded her waking hours with disconcerting regularity as well. “Argh!” Casie gritted her teeth and clenched her fists, recalling their meeting. “I was such a blonde.” Without thinking, she covered her face with her hands, smearing the oatmeal and dislodging the cucumber slices. They tumbled over the side of the couch. “Oh, shoot. Why do I do this to myself? It’s not like he’ll magically appear at my doorstep one day.” A sharp rap sounded. Casie started, knocking small clumps of oatmeal into her eyes. She brushed them away as she sat up and swung her legs onto the floor. Her heel came in contact with something cool and bumpy. With a groan, she lifted her foot, and inspected it. Plastered to the bottom of the sock was a lint covered cucumber slice. “Oh, brother.” She peeled it off and tossed it on the coffee table, giving a quick glance around for the second one. Before she could find it, the rap sounded a second time. “Coming,” she hollered to the door as she approached it. She pressed her eye to the peephole and squinted. Her visitor’s distorted face loomed in front of her, tongue sticking out, thumbs in both ears, and mittened-fingers wiggling. “Let me in, girl,” a loud voice demanded. “I know you’re home. I saw The Lush out front, leaking fluids as usual.” “Name one reason I should.” “I have a surprise for you,” the visitor teased. “Some news. You’ll like it, I promise.”

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Casie flung the door open, her widening grin cracking the oatmeal facemask and raining powdery particles onto the front of her sweater. “Hey, you’re early. I thought you said you’d be here at twothirty.” “Thank goodness I am. We still have time to check you into the emergency room.” She pinched Casie’s chin and tilted her head. “Doctors can do wonders these days, you know. The scarring shouldn’t be noticeable.” “Will you quit it?” Casie grabbed her best friend’s wrist and hauled her inside. Roe Flanders toppled into Casie’s living room, all plump, rosy cheeks, bouncing chestnut curls, and infectious laughter. The two had met on the first day of second grade when their teacher, Mrs. Carmichael, had paired them up to work on their summer vacation scrapbooks. Taking an instant dislike to one another, they kept sabotaging the other’s efforts until Casie, fed up when Roe scribbled over her design, yanked Roe’s braid until she squealed. To retaliate, Roe stabbed Casie in the arm with her pencil, burying the lead point deep under the skin. At the first drop of blood, both girls started screaming. Mrs. Carmichael didn’t know whether to reprimand them or send them to the nurse. She did both. While sitting in straight back chairs outside the principal’s office awaiting their punishment, the girls forged a friendship that lasted though pimples and proms, bad hair days and bad boyfriends, college and career choices. “I’ve got to tell you, kid.” Roe shook her head sympathetically as she shrugged off her backpack and heavy coat, setting them both on the end of the couch. “With all that junk you’re wearing, how’s a man supposed to know what to do? Ask you out or snack on you?” She laid her head back and gave a loud hoot. “Not that either prospect sounds bad.” “Roe, you’re incorrigible.” Casie flopped back down on the couch after locating the other cucumber slice. “I’m not doing this to attract a man.” “Oh, right.” Roe joined her. “Tell me there’s not one guy in that whole big insurance company who interests you.” “I didn’t say that, exactly.”

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“Who is he and what department does he run? I want details.” “There’s nobody, yet. I’m still getting the lay of the land.” “What about that fellow you met last week? The one from the maternity shop.” Roe wriggled her eyebrows. “Don’t remind me.” “Why? You said he was cute.” “Forget it. I was an idiot. He must’ve laughed himself silly after I left.” “Won’t know for sure unless you go back.” “Not in this lifetime.” But, oh, in another lifetime, Casie could well see herself going back, no problem. “You’re miffed because he didn’t call.” “A little.”

More like disappointed, she admitted to herself.

She had hoped he’d use the

information on her check to track her down. As if reading her mind, Rose said, “Your phone number isn’t on your checks.” “My address is. He could have written a letter or sent a card.” “Don’t you know the only cards men send are the ones their mothers make them write when they’re little boys.” Casie’s response was to stubbornly cross her arms. Roe poked her in the side. “Don’t be such a chicken. Go back to the store. I’ll tag along if you’d like.” Liquefied mayonnaise oozed down the back of Casie’s neck. She scratched an itchy spot and adjusted the shower cap. “I need to rinse. Tell me your news quick,” she said, wanting to change the subject. “It’ll wait.” Roe motioned toward the tiny kitchen of Casie’s modest one-bedroom apartment. “Get to rinsing.” Casie returned a few minutes later, a towel wrapped around her wet hair and her face tingling from a thorough scrubbing. She sat next to Roe and removed her socks. “Good grief, what’s that awful stench?” Roe crinkled her nose. “Are you cooking fish?”

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“Cod liver oil.” Casie extended a foot to Roe. “Go on, touch it. Feel how soft it is.” Roe recoiled, pretending to be aghast. “Get that thing away from me.” “Suit yourself.” Casie stroked the inside of her arch to demonstrate her point. “Like baby’s skin.” “Dex says my skin’s softer than a freshly turned compost pile.” “How romantic. Be still my foolish heart.” “Mock me if you will, but he treats me like a goddess.” Casie smiled warmly at her friend. “Yes, he does.” Some people considered Dexter Langford a nerd. Tall, near-sighted and skinny as a beanstalk, the environmental chemist stood nose to nose with Roe and under weighed her by a good thirty pounds. All who knew him easily overlooked his small faults, for he loved Roe to distraction and took every opportunity to show it. With misty eyes, Roe admired the diamond and gold engagement ring on her left hand. “I’m lucky to have him.” “It goes both ways.” Casie leaned over and patted Roe’s knee. “Would you look at me.” Roe sniffed and rubbed her nose, then removed a notebook and bridal magazines from her backpack. “Let me tell you my news. Once we start talking wedding plans, my head will be so high in the clouds, I’ll forget everything else.” Casie kicked back to a more comfortable position. “What’s up?” “I have a job for you!” “A…job. Uh, huh.” “Now, I know what you’re thinking.” Roe shook a finger at Casie. “But this time is different.” “You mean I won’t have to dress up in a Rainbow Bread costume and walk down the aisles of Sandover’s Market saying, would you like to squeeze me?” “It wasn’t that bad.” “Not that bad? In the first hour I was propositioned, flashed, and accused by some little old lady of soliciting her husband.” Casie rubbed her eyes and let her head fall back. She’d go a long way to earn

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enough money to replace The Lush, but she did have her limits. “Seriously. This job is perfect for you. Wait’ll you hear.” “I’m not listening.” She covered her ears with both hands and started humming. “An instructor for the girls’ cheerleading squad,” Roe yelled. “What did you say?” Casie dropped her hands and sat up. “You heard me right.” “At Manchester Junior High?” Casie and Roe had both graduated from there and Roe had taken a position teaching Home Economics shortly after becoming certified. “Yep!” Roe appeared quite pleased with herself. “You have a girl’s P.E. teacher. Isn’t she the instructor?” “If you can call her that.” “Why the need for another one?” “Because we’re winning games. For the first time in ten years, our football team made it to the regional finals. The principal, Mr. Lindlow, you remember him, believes our basketball team will do the same. More parents are coming to games than ever before, and he wants a bonafide cheerleading squad rather than the pom-pom girls we have now.

He mentioned hiring a professional choreographer.

Naturally, I recommended you. He wants to meet with you right away. And don’t worry, he’s forgotten all about that time you set off the automatic sprinklers in the chemistry lab.” She jostled Casie’s arm. “Just think, we’ll be working together.” “I don’t know,” Casie wavered. “The pay is awesome.” “How awesome?” “Enough for a down payment on a new car.” Casie hadn’t realized she’d moved to the edge of her seat until her knees banged the coffee table. “A new car.” The words came out on little puffs of air. “The Lush is history.”

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“I need more information.” Casie contained her growing excitement by forcing herself to remain serious. “And I can’t take a second job without clearing it with my boss first.” “Didn’t you say you the company offered flexible schedules?” “Yes, with the supervisor’s approval and advance notice. I’d have to submit a request.” “Then submit it first thing Monday morning.” “I’m not qualified to teach cheerleading,” Casie protested. “Nonsense. I’d say being on a championship team three years running qualifies you.” “That was back in college. I’m out of practice.” “What you are is stalling.” Roe boosted Casie off the couch. “While you take that towel off and comb your hair, I’ll write down the phone number to the school. You can call Principal Lindlow yourself and get the scoop first hand. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.” Casie dragged her feet as she headed toward the bathroom. “I guess it can’t hurt to make a phone call.” “Now you’re talking. Just imagine yourself behind the wheel of a brand new car. One that starts every morning and doesn’t die in the middle of the Interstate.” Casie did imagine as she draped the damp towel over the shower curtain rod. Moreover, she liked the image very, very much.

###

“When did the halls shrink?” “About the same time as the desks. Happens when you’ve been away a long time.” Roe led Casie through the corridors of Manchester Junior High, a place she hadn’t returned to since eighth-grade graduation. Her sneakers squeaked on the freshly buffed tile floors and triggered an onslaught of memories, most centered on her, Roe and mischief. Here was the place Casie had first discovered a passion that would take her through high school and on to the University of Connecticut

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with a four-year scholarship: cheerleading. Casie had studied tumbling, tap, and jazz dancing at her mother’s insistence since the age of five. While talented, she never possessed the drive it took to become a professional, much to Arlene Malcavey’s dismay. A former Radio City Music Hall Rockette, Arlene had wanted both her girls to follow in her footsteps.

Joyce showed no promise, having inherited her father’s two left feet.

Subsequently, Arlene had pinned all her hopes on Casie until the day she quit dance in order to join the cheerleading squad. Her daughter’s outstanding accomplishments soon won Arlene over. To everyone’s surprise, her youngest, Casie’s baby brother by ten years, became the dancer in the family. Grant, a senior in high school, had recently been accepted to the Julliard School of Modern Dance and would start in the fall. There were days when Arlene didn’t know which to obsess over more: her son’s dance career, Casie’s single status, or the birth of her first grandchild. “You’re so going to love this job, girl. Lots of great perks.” “Oh, yeah? I don’t recall Mr. Lindlow mentioning any perks.” Casie had telephoned the principal as Roe suggested. He immediately invited her to come in for an interview and hired her on the spot. “His mind may not work the same as mine.” “No offense, but not many do.” Roe chuckled good-naturedly. “Did I mention you have a gym-mate?” “A what?” “A gym-mate. You’ll be sharing with the boy’s basketball team and most importantly, their coach. One of the previously mentioned perks.” “Separate sides?” “Of course. He’s single, too.” “Forget it, Roe. Not interested. You know I don’t date athletes.” Casie was still smarting from her broken engagement last fall with Lowell Young, a local golf pro who’d cared more about impressing his horde of female fans than he had her.

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“You may change your mind after meeting Coach Karstetter.” Roe smacked her lips. “Yum, yum.” “What have I gotten myself into?” Casie lamented. “A brand new set of wheels by the end of next month.” “Tell me this will be worth while.” Roe slung her arm around Casie and gave her a tight squeeze. “Major worth while.” They reached the door leading to the indoor gymnasium. A caution sign warning students to ‘Open Slowly’ was posted in the window. Casie pointed to it. “Some things never change.” Roe nodded in agreement. “So true.” She pushed the doors open and they entered the gym. “Then again, some things do.” A tall, emaciated woman with a severe haircut approached. Her pointy-elbowed arms bounced stiffly as she walked, giving her the appearance of a large marionette. “Look who’s finally here, girls,” she chimed loudly in a way that implied Casie was late rather than five minutes early, as was the case. “Don’t take her too seriously,” Roe said softly. “Her nose is out of joint.” “I don’t want to make trouble,” Casie whispered back. “Chill, will you,” Roe hissed. Out loud, she said, “Casie Malcavey, this is Ruth Tucker, the girls’ P.E. teacher.” Casie accepted Ruth Tucker’s firm handshake and detected the barely cloaked challenge in it. She had no wish, however, to make an enemy her first day on the job. “A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Tucker. I can’t thank you enough for giving me this job.” Ruth Tucker had nothing to do with hiring Casie, but she decided it might be in her best interest to smooth a few ruffled feathers. “I hope I meet all your expectations.” Ruth Tucker recovered quickly. “Um, er, yes.” She returned Casie’s amicable smile, tentatively at first, then with genuine enthusiasm. “Are you ready to begin?” “Yes, ma’am. If you are.”

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“Catch you later.” Roe gave Casie a thumbs up and left. Casie followed Ruth across the gym to a group of about a dozen seventh and eighth grade girls seated on the bleachers. In all shapes and sizes, they sat in tightly packed groups of twos and threes. They were outfitted in navy shorts and gray T-shirts with the school mascot, a colonial soldier, emblazoned on the front. Most appeared anxious. None appeared to be either gymnasts or dancers. “Is this everyone on the team?” Casie inquired quietly when they came to a halt. “Except for Pamela Tracy. She’s out with bronchitis.” “I see.” Her disappointment must have been evident to Ruth. “We haven’t had a cheerleading squad at Manchester High for years. We’ve been making do with a pom-pom line. The qualifications aren’t the same.” Casie looked at the expectant faces in front of her. “I’m not a miracle worker, Ruth. There’s only so much that can be accomplished in two months.” “We’re not looking for a miracle. A few old standby cheers mixed with some simple acrobatics will be more than adequate.” “Let’s get to it, then.” “Girls,” Ruth began, “this is Ms. Malcavey. She’ll be your cheer instructor for the next eight weeks. Practices are Tuesdays and Thursdays after school and Saturday mornings from eight to eleven. Our debut is scheduled for the basketball game two weeks from Friday, and we have to be ready. So expect to work hard.” Ruth stepped back and gestured to Casie with both hands. “Let’s give Ms. Malcavey a warm welcome.” A smattering of applause followed Ruth’s speech. Casie took a position on the floor in front of the girls. She smiled pleasantly and tried to make eye contact with each of them, hoping to put them at ease. “What do you say? Ready to get started?” She swiped her hands together. “Who here can do a flip, front or back?” Not a single arm flew in the air. “How about a backbend?” Dead silence. “A cartwheel?” Two timid hands bobbed in the back row. “The splits?” Another hand joined the first two.

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“A front roll?” At their blank expressions, she rephrased the question. “A somersault?” Most of the girls responded. “Okay. Now we know what we’re working with.” Which isn’t much, she thought. She yanked her oversized sweatshirt off, balled it up, and tossed at the wall. Underneath she wore a turquoise sports top and matching leggings. Neon yellow bands ran down the sides like racing stripes. “How about we begin by warming up? Everyone.” She walked to the center of the gym and beckoned the girls to follow. “Out here. Line up in two rows facing me, four feet apart.” Once Casie had them positioned, she put them through an easy routine consisting of stretches and breathing exercises. “Let’s try something simple. It’s basketball season, right?” She adjusted her ponytail. “Watch me first, then we’ll do it together.” First, she made the motion of dribbling with her right hand then she raised both arms as if shooting a ball. “Dribble, dribble, shoot, shoot.” She crouched down on bended knees, leapt into the air and arched her back, tucking her legs under her. “Take that ball to the hoop, hoop,” she hollered as she landed. “Now, let’s all do it at the same time. Ready, set, go!” To say the girls showed promise would be lying. Casie tried not to laugh. It became clear why the job paid so well. Ruth sprang from her observation post on the bleachers. “Come on, ladies. Where’s that school spirit?” She joined the line up. “Do it with me this time.” Ruth didn’t get her legs unfurled fast enough at the end of the cheer and wound up in a heap on the gym floor. The girls broke into hysterics. Casie gave her a hand up. Ruth, it turned out, had a good sense of humor. She dusted herself off and made light of her mishap. “I’ve always been better at team sports.” “Maybe we should start with a cheer that requires less athletics.” Casie stood with her hands braced on her hips. She pointed to the basket at the far end of the court. As she did, a side door opened and a group of young boys filed in, most of them bouncing basketballs. Ignoring them, she swept her arm

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in a wide circle and chanted, “See that basket, see that rim.” More boys entered the gym. They stopped and stared at Casie. She twirled in a circle, slapped her thighs twice, clapped her hands, and raised them in the air, shaking them as if she held a pair of invisible pom-poms. “Come on Patriots, put it in!” Ruth positively glowed. “Well, I think that’s something we can all handle.” An elf-faced girl with stringy hair in the back row raised her hand. “Do you have a question?” Casie asked. “Um, excuse me, Ms. Malcavey.

Ms. Flanders told us that you used to be a champion

cheerleader.” Casie felt herself blush. “I was captain of a championship team in college. We made it to the National finals three years running.” “Can you – I mean – could you show us a real cheer?” The request was followed by a chorus of voices. “Oh, yes. Please show us.” “I suppose I could. Oh, sure, why not.” Casie became aware of the boys advancing. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted an adult male in sweats. Her mind registered coach, but no more. Peeking over her left shoulder, she determined that she had a clear run. “L-E-T-S-G-O, let’s go. L-E-T-S-G-O, let’s go.” She started with a backbend, then went into a back walkover. Pivoting on her toes, she turned a half circle and executed a handstand, followed by a front limber. On the way up, her right toe hit something. Fighting to keep her balance, she thrust her body forward and crashed face first into a rock hard chest. A thickly corded arm came out from nowhere, snatched her by the waist, and pulled her against a mountain of firm muscle. Fortunately, the man had a solid grip on her, for when she looked up into his face, her legs turned into rubber bands. “Whoa, there. I’ve got you.” He regarded her as if she were a remarkable discovery. “I – I—”

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The floorboard under her feet seemed to buckle as if the ground was shifting. Her line of vision narrowed to a pinpoint. She was vaguely aware of snickering in the background. She was acutely aware of his fingers clenching her rib cage, the beginnings of a five o’clock shadow on his straight jaw and the faint scent of deodorant soap. He continued to hold her intimately, focusing on her sports top, the front of which pressed against him. A string hung from his neck, the whistle at the end buried between them. The rise and fall of his wide chest further fused their connection. “They make special bras for those kind of tops.” His breath brushed her heated cheek. “But I must say, I’m glad you’re not wearing one.” Casie’s traitorous breasts responded in a most telling way. His eyebrows lifted and one corner of his mouth turned up. Ruth came bounding toward them, her spindly arms flying. “Mr. Karstetter, Mr. Karstetter. Is Ms. Malcavey hurt?” His attention never wavered from Casie’s bosom. “No, not hurt.” She had to free herself, but felt powerless to move. She forced her hands to his broad shoulders, intending to push him away. He tensed with anticipation. For a brief moment, she marveled at his reaction to her touch. Her head swam. When had she lost control? She sank further into his arms, and he hugged her closer. “Mr. Karstetter.” Casie dimly heard Ruth behind her. “If Ms. Malcavey isn’t hurt, then perhaps you should release her.” His chest vibrated as he talked, echoing inside her own. “I will, if she wants me to.” At last, he raised his eyes and found hers. “Do you want me to let you go, Casie?” He dipped his head, bringing his mouth close to hers. “Do you?” “I think,” she responded in an embarrassingly high squeak, “under the circumstance, that would be a good idea.”

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“Oh, too bad.” Dimples appeared in both his cheeks. “Another time, perhaps.” He released her then, sliding his arm across her back like a silken rope. Cool air rushed in to fill the growing space between them. She stumbled backwards, catching herself before she tripped. Her fingers came to her lips. “You’re the basketball coach?” “The boys’ P.E. teacher, to be exact.” “What about The Happy Stork?” “A side job.” An athlete! Casie experienced a wave of dizziness. The man of her daydreams had suddenly become her worst nightmare. “If you want, Casie,” Ruth interrupted, “we can close the divider.” “Yes. Thank you.” Casie avoided looking at Coach Karstetter as the accordion partition rolled across the gym and locked into place. Twice now, she’d met this man in the least likely place and under the worse possible circumstances. She needed no other incentive. He was definitely the wrong guy for her.

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Chapter Three

“She’s the wrong girl for you. You’re wasting your time.” Roe was never one to mince words, Scott thought as he poured himself an early morning coffee from the pot in the teacher’s lounge. He joined his coworker at one of the tables. “Did she say she wouldn’t go out with me specifically, or athletes in general?” He didn’t usually split hairs to this degree, but he’d been pursuing Casie hard for better than a week with no results. “Don’t take it personally. It’s athletes in general. I know for a fact she liked you when she thought you were a maternity store clerk. Speaking of which, how come you never told anybody?” “Never thought about it.” Scott didn’t want to discuss his part-time job at The Happy Stork. He’d been the brunt of enough jokes since the news leaked. He took a gulp of his coffee. The strong brew fortified him. He hadn’t been getting nearly enough sleep at night since running into Casie again. It was crazy. For weeks, he’d been trying to figure out a way to meet her, even going so far as to drive past her duplex apartment in the hopes she’d be outside. And all along, her best friend was Roe Flanders. No wonder Casie’s name had sounded so familiar to him. He must have heard Roe talk about her a hundred times. He recalled in microscopic detail the moment he entered the gym and saw her. At first, he hadn’t recognized her, though she got his attention with her nothing-left-to-the-imagination outfit. When he finally realized who she was, his mind shut down and his feet took over, walking him straight to her. He didn’t feel the least bit sorry about spoiling her cheer routine. The outcome had been

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well worth it. She felt good. A maddening combination of taut and yielding flesh molded into feminine curves. Her continued resistance baffled him. He never had trouble attracting the opposite sex before. In college, he dated extensively, refusing to make any lasting commitments. As he matured, he changed. He wanted more from a relationship than sex. Sure, that aspect interested him, as his sleepless nights this past week had proven. But he also sought much more; a lifelong partner to share his interests, make a home with, give him children, and grow old alongside. Casie stirred him from the moment he laid eyes on her. She was a spitfire all right. Still, Scott suspected she had a vulnerable side she kept hidden or covered with bravado, like the day they met in The Happy Stork. He watched her closely at school. She possessed enough drive for a dozen people, a quality, as a coach, he admired and respected. In three practices, she managed to turn a bunch of inexperienced incompetents into a respectable cheer squad. On the down side, she applied that same drive in keeping him at a distance. Roe patted Scott on the cheek as if he were a small boy. “I think it’s just too cute. A macho guy like you working in maternity shop. How sweet!” Scott sighed. Roe was so easily distracted. He steered the conversation back to Casie. “What’s her hang-up with athletes?” “She got burned by her share of them. Especially the last one.” Roe picked up her Styrofoam cup of coffee. “I have to hurry. First period starts in a few minutes.” He trailed her to the staff mail slots where she picked up a pile of memos and bulletins. “Wait. What about this last guy? You didn’t finish telling me the story.” Roe pondered a moment, then shrugged. “I suppose it’s no secret. And knowing Casie, she’ll likely tell you herself eventually if you keep after her. It really started back in college. Being a cheerleader, she dated the campus hot shots. You know the kind I’m talking about, wrestling captains, starting quarterbacks, star pitchers. Problem is, most of them were losers off the playing field. And did

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they play the field. When they weren’t chasing skirts, they were partying with their buddies.” “We’re not all like that,” Scott said. Students passed them coming and going, all but ignoring the two teachers. “No.” Roe slanted him a fond grin. “You’re not like that. But Casie doesn’t know it. After college, she steered clear of athletes for a while. Come to think of it, she didn’t date much, concentrating on her career, or so she said. Sometimes I worry about her. She won’t admit it, but she isn’t happy working in an office, sitting behind a computer all day.” “Why do it, then?” Scott noticed Roe kept pace with his long strides. Few women did. “She likes the non-sports environment. Thanks to her ex-fiancé, the only athletes she’ll date nowadays are desk jockeys.” “Ex-fiancé?” Scotts didn’t want to admit how glad it made him to hear an ‘ex’ added in front of ‘fiancé’. “What split them up?” “Another woman.” “Ah.” “A much younger other woman.”

Roe’s mouth shrunk to a small circle, conveying her

disapproval. “A much younger, pregnant other woman.” Scott groaned under his breath. What a blow that must have been for Casie. “If she didn’t like athletes, why date this guy in the first place?” “Why date you?” Roe countered, a twinkle in her eyes. “I’m different.” “So he said, too.” He saw her point, much as he’d rather not. “What was he doing with another woman anyway?” What sane man would want another woman when he already had Casie? Scott thought, but didn’t say. “He met her at a golf tournament. Lowell Young was, or still is, I suppose, the resident golf pro at the Cloverdale Country Club. She was a spectator. What’s really pathetic is that’s how Casie met him, too. Last spring, she went to a different tournament there with her dad. Someone at work gave him a pair

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of tickets.” Scott didn’t hear what Roe said next. His mind shut down the second Roe mentioned Lowell Young. During summer recess, Scott worked at the country club as a golf instructor, along with his friend Rick. He’d known of Lowell Young’s affair, though few others did. With a great deal of effort, the golf pro had been able to keep his indiscretion a secret. His motives were selfish. Scott’s weren’t. He kept quiet because Casie, whose name he didn’t know at the time, wasn’t the only one hurt by Lowell’s affair. There were others, and Scott would do whatever was necessary to safeguard them. “Did she love him?” “I’m sure she thought she did,” Roe answered. “Lowell could be very charming when he tried.” His reputation as a ladies’ man was legendary at the country club. Scott heard all the stories and wasn’t impressed. He was raised by a traditional-minded father who taught him to treat women with respect. When he was twelve-years-old, his father died unexpectedly from an aneurysm, leaving him to take care of his mother and two baby sisters. Scott never succeeded in stepping out of that role, always believing it his duty to protect those smaller and weaker than him. Now that he’d learned of Casie’s former involvement with Lowell, those feelings extended to her. They reached Roe’s classroom just as the second bell rang and stood outside the door. “Can you put in a good word for me with Casie?” Scott asked. “I will, but honestly, you don’t have a prayer.” “You’re her best friend. Any suggestions for me?” Roe raised one shoulder. “Not really. Slow, I guess. Yeah, take it slow. Don’t ramrod her. She’ll run for sure.” “Thanks, Roe.” He’d consider her advice. “See ya later.”

###

Snow fell, twirling in wild flurries on a strong breeze. Though it was not yet five in the afternoon,

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the sky had darkened to an ominous gray. Storm warnings were being broadcast on the radio and television. Through a veil of snowflakes, Scott spotted Casie’s miserable excuse for a car in the school parking lot. She squatted beside it, easily visible in her pink parka. As he approached, she rose to her feet, released a cry of anguish, and kicked the passenger side front tire. Then she kicked it again, only harder. Her wail turned into a howl of pain, and she hobbled around in a small circle. She hadn’t seen him yet. “You lousy piece of scrap metal.” She stamped her good foot on the snow-covered ground, raging at the ancient Pontiac. The front end rose at a steep angle, propped up by a jack. “Look at you. Where would you be if I hadn’t rescued you? The junkyard, that’s where, your guts yanked out and sold for parts. And what thanks do I get in return? A flat tire.” Scott started to make a clever remark, then bit his tongue when she blew out a huge gust of air and hung her head. He thought he heard a soft sob, but he couldn’t be sure over the wind. Her frustration and helplessness endeared her to him even more. He reached for her. “Hey, you okay?” She immediately straightened and spun around, wiping away what might have been a tear. “I’m fine. Just having a little mechanical trouble is all.” She glared accusingly at her car. “The Lush has a flat tire. The second one this month.” “The Lush?” “She has a drinking problem, among other shortcomings. Until I bought her, I couldn’t tell a carburetor from an oil filter. Now, all the guys at Auto Zone know me by name. They don’t even look me up on the computer anymore. I have a standing order for a case of oil first Tuesday of the month.” Casie gave Scott a half-smile, one he recognized as a brave front. He didn’t want her to be brave, he wanted her to let him help. She bent over and picked up a tire iron. “I know how to change a tire, but these lug nuts are frozen.”

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“Lucky for you a big, strong man like me came around. I don’t mean to brag,” he curled his arm as if making a muscle, “but I can bench press my own weight.” “Wow.” Her hand fluttered to her throat. “Considering your ego alone must weigh a hundred pounds, that is impressive.” Scott laughed, not at all offended. “A few stubborn lug nuts are no match for Scott Karstetter.” She stood beside him and monitored his every move. He found he liked showing off in front of her, making a mockery of his earlier teasing. He did have something of an ego and changing her flat tire was feeding it big time. “Where’s your spare?” he asked when he’d removed the old tire. “Here, I’ll get it.” Brushing past him, she went to the back of the car and reached inside the already open trunk. With an audible grunt, she lifted the tire out and set it down. Fighting the urge to take over, Scott watched her battle the spare, rolling it in a wobbly line toward him. He caught the tire with open hands. It was bald, with long, spidery cracks down the sidewalls. “This is no better than the flat.” Casie’s mouth compressed to a thin line, and she crossed her arms stubbornly. “It’ll get me to my parents’ house. My dad has a better one there.” “Why don’t I take you straight to Discount Tires? They’re right up the road.” “Can’t.” Casie shook her head emphatically. “Mom’s having a family dinner tonight.” “Call and cancel.” “You don’t know my mom. Her great aunt Flo recently moved here from Vermont. I have to be there. Look,” she pointed to the spare, “I’ll take over from here. Thanks for removing the lug nuts.” “Sorry.” Scott hoisted the tire up. “Can’t let a woman do a man’s job when I’m around.” He grunted as he fit it onto the studs, then wiped his hands on his pants. “Besides, who will tighten the lug nuts?” “I’ll manage.”

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“I don’t doubt that.” He stood and appraised her carefully, noting pride in her tilted chin and rigid stance. “Let me be your white knight, Casie,” he coaxed softly. “If only to appease my gigantic ego.” She shut her eyes and swallowed. “All right. It didn’t take him more than a couple minutes to finish. After he replaced the tools and flat tire in the trunk, he turned to Casie. “I don’t trust that spare. Especially in this weather. I’ll follow you to your folk’s house. Just to be sure.” “No way!” He slammed the truck shut. “Way.” “Scott.” She said his name. Until this moment, she always addressed him as Coach Karstetter. He couldn’t help feeling good. He’d made some serious progress today. “I’m following you, like it or not. You can try to lose me,” he inclined his head toward The Lush, “but you won’t. I can keep up with that thing on a tricycle.” He captured her hands in his. They were icy cold. She stood stiffly, but didn’t pull away. More progress! “You don’t have to be capable and independent all the time.” He released his hold on her, and she stepped back. “Thank you,” she whispered. “No problem. Rescuing females in distress is my specialty.”

###

Casie checked the rearview mirror. The headlights from Scott’s Toyota 4-Runner reflected back at her, just as they had the last twenty times she checked. So far, the traffic signals had all worked against her, never once letting her by on a yellow but stopping him on a red. And any time she accelerated over thirty-five miles an hour, The Lush went into convulsions, shaking violently from bumper to fender. She’d never outrun Scott in a million years. No matter, she’d give him the boot the second they got to her parents’ house. Politely, of course. His intentions, while good, were seriously chauvinistic.

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Casie could take care of herself. If Scott hadn’t have come along when he did, she’d have called her dad. The irony of her last thought struck her. Call her dad? What made accepting help from Scott different than accepting help from her dad? It is different. Dad doesn’t expect favors in return. Pictures of Scott, his arm wrapped around her, flashed in front of her eyes. A thrill stirred inside her, unwelcome, but exciting nonetheless. “Why does he have to be so darn attractive?” She choked the steering wheel until the skin on her knuckles turned white. “Seven more weeks, and I’m done with the cheer instructor job. No more Scott Karstetter.” Is that what you really want? her heart asked. “He’s not my type. I’m better off without him.” Are you? She no sooner pulled into her parents’ driveway when the front door opened and her mother burst outside. “Yoo, hoo, Casie.” She waved a dishcloth over her head. “We’re in here.” Casie rolled her eyes. As if they’d be anywhere else during a cold, dark, snowy evening. But then again, she wouldn’t put it past her kooky mother to plan a dinner on the back patio. After shutting off the engine, Casie opened the door and stepped out, only to be engulfed in a fierce embrace. “Where in heaven’s name have you been? We were worried sick about you.” “Really, Mom. I’m not even a half hour late.” “What happened?” “The Lush had a flat tire again. I couldn’t get the lug nuts—” Arlene Malcavey thrust Casie aside as if she were a small nuisance to be dealt with later. “Hello,” she tittered. “I’m Casie’s mother, Arlene.” Her voice fell an octave. “Who are you?” Out of the side of her mouth, she muttered, “You didn’t tell me you brought a man home with you.” Casie pivoted. At the sight of Scott coming up the drive, her spirits sank. His gait was far too

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easy. Far too confident. Far too sexy. “I’m Scott Karstetter. I work with Casie at the school. I changed her flat tire.” Arlene stumbled over herself getting to him, grasped his hand, and clutched it to her. “Thank you for bringing my daughter home safely,” she gushed. “I’m in your debt.” Casie tapped her mother on the back. “Aren’t you laying it on a little thick, Mom? He changed my flat tire. It’s not like he rescued me from a burning building.” Arlene ignored her. “How can we ever repay you, Scott?” “Don’t worry about it.” He winked at Casie over her mother’s head. “You’ll eat with us. I won’t take no for an answer.” She patted his stomach. “I’m sure a big man like you must have an appetite to match.” “I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.” “It’s no inconvenience. We’re having meatloaf and baked potatoes,” she teased. “Ooh.” Scott sucked in a breath through clenched teeth. “That’s awful tempting. But really, I shouldn’t.” “Look, Mom, if he has to go, he has to go.” Casie hooked her mother by the arm and tried to drag her away from Scott. “Home made apple pie for desert.” Scott’s face lit up like a beacon. “That’s my favorite.” “It’s settled, then.” Arlene shook off Casie, linked arms with Scott, and escorted him to the house. Casie lagged behind, flicking snowcaps off the picket fence slats for spite. Meeting her mother was bad enough, but now she’d introduce him to her whole family. Wait a minute! She perked up. That might not be so bad after all. One dose of the Malcaveys would scare him away for sure. In the foyer, Casie took Scott’s down jacket and hung it on a coat rack. Aunt Flo immediately confronted them, brandishing a striped nylon leash. “Have you seen Bitsy?”

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“Auntie Flo.” Arlene pushed Scott forward. “This is Scott Karstetter, a friend of Casie’s.” He towered over the petite, white-haired woman. “How do you do.” She reached up with a wrinkled hand and shook his. “I can’t find my Bitsy. I just know Arlene’s cat has the poor thing cornered somewhere. That nasty feline’s as big as a Saber Tooth Tiger and twice as mean. He once scratched my poor darling right on the tip of her nose.” Arlene propelled Aunt Flo to the living room. “I do hope she didn’t get into the bathroom waste basket again. That was such a mess.” Once they were alone, Casie had no choice but to deal with Scott. She shrugged nonchalantly. “Sorry about that. Auntie Flo’s a bit eccentric. Mom is…Mom.” “They’re both very sweet.” His smile was so genuine, Casie had to remind herself he was an insensitive jock. “My mother has a little dog, too,” he went on. “She treats him like a baby, and he’s spoiled rotten. I know what you have to put up with.” “Bitsy isn’t a—” A high-pitched squeal cut Casie short. A large, soot-colored animal in a yellow harness charged into the foyer. Its small hooves made rapid-fire clicking noises on the parquet floor. Close behind it zoomed a pint-sized black and white cat. The odd creature skidded to a stop three feet in front of Scott. It raised its snout in the air, took several long sniffs, and resumed squealing. The cat, with claws fully extended, swatted its backside. The animal screamed as if it had been shot. “It’s a pig!” Scott shouted over the ruckus. “There you are, Bitsy.” Aunt Flo appeared from around the corner, quite spry for an elderly woman. She kicked at the cat, but missed. “Scram, you devil.” The cat retreated to a safe place under a decorative table by the front door and proceeded to hiss and spit. A distressed Bitsy grunted as Aunt Flo snapped the leash to the harness and led her away. “Bitsy is short for Bacon Bits,” Casie offered when Scott gave her a questioning look. “Come on in, but I warn you, it only gets worse.”

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Joyce waited all of three seconds after they entered the kitchen before heaving herself out of a chair and waddling toward them. “Hi. Remember me? I’m Casie’s sister.” “Nice to see you again.” He gawked at her impressive breasts, which hung over her protruding belly like giant water balloons. “Aren’t you wearing one of the bras I sold you?” “Yes, I am.” Joyce sent Casie a telling look. “He has a good eye.” “I’m a maternity store clerk. It comes with the territory.” “What other special skills do you have?” “You’ll have to come back to the store and see.” “We’d love to, wouldn’t we, Casie?” Joyce’s tone was heavily laced with innuendo. “Great. We’re open on Saturdays, too.” He reached into his back pocket and retrieved his wallet, took out a business card and handed it to Joyce. “Mom would love to meet you.” “Your mother!” Casie didn’t believe her ears. “Of course. How else do you think I got the job?” Casie searched her memory. “Her name’s…not Karstetter.” “She remarried a few years ago,” Scott offered in way of explanation. Joyce sighed wistfully. “Your mother owns a maternity shop. How perfect.” At that moment, Casie’s brother, Grant, sauntered into the kitchen, a cellular phone glued to his ear. His spiked, bleached-blonde hair stuck straight up, and he wore three gold hoops in his left ear. “Hey.” He nonchalantly hitched his chin at Scott, as if seeing a total stranger in his house was no big deal. Casie’s father followed her brother, his arms laden with a coat, a newspaper, a briefcase, and other work paraphernalia. He kissed his wife, oldest daughter, and Casie in that order. “Your son,” he announced, “hasn’t been off the phone once since I picked him up.” “Now dear. He’s a teenager.” Arlene patted her husband’s shirt collar into place. “Come meet Casie’s new beau.”

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“Mom!” Casie slapped her forehead. Was there no controlling her mother? Dinner progressed well enough. Fortunately, the Malcaveys took their meals seriously and didn’t talk much during them.

When dessert was served, Casie’s father excused himself, stating he was

watching his weight, and went to find a tire for The Lush from the stash of extra parts he kept on hand for Casie. “Can I help you, sir?” Scott asked. Ed Malcavey put his hand out, indicating for Scott to remain seated. “I’ve done this so many times, I have it down to a science. You stay and keep the ladies company. It’ll be a nice change for them.” The moment he left, Joyce launched into a discussion on her favorite subject: her pregnancy. Casie cringed. Her sister didn’t know the meaning of the word couth. “I plan to breast feed my baby. You’d think with all this,” she pointed to her amble assets, “I’d have enough milk for an army. But it’s no guarantee.” “That’s true.” Scott munched on a large bite of apple pie. “There’s no correlation between breast size and milk production.” “I read somewhere that I need to toughen up my nipples. Too bad Troy’s not here to do it for me.” She laughed wickedly and slapped the table. Casie dropped her fork. “Tsk, tsk.” Arlene halfheartedly admonished Joyce. “We have company.” “Toughen up your what?” Aunt Flo gasped. “You can do it yourself, you know.” Scott addressed Joyce earnestly. “Really?” “Sure.” He held his hand in front of his chest as if he had breasts. Then he pinched his thumb and finger together in a squeezing motion. The blood drained from Casie’s face. “First, you take the nipple like this. And then you massage it…”

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A shrill buzzing sounded in Casie’s ears. It grew louder and louder. She had to escape the dining room. The dinnerware rattled as she pushed back from the table and fled to the kitchen. Visions of Scott fitting her for a bra floated in front of her eyes. From behind her, Aunt Flo screeched, “Young man, that’s positively obscene.” Next, came a hearty guffaw and Grant boomed, “I think it’s cool.” Casie collapsed against the refrigerator. Her cheeks flamed and her breath came in shallow spurts. Auntie Flo stormed into the kitchen, ninety-five pounds of pure indignation.

“Promise me

something, Casie.” “What’s that, Auntie Flo?” she answered feebly. “If that boy ever tries to toughen up your nipples, smack him good.” Casie whimpered softly, wondering how the evening had gone from bad to worse. “I’m really sorry, but I have to go.” Scott’s apology sliced through her despair like a ray of sunshine. “So soon? Gee, that’s a shame.” “I wish I didn’t. Joyce offered to show me the video of her ultrasound.” “Oh, that.” Casie curled her lip. “Seen one, seen ‘em all.” “I had a great time. I really like your family, they’re a lot of fun.” He must have been dropped on his head as a baby. “Fun, ha. That would be one way to describe them.” “Walk me to my truck?” “Ah, sure.” Anything to be rid of him. She retrieved his jacket from the coat rack and slipped on her own, not bothering to zip it up. Cold air assaulted them the moment they stepped outside, stinging their bare faces. The snow had ceased falling, leaving the air crisp and clean. “I think we’re in for another storm tonight.” Scott looked at the sky as they walked. The moon and stars hid behind a layer of clouds. A stream of frozen air floated from his mouth as he talked. “Spring can’t come fast enough for me.”

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“You like spring?” “Let’s just say winter’s not my favorite season.” “Your debut is only a week away. Are you excited?” “The girls are really psyched. We still have a long way to go, but it’s coming together. What about you? Have the boys memorized those new plays?” Where had this casual conversation come from? “Mmm.” He rocked his hand from side to side. “So, so. Is your family coming to the game?” Even in the darkness, she could make out his dimples. “I hadn’t thought about it.” Truthfully, she had, and decided not to mention it. “Why don’t you ask them? They’d love it, I’m sure.” Scott leaned his back on the door of his truck, facing Casie. “That’s not the point. Mom is…and Joyce…Oh, and Auntie Flo, now there’s—” How could she express the way she felt about them? He surprised her with his next remark. “They’re charming. You’re lucky to be part of such a loving and caring family.” He’d done it. Gone and put a chip in her defenses. Called by an irresistible force, she swayed toward him. He slipped his hand inside her coat and around her waist, then gently drew her forward. “Scott. I don’t think—” “Shh. Thinking takes too much energy. Just feel, Casie.” Just feel? Easier said than done. She was more comfortable believing him a jerk. This man was nice. He rescued her from yet another vehicle disaster with The Lush and treated her weird family with tolerance and affection. She hadn’t expected that, and it left her a little disconcerted. He rested his chin on the top of her head, nuzzled her hair, and exhaled warm breath that tickled her scalp. She relaxed and laid her head on the front of his jacket. It started playing Yankee Doodle. “Sorry.” He eased her away from him.

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Casie blinked. “What’s that?” She brushed her bangs back off her face. “My cellular. One of those custom rings.” He gave her an apologetic look and withdrew a compact phone from an inside pocket. He flipped it open and put it to his ear. “Hello.” A phone call? Now! Sheesh, what timing. Casie pulled the flaps of her coat closed. A moment ago she was warm, snuggling with Scott. “I’m on my way.” He turned from Casie and spoke softly. “I got tied up.” Tied up? Casie frowned. She hadn’t forced him to stay for dinner, she wanted him to leave. In fact, she hadn’t wanted his help at all. She tapped her foot impatiently, her toes tingling from the cold. “Be there in twenty minutes. Good-bye.” He disconnected the phone and stuffed it back inside his coat. “I have to run.” “I figured as much.” Casie knew she had no right to be mad. There was nothing between them, nor did she want there to be. So then, why was she bent out of shape? Because he was going to kiss you, her heart whispered. Get real, she answered back. “I’ll see you later, then.” He cupped the side of her head, gave her a chaste peck on the forehead, then climbed in the 4-Runner. Casie fumed the rest of the evening, which ended shortly after Scott left. She drove home on a new spare, promising her father she’d purchase a replacement set of replacement tires at the first opportunity. She didn’t know who to be more annoyed at; The Lush, for demanding another tribute she could ill afford, Scott, for evoking unwanted emotions in her and making her question her convictions, or herself, for being attracted to such an unsuitable candidate. With all the possibilities at Connecticut Indemnity and Casualty, why take chances with another athlete? Hadn’t she learned that lesson already?

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Chapter Four

A shrill whistle blew above the roaring crowd. Spectators on the Patriots’ side of the gym jumped to their feet, booing the referee for making a bad call. A whole string of bad calls marked the game, all of them against the Patriots. Casie watched Scott’s every move, waiting for his reaction. An earlier outburst had earned him a technical foul. Another would see him ejected from the game. He raked a hand through his hair and paced back and forth in front of the bench, his temper barely in check. An irate parent didn’t refrain from making his opinion known. Cupping his hands around his mouth, he sent a taunt to his target on the court. “What are you Ref, blind? He never touched that kid.” The referee ignored the man and motioned the players to line up for a free throw. Casie quickly gathered the girls, directing them to spread out down the length of the bleachers. When they were in place, she took a seat and cued them to begin. “Hey, hey, we’re hot,” they sang in unison, shaking their pom-poms in the air and executing a series of kicks and leaps. “The Patriots can’t be stopped.” The girls came to a complete standstill when the referee whistled again. Casie held her breath as the opposing player readied to shoot. She silently willed him to miss. At forty-nine to fifty, Visitors’ favor, and less than a minute remaining, every point mattered. One side of the gym groaned and the other side cheered when the ball fell through the hoop with an audible swish. On the Visitors’ side, a jubilant woman jumped to her feet. “That’s my son,” she yelled, and blew

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him kisses. From the third row behind Casie, Arlene shouted, “And that’s my daughter.” Casie heaved a sigh. Caving in to Scott’s repeated requests this past week, she invited her family to the game. Her father couldn’t make it because of work, and Grant had recital practice, so that left her mother, Joyce, and Auntie Flo. Casie figured there wasn’t a single person within a twenty foot radius of her mother who didn’t know entire Malcavey life history by now. “Go Rebels.” Casie flinched. Auntie Flo’s brittle voice could shatter glass. “Not Rebels. Patriots,” Joyce corrected her loudly. “Well, why didn’t you say that in the first place?” Can’t they converse in normal tones? Casie wondered, pretending they weren’t related to her. While the coaches made substitutions, she rounded up the girls, being sure to praise them. They did an outstanding job, except for Pamela Tracy, who slipped and landed face first on the floor while showing off in front of her new boyfriend. The routines still needed some polishing, but Casie was confident the squad would shine by the next game. She hadn’t realized until today how much she wanted the Patriots to win. They’d worked hard and deserved it. And might have, if it weren’t for the blind referee. Scott stopped pacing. He studied the court, his eyes alert, his expression unreadable. Casie noticed how he methodically capped and uncapped his marking pen. She noticed a lot about him during the game, spending nearly as much time watching him as she had the girls. After a prompt from the referee, the boy on the free throw line gave one last look at the basket and fired. The ball hit the backboard and dropped through the hoop. Casie’s spirits sank. There was no chance of the Patriots winning now. As the shouts from the Visitors’ side of the gym died down, a man’s loud voice erupted from the Patriot’s side. “Maybe what this team needs is a real coach and not some sissy maternity store clerk.” Casie’s head whipped around, as did many others. She scanned the bleachers, but couldn’t determine which ill-mannered parent had made the tasteless insult. Annoyance pricked at her, then

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worry. How would Scott deal with this? He didn’t need to be distracted at this critical moment. She glanced his way and to her relief, he either hadn’t heard or chose to ignore the heckler. Hunched over so as not to obstruct the spectators’ view, she walked in front of the bleachers to where Ruth Tucker sat in the first row, a location that put her within a few feet of Scott. She’d hardly taken her seat when Ruth nudged her. “Quick. Get ready. Here comes the wave.” Joyce stood on the first row of bleachers, directing the Patriots’ fans in a mass wave motion. Her heavy breasts rolled from side to side as she swung her arms over her head. Men stared as if hypnotized. “Tell me I’m dreaming.” Casie barely participated, the wave passing over her. “Your sister can really work a crowd.” Ruth sounded impressed. Squealing sneakers signaled the start of play. Scott’s focus remained on the action. Casie was on her feet and closing the distance between them without realizing it. He didn’t see her until she spoke. “Sorry about the game.” She ached for him. For all the Patriots. She’d been around enough sporting competitions to know how seriously coaches and players took winning. And losing. He turned on her and demanded, “What do you mean? We haven’t lost yet.” “Well, I…” His refusal to admit defeat took her aback. “We’re three points down and there’s only,” she checked the overhead electronic scoreboard, “thirty-eight seconds left.” “Plenty of time.” “Scott.” Casie clamped her mouth shut and shook her head, saying no more. What purpose would it serve to dispute the obvious? “There’s always hope,” she offered. “You don’t believe we can win.” His eyes blazed with intensity. This was a side to Scott she’d never seen. It both intimidated and intrigued her. “It’s not a question of belief.” “Want to bet?” “Are you nuts?” “Attitude is everything.”

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“There’s no time left.” “We win,” he continued as if she hadn’t spoken, “you go out on a date with me.” “And if we loose?” “We won’t.” “There aren’t fifteen seconds left!” “Bet?” he demanded. Or was it implored? She couldn’t tell with him. He did strange things to her. Made her feel new emotions. Think inappropriate thoughts. Take crazy bets. “You’re on.” He spun back around and made a ‘T’ sign with his hands, shouting, “Time out.” One of the referees blew his whistle and halted the game. The Patriots jogged over to Scott, and he drew them into a circle. He pulled out a clipboard and began diagramming plays. Casie took her seat next to Ruth. The boys’ faces told a story as they changed from weary disappointment to excitement. Scott talked rapidly, his marker flying across the page. Could he really do it? She forgot about the bet and what was at stake. Adrenaline surged through her, leaving anticipation in its wake. The Patriots’ fans came alive with Joyce’s encouragement. They began stomping their feet and clapping their hands. Even the Visitors sensed a change. Their coach cast furtive glances at Scott while his team bolstered their confidence with lots of chest slamming and high fives. Casie perched on the edge of her seat, her body strained with suppressed tension. When her mother placed a hand on her shoulder, she let out a startled cry. “Sheesh, Mom. You scared me.” “What’s going on?” Arlene clutched a large tote bag to her side, careful to keep the top closed. “Scott thinks we can win the game.” “I’m sure we will.” “It’s possible.” Whereas Casie thought losing a foregone conclusion a few minutes ago, she started having second thoughts. “There isn’t much time.”

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“If anyone can do it, that young man of yours can.” “Will you quit calling him my young—” A muffled yowl came from the tote bag. “What’s that?” The bag moved on its own, as if possessed. “Tell me you didn’t bring the cat.” “Patches and that darn pig keep fighting. You should see what they did to the laundry room. Soap powder everywhere.” The cat clawed the sides of the tote bag. His trembling pink nose appeared through a tiny crack. “You can’t bring a cat to a school basketball game,” Casie hissed. “What choice did I have?” “Put one or the other outside. Put both of them outside, for that matter.” “In this weather! Have you no heart?” The whistle blew, ending the two minute time out. Arlene hurried back to her seat. Casie held her breath when the Patriots’ guard in-bounded the ball. To her surprise, the center caught it rather than a forward. A big boy for his age, he drove the ball to the basket like a tank plowing through a field of daises. When he attempted an easy lay-in, one of the opposing players tapped him on the arm. The referee blew his whistle and called a foul. The Visitors’ coach protested vehemently to the head referee. With a thumbs-up from Scott, the Patriots’ center took his position at the free throw line. He dribbled once, twice, crouched down and then leapt up, releasing the ball as he did. It arched high in the air, hung suspended for an eternity, then spiraled downward, right through the hoop. The scoreboard flickered, then read fifty to fifty-two. The crowd roared in appreciation of a job well done. Ten seconds remained. If the boy made his next shot, one point would still separate the two teams, and the ball would belong to the Visitors. Whatever Scott had planned, she hoped it worked. The boy dribbled, the thud echoing off the walls of a silent gym. He raised the ball, wiped the sweat from his brow with his forearm and turned to Scott, who nodded grimly. Releasing a wild war cry, he flung the ball. It slammed into the backboard, then careened sideways, missing the basket by a good eighteen inches. A Patriots’ forward jumped into the air as if on giant springs and snatched the ball. The crowd

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went into a frenzy. An opponent attempted a steal. The forward spun sideways and faked a shot. “If he makes it, we tie the game,” Ruth said giddily. Gathering the ball to him, he stepped backwards behind the three point line. With only enough time for a quick look at the basket, he let go. The buzzer went off a microsecond later. “If he makes it,” Casie replied with astonishment, “we win the game.” Time came to a complete standstill. The ball sailed over the players’ heads as if on wings and hit the corner of the basket. Whump…whump…whump. It rolled in a circle on the slim metal rim, slowly coming to a stop. It hovered for the span of an indrawn breath, then fell through the net with a soft swish. The gym exploded. Pandemonium ensued. The scoreboard changed to reflect the final results of the game, Patriots fifty-three, Visitors fifty-two. Casie was swept up in a sea of joyous fans. They poured off the bleachers and onto the floor to congratulate the victors. The young boy who made the winning shot was lifted onto the shoulders of his teammates. The girls hugged each other and threw their pom-poms in the air. The janitor did a jig on the officials’ table. Patches made a break for freedom and bolted across the floor, disappearing among the jungle of legs. Arlene chased after the cat, calling his name. Casie sought out Scott, pushing her way through the mob to reach him. It wasn’t her intention to throw herself at him, but somehow she did. He picked her up and swung her in a circle. “You did it! You won the game.” Impulsively, she kissed his cheek. Realizing her mistake, she made an effort to extract herself from his hold. “No, Casie.” He set her on her feet, his strong arms locked around her waist. “Not enough.” He lowered his head. “Not nearly enough.” The last words were whispered against her mouth. After that, his lips moved, but not to speak. He communicated in an entirely different language. A language that Casie understood and responded to in her own way. She looped her arms around his neck, reducing the space between them to a few molecules of air. Bodies bumped into them, but she paid little attention. She let nothing detract her from his lips

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and the heady sensation of having them pressed firmly against hers. Not the sweat from his shirt soaking into hers, or the people calling their names. His kiss, so seemingly innocent, evoked blatantly sensual feelings in her unlike anything she’d previously experienced. She stroked his cheek, her thumb resting close to where their mouths were joined. His jaw flexed beneath her fingers and for an instant, she thought he might deepen the kiss. He refrained, leaving Casie relieved and strangely disappointed. When he broke away, it was to turn his mouth into the palm of her hand where he planted another kiss. Only this time, the tip of his tongue tasted her. Fire shot through her fingertips. Dizzy, she let her arm drop limply to her side. “Dancing,” he said, softly and seductively, as if he were suggesting an activity far more intimate. “What about it?” Casie wanted him to keep talking, just to prolong the moment. Her hands drifted to his shirt sleeves. She clutched the material and hung on to keep herself from sliding to the floor. “I’m taking you dancing.” He brushed her cheek with his mouth, then nuzzled her neck, his lips skimming the goose bumps that had risen there. “For our bet.” “Bet?” she said dreamily, then came to her senses. She stood erect, stepping off the cloud she floated on and planting her feet firmly on the floor. “Oh.” Reality hit her like a snowball in the face. “Uh, yes. That’s right.” “That’s right,” Scott confirmed, a disturbingly satisfied smile stretching across his face. “We won the game, I win the bet. You’re not backing out, are you?” “Of course not.” But she wanted to. Scott Karstetter had too many weapons at his disposal. Her defenses were deteriorating at an alarming rate and before long, her well-guarded heart would be vulnerable to attack. Or possibly, love.

###

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“Where are you going? On a date or to a funeral?” Casie regarded her reflection in the bedroom mirror. Perhaps she had taken extreme measures. In trying to avoid looking the least bit sexy, she made herself into a double for Morticia from The Addams Family. She reached up and removed the clip from her hair, then shook her head. Blonde waves fell about her face in attractive disarray. She sprayed them into place. “That’s better. All I want is to discourage him, not give him nightmares.” What had she gotten herself into this time? Another brain fade episode had brought her to this end: a date with Scott Karstetter. Because of some bet, they were going dancing of all things. Dancing! The idea of him holding her close sent shivers rippling through her. But not from disgust. Oh, no, quite the contrary. “Hello. Is anybody home?” She rapped her knuckles on the side of her head. “Apparently not.” The light from her bedside lamp reflected off the black sequined pants she chose to wear. Her hand came to rest on the high collar of the matching black blouse. On impulse, she removed it and donned a cream colored silk shirt. She left the top button undone. “That’s all you get, buddy.” Scott had too discerning of an eye for her to feel confident showing off her nominal cleavage. She’d been giving herself a steady pep talk for the last two days, trying to convince herself there was nothing to this date other than making good on a bet. He won fair and square, though she still didn’t know how he pulled it off. The staff at school had talked of nothing else since, the news of his part-time maternity store job dying the quick death of old gossip. Nowadays, they were singing his praises so loud and long, it was a wonder they weren’t constructing a new wing in his honor. And he ate up every word, enjoying his place at the center of attention. The doorbell rang, giving her a start. She grabbed a pair of dangly gold earrings off the dresser and stuck them in her ears on the way to answer the door. A vision of Scott dressed in a suit appeared before her, wreaking havoc with her composure. In sweats, he resembled a cover model for Fitness Magazine. In dress clothes, he’d have women starting riots.

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She opened the door, steeling herself for the impact he would make. She had to be strong. She had to resist. She had to… “Jeans?” His mouth went up in that all too familiar lopsided grin. “You like? I think they show off my butt.” He turned around and lifted the back of his down jacket. “I, er.” Casie’s mouth watered. Oh, to be the Wrangler patch on the back pocket of those pants. When he eventually turned around, she found her scattered wits. “D-d-didn’t you say we’re going dancing?” “Yes ma’am.” He adjusted his cowboy hat, pushing it further down on his head at a rakish angle. “Are you going to ask me in or make me wait outside?” The other corner of his mouth went up, and his dimples appeared. “I’m ready.” No way would she let herself be alone with him. She had evidently overdressed for wherever it was he planned on taking her, but so be it. Getting down to her underwear with him in the other room wasn’t an option. “Let me grab my wrap.” “I don’t make you nervous, do I?” he asked a short time later. “Not at all,” she lied, hugging the door of his 4-Runner after buckling her seatbelt. “Then scoot closer. I won’t b—” He started the engine. “Never mind. The way you’re dressed, I can’t make any promises. Better stay put.” “I take it we’re going honky-tonking.” She daintily crossed her ankles. “Had I known, I would have worn different shoes.” He paused, his hand on the stick shift. His gaze inched down her legs, stopping at her feet where it remained riveted. “Your shoes are,” he inhaled leisurely, “just right. Did I tell you I have a thing for sling-back sandals? So inappropriate for this time of year.” Casie regretted not wearing her rubber galoshes. “Where are we going?” she inquired, changing the subject. “The Lakeside?” That was the only Country and Western place she could think of in the direction Scott had taken.

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“Charter Oak.” “Charter Oak?” Casie had never heard of it, and she’d lived in Manchester most of her life. “Is it new?” “Been around forever.” “What are you talking about? The only Charter Oak around here is the old park they flood…” Realization slowly sunk in. She twisted in her seat. For the first time, she noticed the wool scarf around his neck. The insulated gloves on the dash. The thermos and plastic mugs on the seat between them. “You wouldn’t. You couldn’t. You’re not taking me there!” Scott made a sharp turn to the left. She landed hard against him. “Tell me this is all just a bad dream,” she mumbled into his jacket sleeve. “I said we were going dancing. Didn’t know I had to stipulate where.” They entered a wooded glen, which quickly opened into a clearing. “Look. There’s a parking spot. We won’t have far to walk.” “I’m not going.” Casie squeezed her lips into a tight circle. “You promised to take me dancing.” “And I’m a man of my word.” “This isn’t dancing.” Her hand sliced the air. “I want to go to a nightclub.” “So after weeks of playing hard to get, you want to go to a nightclub with me. This is a pleasant change.” He exited the truck and went around to Casie’s side, opening her door. Rap music blared in the distance, mingled with the sound of people laughing and shouting. “Scott, I can’t. I haven’t done this in years.” “It’s like riding a bicycle, darling.” He lifted her out when she wouldn’t come willingly and carried her to the back of the truck. “You never forget.” With some difficulty, he opened the back hatch. She kicked just to make it harder for him. “What about my shoes?” “You will let me take them off for you, won’t you? I promise not to drool.” When he reached inside to remove a small duffel bag, his jacket brushed her face, scraping off

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most of her meticulously applied makeup. She pushed at him. “I don’t have any—” “Not to worry.” He set her down, then took her arm and led her along a winding path toward their destination. “Roe took care of everything. She’s a sweetheart. And easily bribed.” Casie wanted to dig her heels in and refuse, but feared breaking her three inch spikes on the hard ground. “I’m going to write her out of my will as of this minute.” “Funny, I wrote her into mine this morning.”

###

“Isn’t this nice?” Scott held Casie tighter for the sheer pleasure of watching her squirm. “No.” He chuckled. They didn’t come more stubborn than Casie Malcavey. In Scott’s estimation, that’s what made the chase fun. She responded exactly as he knew she would, stiffening and drawing away. She reminded him of his younger sisters. When they were growing up, he’d taken great enjoyment in teasing them mercilessly just to hear them squeal. Only with Casie, he wanted to hear her cry his name as she arched into him. “Put your arms around me,” he croaked. “I will not.” “People will start talking if you don’t.” He took her left hand and placed it on his shoulder. She snatched it away. “Like I care.” “And here I slipped the DJ a dollar to play this slow song especially for us.” “DJ? You call a fourteen-year-old kid with a boom box a DJ?” “You should see his collection of CD’s.” “No thank you.” She gritted her teeth and pushed off, quickly gaining speed. “I wanted to go

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dancing.” Undeterred, Scott kept pace with her. “We are dancing. Or would be, if you’d hold onto me.” Casie skidded to an abrupt stop. Ice flew in a spray, coating Scott’s lower legs. Her thirty-two B cup chest heaved beneath her wrap. Her blue eyes snapped and cheeks glowed. “We’re skating.” Scott froze, completely mesmerized.

She was magnificent.

A vision in black against the

sparkling winter scenery. Cold air lodged in his lungs, depriving him of oxygen. In another moment, he’d drop to his knees on the ice. He decided, should that happen, he’d use Casie for support. “We’re ice dancing.” He enveloped her inside the circle of his arms. She resisted, but he persisted, intending to keep her there for at least one song. She shuddered. “Are you cold?” Her wrap couldn’t offer much in the way of warmth. Not like he could. If he got any hotter, he’d spontaneously combust. “Not really.” Her teeth started chattering. She preferred freezing to death over admitting to being cold. Scott admired that quality in a woman. No frail, air heads for him. Give him hardheadedness and misplaced pride anytime. Before she could object, he skated her to the far end of the pond. They wove between youngsters holding onto adults’ hands, a group of teenage girls acting silly, and an older couple who smiled affectionately at them. Casie tried to pull away from Scott and nearly collided with a tall post. “You okay?” “I’m fine.” She appeared shaken. “Will you stop resisting for one minute? You act like being with me is torture.” “That’s because it is.” “Torture can be fun,” he teased. An odd look crossed her face. “You don’t understand.” “Won’t get an argument from me there. I haven’t understood one thing about you, tonight. But I do know we need to get you warmed up. Hypothermia is no way to end a date. I have a reputation to

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consider. If I promise to be good, will you sit by the fire for a while?” She agreed. He let her go ahead of him. A half dozen scarred and battered wooden benches surrounded a large stone pit in which a fire blazed. All were occupied, but as they approached, a small boy stood up and scampered toward the ice. His mother slid over and indicated for them to join her. She held a squirming toddler in her lap. “She wants to go with her brother,” the woman explained when the little girl whined and thrashed from side to side. “She just learned to walk a week ago and thinks she can do everything he can. Don’t let these lovely curls and apple cheeks fool you. She’s more of a handful than my son ever was. I’d let her down, but I’m afraid she’ll fall in the fire.” Casie sank onto the bench between Scott and the woman. She held her hands and feet toward the flames, a low moan escaping her lips. “I may live after all.” “Want me to rub your hands for you?” Scott was rewarded with a cold shoulder. “Nothing works better than skin to skin contact to start the blood circulating.” She refused to acknowledge him. Little did she know he had her pegged. She was exactly like his sisters. According to his calculations, her next move would be a fit of temper, then running off to Mom, demanding he be punished. He wasn’t worried. Arlene liked him. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?” the woman asked Scott. He thought about it and came up blank. “I don’t think so.” She snapped her fingers. “Yes! The Happy Stork. You work there.” “Yeah, I do.” Scott smiled congenially. “Off and on.” “I love that place. I went there all the time when I was pregnant with her.” She gave her rambunctious daughter a maternal scowl. “They have such neat—” The woman abruptly stood. “Oh, dear. My son fell down again.” She appeared more exasperated than worried. “That’s the second time tonight.” Scott searched out the sound of crying to a small gathering near the edge of the pond. “Do you need some help?”

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She shoved the little girl at Casie. “Watch her for me, will you?” Casie’s mouth dropped open. Her eyes bulged. She turned to Scott in bewilderment, then back to her new charge, whose open mouth and bulging eyes matched hers. “Ah, ah, ah.” The little girl screwed up her face. “Now, now, come on. Don’t cry.” Casie looked on the verge of tears herself. The little girl opened her mouth wider, threw back her head and belched loud enough to shake the snow from the trees. “You’ve got quite a way with children,” Scott observed dryly. “This isn’t funny. What am I supposed to do?” “Don’t let her fall in the fire.” “Come on, Scott. I’m serious. I have no clue what to do.” “And I would?” “You’re…you’re…” The little girl punched Casie’s knees with her chubby fists. Casie grimaced, her own hands curled into matching fists. “Your mother owns a maternity shop,” she grunted. “You have more experience.” “You’re a woman. You were born with experience. It’s part of your physiology. Like breasts.” He couldn’t resist the pun. “Eeee, eeee.” The little girl squished between Casie’s legs and raised her arms. “Eeee, eeee.” When Casie detached her, she retaliated twice as hard. “Gaaa, gaaa.” “I think there’s something the matter with her,” Casie said worriedly. “She wants up.” “Up where?” “In your lap.” “My lap? Are you sure?” “Eeee, eeee.” The little girl’s vocalizations intensified in volume. “As you say, I have more experience in these matters.” Scott kept the little girl’s mother in sight.

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She waved to let him know everything was all right. Lifting the little girl, Casie awkwardly sat her on her knee. “There you go, I guess.” The toddler instantly reached up, grabbed Casie’s left earring and tried to rip it off. “Aaaaa.” “Ouch!” Casie gripped the little girl’s wrist. “Let go.” Squealing with delight, the little girl pulled harder, yanking Casie’s head down into her lap. “Help me, Scott,” Casie begged in a pain-induced whimper. He let her suffer. It seemed only fair after the way she’d been treating him all night. “Sorry. Didn’t hear you. What was that?” The little girl tugged mightily. Casie yelped. “Ow! Damn it, make her stop.” “You should watch your language around young children.” “I’m getting ready to do far worse than swear. And it’ll be on your conscience.” Scott chuckled heartily. He couldn’t remember when he’d had such a good time on a date. He leaned over and tickled the little girl under her double chin. “Hey there, peanut. What have you got?” She paused and gave Scott a dazzling four-tooth smile, then deteriorated into laughter when he tickled her again. Losing interest in the earring, she released it, pushed off Casie and went to Scott. He swooped her into his arms and settled her against his chest. When he poked her button nose, she pumped her legs and squealed happily. Casie righted herself and patted her disheveled hair into place. She wasted no time removing temptation from the little girl’s path and took off her earrings, tucking them safely inside the small evening bag slung around her neck. Her clothes were wrinkled and damp. Her wrap was askew. It would take a week to wipe the frown off her face. She was an enigma all right, and an interesting one at that. Scott had never met a woman so ill at ease around young children. Yet, she got along well with the girls at school. It made no sense. She eyed Scott warily. By this time, the little girl had quieted and was sucking her thumb

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contentedly. He bounced her gently, hoping to keep her that way until her mother returned. Casie glanced at Scott again, then made no effort to hide her open stare. He put a finger to his mouth. “Shh. If we’re lucky, she’ll fall asleep.” Her entire countenance changed. It softened bit by bit until not a trace of annoyance or discomfort remained. She studied him, as if really seeing him for the first time. The experience left Scott a tad uneasy. “You’re amazing. Do you have that effect on all females, or only those under the age of one?” Her sultry voice penetrated the many layers of clothing he wore and brushed his skin, causing an immediate and not exactly fitting response. “I don’t know. You tell me.” What he wouldn’t give to have Casie in his lap instead of the little girl. “I’m pretty useless when it comes to babies and such.” “I hadn’t noticed.” “I suppose you think I’m a freak.” “It is true, most women I meet are into all that mothering stuff. And while I do find you many things, a freak isn’t one of them.” Fascinating, sexy, and attractive topped his current list. “I like babies, really, but they make me uncomfortable. I don’t know why. Never been around them much.” “What about Grant?” “I know. You’d think having a brother ten years younger than me, I’d have grown up loving babies. Joyce sure did. She took as much care of him as Mom. Me, I was too much into my dancing to be bothered. Other girls got baby dolls for gifts, I got toe shoes and leg warmers. By the time Grant was born, I was taking classes five days a week and practicing the other two. Didn’t leave me much time to hone my big sister skills.” Before Scott could comment, the mother trudged over the small bank, dragging her son by the arm. He’d been crying hard, and it left him with a case of the hiccups. “He banged his elbow pretty

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good, but I don’t think it’s broken. We’d better go home and put some ice on it before it swells.” She took her daughter from Scott. “Thanks for watching her.” He envied their leaving, not wanting to be here either. He’d rather be alone with Casie. And, by golly, he would. “How about we hit the road, too? You look a little beat. You can tell me how much you enjoyed yourself on the way home.” Casie’s mood shifted again. She withdrew, erecting that damnable shield of hers. Scott decided not to let it ruin his plans and began plotting his next move. He let her stew silently on the way home, keeping her in suspense. He liked watching her fidget, and knowing he was the cause of her fidgeting. Without waiting for an invitation, he walked her to the door of her duplex apartment. She threw up more barriers with each step they took. Scott knocked them down in one fell swoop. “I’m going to kiss you good night, Casie,” he announced after she unlocked the door. “Do I have a say in the matter?” She thrust out her chin. “Sure. We can either do it here, where your neighbors can spy on us, or inside.” “Scott.” She sighed heavily. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.” “Why? Afraid you’ll like it?” “Yes,” she admitted hesitantly. That was all the encouragement he needed. He reached around her and turned the knob, then eased her through the door. “We’d better do this inside then,” he said shakily. “Because the way I’m going to kiss you, we don’t need an audience.” The phone on the end table rang just as they crossed the threshold. Casie dived for it. “Hello.” She held the receiver with both hands, nervously watching Scott. He bore down on her, a man on a mission. “Hi, Roe. Uh, yes. We just now got in.” She backed into the wall, never taking her eyes off him. “No. He’s still here.”

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“Hang up,” he demanded in a harsh whisper, unzipping his jacket. “I don’t know. He didn’t…we didn’t—” “Put the phone down, Casie.” He took the end of her wrap and slipped it from her, letting it trail across her arms. Next, he flung it onto the couch where it landed in a soft heap. “Tell Roe good-bye.” “Can I call you later?” Her breathing quickened. Her bosom rose and fell. Her lips parted. Scott couldn’t wait another moment. He fitted his hands around her waist and brought her to him. “Casie’s busy, Roe,” he said loud enough for Roe to hear. “I’m getting ready to kiss her, and I don’t want any interruptions. After that, we’re going to make plans for our next date.” He dipped his head and found the corner of Casie’s mouth with his. With the barest whisper of a touch, he slid his lips across hers. She trembled and lowered the phone. He heard Roe laugh, then a sharp click followed by a dial tone. With one hand, he replaced the phone. The other one he pressed into the small of Casie’s back. “No distractions, sweetheart. I want your complete attention. I’ve been waiting all night for this.” He enclosed her in a tight embrace. She mewed, then moaned, and ultimately surrendered, opening her mouth to his tongue’s advance. His expectations didn’t come close to reality. Her willing response sent ribbons of fire winding through him. He explored the delicious heat of her mouth, savoring her flavor and imprinting it on his brain for a life-long memory. Taking the lead, she snaked her hands inside his jacket. Her nails scraped his ribs, then skimmed up his back. Scott’s nerve endings crackled and sparked. In another second, he would light up, if not blow up. Ah, but what a way to die. There were far worse fates than being kissed into extinction by Casie. After an endless minute of hovering on the brink of paradise, he slowed the pace, choosing to live another day, if only to test his mortality by kissing her again. He drew in a much need breath, releasing her slowly to give himself time to adjust. His head still buzzed, and his skin tingled. “Wow. You’ve been holding out on me. I’d better leave before I do something I’ll regret.”

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“Dancing.” “That wasn’t what I had in mind.” She arranged his wool scarf, tucking the loose end inside his jacket. It elicited nearly the same results as kissing her had. “Our next date.” She smiled slyly, knowing full well she’d turned the tables on him. “I want to go dancing. For real, this time. To a place of my choosing.” “What a woman. Just name the night.” She did, and Scott left after soon after. He tried not to gloat on the way home, but because he possessed exactly the over inflated ego Casie frequently accused him of, he couldn’t help himself. With the first hurdle overcome, he eagerly anticipated the next one. And there would be plenty more hurdles on the road to winning her over, of that he was sure.

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Chapter Five

“Isn’t this just the cutest thing you ever saw?” Joyce held up a coffee mug in the shape of a pregnant woman’s torso. “I positively must have it for my collection.” It had taken weeks to accomplish, but Joyce finally made good on her threat and dragged Casie to The Happy Stork. “What collection?” Casie perched on a child’s potty chair, fighting boredom while fighting to stay seated. Scott wasn’t working today. His mother, Mrs. Berinhart, hovered nearby, seeing to Joyce’s every need. “My collection of…of…cute knickknacks having to do with pregnancy.”

Joyce gave Mrs.

Berinhart one of those doesn’t-she-know-anything looks. “I have bootie salt and pepper shakers over by the counter.” Mrs. Berinhart pointed to the other side of the store. “And a music box in the shape of a diaper that plays ‘You’re Having My Baby’ by Paul Anka.” “No fooling!” Joyce gasped with delight. “Show me.” They left Casie to suffer alone. Joyce followed Mrs. Berinhart like a dog follows its master at feeding time. The shop owner deserved a medal for putting up with Joyce. Casie hoped her sister bought enough junk for her collection to cover a month’s rent. Casie shifted and discovered her left leg had gone to sleep. She needed to get up and walk off the stiffness. There had to be something in the store that could interest her until Joyce finished. She

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struggled to a standing position and limped to the bookshelf. One glimpse at actual photographs taken of a four-week-old fetus had her slamming the book shut and looking for another potty chair. “Is there anything about pregnancy that doesn’t gross me out?” she demanded of the objects around her. Making love, came to mind. Specifically, making love with Scott. “You would have to bring that up.” She’d been contemplating little else these last weeks since their first date. A date she’d been conned into. A date that had wound up being the first of four and, as of tonight, five. He’d tricked her. She was so certain he was another Lowell Young. In college, she’d been involved with any number of jerks like Lowell, but he had been the worst by far. At least none of them had slept with another woman while engaged to her. Casie remembered in perfect detail the night Lowell announced his affair with a nineteen-year-old fan he met at a tournament and worse, the unplanned pregnancy resulting from it. He told Casie that breaking their engagement was the decent thing to do. She told him it was a little too late for decency — right before she tossed the few personal belongings he left at her place out the front door. In their own innocuous ways, Roe and others had tried to warn Casie about Lowell. Typically stubborn, she ignored them, standing by her conviction that the only man she’d ever allowed into her bed would never be unfaithful. She’d been wrong. Very wrong. Lowell, it turned out, had a thing for virgins and used whatever means at his disposal, including false proposals of marriage, to seduce them. Casie had been more resistant than most and required a ring before succumbing. Wanting no mementos of their relationship, she returned ring, hurling it straight into the back of his head. The lesson she learned had been painful and enduring. In the five months since then, Casie had refused to let the handful of men she dated within twenty feet of her bedroom. That was, until Scott, who never demanded more from her than a good night kiss. Granted, those kisses were hot enough to elevate global warming by several degrees, but nothing she considered improper. Scott, it turned out, was a

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decent guy. Go figure. Casie wandered over to the counter, intending to nag Joyce into leaving. Her sister would lose all track of time and stay the afternoon if Casie didn’t remind her that they had other places to go, just as important. “Sis, take a look at this.” Joyce held up a large stuffed toy with a knob in the center of its stomach. “A Teddy Bear with a growth for a belly button. How nice.” “Don’t you know what it is? Look.” She turned the knob. The toy emitted a stream of garbled static. “Appears you need new batteries. The reception’s terrible.” “It’s not a radio. It reproduces the sounds a baby hears while in the womb.” “And the reason for that would be?” “Honestly, Casie. You’re hopeless.” Joyce rocked the Teddy bear as if it were a baby, then set it on the counter. “I’ll take this, too.” “It soothes a fussy newborn,” Mrs. Berinhart explained as she added it to Joyce’s pile of goodies. “We need to hit the road, Joyce.” Casie snatched her sister’s coat collar, taking the Build Your Own Baby Website kit from her hands and putting it back on the shelf. “We still have to hit Pretty Party Place, Big K, and Your Perfect Wedding.” “I’ll be right with you.” Mrs. Berinhart greeted three new customers who came into the shop. To Casie, she said, “You must be planning a bridal shower.” “Yes. For my best friend. The wedding’s in three weeks.” “Casie’s the Maid of Honor,” Joyce added. “Scott’ll be there, too. He works with the bride, Roe Flanders.” “At the school?” “Uh, huh. Her boyfriend is a chemist, and the third weekend in April is the only time they can both get off work for a honeymoon.” Casie propped her hip against the counter, forgetting about her rush

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to leave. “They’d rather elope, but her family wants a huge wedding, of course. They’re compromising with a modest ceremony and a long weekend at her future in-law’s condo on The Cape.” “Scott and Casie are something of an item.” Joyce patted her upper chest, mimicking a fluttering heart. “Did he tell you?” “Oh.” Mrs. Berinhart assumed an air of innocence. “He might have mentioned something when he came by last weekend.” Her eyes softened. “He’s a good son. Such a big help since my husband’s been sick. Takes care of little things around the place that Herb can’t anymore. And fills in for me here when I need time off for Herb’s doctor appointments.” She covered her mouth as if she’d said too much. “I don’t mean to talk your heads off. Just a mother’s pride showing.” “I like hearing about him,” Casie said, and meant it. The phone on the wall rang. Mrs. Berinhart excused herself to answer it. Casie watched Joyce inventory her purchases. “You about done?” Her sister sulked. “I suppose so. I did want to check out the audio tapes.” “Not another tape,” Casie stated firmly. “It’s not like I can listen to it, anyway.

You don’t have a tape player in that worthless

conglomeration of spare parts you call a car. You don’t even have heat.” “I gave you the quilt, didn’t I? Froze my tail off so you could stay toasty. We could have taken your minivan.” “I can’t drive with these swollen ankles. I’m carrying ten pounds of water in each leg.” “No, Nina.” Mrs. Berinhart spoke into the phone, twisting the cord anxiously around her fingers. “He’s not here today.” Casie glanced at the shop owner. Had she heard correctly? Was Mrs. Berinhart talking to some woman about Scott? “You drive around town bundled in an old quilt because your heater’s on the blink,” Joyce droned on. “Sis, you have to buy a new car soon. Dad’ll go ballistic when he finds out.” “I don’t know where he is today.” Mrs. Berinhart turned her back to them, obviously trying to

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keep her conversation private. “He didn’t say.” A hollow feeling formed in the pit of Casie’s stomach. Why would someone named Nina be calling for Scott at the store? She struggled to hear more. Mrs. Berinhart muttered something unintelligible and then ended the call. When she turned toward them, she wore a bright, plastic smile. “Sorry about that. Are you ready to check out?” Casie’s suspicions flared.

Besides the phony cheerfulness, Mrs. Berinhart seemed suddenly

impatient to be rid of them. Not that Casie wanted to linger. On the contrary, she couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Her mind whirled. She and Scott had a date tonight, they were going to dinner. Should she mention overhearing the phone call? Did she have a right to demand an explanation? Five dates didn’t make for a permanent relationship. “What’s bugging you?” Joyce asked the second they were out the door. “Nothing.” “Could’ve fooled me. Are you mad because I took so long?” Joyce tossed her sacks in the back seat of The Lush. “You always take too long.” They climbed in the car and Casie passed the quilt to her sister. “Here.” “Gee, thanks. Come on, Sis. What gives?” Casie weighed the alternatives, then opted to confide in her sister. “What did you make of that phone call Mrs. Berinhart got?” “What phone call?” Joyce appeared perplexed. “I didn’t pay any attention.” “The caller was a woman named Nina. Mrs. Berinhart told her he wasn’t there today. Who do you think he was?” “Who knows? Could be anybody. Probably her husband.” “Oh.” Casie hadn’t thought of that. She started the car. For once, The Lush turned over on the first try. “Yeah, you’re right. Probably her husband. But then, why did she act so strange and all secretive like?”

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“As if it’s any of our business who she talks to. You’re reading way too much into this.” Abruptly, Joyce abandoned arranging the quilt and glowered at Casie. “You think the call was for Scott, don’t you?” “It crossed my mind.” “Well, uncross it from your mind,” her sister answered tersely, then reached over and gave Casie’s arm a sisterly squeeze. “Seriously, hon. You’ve got to quit judging every man by Lowell Young. I know he hurt you, but it’s time you got over it. Scott’s a great guy.” “You think I’m being paranoid.” “In a word, yes.” “How do I know for sure Scott isn’t like Lowell?” “You don’t. That’s what love and commitment are. Believing in that person with all your heart. Imagine how I feel? Troy is on the other side of the world. But I trust him implicitly. I know he would never look at another woman. Why, when he’s got me and his baby waiting for him at home?” She pressed her palm to the valley between her massive breasts. “I know it in here. Give Scott the benefit of the doubt, okay? He deserves it.” Casie didn’t respond. “Have you ever considered talking with other women who’ve been through the same thing you have?” “What! Are you saying I need therapy?” “No. Well, not exactly.” Joyce tried to explain. “They have these online support groups, like my First Time Mothers chat room.” “Uh, uh. No way. You are not getting me to sit in front of a computer and spill my guts to a bunch of faceless strangers who type in all lowercase letters and make smiley faces out of punctuation marks.” “It might help. That gal in my chat room who lives in Hartford…I told you about her, didn’t I? No matter. The same thing happened to her as you, only just the opposite. The guy she was seeing

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somehow forgot to mention his upcoming nuptials.” “That’s too bad, but I fail to see what it has to do with me.” “I feel sorry for her. I have a husband and family. She’s young, alone, and pregnant. Think how scary that must be.” “Hartford isn’t that far. Why don’t you visit her?” “I would, if she’d tell me her name. Some of the chat room members preferring being anonymous. I only know her by Mom2BJune16.” “Mom to be what?” “Mom2BJune16. That’s her screen name. It means her due date is June sixteenth. My screen name is BabyHereJune25.” “Gee, what would my screen name be? 2TimedMeSept7?” “Very funny. The point is, she also belongs to a chat room called Picking up the Pieces. It’s for women whose ex-partners cheated on them. I can get the information on how to join if you want.” “Forget it.” Casie shook her head emphatically. She’d exorcize Lowell without the help of a bunch of chat room junkies. “Okay. Well, let me know if you change your mind,” Joyce offered with genuine concern. Casie decided, while clearly suffering from a brain dysfunction, her sister did have her best interests at heart. The least she could do was be gracious in return. “You’ll be the first.” “Good. Now what say we go spend a ton of money we can’t afford on Roe’s bridal shower.” That made Casie laugh. It didn’t, however, dispel the niggling doubts about Scott still lingering in the back of her mind.

###

“Mind if I turn on the radio?” Scott reached for the knob on the dash and depressed it. “Sure.”

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Romantic music would be nice, Casie thought. She was in the mood for romance. Taking Joyce’s advice, she put her earlier qualms about the phone from Nina call to rest. Since she and Scott were both on limited budgets, they usually ate at one of the family-style restaurants around town. Not being the wine-and-dine type, Casie didn’t mind. But tonight, as a special treat, Scott was taking her to The Salt Box, one of the more elegant seafood restaurants in the area, then onto Manhattan’s, a popular jazz club. And afterwards? Well, that remained to be seen. Nestling deeper in her seat, she enjoyed the heat Scott’s 4-Runner put out. She had to do something about The Lush and soon, before it sucked her savings account dry. The balance had been growing nicely as of late. She snuck a discrete peek at Scott. One of many benefits to her temporary cheer instructor job. She’d also become attached to the girls and Ruth and would miss them when her contract ended. Casie had never considered a career in coaching and it surprised her how much she enjoyed it. There were many days at the insurance office when she wished she were at the school instead. Scott fiddled with the radio controls, then sat back. A jarring voice blared from the speakers. “What’s that?” He must have made a mistake, or this was them most obnoxious commercial she’d ever heard. “Pre-game show. The Raptors are playing the Suns tonight.” Men! He’d rather listen to a basketball game than talk with her. He hadn’t even noticed her red cocktail mini-dress and matching accessories, which she painstakingly selected especially for tonight. Not to mention the hour-and-a-half spent in the bathroom, fixing her hair and makeup. The whites from six eggs had gone into her homemade styling solution. One stiff breeze off the coast, and her hair would splinter into a thousand pieces. She dropped her chin in her hand and propped her elbow on the armrest. That way she could keep her prized do safe while she moped. “My old high school buddy plays for the Raptors. He was drafted by the Celtics after college, then traded around. He’s been with them for about two years.” “Mmm.” So that explained his interest in the game and lack of interest in her. Her feelings were mollified. Marginally.

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“Kyle Stevenson plays for the Suns. Did you ever meet him? He went to your Alma Mater.” “A couple times when he came home for visits,” Casie answered absently. “He graduated before I started.” “Heck of a player. Underrated if you ask me. The man’s a worker. He never steps out on the court that he doesn’t give one hundred and ten percent.” Scott turned up the volume and after listening to a comment by the announcer, exclaimed, “All right! Justin Manns is out with an injury. The Raptors may actually have a chance tonight.” He stopped and drew a breath. “You’re not the least bit interested in this, are you?” “Oh, no. I love sports.” And while true, it wasn’t on her agenda for the evening. “I’m just a little tired. Shopping the day away with Joyce will do that to you.” “I heard you went to The Happy Stork.” He grinned and when his dimples popped out, her heart skipped. “How do you know that?” she asked when she could manage speaking again. “Mom told me. She called right before I left to give me a message.” Her skipping heart came to a grinding halt. A message from Nina, perhaps? She gnashed her teeth and tried to rationalize the situation. His mother could have called for any number of reasons. No cause to jump to conclusions. “I like her. She’s really nice.” “Uh, yeah,” Scott replied automatically, listening more to the radio than her. When a commercial came on, he reached over and gave her knee an affectionate squeeze. “You look nice tonight. I like that dress on you, what there is of it.” She started to make a glib comeback, but stopped when she noticed deep furrows creasing his brow and a distracted air about him. “Something bothering you?” “Nah, it’s nothing.” He turned a weak smile on her. Thinking again of Nina, a twinge of alarm bit into Casie’s middle. “Tell me,” she insisted, then chided herself for being too pushy. Taking a more solicitous approach, she offered, “I’m a good listener.” His smile broadened. “I promised myself I wouldn’t talk about work tonight.”

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Work! Well, that was a relief. And anyway, she’d rather discuss work than listen to a basketball game. “I don’t mind. Really. Did something happen?” “I had a situation with a parent today at school.” Scott shrugged indifferently. “Ooh, too bad.” Casie understood all too well. She’d seen plenty of situations, as Scott called them, during her years of cheerleading. Her own mother had been downright brutal with one of her dance instructors, to Casie’s mortification. Now, as a cheer instructor, she was on the other side of the fence. Just last week she had a minor confrontation with a mother whose daughter was placed on temporary suspension from the squad for failing grades. “Some parents take their children’s involvement in sport very seriously. They often overreact.” “Yes, they do.” Scott chuckled. “Let me guess. You locked horns with a dad who thinks he knows more about basketball than you do.” “Something like that.” Scott’s attempt at being casual fell short of mark. Casie remembered how drained she felt after dealing with the mother and how bothered she’d been for the rest of the day. “You’re a great coach, Scott,” she said in way of encouragement. “All anyone has to do is look at your win-loss records.” “Not shabby for a maternity store clerk.” The asperity in his voice took her aback. “What does that have to do with your coaching?” “A lot. At least, according to this father, it does.” “Oh, puleeze.” When he didn’t echo her sentiment, she narrowed her eyes at him. “What exactly did this man say to you?” The traffic light ahead turned yellow, and Scott slowed the 4-Runner. When they came to a full stop, he reached over and squeezed Casie’s knee again, this time leaving his hand there. “We have no-cut sports at Manchester Junior High. Everyone who wants to play makes the team.” “Sure. A lot of schools work that way.” “Right. However, it’s my decision who plays when, for how long, and in what position.”

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“Of course. You’re the coach.” “Mr. Genovese has two sons on the basketball team, one in sixth grade, one in eighth. The older boy is a natural athlete, excelling at anything involving a ball, be it basketball, football, soccer, or baseball. He’s good, and his dad knows it. And let’s me know it.” “One of those dads.” “Exactly. Problem is, the younger boy doesn’t have a tenth of the skill his older brother does.” “And his dad doesn’t know it,” Casie supplied. “Or doesn’t accept it. I tried to explain to him that not all kids are meant to play sports. The kid’s talents may lie elsewhere, like music or academics. He didn’t listen to a word I said. Mr. Genovese demanded that both his sons be given equal playing time and insisted the younger one is every bit the athlete the older one is. When I told him I make decisions based on what’s best for the entire team and not one member, he brought up my working at Mom’s shop and referred to my job there in way I’ve never heard before.” “Scathing? Unflattering?” Scott blew out a long breath. “Demoralizing.” “You didn’t let that…that…father mess with your head, did you?” But she thought by the tightness around Scott’s mouth, he might have. Suddenly, Casie remembered hearing a man shout a taunt at Scott during a recent basketball game. The game where the cheer squad debuted and Scott had kissed her for the first time. She couldn’t help wondering, was Mr. Genovese that same man? Oh, brother. Stuff like that could really have a negative impact a coach’s confidence. “I’m trying hard not to buy into it.”

Scott maneuvered the 4-Runner through a series of

construction barriers. “It isn’t as easy as I thought it would be. As it should be. I’ve been hanging around Mom’s shop practically my whole life. Up until today, my working there has never bothered me, or anyone else that I know of. At least, I thought it didn’t.” “Scott Karstetter! I’m ashamed of you.” Casie folded her arms across her waist. He reached across the back of the seat and rubbed her stiff shoulder. “What have I done this

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time?” “Don’t you dare let what that man says get to you.” “If you tell me you think my working at Mom’s shop is sweet, I swear I’ll dump you in the street right this minute. I don’t care how deliciously you fill out that damn dress.” Sliding into the crook of his arm, she walked two fingers up his chest and around the side of his neck. “Just try and get rid of me,” she purred, giving his cheek a small peck. “I’ll make you very sorry.” He nipped her bottom lip as they waited in line at a toll booth. “Promises, promises.” They drove along the turnpike for a short time in silence, then Scott said, “You’ve probably seen Johnny. Nice kid, big ears, tall and skinny. He’s all the time sneaking over to your side of the gym and watching the girls practice their cheers.” “We’re talking about Johnny?” Casie drew up and gaped at Scott with stunned surprise. “Johnny with the freckles and braces?” “Yeah. That’s him. I take it you know him.” She felt herself break into a huge smile. “Yes, I know him. He’s quite the dancer.” “Dancer?” Scott gave her a puzzled look. “Ah, huh.” She couldn’t help laughing now that she made the connection. “If the school allowed boys on the cheer squad, I’d petition his father personally to let Johnny participate. He can hip hop like you’ve never seen.” “You’re serious?” “Absolutely. Why do you think he sneaks over to our side of the gym?” “Well, I just figured he’d rather be with a bunch of girls than a bunch of boys. Not that I blamed him.” “Ha! Well, Coach Karstetter, Johnny is a natural athlete, if you consider dancing a form of athletics, and I certainly do. The next time Mr. Genovese tries to tell you how to do your job, why don’t you suggest he enroll Johnny in dance classes.” “I’d rather be stripped naked, staked out in the hot sun and left for vulture bait.”

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“And what’s wrong with dancing?” “Nothing. But I don’t think it’s what Mr. Genovese has in mind for his son.” She huffed dramatically, trying to work up a good case of irritation. But the image of Scott, stripped naked and staked out, kept her from accomplishing it.

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Chapter Six

“There’s a twenty to thirty minute wait,” the maitre d’ at The Salt Box informed Scott and Casie after taking their name at the door. He handed them an electronic pager. “This will light up when your table’s ready. If you like, you can wait on the enclosed patio or inside at the bar.” The patio, thought Casie. The weather had been unseasonably warm for late February, she and Scott would practically have the place to themselves. Free to cozy up undisturbed. “Thanks. We’ll be in the bar.” He cut a path through the dense throng of diners. “I think I see two seats.” TV’s hung in all four corners, every one of them tuned to the game. Casie stirred her wine spritzer with a straw, then flicked droplets of liquid on her cocktail napkin in an abstract pattern. Scott had ignored her since the game started five minutes ago, talking instead to the man and fellow fan beside him. Growing weary of watching him stare at the television set behind her head, she began to regret her previous efforts to lift his spirits. She debated the merits of ‘accidentally’ spilling her drink in his lap, then elected a less direct approach. “Roe’s bridal shower is next weekend, you know.” “Hmmm.” He took a sip of his beer and set it back down, his eyes fastened on the screen. “Yes! Did you see Hartley?” He jostled his neighbor’s arm. “Nobody makes an outside shot like him.” “We all chipped in and hired an exotic male dancer,” Casie continued.

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“Uh, huh.” He went to pat her hand and missed, hitting her purse instead. It didn’t faze him. “He said if we guaranteed a hundred dollar tip, he’d strip down to his bare essentials.” “That’s, um, nice. “Joyce says it’s worth it because he has a tattoo on his—” “Score! What a shot. I can’t believe he made it. Did you see that, Casie?” He grabbed her by the shoulders and gave her a quick hug. “That’s Allen. The friend I was telling you about. He just made the sweetest twelve footer with one second left on the shot clock. Man, what a game.” The pager lying on the bar came to life, flashing and vibrating simultaneously. Casie picked it up and showed it to Scott. “Our table’s ready.” His expression fell. “Okay.” After one last look at the TV, he stood up and grabbed the beer he’d barely touched. He motioned for Casie to precede him. “After you.” “You’re gonna miss a great game, pal,” Scott’s neighbor said as they walked away. “Keep a lookout on number nineteen for me, will you?” When they reached the host’s podium, Casie gave the maitre d’ their pager. Next, she took Scott’s beer from him and handed that and her wine spritzer over as well.

At the older man’s obvious

bewilderment, she enlightened him. “Thank you, but we’re leaving.” “What’s going on, Casie?” Scott asked. “I beg your pardon, Miss. Is something the matter?” “No. Not at all,” she addressed the maitre d’. “We’ve had a change of plans is all. Come on, Scott. We’re outta here.” She charged ahead after taking his hand. “I don’t understand.” “Look,” she told him when they reached his truck. “I know you’d like to watch the game.” “We had dinner plans. I promised you.” “And I appreciate that you’re willing to give up something you want for me. Now I’m going to give up something I want for you.” When his dimples materialized, and he really looked at her for the first time all evening, she knew she’d made the right choice. “We can watch the rest of the game at my

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place, if you want. Stop at a fast food drive-through on the way for some hamburgers.” He slipped his arms around her and kissed her quickly.

“You are one special lady, Casie

Malcavey.” “And don’t you forget it. Now get in and drive like the blazes.” He opened the passenger door and helped her in. “We’ll go to my place. It’s closer.” At her raised eyebrows, he responded, “That way, we won’t miss the second quarter.”

###

Yip, yip, yip. “Quit it, get away.” Scott shook his leg, but it had no effect. The small, elongated canine flung himself at his owner, eagerly showing his devotion and affection. “He’s so cute,” Casie cooed and bent down. The dachshund went into a frenzy and jumped all over her, coating her face with a generous dose of dog spit. “Get down, get away. Leave her alone.” “I don’t mind,” she said, then gasped. “What happened to him?” “He was run over by a motorcycle. Crushed all the bones in his front foot. They had to amputate it.” Scott dashed to the entertainment center and turned on the TV. “Yes! Still the second quarter.” Casie picked up the dog, who whined pathetically, and held up his stump for her inspection. “It’s all an act. He manages just fine.” “Poor little guy.” She took a seat next to Scott on the couch. “How could you let such a thing happen? Why weren’t you walking him on a leash?” She scratched the dog’s belly, and he went limp in her arms. His dark, woeful eyes gazed at her with unabashed love. Then his back leg started jerking as if scratching himself, and he made low grunting noises. “He’s not my dog. I don’t know where he came from. He was hanging around the street corner for a few days. I saw him get hit on my way to work. The kid on the bike didn’t stop.” Scott talked, but

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never took his eyes off the TV. Casie cuddled her new friend. At least he paid attention to her. “What did you do?” “I took him to the vet. When no one claimed him after a week, they called me. We worked out a deal. The vet agreed to a reduced fee in twelve easy payments. I always meant to find a home for him. Never got around to it.” Scott popped off the couch, then sat back down. “Did you see that?” He pointed to the TV. “Offensive foul, my jock strap.” Casie set the dog on the floor. He immediately tried to jump back on her lap. “Bad dog.” Scott pushed him down. “Sit, get away.” “Oh, that makes a lot of sense.” “What?” Scott turned his head toward her but kept his eyes glued to the TV. “Sit. Get away.” Casie laughed. “What exactly do you want him to do?” “I want him to stop pestering us.” He pulled the dog gently by the collar and made him sit between their legs. “Stay, get away, stay.” The dog didn’t listen. He made straight for Casie again. “You’re confusing him.” She stroked his velvety ears. He started whining. “Sit, stay, get away. No wonder he won’t listen.” “He won’t listen because he knows a sucker when he sees one.” Scott dragged himself away from the game long enough run his fingers down the side of her face. “And Get Away is his name.” “His name?” She watched the dog put runs in her pantyhose with his one good paw. “He comes by it honestly. You hungry?” She retrieved the bags from the desk where Scott had set them when they first came in. “I’ll heat up your burger.” “Whatever.” Scott clutched the back of his head and groaned as if in terrible pain. “He missed again. That’s the third turnover in the last two minutes.” “Come here, cutie,” she beckoned to the dog. “I’ll give you a French fry if you promise to worship the ground I walk on.” Get Away obliged, hobbling along beside her. Casie flicked a light on in the kitchen. Other than a few dirty dishes in the sink, the place wasn’t bad. Small, but tidy and better than she expected.

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“Maybe after dinner, you’ll give me a tour of the house.” Get Away wagged his tail happily. She fed him a French fry, then another and another. All from Scott’s order. “I have to tell you, your owner is a little strange. I don’t mean to brag, but most guys in this position would be all over me in a flash. Don’t get me wrong, I really appreciate it. It’s not like I need a man’s interest to affirm my worth as a woman.” Get Away went to the back door and whined. “Am I boring you?” Yip, yip, yip. “Your dog has business to take care of,” she called to Scott. “Let him out.” “Won’t he wander off?” “The back yard is fenced.” Casie patted Get Away’s head before opening the door. “I see he does care about you after all.” Was there ever a doubt? her heart asked. She didn’t suppose so. Scott wouldn’t go through all the inconvenience and expense of rescuing the dog just to take chances with his safety. It’s the same with you. Do you think so? Casie found some plates in a cupboard. She loaded the burgers and fries on them and pondered the subject of Scott’s gallantry while the food heated in the microwave. It made sense. Why would Scott work so hard to date her and then risk it all by seeing another woman on the side? Unless he was like Lowell after all. The microwave beeped. Casie no sooner removed the plates when she heard a scratching and muffled bark. She opened the door and Get Away hobbled in. “I suppose the smell of food brought you back and not a burning desire for my company. Oh, my gosh! What’s that?”

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Behind the dog hopped a grayish-brown rabbit. It slipped through before Casie could close the door. “Eeek! Scott, come quick. Hurry,” she pleaded. The rabbit made a beeline for the dog’s dish in the corner where it consumed an enormous quantity of kibbles in rapid-fire succession. Scott stuck his head around the corner. “What’s going on?” “Look.” She pointed a shaking finger at the animal intruder. Scott went over to the rabbit and grabbed it by the scruff of fur around its neck, holding it high in the air. Its large hind legs pumped, seeking solid footing. Rather than returning it to the wilds, he tucked him under his arm like a football. “Oh, good. The food’s ready. I’m starved.” He picked up the plate with the most French fries. Casie followed after him. Get Away, her dedicated companion, by her side. She placed her plate on the coffee table and joined Scott. Get Away positioned himself at her feet, awaiting handouts. The rabbit sat on Scott’s lap, its front paws planted on his shirt front, investigating his pockets. Casie fumed for a moment until hunger pangs mellowed her. “I suppose this is another pet?” “A semi-pet. I’m trying to rehabilitate her, but she’s resisting. She’s developed a taste for dog chow and I can’t break her of it.” Scott took the remote control and lowered the volume on the TV. Evidently he wasn’t as interested in the half-time report as he was the game. “Tell me, how does one acquire a rabbit for a semi-pet?” “Another casualty I happened upon. Last Thanksgiving vacation, I took the boys hiking by the river on a football training exercise. It was right after that first big snowfall. We had to cut around a fallen tree and that’s when I spotted this box. A homemade trap. She’d been in there for who knows how long. I thought she was dead, at first.” “Poor thing.” Casie found her feelings for the rabbit changing. Instead of fearing her, she began to like her.

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Kind of like Scott, huh? “I took her to the vet. Course, he and I are on a first name basis by this time and my credit’s good. She was suffering from severe dehydration and exposure. It was touch and go there for a while.” “What’s her name?” “Popeye.” Casie reached out and tentatively petted the rabbit. Her whiskers quivered as she smelled Casie’s hand. “She’s so soft. Why Popeye?” “When I first brought her home, I fed her lots of spinach to build her strength.” “It must have worked.” “She’s really friendly. Want to hold her?” “I – I—” No, Casie thought. I want to hold you. Tonight Scott had done more than put another chip in her defensives. He’d knocked down an entire section. Okay, he was a good teacher. A great coach. Nice to her family. Wonderful with kids. An extraordinary kisser. But nothing he’d said or done touched her the way this story had. Only an innately good man would rescue a rabbit. She took Popeye from him and set her on the floor. Scott gave her a curious look. She cleared up his confusion by taking the rabbit’s place on his lap. When his dimples appeared, she kissed first one and then the other, determining their depths with the tip of her tongue. “How long do we have until the game starts?” She raised her arms and stretched languidly. “What game?” Scott growled, before burying his face in the side of her neck.

###

He’d obsessed about her mole since the first day they met. It sat right there, at the base of her neck, just above the string of pearls she wore for the pure pleasure of driving him insane. He chewed a path along the ridge of her collarbone until he found the mole. When he teased it with his tongue, she

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tensed, then melted with a soft sigh of contentment. He laid her across his thighs, supporting her head in the crook of his arm, then continued his journey along the neckline of her dress. It dipped to a low vee in the front where he pressed his nose into the billowy mounds of her breasts. Powder of some sort had left a satiny sheen and an intoxicating fragrance on her skin. “You’re wearing my favorite kind of bra.” He’d suffocate in a minute if he didn’t come up for air. Or maybe it was Casie at close range causing his lightheadedness. “What kind is that?” She squirmed, and Scott jerked, swallowing a big gulp of air. It only minimally restored him. A pleasurable ache started in his groin and spread to his extremities. He couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. “Hmm?” An answer. She was waiting for an answer. He fought to remember the question. “The ones with a clasp in the front.” “Oh?” She smiled demurely. “And how do you know that’s the kind I have on?” He wedged his hand under her back and felt for the band of her bra. “Because there’re no hooks here. So there must be a clasp,” he stared at the front of her dress, his mouth mere inches from the topic of their discussion, “here.” She chuckled deep in her throat. “I’ll give you that one. Now, can you tell me what kind of material the cups are made of?” Her nipples hardened to visible points beneath her dress. He broke out in a cold sweat. “Sheer.” “You sound awfully sure of yourself.” “Am I right?” “Maybe, maybe not. I guess you’ll just have to find out for yourself.” The muscles in his body threatened to snap from the struggle to hold back. His mental capacities

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diminished to one percent of normal. He was aware of only two things: the pounding in his temples and his need pushing painfully against the front of his pants. “But I want a kiss first.” Her fingers slid into his hair, and she guided him to her mouth. He went happily. She tasted cool and sugary, like the diet soda she’d been drinking. Then all at once, she changed to hot and tangy. She moved beneath him, rubbing those perfect breasts against him. He covered one with his hand. The cups were indeed very, very sheer. Not unlike the day they met in The Happy Stork, she changed right before his eyes. This Casie wasn’t shy, she had spunk. She’d become the pursuer and he the pursued. Scott didn’t know if he liked having their roles reversed. He wasn’t in control, and that meant he might compromise his principals. He wanted Casie. Hell, he wanted her more than he wanted air to breathe. But he wouldn’t take her to bed just to appease his lust. And he didn’t believe for one minute that’s what she wanted either. He knew from Roe that she dated infrequently. As Roe had explained it, the moment a guy made advances, Casie dropped him. But what normal, red-blooded man could last more than one or two dates without making a pass at her? Especially when she wore slinky red dresses and patent leather pumps. Casie moaned and thrust her hips into his waist, making her desire clear. With supreme effort, Scott resisted stripping her bare and ravishing her on the spot. His restraint had gained him her trust, as her actions now proved. He didn’t dare lose it by taking advantage of her in the heat of the moment. He gradually ended the kiss, savoring her full lips one last time and running his open palm along the span of her belly. “What’s wrong? I thought, well, I mean, don’t you—” “So help me, I do, sweetheart. You have to know that.” He adjusted her on his lap to relieve the agonizing pressure. “But I think we ought to wait awhile. We both need to get the feel of this relationship before we take it to the next level.” She grinned sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to get carried away.” “I loved it. Remember, I’m an egomaniac and thrive on women getting carried away.” She punched him playfully. “I don’t care if you do rescue hurt and starving animals, you’re still a

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lug.” “True. But a nice lug.” “Yeah.” She kissed him again, quick and hard. “You are that.” “Casie. I’d like to see you more than once a week. Way more. And I don’t mean at the school.” The phone on the desk rang. “Shoot.” He started to rise, then changed his mind and snuggled her closer. “Let the answering machine get it.” “You never finished your dinner. And you haven’t checked the score in fifteen minutes.” “Thanks for reminding me.” He found the remote control and aimed it at the TV. The answering machine picked up after the fourth ring. “Hello, Scott,” came a female voice. “It’s Nina. If you’re home, answer the phone.” His fingers stalled on the buttons. “I called the shop earlier and spoke to your mom, but you weren’t there. I thought you said you were coming over today.” She paused. “Call me when you get home, okay? Bye.” The answering machine beeped, then fell silent. Casie went rigid. Scott went numb.

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Chapter Seven

Arlene ripped off her blindfold. “How did I do?” The group of women behind her whooped and hollered. “You got dead center, Mrs. Malcavey,” one of them shrieked and succumbed to a coughing fit. “Did I?” Arlene stepped back from the poster of a naked man hanging on the wall and inspected her handiwork. The handsome model had male genital cutouts tacked all over him, including one on his foot and one dangling from his ear. That had gotten the biggest laugh until Arlene took her turn at HangThe-Hardware-On-The-Hunk. “Well, how about that.” Arlene preened. “I always knew where to put a man’s danger.” “Go, Mom. Go, Mom.” Joyce howled. “Arlene!” Auntie Flow went stark white. “Thank goodness your mother isn’t here to witness the spectacle you’re making of yourself.” “Oh, Auntie Flo. Lighten up. Who do you think I learned it from?” Auntie Flo fanned her face, rolled her eyes up into the back of her head and collapsed onto a nearby recliner. “I swear, Roe.”

Casie clutched her best friend’s arm and drew her into a confidential

conversation. “I had no idea Joyce brought that game. Why I put her and Mom in charge of the entertainment, I’ll never know. They’ve ruined your bridal shower, and in front of your co-workers

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besides.” “Don’t be ridiculous.” Roe cackled and took a swig of punch. “It’s the hit of the party. This is the best damn shower I’ve ever been to.” “That’s okay, honey.” Casie went on as if Roe hadn’t spoken. “You don’t have to make excuses for them. You’re too nice for your own good.” Casie sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. She’d been a wreck all week and on the verge of tears most of the day. She told herself it was because her best friend would soon be taking that walk down the aisle. It beat dwelling on the truth; the phone call from Nina had turned her inside out. “I am not a nice person. In fact, I’m about ready to kick you in the fanny. Are you suffering from a raging case of PMS or what?” “You two fighting again?” Joyce joined them. “Your sister’s hormones are out of balance.” “Oh, that again.” Joyce crinkled her nose. “Monthly PMS is nothing compared to the first trimester of pregnancy.” “For your information, my hormones have never been more in balance.” Casie bit back a sob. “The punch needs refilled, and we’re low on napkins. I’ll take care of it.” She ran to the sanctuary of her kitchen, Roe and Joyce hot on her heels. Joyce compressed her ever-blossoming self into a seat at the small dining set while Roe blocked the door. “Might as well spill your guts,” her best friend warned, “because we’re not letting you out of here until you do.” “Shoot, we forgot the potato chips.” Joyce rummaged through the bags, boxes, and jars on the table. “I’ve had this craving for salt lately.” “Here, eat this.” Casie slammed a salt shaker down on the table in front of her sister. “And leave me alone.” “See.” Roe gave Joyce a conspiratorial nod. “It’s like I said. PMS.” “Don’t discuss me like I’m not here.” Casie dished orange sherbet into a bowl of fruit punch.

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Red liquid splashed over the sides and onto the counter. “Somebody grab me a paper towel, will you?” “Make up your mind.” Joyce licked the salt off a pretzel. “First you want us to leave, next you want us to stay.” “Talk to us,” Roe said sympathetically. “We’re only giving you a hard time because we love you. Something’s bothering you, and we want to help. Is it Scott? You haven’t mentioned him lately. I know I’ve been preoccupied with the wedding. Did you have a quarrel?” “Not exactly. How can you quarrel with someone who’s polite?” “Polite or contrite?” “Both.” “Ooh, this doesn’t sound good. What happened?” Joyce put the bag of pretzels down. “You aren’t sleeping with him, so he can’t be cheating on you.” “Am I that obvious?” Casie hated it when sister hit the nail on the head. Joyce leaned half out of the chair, her face aglow. “You’re sleeping with him? No fooling! I want to hear everything. Right down to the last little insignificant detail. And don’t tell me his detail is insignificant. It couldn’t possibly be. Not with—” “Get your mind out of the gutter, would you? I’m not sleeping with him.” “He’s cheating on you?” Roe’s forehead creased with concern. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore.” “Does this have something to do with the phone call Mrs. Berinhart got when we were in the shop last week?” “Yeah.” Casie hesitated. “What I’m about to tell you doesn’t leave this room, okay?” “Absolutely.” “Does Mom count?” “Especially Mom.” Casie gathered herself. “Last Saturday, we went to Scott’s place instead of going out to dinner. He wanted to watch some stupid basketball game. Well, not stupid. Some friend of his plays for one of the teams. Anyway, everything was going great. We were…having fun.”

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“You were making out,” Joyce interjected. “Something like that.” Casie helped herself to a cup of fresh punch. “Suddenly, the phone rings. Scott says, let the answering machine get it. Then, this woman’s voice comes on saying, hi Scott, it’s Nina.” She spoke in a squeaky voice, mimicking the call. “I thought you were coming over today.” She looked from one woman to the other, daring them to comment. Joyce didn’t. She simply laid her hands atop her belly. “Holy smokes.” Roe rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “So, who is this Nina person?” “Maybe it’s his sister,” Joyce offered. “You said he had two of them.” “No. She’s a friend of his youngest sister. Or so he claims.” Casie brushed a tear from the corner of her eye. “A friend,” Roe repeated, staring at a distant point. “That’s what he told you?” “Yeah. If you can believe it.” “Gotta be the truth.” Joyce opened a jar of Spanish olives and popped some in her mouth like they were jellybeans. “No guy in his right mind would give such a lame excuse if he had something to hide.” “Unless that’s the best he could come up on the spur of the moment. Roe?” Casie looked at her best friend. “What’s your take on this? Has he ever mentioned a Nina before?” “Not that I can recall. I never paid any attention to his dating habits until recently. And he keeps his personal life just that. Personal. He did bring a woman to Edna Jamesgard’s Christmas Open House, but I don’t think her name was Nina.” Roe shook her head. “No, it was an ‘L’ name, like Louise, or Luanne.” Louise or Luanne? Who is she? Casie tried to tell herself that anyone Scott dated before meeting her had no bearing on their present relationship. “What happened after that?” Joyce’s question took Casie’s mind off the mysterious “L” woman. “Well, the phone call spoiled the mood, as you can guess. I told him it was getting late and that I needed to go home. He agreed, which made me feel even worse. I probably wouldn’t have believed him if he denied everything and

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begged for forgiveness, but at least my pride would be intact.” “You haven’t been going out with him that long, Sis. Do you two have any kind of exclusive dating arrangement?” “No,” Casie answered sadly. She’d asked herself over and over what kind of relationship five dates made and still didn’t have the answer. Scott had twisted her thoughts and emotions into a tangle since the day they’d met at The Happy Stork. And while she was probably better off without him, she hated considering the possibility. For some reason, her heart continued to cling to him. “Have you talked to him since last Saturday?” Roe wanted to know. “Uh, uh. He’s called a bunch of times, but I won’t answer the phone. Thank goodness for caller I.D. I’ve seen him at school, but I made sure we weren’t alone and left as soon as cheer practice was over.” “I’m cutting you off.” Roe took the nearly empty jar of olives away from Joyce and put them in the refrigerator. “Why avoid him?” she asked Casie. “Wouldn’t it be better to clear the air?” “I’m not ready to face him yet. I need some time to sort through this mess.” Were she honest with herself, she’d admit to being afraid of finding out that Scott was just like Lowell. “You’ve fallen for him, haven’t you?” Joyce scrambled out of her chair and advanced on Casie. “I can tell. Any other man, and you’d have blown him off by now. Casie’s in love, Casie’s in love,” she teased. “Am not!” “Are, too.” “Quit it.” “Sorry, kiddo, but I tend to agree with your sister. You wouldn’t be this upset if you didn’t have strong feelings for him.” “What are you two, my personal psychotherapists?” Casie started stuffing trash into a waste basket, venting her frustrations on dozens of poor, defenseless paper cake plates. One of the guests stuck her head through the doorway. “Casie, the stripper’s here. He wants to

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settle up before he starts. And I gotta say, good choice, girl! Hubba, hubba.” “Stripper?” Casie glowered at her sister. “Tell me you didn’t hire that stripper.” “I was going to, but Mom vetoed it. What do you suppose is going on?” Joyce waddled away as fast as her fluid-packed legs would permit her. “I don’t know, but I intend to find out.” Casie barreled into the living room, ready to do battle. When she saw the man in question standing near the door, her hormones truly went haywire. “Casie,” her mother called from across the room. “Look who’s here. Your young man.” Twenty pairs of eyes fastened on them. Twenty pairs of ears turned to hear what she said. Casie resolved in that instant whatever transpired between her and Scott would not be witnessed by this gaggle of blabbermouths. She strode toward Scott, her composed manner masking the turmoil within her. “Hi. Heard you were in the market for an exotic male dancer.” She grabbed his arm. “Let’s negotiate your price outside.” He grinned from ear to ear. “Gladly. But I have to warn you, I’m not cheap.” As soon as they were on the front porch, Casie released him. It was then she spotted his 4-Runner. “You drove on the front lawn!” “There was no place to park. The street’s packed.” Casie made a sound of disgust. Did men ever think past the immediate? A strange thumping noise came from the truck. “What’s that?” “Get Away.” The dachshund stood on his hind legs, anchoring himself on the passenger window with his one front paw. He yipped loudly, then banged his head on the glass. She went to the porch railing and looked out, squinting against the late afternoon sun. “What’s he doing?” “He wants out. He misses you. He’s moped around the house all week.” “You brought the dog with you?” She refused to believe it. “Reinforcements. Should you prove resistant to my charms.”

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Get Away banged his head again and whined. “Make him stop,” Casie pleaded. “If you say so.” He started toward the truck. “Wait.” Casie realized his plan had worked. “That’s low, Scott. Using a poor, helpless animal to manipulate me.” “I’m a man. It’s our nature to sink low in order to get what we want.” He didn’t act the least bit sorry, leaning against the porch railing in a casual stance that smacked of raw sensuality. Casie fought to resist him. “Why are you here? And the truth, this time.” “This time? You think I’ve lied to you before?” “Have you?” She wanted to know, and yet she didn’t. He made an effort to take her hands, but she eluded him. “Casie, I’ve never lied to you.” He cleared his throat. “Nina is a friend of my sister’s. She’s attending Hartford Art School. As a favor to her folks, I agreed to help her out now and then if she needs it. She’s young, barely twenty, and they worry about her being all alone in a big city. I’m not the least bit interested in her.” His stance intensified. “Not like I am you.” “How interested in me are you, exactly?” Why did she say that? Scott would spot her weakness, and she’d lose her advantage. One long stride put him at her side. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him. His sweatshirt smelled of outdoors and Scott, tickling her nose. She wanted to rub her cheek against it. Lay her head on it. Let him make her feel safe and secure like he had before. He was big, strong, capable, and until recently, trustworthy. Had he changed? Or had she changed the circumstances of their relationship by jumping to a wrong conclusion? If only she could be sure. He stroked her back, clouding her mind further until she no longer cared about what mattered and what didn’t. It was difficult to feel wronged when she felt so right in his arms. “I’m interested in you, Casie. Very interested. More than I thought I would be. I like being with you.” He chuckled. “I like picking on you. You’re such an easy target.”

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She gave a small laugh, but it sounded more like a strangle. “You’re so darn rotten to me sometimes.” “And you’re so darn serious. I can’t help myself.” She lifted her head and leaned back. Gathering her courage, she looked him square in the face, wanting a clear view of his eyes when he answered her next question. “Is Nina more to you than just a friend?” He took his time, searching her face in much the same way she had his. Casie felt as if the situation had been reversed, that Scott sought honesty from her as much as she did from him. “No. Never has been and never will be.” “Purely platonic?” The very edge of his mouth started to twitch. If he carried out the completion of that smile, she would be done for. “All right, all right. The truth. She wants me. Always has.” He held out his elbow. “You know that bruise I got last week? It was from beating her off of me.” The last remnants of Casie’s anger dissolved. “Now I know you’re lying. You slipped at practice showing of your mediocre hook shot.” “My hook shot is not mediocre.” “Could’ve fooled me.” “I believe I already have,” he said in way that implied an entirely different meaning. At his easy grin, it occurred to Casie her display of jealousy might be feeding his gigantic ego. She shook her head, disgusted with herself. The damage was done. He’d be incorrigible, think she was crazy for him. Aren’t you? her heart whispered. Only a little, she answered. Now who’s the liar? Scott’s back pocket started playing Yankee Doodle. Casie jerked. No, she silently prayed, not

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again. Not when we’ve almost put things right between us. He pulled the cellular phone out, his expression ambiguous until he flipped it open and checked the display. He visibly relaxed. “It’s Rick. My golfing buddy. You met him at school one day.” “Oh, yeah.” Casie tried to mask her relief. While Scott told Rick he’d call him back, the front door opened and Arlene appeared. “Roe’s ready to open her gifts. We’re waiting on you two.” “Oh, sure. Be right—” “Casie will. I’m taking my dog home.” Arlene gave Scott a little wave. “Come by anytime for dinner.” “You’ve twisted my arm, Mrs. Malcavey.” He kissed Casie’s cheek, lingering briefly. “I’ll call you tonight. You’ll answer this time, right?” “Yes.” Embarrassment sent a current of warmth rushing through her. He took the three porch steps in one leap. “Don’t trash the yard when you leave.” The ground had become a soggy swamp from the unusually tepid temperatures. He didn’t heed her warning. Deep ruts appeared in the wake of the 4Runner as Scott pealed out. Casie threw up her arms. “Look at this mess. The manager is going to evict me for sure. He’s already on my case about oil spots on the driveway.” “Relax.” Arlene came up beside Casie and wrapped an arm around her waist, giving her a hug. “They’ll disappear with the next rain storm.” Her face took on a dreamy expression. “You know, Scott reminds me of your father when he was that age.” “Dad? No way. He’d skin anybody alive who tore up the yard.” “I wasn’t talking about his driving.” Arlene smiled in a womanly way as they went inside. “I really like your young man, Casie. He seems an honorable sort.” Not like the others. Arlene didn’t say it, but Casie thought it. Her heart concurred, but her mind resisted, holding onto

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a thin thread of doubt. Scott had explained Nina’s call to her satisfaction. She had no reason to disbelieve him. Yet, an uneasiness remained. Old habits die hard, she told herself. So, develop some new ones. Yeah, you’re right. It’s time I stopped being afraid. Casie rejoined the party with a sense of determination. She’d reached the point in her life for changes. Trusting Scott would be the first of many.

###

Scott rang the bell, then braced the toe of his athletic shoe on the door jam. Flakes of peeling paint broke loose and floated downward. On his bent knee, he balanced a plastic sack from The Happy Stork. Get Away hobbled in small circles, his nose pressed to the soiled carpet. A moment later, the door opened and a figure appeared in the dim doorway. Almond-shaped green eyes greeted Scott from a face drawn with fatigue. Long black hair hung loosely around thin shoulders. The woman moistened her colorless lips and smiled weakly. “Hi. You came.” She pulled the door wide and stood back, issuing a silent invitation. Get Away hobbled in ahead of his owner. “Sorry I’m late,” Scott said. “I understand. You have a life.” He tugged on a strand of her limp hair. “And you’re part of it, Nina.” “Don’t mind me. I’m feeling crummy today.” She tightened the belt on her flannel robe and lovingly patted her protruding stomach. “It’s all Junior’s fault. I need to have a talk with him.” “Allow me.” He placed his hand over hers and leaned forward. “Listen up, squirt. You should have more respect for your mama. She has enough to worry about as it is.” Nina giggled girlishly. “You always cheer me up. I’m glad you came.” “And I didn’t come empty handed.” “You brought me a present?” Her face lit up.

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He presented her with the plastic sack. “If they don’t fit, I can take them back.” “Oh, how pretty.” She fingered a floral-printed maternity smock she pulled from the sack. “I should be mad at you for spending money on me like this.” Her excited tone belied her statement. “I hate seeing you in those old tee-shirts. I thought you might like to wear a nice outfit when you go places.” “You know I don’t get out much.” “You can’t stay cooped up in here all the time. It’s not good for you or the baby.” “Why do you put up with me?” He guided her to a threadbare studio bed where they sat together amid a few lumpy pillows. He held her close like a small child and when she rested her head on him, his heart constricted. How he wished there was more he could do for her. “You’re no trouble.” “I’m not your responsibility.” A spark of independence brought spots of color to her pasty cheeks. They quickly faded. “We both know that’s a joke. I’m not the least bit capable of taking care of myself. Or this baby.” “You are my responsibility.” He let his hand rest protectively on her stomach. “Both of you.” “You’re afraid of what my parents will say, aren’t you? It’s not your fault, you know.” It was true that Scott felt guilty over his part in Nina’s predicament. He invited her to the charity golf tournament last spring where she met Lowell. At the time, giving her the pair of extra tickets had seemed like a good idea. She came with a classmate and the two young women enjoyed themselves. A little too much, apparently. Scott mistakenly assumed that because Lowell was engaged, Nina and her friend would be safe from him. He hadn’t watched out for them like he should have, giving Lowell ample room to make a move. Nina didn’t blame him and probably neither would her parents if they knew about her pregnancy. Most likely, they’d hold themselves accountable for what they perceived as failing their daughter. But Scott blamed himself, which is why he hadn’t mentioned his acquaintance with Nina to Casie. Even if he worked up the nerve, how would he explain it?

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Oh, by the way, I’m the one who introduced your ex-fiancé to the woman he slept with behind your back. Hope that’s not a problem. Yeah, right. In his own feeble defense, he’d long since fallen for Casie by the time he learned about her and Lowell’s past involvement. Even then, he hadn’t been one hundred percent sure until he’d talked with Nina. Not exactly good conversation material for a first date. Occasionally, he considered confessing everything to Casie and taking his chances that her feelings for him would outweigh her anger at being deceived. But he always talked himself out of it. With each passing day, losing Casie became less and less of an option. This last week without her had been unbearable. Yes, Scott would do whatever was necessary to insure Casie remained a part of his life, including keeping Nina, her baby, and the baby’s paternity a secret. “I think you’re the one who’s afraid,” he said, diverting the subject away from himself. Nina rubbed her temples and shut her eyes. “You’re right. I can’t tell my folks about the baby. Mom will have a stroke. Dad will never talk to me again.” Her voice cracked. “They love you.

They would never cut you off from them.”

Scott knew firsthand the

unselfishness of Nina’s parents. They had given his family so much when his father died, pitching in, caring for his mother and baby sisters, and helping a young boy cope with his grief. Scott had never forgotten their kindness. He repaid it by doing what he could for their daughter. “You know how they are. They’ve always been so strict.” He agreed. As far as he knew, the Cumblys never allowed Nina or her siblings to deviate from their uncompromising set of rules without serious retribution. Their expectations were high, but then again, so was their capacity to love. “Yeah, they are strict, but they’d welcome a grandchild with open hearts.” “Sure. A child of their married daughter.” She snorted. “They believe engaging in premarital sex isn’t just a sin, it’s a punishable crime.” “They’ll take care of you. This is no place to raise a baby.” Scott spoke strongly, emotions

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warring inside him. Duty to Nina’s parents conflicted with respecting her wishes to make her own decisions. He tried on numerous occasions to move her into a better apartment, but she stubbornly declined his offer. She couldn’t afford it on her meager income as a clerk at the university bookstore and refused to seek any sort of government assistance. He was sure his mother, if she knew, would give Nina a job in the shop. But Nina had stubbornly vetoed that suggestion as well. More and more lately, she remained holed up in her dreary apartment, spending hours a day in online chat rooms. Scott was sure if her parents knew, they’d take her name off their Internet provider service. “I don’t want charity.” The spark of independence returned, drying her tears. She laughed cynically. “Aren’t I the hypocrite? Here you are bringing me maternity smocks you paid for. I can’t even afford to clothe myself.” “Stop it, Nina. I want to help.” “Out of misguided obligation.” She turned her mouth down in a philosophical frown. “I’m a big girl, and I knew exactly what I was doing.” “But you didn’t know how it would turn out. Come on,” he said kiddingly. “Quit being a drag and try on your new outfits.” “You didn’t pay too much, did you?” “I get a discount. It helps having a mother who owns a maternity shop.” He twirled an invisible mustache. “I have connections in high places.” Afterwards, while Nina brought Scott a cold soda from the refrigerator, Get Away shredded the plastic sack. Scott tried to take it from him, but the dog hid under the studio bed, taking his treasure with him. “Did you ever get a chance to straighten things out with Casie?” Nina reclined on the end of the studio bed after handing Scott the can of soda. She looked no older than she had at her high school graduation less than two years before. “I just came from there.”

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“And?” Scott took a long swallow of his drink. “All is well.” “No thanks to me.” “You didn’t know she’d be at my place when you called.” Nina lowered her lids guiltily. “I knew you had a date with her that night.” She had, and why she called puzzled and concerned him. Poor judgment and insecurities were probably at the root of her thoughtless behavior. He’d been spending less and less time with her since dating Casie. Worrying that Nina depended too heavily on him, he encouraged her get out more and make new friends. So far, without success. “I thought at first maybe Lowell had come by.” “No,” she answered, barely above a whisper. “He hasn’t done that for a while.” “Do you think he’s given up?” “I doubt it.” Initially, Lowell had pressed Nina to terminate her pregnancy. As something of a local celebrity, he had a reputation to protect, or so he claimed. The country club might not renew his contract if it came to light that he had an affair with a then nineteen-year-old woman and fathered a child. When Nina refused to have an abortion, he changed tactics, trying instead to force her to give the baby up for adoption. As much as Scott disliked Lowell, the idea had merit. But any discussion he initiated with Nina was met with resistance. In raising their children, her parents had done what they thought best. Restricting their offspring had, in this case, backfired. Nina possessed neither the experience nor the confidence to deal with her current difficulties. “You haven’t told Casie about me, have you?” “Some,” Scott answered offhandedly, hoping Nina would drop the conversation. Easier on his conscious that way. “Let me guess. She knows I’m a friend of your sister, but that’s all.” Scott nodded, using his thumb to smear the watery condensation clinging to the outside of his

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glass. She sniffled. “I’ve made such a mess of things.” “Not you. Lowell.” Pointing to her belly, she said, “He didn’t make this baby all by himself.” “What are you going to do, Nina? You can’t put off the future indefinitely.” She gnawed her bottom lip nervously. “I’ve been tossing an idea around. A possible solution to both our problems.” “Really?” His brows shot up. He’d been expecting her to duck the issue as usual. “And what’s that?” “Hear me out before you say no.” She held up a slender hand, the nails bitten to the quick. “Nina,” he said tolerantly, already anticipating not liking whatever hair-brained scheme she’d been hatching. He remembered all too well the trouble she and his sister got into as kids. She slapped her thighs and drew in a long breath before blurting, “What if you and I were to get married? We could—” “What!” He cut her off, not sure he’d heard correctly. “Married,” she said haltingly. “You and me.” “That’s impossible.” “Won’t you even consider it?” “No. And don’t you, either.” “You want children, Scott. You always have.” She pleaded her case. “If we got married, I wouldn’t have to give the baby up for adoption and Lowell would leave me alone. Then later, if things worked out, I could give you more children.” Averting her head, she swallowed hard. “I hate going to places like work and the grocery store. Everyone there is always asking me where my husband is, does my husband want a boy or a girl, am I naming the baby after my husband if we have a son. I see them looking at my left hand and I make up some excuse about removing my rings because of swelling.” She pushed her hair back from her face with trembling fingers. “I’m so ashamed sometimes, I can’t stand it.”

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“Listen to me. You have nothing to be ashamed of.” He gripped her arm hard. “Don’t ever think that.” “We’ve been friends our whole lives.

My parents adore you,” Nina went on.

“They’d

overlook…” she faltered, as if stuck for words. “They’d be more accepting of the situation with you for a son-in-law.” “I’m not going to marry you, Nina.” She winced, making him regret his blunt rejection, but she’d taken him by surprise. He attempted to soften the blow. “You’re a beautiful woman. Smart, devoted, caring. Any man would be lucky to call you his wife. Don’t settle for someone who marries you out of duty and friendship. Find one that loves you for the person you are. One you can’t imagine living another day without him being a part of it.” “Is that how you feel about Casie?” She swiped at her tears. He smiled at his own transparency. “Yeah, I do. She’s one of a kind.” “Everything you want in a woman?” “And more.” Scott drained the last of his soda and took the glass to the sink in the kitchenette. He rinsed it off and set it in a dish on the counter to dry. “Except where it comes to having a baby. For some reason, she’s gun shy about that.” “She doesn’t like children?” Nina massaged her belly thoughtfully. “But you love children.” Scott instantly regretted revealing that tidbit information to Nina. She might use it to strengthen her argument for them to marry. “She’s great with older kids. Pregnancy and babies are what have her spooked.” “That’s odd.” “I’m sure her maternal instincts will kick in when the time is right, like most women.” he replied, back pedaling at high speed. “If you say so.” But Scott could tell Nina wasn’t convinced. Then again, neither was he entirely. He’d worked hard at getting Casie to go out with him in the first place and then to break through her defensive wall.

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Last week, he’d come dangerously close to losing her, winning her back today by the skin of his teeth. All his efforts would be in vain if it turned out she wouldn’t give him the one thing he wanted most: a family. Three sharp raps sounded at the door, followed by a pause and three more. Nina’s eyes widened, then filled with trepidation. Scott felt his own harden. Get Away popped out from under the studio bed and raced to the door, his seesawing gait resembling a windup mechanical toy. Yip, yip, yip. Thanks to the dog, pretending no one was home ceased being an option. The pattern repeated itself. Three raps, a pause, and three more raps. Lowell Young’s trademark knock. Nina stuffed a finger in her mouth and chewed on the nail. Scott swore softly, then moved to answer the door. “Where’s Nina?” Lowell didn’t bother with a greeting. Scott reciprocated. “Inside. What do you want?” “None of your business, Karstetter,” Lowell answered in a tight voice, elbowing his way inside. Scott blocked him. “She can’t see you now. She’s busy.” “Busy,” Lowell repeated sarcastically. A menacing grin distorted the face most women found irresistible. Rocking back on his heels, he heaved a bored sigh. “Is there any chance we can quit this stupid game?” “I’m all for that. See you around.” Scott started to swing the door shut. Lowell stopped it by planting his foot in the way. “You’re beginning to get on my nerves.” “Only beginning? I’ll have to try harder.” Get Away growled, backing up his owner. “I can have you fired like that.” Lowell snapped his fingers for emphasis. Nina cut Scott’s retort short by materializing beside him and touching his arm. “It’s okay. I’ll see him.” She spoke with caution, but also resolution. “Are you sure?” He sent her a reassuring look that told her he’d be there for her. “Yes.” Lowell smiled with unconcealed satisfaction. “You heard the lady. Now, if you don’t mind.” He

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made a sweeping motion in the air with his hand, indicating for Scott to step aside. “You don’t have to stay, Scott,” Nina said once they were all standing in the middle of the room. “All right.” Annoyed, but hiding it, he gathered his few things and called for Get Away. As much as he wanted to protect Nina, he wasn’t her keeper. She had the right to refuse his help, ill advised as that might be. He studied the young woman from a distance, small and frail in spite of her obvious pregnancy. Had she finally found the courage to confront Lowell? Or had she fallen into an old habit, allowing Lowell to manipulate her? He hoped for the former, but feared the latter. “Phone me tomorrow.” “I will.” Lowell had already made himself comfortable on the studio bed by the time Scott walked out the door. His arrogance galled Scott. For a brief second, he imagined the golf pro’s stunned reaction to an announcement that he and Nina were getting married. Admittedly, he’d enjoy the idea of seeing Lowell suffer. The man had rendered a whole slew of women miserable, two of whom Scott cared for deeply. If it weren’t for the possibility of hurting Casie, he might have temporarily gone along with Nina’s plan.

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Chapter Eight

“See here, Mr. Maternity-Store-Clerk. Johnny’s every bit as good a wrestler as his brother and if he’s losing matches, it’s your fault. You don’t know what the hell you’re doing.” Scott tolerated Mr. Genovese’s stubby right index being jabbed into his chest for three seconds, then took a step backwards. He’d rather have taken a more proactive approach, but the teacher’s conduct code dictated differently. No reason to put his job on the line, especially for the likes of this man. Scott had little regard for parents who set unrealistic standards for their children. Especially parents who, when their children failed to live up to those standards, placed the blame on others. Johnny’s father was a perfect example. “Mr. Genovese,” Scott stated evenly, reeling in his temper. “Have you talked to Johnny about this?” “What’s to talk about?” the man barked. “Well, sir, your son has no interest in wrestling, or any other sport for that matter. It’s obvious by his attitude.” Scott glanced over at Johnny, who slouched against the gym wall, his fists jammed in his front jean pockets and looking like he wanted to die. His older brother stood beside him and gave Johnny a rough shove in typical older brother fashion. Now, Scott figured, wouldn’t be a good time to mention the boy’s affinity for dancing. “Johnny’s a terrific kid, he’s just not a terrific athlete. If you force him into something he doesn’t want, he’ll resist that much more. It’s not good for you, for him, or for the

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team.” “And I suppose working in a baby store makes you some kind of expert?” the man sneered. “You want to know what I think it makes you?” Scott knew, having been needled by several of the male teachers when news of his part-time job first broke. He’d dismissed remarks like, “so, what’s this I hear about you getting in touch with your feminine side?”, but not without difficulty. Though Mr. Genovese’s insult was nothing more than petty name-calling, it still rankled Scott. Maybe he should stay away from his mother’s store for a while. Damn it! His susceptibility to Mr. Genovese’s crass tactics angered Scott as much as the man himself did. Why should he quit working at The Happy Stork just because some ignorant person took an innocent situation and twisted it around to make him look bad. He enjoyed babies and everything about them, including making them. Especially that part. Was he so strange? His brain answered no, but his damaged ego required more convincing. At a loud grinding noise, both Scott’s and Mr. Genovese’s heads shot up. The gym divider opened slowly, admitting first one and then a succession of girls. Out of their uniforms and back in their school clothes, the Mat Maids filed across the gym floor to the exit, having finished with practice. Last out was Casie, who grappled with an armload of colorful ribbon wands and a bullhorn. By mutual agreement, the principal, Mr. Lindlow, had extended Casie’s contract through the end of spring, thus enabling the formation of an elite cheer squad specifically for wrestling season. More like a dance line than a cheer squad, the Mat Maids performed during breaks between matches. Scott understood Casie’s desire to earn extra money for a new car, but lately she looked a little tired. Juggling two jobs was taking a toll on her. Gordon Whitehouse, her boss at the insurance company, was becoming less and less tolerant of her missed afternoons. Something to do with a quarterly audit. He reminded her of her upcoming performance review, hinting at a rating drop. Casie might have to make a choice soon, which was unfortunate. Scott would hate not seeing her at school during the week, and she’d hate leaving the girls. Roe had been right when she said Casie didn’t belong behind a desk.

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Johnny pushed off the wall and bolted over to his father, his glum expression transformed into one of excitement. “Dad. Dad. Can I help Ms. Malcavey carry her…her stuff?” Mr. Genovese gave Casie a cursory once over as she passed by. “How heavy can that…stuff be?” “Please?” Johnny asked, his limpid eyes glued to Casie. It took Scott a few seconds to remember where he’d seen that look before. Then it hit him. Get Away stared at Casie the exact same way. “Well, I’ll be,” Scott mumbled to himself. “I’ve got competition.” He would have considered Johnny’s obvious crush on Casie ludicrous if she hadn’t caught sight of the boy right then and there and flashed him a radiant smile. Johnny chased after her, practically shedding his sneakers in his haste. “Come right back when you’re done,” Mr. Genovese shouted. He hadn’t actually given Johnny permission. Scott thought that might be a technicality worth pursuing and debated mentioning it. When Johnny opened the grey steel door for Casie, late afternoon sunlight reflected off his braces. An unpleasant twinge irritated Scott’s side. Too small to be a stab of jealousy, it was more like a pinch. “Stay away from her, pip squeak,” he growled softly. “She’s mine.” “What’s that?” Mr. Genovese growled back. Great, thought Scott. All of us acting like a bunch of dogs. Johnny’s a lovesick puppy and his dad and I are snarling at each other. “Nothing.” Scott gnashed his teeth. Nothing a little canine repellant won’t handle. Mr. Genovese hooked a thumb at the door Johnny and Casie had just passed through. “All that kid needs is his nose shoved to the grindstone, and you sure ain’t doing it, Karstetter.” “I would if I thought for one second it’d make a difference. I’m tough on my boys, anyone of them will tell you that, including your older son, Kevin.” “Not that tough.” Mr. Genovese snorted. “If you were, the team would be winning more matches. Hell, I’d settle for winning one match.” Scott almost cringed. That last remark hit so far below the belt, it grazed his kneecaps. Flexing his fists, he took a moment to recoup from having his one sore spot laid wide open. The Patriots’

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wrestling season was not going the way football and basketball had. Logically, he knew his teams couldn’t win every championship trophy, but illogically, he wanted exactly that. Never mind that he’d all but ignored the wresting team until well into the season, concentrating instead on the basketball finals. Losing still stung. “This is my first year coaching wrestling. The boys and I are still learning the ropes.” “Yeah, right.” Mr. Genovese grimaced as if he smelled a rank odor. Bored, Kevin had taken to flipping coins on the empty bleacher seats. The annoying clatter irritated Scott’s nerves, which were stretched to their limit at the sight of Casie and Johnny bursting through the door, their spirits high. When she spoke into his ear, the boy’s grin broadened. Scott wished she’d leave, if only until the Genoveses were gone. Instead, she headed straight at them, her right hand outstretched. He felt like he was trapped in a bad dream, helplessly watching disaster approach and unable to prevent it. “Hello, Mr. Genovese,” Casie sang out, taking his hand and pumping it enthusiastically. “Very nice to meet you. Scott’s told me a lot about you.” Johnny’s father shot Scott a dirty look that would wither an oak tree. “Karstetter?” “Yes, and your son, too.” “How do you know Johnny?” Don’t say anything, Casie. Scott tried to warn her with jerk of his head, but, she missed the cue entirely. “Oh, he and I are good friends. Aren’t we Johnny?” She gave the boy a saucy wink, which turned him into pile of mush. “Is it that late already?” Scott deliberately checked the clock on the wall. “We should’ve left fifteen minutes ago.” Ignoring Scott, Mr. Genovese glared at Casie, his face dark with suspicion. “How are you and Johnny acquainted?” Casie beamed. “Sometimes, when he’s through with wrestling practice, he comes over to the

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girls’ side of the gym.” “What for?” The man’s lips thinned. “To cheer—” “To watch the girls, of course,” Scott interrupted, sliding himself in front of Casie. She peered past him. “What I was going to say is—” “That son of yours is a real dickens, Mr. Genovese. Quite the little Romeo.” Scott took Casie by the arm and hustled her away. “Cool it,” he whispered out of the side of his mouth. “But, I want to talk to Johnny’s dad about him cheering.” “Uh, uh, Casie. Not now, not here.” He didn’t give her a chance to object. “Wait for me in my office,” he ordered, urging her ahead. “We’ll talk there.” “Yes, we will.” She marched off, her cute little backside bouncing. Scott let himself appreciate the view. Casie in a snit was always a sight worth seeing. When he turned back around, it unsettled him to catch Johnny in the act of ogling Casie, too. Scott didn’t relish the idea of taking on a kid half his size, but he might have to if his infatuation with Casie continued. “Odd woman,” Mr. Genovese commented. “She can be,” Scott agreed, but a cozy feeling wound its way through him, then nestled next to his heart. Enjoy it while you can, he told himself. She’d be churned into a frenzy by the time he met her in his office. Why postpone the inevitable? “I don’t mean to run you off, sir, but I need to close the gym for the night.” The man collected his sons with a crook of his index finger. They obediently responded, falling into line in front of him. He pointed at the door and they started for it. “Don’t think this is over. I’m going to the principal about you and if need be, the school board.” “I understand. Do what you feel you must.” Scott wasn’t overly worried. Mr. Lindlow was a fair man as long as he was included in the information loop. To be on the safe side, Scott made a mental note to stop in and see the principal bright and early the following morning. Rather than the verbal onslaught he expected, Casie greeted Scott with a kiss hot enough to melt

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the nylon threads in his shirt. It was a wonder the buttons didn’t drop off and scatter to the floor. He no sooner closed the office door when she fell on him. Scott surrendered immediately, having no will to resist her. Since their argument the other week, he didn’t take moments like this for granted. He savored them, just as he savored the taste of her mouth, every square inch of it inside and out. Lifting her up and sitting her on the corner of his desk, he nudged her legs apart and pushed between them. With his lips locked firmly on hers, he fit his hands into the dip of her waist and bent her backwards. Casie snaked her arms around his neck, as much to hold on as to pull him down on top of her. She arched and when the sweet curve of her tummy pressed into him, Scott went rigid. A dim internal voice reminded him of the inappropriateness of their surroundings. It wasn’t until Casie shifted and knocked a plastic coffee cup onto the floor that Scott heeded the voice. Gasping for air, he lifted himself off her. The oxygen rush fed his deprived brain. Casie gazed at him through lowered lids and smiled seductively. Boy, when she turned the tables on him, she turned them a full one hundred and eighty degrees. “Consider that payback for chasing me out of the gym before I had a chance to talk to Mr. Genovese.” “Honey, if that’s the way you get even, remind me to make you mad more often.” He gave her a hand, helping her up. “You were right, though. I overstepped my bounds by a mile. Consider the kiss an apology.” “Hmm, I don’t know. I think you need to apologize to me again later. When we’re all alone and the lights are off.” She gave him a playful swat and hopped off the desk, ducking around him when he attempted to delay her. “I wish people were more accepting of male cheerleaders. And dancers, for that matter. I remember when I was cheering, the guys took flack not only from other students, but parents as well. Usually the dads.” “Cheerleading and dance are not what most fathers consider traditional male sports.” “Well, I cheered with plenty of males in my day. My own brother is a dancer and I can assure you

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he’s as traditional as they come.” She heaved a sigh, her bosom rising and falling. Scott lost his train of thought. It took him several seconds to find it again. “I’m not against allowing boys on the cheer squad, but this school has administrative policies and we must abide by them. Talking to Mr. Genovese would only have angered him and for no good reason. Johnny can’t be on the squad even if his dad agreed to it.” “You’re right. If I ask for an appointment with Mr. Lindlow, will you come with me?” Scott choked, covering it with a hacking cough. He wanted to flat out refuse, but decided on a more subtle approach. “I don’t know what help I can be.” She didn’t let him off the hook. “I thought you supported me. I mean, you do work in a maternity shop.” “I do support you.” But he’d begun to have his doubts. A part of him sided with Mr. Genovese and those who held similar opinions. Scott didn’t like debating the subject. Not with a parent, not with Casie, and especially not with himself. For a supposedly enlightened man who’d crossed the gender barrier in a big way by working in a maternity shop, he still resisted change where athletics were concerned. He’d disappointed Casie. She did her best to mask it, but he saw through her act. “You could be a huge help to me with Mr. Lindlow if you wanted to. Won’t you at least think about it?” He nodded. “Sure.” Sooner or later he’d have to jump off the fence and onto one side or the other, but for now, he’d successfully avoided it. “Thanks.” Casie brightened and swung around. “Hey, there’s something I want to ask you.” “I’m all ears.” He retrieved the coffee cup from the floor and rearranged the papers they’d disturbed on his desk. “Are you free Saturday?” “Saturday day or night?” Her eyes glinted as she snuggled into his chest. “Day,” she said. “And then, night.”

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His own mind was already exploring the many different

possibilities, all of them involving him and Casie naked together. “Not what. Where.” She skimmed a fingernail down the length of his throat along his Adam’s apple. His heart rate accelerated to a hundred and twenty beats per minute. “Okay. Where?” “The car dealership.” She grinned impishly. He chuckled at his own susceptibility while pulling her up on her toes for another kiss. “I’d love to go the car dealership with you on Saturday.” He might even be persuaded to meet with Mr. Lindlow, if she happened to ask.

###

“Twenty-four miles to the gallon in the city! Oh, wow.” Casie gawked at the car salesman, her eyes the size of steel-belted radial tires. “And thirty-one miles to the gallon on the highway.” Daniel Fox, but-you-can-call-me-Danny, smiled broadly, showing off two rows of large, white teeth reminiscent of his namesake. He had a lot to smile about, he’d obviously seen an overzealous Casie coming a mile away. “I’ll save enough money in gas alone to make the insurance payments.” “Mileage isn’t the only factor to consider,” Scott cautioned her. “It is when your weekly gas bill exceeds your food bill.” “You don’t spend that much.” “I didn’t name her The Lush because she has wide hips.” Scott declined commenting. There was no rationalizing with Casie. She’d been bitten hard by the bug. The Volkswagen Beetle bug, to be specific. They spent the last forty minutes canvassing the car lot, inspecting every model. At least the weather had complied. The warmest April on record had brought with it clear blue skies. If he and Casie finished soon, he’d call Rick and invite his golfing buddy to hit a

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few balls at the Country Club’s driving range. At part-time summer employees, they were given free use of the facilities. So far, Lowell hadn’t made good on his threat. Scott still had a summer job as a golf instructor for, according to the manager during their recent lunch, as long as Scott wanted. Same old Lowell, Scott thought with disgust. Big talk, little action. When he checked with Nina the day after Lowell’s visit, she said all he wanted was to give her the name of a discrete adoption attorney. Scott suspected there was more to the story, but she didn’t seem inclined to share, and he didn’t pry. “Of course, actual mileage may vary. But not by much.” Danny’s disclaimer jarred Scott back to the present. He didn’t much care for the salesman’s highpressure tactics. His mannerisms were too slick, his answers too rehearsed, and his reassurances too ready. Not unlike Lowell. “Don’t you think you should look around some more before making a decision?” Scott asked Casie. Someone had to be the voice of reason. Casie had gone off the deep end. “I want this one.” She pointed to a fire engine red hatchback model, then giggled. “I’ve been waiting soooo long to say that. I’ll take this one,” she repeated herself and feigned a shudder. “Mmm, that felt good.” Scott squinted. “Isn’t it kind of bright?” “You like the yellow one better?” “No!” Yellow was worse. A mutant lemon on wheels. “It’ll show the dirt. What about silver?” he suggested. A nice, neutral color that wouldn’t attract attention. “Silver? How boring.” She spun on her toes, dismissing him and his evidently bland tastes. “Red or yellow. Red or yellow.” She zigzagged between the two cars, thoughtfully deliberating her choice as if world peace depended on the outcome. “They don’t appear very solid.” Scott rapped the roof of the red one and was rewarded with a tinny echo. “There’s nothing to protect you. We should check out the Ford dealership up the street.” “Quite the contrary,” Danny chimed in. “Beetles come standard with both driver and passenger

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air bags as well as automatic seat belts.” He drew an invisible line in the air the shape of the car. “And the sleek silhouette is designed for structural integrity.” “Air bags and automatic seat belts,” Casie ooh’d and ah’d. “Tell me more. I want to hear everything.” Danny took her on a tour of the yellow Beetle, expounding on its many virtues. “Power 4-wheel disc brakes, 4-speed transmission, front-wheel drive, rear and side defrosters, heated outside mirrors, remote controlled central locking system, ready to drive spare wheel, front canopy storage compartment…” Casie soaked up every word like a super-absorbent paper towel. Scott itched to pin Danny down with some hard questions, but didn’t know what Casie’s reaction to that would be. It was, after all, her money. She was entitled to buy any vehicle that struck her fancy, even a Beetle. He had to remind himself he was only her boyfriend and not her keeper. As much as it unnerved him, he stood silently by while Danny lured Casie in, lock, stock, and antitheft device. “It comes with a twenty-four thousand mile or twenty-four month warranty,” the salesman finished up. “Of course, extended warranties are available for a nominal fee.” “Can I take a test drive?” Casie asked eagerly. “You bet, little lady. Let me run into the showroom and get the keys. Did you decide which one?” “Uh…” Casie twisted her fingers. “Yellow.” “I’ll be back in a jiffy.” Danny checked a number pasted on the side window, jotted it down in a pocket notebook, and took off at a sprint. Casie caressed the hood of the yellow Beetle, her movements sensuous. Scott suppressed a twinge of envy. He wished she’d fondle him that way. “Isn’t she beautiful?” “Casie, I know how badly you want a new car. But maybe you should wait. This is no small decision.”

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“I’ve thought of nothing but this day for the past year.” “Nothing?” Scott felt his smile droop. “Don’t be mad,” she clucked and snuggled close. “I think about you all the time, too.” “More than a new car?” “Of course.” She stroked the front of his shirt, tracing the country club logo with her fingertip. “I’m not the flake you believe me to be. I’ve been reading up on cars for months now. I’ve talked to people, read reports, studied statistics. For what I can afford, a Beetle is a good buy.” “What about a pre-owned car? One that’s only a year or two old.” To himself, Scott added bigger and sturdier. “No way! I want a brand new car.” She rushed back to the yellow Beetle, inhaling robustly. “One with that special smell. This girl’s going to pour her money into payments instead of repairs.” Scott had to admit her reasoning made sense. He would definitely feel better knowing she was driving a dependable vehicle and not a death trap like The Lush. “Besides,” Casie propped a hand on her hip and pertly tossed her hair, “I’ll look beyond cool humming around town in this baby.” “Oh, thank goodness you’re back. Some responsible and mature stranger took possession of your body. I thought I’d lost you, and it scared me.” She flew into his arms, laughing merrily. “You’ll never lose me.” A fierce emotion took hold of Scott and nearly paralyzed him. He gripped Casie as if she might disappear from sight forever. “Don’t say that unless you mean it,” he said with more intensity than he intended. When had his feelings for her become so strong? “I do. I swear.” She sobered, evidently picking up on his mood shift. “Thanks for coming with me today.” “I’m glad you asked me. Sorry I’ve been such a downer. I don’t know what got into me. You’ve worked hard for a new car, and I’m proud of you.” “You are?” She grinned foolishly.

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Her joy was contagious and relieved the tension building inside him. He gave her a quick kiss before letting her go. “Very much.” Danny returned and handed the keys to Casie as if presenting her with an award. He opened the driver’s side door for her and gestured gallantly. “After you.” Scott pushed the front passenger seat forward and crawled into the back.

Apparently, the

engineers at Volkswagen didn’t make allowances for people with arms and legs. No matter which way he moved, he couldn’t get comfortable. Like a kid in a toy store, Casie touched everything. “What’s this?” She pointed to a cylindershaped object attached to the dash. Danny displayed his huge teeth. “It’s a flower vase.” He plucked a silk daisy from the inside pocket of his suit jacket and dropped it in. Scott thought the salesman’s theatrics were the stupidest gimmick he’d ever seen. Casie fawned over the flower. “How adorable. I love it. And look here. Cup holders,” she said as if they were a clever new invention. “You’ve got your rear fog lamp, remote opening system for luggage space and tank cap, power assisted steering, textile foot mats.” Danny rambled on while Casie conducted inventory. She rested her hand on the stick shift.

“Manual transmission?”

Her enthusiasm declined

drastically. “Have you ever driven one?” “No.” Her mouth shrunk to a small circle. “Is that a problem?” “Not for me.” Danny chortled. “My grandfather used to let me drive his tractor when I was a kid.” “There you go. Same principle. You won’t believe how fast it’ll come back to you. Do you see that pedal to the left of the brake?” Danny instructed Casie with the patience of a man anticipating a fat commission check. “That’s the clutch.” “And how does it work again?”

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Scott fastened his seatbelt and assumed the crash position. Tower, this is Yellow Beetle. Clear the runway. We’re coming in for an emergency landing.

###

The car lurched forward and the wheels squealed. Casie hit the brakes. They hopped forward several times before stalling. The seatbelt snapped taut and sliced into her neck. “You’re doing fine.” Casie gave Danny an apologetic grimace. He was being so nice. First, he’d taken time from his busy day to answer all her questions about the car, and now he was teaching her to drive a manual transmission. She hoped he got a bonus for this sale. And sale it would be. Once Casie planted herself behind the wheel, she knew without a doubt she’d be driving a brand new Volkswagen Beetle off the lot. Driving being the operative word, she thought as they stalled again. Danny held his hands in front of him, palms facing out. “Remember, you’ve got to let up on the clutch at the same rate you apply the gas.” He demonstrated by pushing down with his right hand and raising his left hand. “Don’t be afraid to gun it.” She did. The engine roared. “Why aren’t we moving?” “You have it in neutral. First gear is all the way to the left and up.” He placed his hand over hers on the stick shift and moved it into the correct position. They zoomed over a speed bump. Again, Casie hit the brakes. “Son of a b—” Scott muttered. “You okay?” She swung around in her seat. He had removed his sunglasses and was rubbing a red mark on his forehead. “I’ll live.” She grimaced. “I’ll try and give you some warning next time.” “Say, Danny?” Scott asked. “Does this model by chance come with rear seat air bags, too?”

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“Ha, ha. She’s doing great. Like anything, it takes practice.” Casie chomped on her bottom lip. She wanted Scott to come with her to the car dealership, but now regretted it. He looked miserable, crammed into that tiny back seat. Beetles clearly weren’t made for men his size. But oh, how it was made for her. She’d fallen head over heals in love with everything about the car. Except for the gosh darn manual transmission. She’d never get out of the parking lot and onto the street at this rate. “I know you have your heart set on yellow, but the red model you were looking at has an automatic transmission.” “It does?” Casie scanned the interior of the car she’d already formed an attachment to, then met Danny’s expectant gaze. He wouldn’t steer her wrong. He only wanted to help her. “I’m not chickening out if I get the automatic, am I?” Danny shook his head emphatically. “Not at all.” “It costs more,” Scott commented from the back seat, “and breaks down more often than a standard.” “Hmm.

Really?”

Casie digested that bit of information.

More money and breaks down.

Definitely two things she’d had her fill of with The Lush. But driving a manual transmission wasn’t the cakewalk Danny had implied. “I’d like another look at the red one.” “Sure. No problem.” “Red’s my favorite color, you know.” “It’s definitely you.” When Casie tried to drive back, Danny suggested they walk. Half an hour later, Casie and Scott sat in Danny’s cubical off the main showroom. The finance department was drawing up the loan documents and verifying Casie’s credit history. She’d already given them a check for the down payment. “We’ll allow you three hundred dollars for the Pontiac, if you want to trade it in.” Danny scrolled through screens on his computer.

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“I leave her here?” “Absolutely.” “Fine. Do it. If I ever see that monster mobile again, it’ll be too soon.” “You can get twice that selling The Lush privately.” Scott set his bottled water on the edge of Danny’s desk. “Be serious.” “They’re giving you rock bottom blue book value.” “She’s only worth rock bottom blue book. Good riddance, I say.” “We have some nice accessories available.” Danny placed a handful of brochures in front of Casie. “Car covers are always popular. They can save you a fortune on paint jobs.” Casie flipped through the brochures with interest. “I’ve seen these before. What are they?” Danny looked at the photo she held up. “Car bras.” “A car bra?” Casie batted her eyes at Scott. “For what? To lift and separate my headlights?” “Funny.” Danny laughed a little too loud and long. “For small vehicles close to the ground, like Beetles, car bras protect the front end from stones and other flying objects that can damage the finish.” “Damage the finish?” Casie gasped. She wouldn’t tolerate her finish being damaged. “How much?” Danny returned to his computer. “Minimal. About two dollars a month more on your payment.” “That’s all?” Scott mumbled something about rip off. Out loud, he said, “You can buy them at the auto parts store for half that price.” “True,” Danny concurred. “However, it won’t be the manufacturer’s brand. It may not fit or perform to your satisfaction.” “Makes sense to me,” Casie agreed. Danny had been right about everything else so far. Well, except for that manual transmission thing. “They’re overrated. You really don’t need one.”

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“I’ll take it.” Casie slapped the arm of her chair decisively. “Excellent. Let me just add that in.” Danny typed an entry. “Oops, I’d better see if we have one in stock first.” “Word of caution, Casie,” Scott said when Danny had picked up the phone on his desk and made a call. “Dealerships count on impulse buying. It’s where they make their money.” “You of all people should appreciate a car bra.” “I sell bras to women, not buy them for cars.” Scott slipped his sunglasses off his head and dropped them in his front pocket. “You sell bras for a living?” Danny hung up the phone, his face split in a wide, toothy grin. “You are the man.” He steepled his fingers and lowered his head. “I bow to your greatness.” “It’s only a part-time job.” Scott shrugged off the compliment. “No big deal.” “No big deal? You’re living the ultimate male fantasy.” Danny’s opinion of Scott had obviously shot up to the roof. Men! Casie grumbled to herself. Deep down it bothered her that Scott didn’t share her new car enthusiasm. So what if she went a little overboard? She deserved it. Sometimes, like today, Scott carried his Neanderthal attitude too far. Always the coach, the leader, the protector, and defender. What was wrong with being impulsive every once in a while? Yet, on the other hand, she liked knowing he was always there for her. Steady, dependable, reliable, and capable. Those were good qualities to have in a mate. Wait a minute! Did she say mate? Oh, it was just too confusing, and she didn’t want to think about it now. She had a new Beetle to buy. “So, are the car bras in stock?” Danny shook his head and came out of his trance. “Yes, they are, little lady.” “What does that make my total payment?” As if on cue, Sally, the financial advisor for Casie’s purchase, stepped into Danny’s cubical. “Sorry this took so long. Computer’s are slow this afternoon.” She handed Casie and Danny their individual set of papers. “Everything’s in order. You’ve been approved.”

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“Scott, I’ve been approved!” Casie bounced in her seat. “Did you hear that? I qualified for a car loan.” “Congratulations, honey.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. Casie wanted to shout with happiness at the top of her lungs. Never again would she run out of gas in the middle of nowhere because the fuel gauge quit working. Never again would bolts wiggle loose and short circuit her entire electrical system. No more flat tires, dead batteries, broken water pumps, oil leaks, or split hoses. Thanks to the extended warranty, she’d have peace of mind for the next sixty months, or sixty-thousand miles, whichever came first. A sense of power flowed through her. Euphoria lifted her into the air. She stood at the very top of the world. Danny pointed to a paragraph in the middle of the first page of documents. “Here’s what your monthly payment will be.” Casie landed face first on the hard ground with a thud. She blinked, hoping she’d misread the amount. She hadn’t. “Okay,” she faltered, “it’s doable.” Only if she ate Ramen noodles everyday for lunch and wore last year’s bathing suit. “Where do I sign?” Shortly after that, Danny gave Casie her completed paperwork. She breezed out of the building, her good mood restored. She couldn’t wait to pull into the parking lot at work on Monday and show off. “I need the keys to the Pontiac,” Danny reminded her. “What? Oh, yeah. Here you go.” As she handed them over, an unexpected and painful lump formed in her throat. Danny in turn gave them to one of the lot boys, a young teenager no older than Casie’s brother. “You need to pump the gas pedal to get her started,” she told him. “And don’t slam the door hard, you’ll shake a wire loose.” A strange and unexplainable separation anxiety descended on Casie. The lot boy jogged over to The Lush. Paying no attention to Casie, he slammed the door and revved the engine. The old car wheezed, almost died, and finally started. Blue fumes shot out the back in a farewell salute. Casie’s eyes stung.

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“Wait,” she called out, then turned to Scott. “You’re right. I should sell her privately. Or give her to Grant. He’s been wanting a car of his own.” Her eyes darted from Scott to Danny. “Tell him to bring her back. I-I’ve changed my mind.” “It’s too late. No can do, little lady.” “Scott?” Casie pleaded, a catch in her voice. “Help me.” Rather than say I told her so, he showed surprising compassion. Or, perhaps not surprising. Scott hid a marshmallow heart behind his over-inflated ego. “She’ll be all right, Casie. Some nice old lady will buy her, she won’t go to scrap.” “Are you s-s-sure?” “Positive.” She started crying. Scott opened his arms, and she rushed into them, hiding her face in his shirt front. “I’m going to miss her. We had so much fun together.” He rubbed her back. “I know, sweetheart, I know. Remember the good times.” “I think she knew the end was near. She didn’t break down once these last two weeks.” “See? She wanted your last memories of her to be good ones.” He brushed at her damp cheeks. Casie rummaged through her purse for a tissue. “She wouldn’t want me carrying on like this.” “No, she wouldn’t.” “Thanks for being so understanding. Come on.” She took his arm. “Let me drive you home.” Casie reflected on recent events as they approached the Beetle. In many ways, she was leaving her old life behind. She just traded in the car she’d been driving since college for a new one. Five months ago, she found the perfect job at Connecticut Indemnity and Casualty. And her best friend would be a married woman within a week. She regarded Scott without him being aware of it. Maybe she was ready to leave another part of her life behind as well. Lowell had robbed her of something precious. Was Scott the one to give it back to her? This strong attraction she felt for him confused her, scared her, and thrilled her simultaneously.

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When he held her earlier and caressed her back, more than gratitude stirred within her. She yearned for him to caress other parts of her body. Parts that ached and swelled with a need long denied. A need only Scott could satisfy. At Roe’s shower, Joyce had accused Casie of falling for Scott. Was that true? His hand brushed her arm when he opened the Beetle door for her. Small electrical currents zipped along her skin just under the surface. When he sat next to her in the passenger seat, she studied his tall, athletic build and a warm, liquid sensation filled her lower region. Was that desire? Oh, yes, no reason to deny it. But could she afford to put her heart at risk again? You won’t know unless you try, it whispered. Are you willing to take another chance? Are you?

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Chapter Nine

Casie pulled into Scott’s driveway alongside his 4-Runner. “You want to come in?” he asked, opening his door. “Uh, uh.” She shook head. “Oh. Okay.” His dimples faded, but he didn’t complain. Scott never did, even when Casie wished he would. Like right now. She wished he’d complain up a storm and then take action. “I want to stay in here and play with my new car.” “I can relate.” His dimples reappeared, but he still made no move. Casie supposed she’d have to spell it out for him. “And I want you to play with me.” She rolled her shoulder seductively. A twinkle appeared in his eyes. He checked all four directions and slammed his door shut, apparently satisfied they were alone. “What game do you have in mind?” “Testing the car’s features.” “I don’t think I’ve ever played that particular game.” He shifted, resting his arm across the back of her seat. “You’ll have to show me.” “First, we see how far back the seats recline.” They pulled their respective levers and fell back with a jolt. Casie turned onto her side, facing

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Scott. She tucked her arm under her head for support. “Not bad. Pretty comfortable, in fact.” Scott stretched out. “I could use another six inches of leg room.” Casie scooted toward him. Her shin bumped the flower vase. Scott scrambled to meet her. His elbow caught in a cup holder. “Ouch.” “Are you hurt?” “Nothing a kiss won’t make better.” “Scott.” Casie paused, feeling on the brink of an emotional precipice. She closed her eyes, held her breath, and hurled headlong into it. “I want you to be the first man to kiss me in my new car.” He reached for her, issuing a low growl as he did. “I’d better be the only man who kisses you in your new car. Or any car, for that matter.” Without giving her warning, he gripped her upper arms and swung her over the console onto his lap. She landed facing him, hitting her head on the sun visor. “Yeow!” “You okay?” The twinkle in his eyes deepened to bright flashes of light. “More or less.” Casie wiggled. Scott gulped, and his Adam’s apple convulsed. When he adjusted her position to something more tolerable in the confined space, it only magnified Casie’s awareness of the changes occurring between them. “It’s stuffy in here.” “I should have gotten the one with a sun roof.” Her denim skirt stretched tight across her legs. She hiked it up, giving Scott an unobstructed view of her bare thighs. His nostrils flared. “You should have gotten the one with tinted windows.” “Why? Are you planning on conducting private business?” “Yes.” He slid his hands along the sides of her face to the back of her neck and brought her down to his level. “As private as you’ll let me.” Scott had kissed her many times. All of them enjoyable. All of them passionate. This one was different. When his tongue sought hers, she tasted a fierce need that called to her heart as much as it built

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her excitement. “Am I falling in love with you?” “What did you say?” She hadn’t realized she’d broken off the kiss to speak aloud. Afraid of his reaction, she hid her face in his neck. He gently drew her up and forced her to look at him. “I hope you are, Casie. Because I want you. And I would never ask you to make love with me unless it’s really love you’re feeling.” “Is that where this is leading?” “It is for me. If it isn’t for you, then I can’t play testing the car’s features anymore.” “I want you to test the features, Scott.” She sat up. The motion drove her sandaled foot into the net pocket on the door, pinching her toes. She ignored the pain and thrust her bosom forward, undoing the top button of her cotton sweater. “My features.” “Please,” he said in a strangled voice and stayed her nervous fingers. “Allow me.” With excruciating slowness, he undid the buttons. Casie watched his hands in the fading light. She recalled how confidently and competently they’d folded a maternity bra the day she and Scott met in The Happy Stork. Soon, they would be folding her bra. She strained with anticipation. “Casie. If you don’t want to—” “No, I do. It’s just taking so long. You’re driving me crazy. Can’t you go any faster?” “What? And ruin the fun?” “You’re a naughty boy, Scott Karstetter.” Her reprimand appeared to please him. “I’m elevating the mood.” “You elevate my mood any more, and I’ll start levitating.” He finished the last button and opened her sweater. His jaw went slack. He grappled for the lever. When he found it, he raised his seat to a sitting position, which put his face directly in line with her breasts. Casie began to feel self-conscious when he did nothing but stare. Doubts crept in. She crossed

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her arms over her chest. “I know I’m not…well-endowed like Joyce. You probably see women way bigger than me all the time.” “Stop.” He took her hands and placed them behind her back. “You’re exquisite.” Through the filmy material of her bra, he brushed his thumbs across her nipples. They hardened immediately. Casie’s eyes drifted shut, only to snap open when Scott’s mouth covered her. She dared to look down. Wild sensations swirled through her, exploding in a hot flash when he took her between his teeth. Tongue to flesh. She craved his lips on her naked skin without any restrictions. “The clasp is here, in front.” She touched it, then touched the seam of his lips where they covered the fine netting of her bra cup. He removed his mouth. “You want me to unfasten it?” His words landed on the damp material, cooling at first, then creating heat. “Yes.” Oh, yes. Squeezing her nipples between his thumb and forefinger, he rolled them inside the material. “Are you sure? Bras can be much more than functional, you know. They’re also entertaining.” “I’m sure.” Very sure. Rather than undo the clasp, he slipped the straps off her shoulders and lowered them onto her arms. He rubbed his calloused fingertips over the soft curves that spilled from the top and sides. Casie raised herself up and grabbed the handle above the door, anchoring herself before her legs gave out. With a quick flick, Scott released the clasp and opened her bra, exposing her breasts to his view. Her beaded nipples hovered millimeters away from him. He grunted his approval. “Get rid of it,” she implored. If they delayed much longer, the flimsy material would melt clean off her. “Not yet.” Passion thickened his voice and slowed his speech. “It turns me on.” Once glimpse at his pants confirmed his admission. That turned her on. She’d never had sex with her clothes on. In her few fumbling encounters with Lowell, he couldn’t wait to get her naked. Scott, on

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the other hand, used her bra to add an inventive and exciting dimension to foreplay. She wiggled further down onto his lap, trying to lessen the throbbing between her legs. It didn’t work, and she let out a tiny wail of frustration. Suddenly, his hand was there. In the place she most wanted it. He fondled her through the fabric of her panties. Soothing her. Arousing her. Inflaming her. She prayed he’d continue forever, then prayed for an end to her torment. He must have read her mind because he gently tugged the thin strip of material aside and slipped his fingers inside her. At the first contact, her pleasure intensified ten fold. A minute later, it became unbearable. No longer able to hold her head up, she pressed her cheek to his hair, hugged the seat, and succumbed to a powerful climax. When had it ever been like this? she asked herself when reality returned. When had a man brought her to completeness with such little effort? Never, her heart murmured. What does that tell you? “My, oh, my,” Casie managed when the last wave subsided. “What a rush.” “I’ll say.” Scott fondled her buttocks, tugging at the elastic of her panties as he did. “Ready for more?” “Sure.” Casie yanked his shirt out of his pants and lifted it up. He flinched when she scraped her nails along the firm muscles of his stomach. “But now it’s my turn.” “Sweetie, I’m all yours.” He grabbed her wrists and removed her inquisitive hands. “But not here. I think it’s time we went inside to play.”

###

Scott lay Casie down on his bed. Get Away jumped up and pounced on top of her, his tail wagging furiously. “Beat it, pal.” He pushed the dog off the bed. “She’s already got a partner for the night.” Get Away persisted. Scott picked up the dog and tossed him into the hall, then shut the bedroom door. He came back to the bed. To his great disappointment, Casie had already removed her sweater and

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bra. She’d hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her skirt, ready to remove it. “I’ll take over from here,” he insisted, and relished stripping her bare. An annoying scratching came from the door. “Quit it, Get Away,” he hollered. The scratching intensified. “I’m going to kill him.” “How does he do that?” “What?” “Scratch. He only has one front paw. How can he stand and scratch without falling over?” Scott scrubbed his face, not at all happy about the turn of events. “He lays on his side,” he muttered. “No kidding? What a clever little fellow.” Scott didn’t like being upstaged by his dog. He wanted Casie paying attention to him, not Get Away. “I’ll be right back.” “Where are you going?” she asked with alarm. Yip, yip, yip. Get Away scratched harder at the sound of approaching footsteps. “I can’t concentrate. And believe me, I need total concentration for what I have planned. He must be dealt with.” “Be kind,” she called after him as he left the room. He returned a few minutes later, a satisfied smirk on his face. “All taken care of.” “You didn’t put him outside, did you? It’s still cold at night.” “I made a great sacrifice.” Scott fell beside her and sketched a circle with his index finger around her belly button, then lower. “But I think it will be worth it.” “Tell me.” “My last T-bone.” “You gave him a steak?” She lifted herself up on one elbow and worked at the fly on his pants. It defeated her.

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Scott considered helping, but enjoyed the results of her unsuccessful efforts far too much. He lay back and let her have her way with him. “A frozen steak. It’ll buy us more time. Casie reached her target. Scott hissed and went rock hard when she wrapped her fingers around him. “Honey, I, maybe you should…” She made coherent speech impossible. “Turn about is fair play,” she whispered against his erection. She didn’t fight fair. No, siree. But Scott was a good loser and took it well. When he neared the point of no return, he pulled her on top of him, letting her straddle him much like she had in the car. Only this time, there were no cup holders and sun visors to hinder them. “There, in the night stand.” He motioned awkwardly. “We’ll need one.” Casie understood and blinked coquettishly. “Only one?” She leaned over and opened the top drawer. Her breasts dangled in front of his face. He couldn’t let an opportunity pass and sampled her again. The taste and scent of her overpowered him, shutting out every thought from his mind except one. “Stop that.” She sat back out of his reach, brandishing a small foil packet. He hoped she wouldn’t ask him why he had a supply of condoms in his nightstand. Maybe she’d notice the layer of dust on the box. It had been a while since he’d used any. She said nothing, merely ripped open the package and slipped the condom on him. When she guided him inside her, he willed the moment to last forever. He’d been waiting months for this. Not the sex, the commitment. What started out as a lark had become much more: a chance for real happiness. Any hope for prolonging their lovemaking fell by the wayside as she squeezed her legs tight around his rib cage. He grasped her thighs and held her still, driving into her with a mindless urgency. She cried out. It may have been his name. The roaring in his ears drowned out all sounds except the pounding of his heart. A heart that beat for Casie. ###

“I’m hungry.” Scott had appeased all his physical needs but one.

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“Mmm. Me, too. Got anything good to eat?” “I’ll have to see.” He rolled away from Casie and sat up, yawning and stretching as he did. By the looks of the pitch-black bedroom window, the dinner hour had come and gone. “I did have a T-bone, but that’s history.” “Since Get Away got steak, does that mean we have to eat dog chow?” Casie struggled to an upright position behind him, obviously feeling just as lethargic as he did. She rested her chin on the dip between his neck and shoulder and circled his waist with her arms. He leaned his head back and nuzzled her. “I think I can do better than that.” He handed her his shirt and grabbed his boxers off the floor. In the kitchen, Scott opened a cupboard. It was crammed with canned goods. “Let me guess,” Casie quipped. “Supplies left over from the Y2K scare.” “I’m a bachelor. Shopping is a hit or miss deal with me. Non-perishables keep.” He grabbed a black and red can from the top. “How about this?” “Manwiches?” “Not just a sandwich, it’s a meal.” “Do you have any hamburger buns?” “I have bread.” While Scott cooked, Casie set the table in the small dining area between the kitchen and the living room. Get Away buried his steak bone in the corner behind the chair and then came over to mooch. Casie fed him a piece of toast. “You’re spoiling him.” She rubbed the dog’s bulging tummy. “You’re a fine one to talk. I gave him dry bread. You gave him raw meat.” “I temporarily lost my sanity.” “You’re excused, on one condition.” She came up behind him as he was scooping the Manwich mixture onto their plates. “You temporarily lose your sanity with me again after dinner.”

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Scott dropped the wooden spoon he’d been using. It clacked loudly and splattered sauce all over the counter. “Keep talking like that, and you won’t eat for another hour.” “I’ll stop, but only because you’ll need your strength.” The phone rang, preventing Scott from testing his theory that he could indeed go another round with Casie on an empty stomach. “Grab that for me, will you” he asked, carrying the food to the table. “Sure.” She picked up the portable phone on the desk. “Hello.” After waiting several seconds, she sang out cheerily, “Hel-lo.” Shrugging her shoulders at Scott, she started to hang up the phone, then put it back to her ear and listened, her smile slowly vanishing. “It’s Nina.” She held out the phone. “For you.” Scott’s gut clenched as he walked over and took the receiver from Casie. He tried to gauge her mood, but she edged by him, curled up in the armchair in the living room and stared into space. “Hi.” He didn’t want to talk to Nina, but had little choice. “Hi,” she said warily. “I caught you at a bad time, didn’t I?” “Yeah.” “Oh, sorry. I figured that was Casie who answered and thought about hanging up. Guess I should have.” He wished she’d hung up, too. While he dismissed it before, he now considered that Nina might be sabotaging his relationship with Casie. Not on purpose, for she wasn’t a malicious or spiteful person. But she was needy and uncertain about her future and that of her baby. Strong emotions that could prompt a normally considerate person to behave selfishly. Somehow, he had to resolve the situation with Nina, and soon. No way would he lose Casie because of it, especially after today. He loved her, would never have taken her to his bed if he didn’t. They’d work out their differences about babies somehow, as long as they had each other. “What’s up?” he asked Nina in a flat tone. “Nothing important. I just called to see if you’re still willing to be my birthing partner and to let

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you know the class schedule. It starts next week and we need to register.” “I told you I would. Just let me know when.” “How’s Thursday evening at seven?” “Fine.” “Do you want to meet me there or pick me up?” Scott glanced over at Casie. She hadn’t moved except to pick up Get Away, who’d been jumping on her leg, and set him in her lap. Once there, the dog buried his nose between her breasts and sighed contentedly. Not long ago, Scott had been doing the exact same thing. At the rate the evening was progressing, he may never enjoy the privilege again. And that, he decided, was not an option. Whatever it took, he’d straighten out this mess. He made a commitment to Nina, but he also made a commitment to Casie, one he hoped would last a lifetime. “Look, can I call you back?” he asked impatiently. “Sure. Not a problem. This can wait.” He heard the hurt in her voice and tried to sound upbeat. “See you later, then. Good-bye.” He shut off the phone and set it down. Food had lost its appeal. One look at Casie, and he knew she shared his sentiments. The only part of her that moved was her hand as it stroked Get Away. “Sorry about the interruption.” “That’s a pretty lame apology.” He blew out a gust of air, regrouped, and came at the problem from a different angle, a technique he often employed as a coach. He shuffled over to Casie, planning to sit on the wide arm of the chair. Get Away lifted his head and bared his teeth. “My own dog has turned against me.” “Can you blame him?” “Ungrateful mutt.” Scott retreated, choosing one of the stools at the breakfast bar to make his stand, weak as it was. “Look, I know how you feel.” “You do, huh?”

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“Yeah, I do.” “Enlighten me, please.” “You’re mad, for starters.” “Furious.” “Hurt.” “Beyond reason.” “And confused.” “Totally.” She suddenly came to life, like Pinocchio when the Blue Fairy waved her magic wand. Her arms flew in every direction and her legs jerked. “Excuse me if I’m wrong, but didn’t we just spend the last hour-and-a-half in your bed performing indecent acts that are outlawed in some states? I’ve never even heard of half the stuff we did, though Joyce has tried to tell me often enough. And the second we’re through, you get a phone call from another woman.” Get Away rode the rocky sea of her body, hanging on with his one good paw and looking unhappy. Scott wished she wouldn’t get so worked up. It was making him horny. He hid his reaction by crossing his legs. “Think for a minute. If I were fooling around with another woman, would I risk getting caught by having you answer my phone?” Casie quieted. Scott, however, remained leery. This might be the eye of the hurricane and not the calm after a storm. “I suppose not.” “If you’re willing to listen, I’d like to explain.” Ha! a small voice inside him mocked. He ignored it. All was silent except for the tap-tapping of Casie’s bare foot on the hardwood floor. Seconds passed until the tension in the room reached an unbearable level. Get Away couldn’t hold on and started sliding down her chest. She repositioned him, but he slid a second time, then a third. Scott was ready to fall to his knees and beg when Casie nodded solemnly and said, “All right.” Relief surged through him. Scratching the back of his head, he took a moment to compose his

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thoughts. He’d tell Casie the truth. At least, as much of the truth as he could without revealing his involvement. Her reaction to Nina’s phone call rated eight-point-nine on the Richter scale. He shuddered to imagine what she’d do if she found out Nina was the woman Lowell had slept with behind her back, and Scott was the person responsible for bringing them together. “Nina’s really a friend of my youngest sister,” he began. “Her family lives in the house next-door to my parents.” “But she’s in Hartford now?” “Right.” Scott braced his hands on his thighs. “She’s at loose ends. Her life recently took a bad turn.” “Bad in what way?” “She moved here a year-and-a-half ago and enrolled at Hartford Art School. I told her folks I’d look in on her every once in a while, give a hand when she needed it. It’s the least I could do in return for all their help over the years. They really came through for my family when my dad died.” “I remember you mentioning them. They watched you and your sisters after school when your Mom had to go back to work. That’s when she bought the maternity shop.” “Right. I’ve known Nina since she was born. She and my sister were inseparable.” “And your relationship with her is strictly platonic?” “Yes. No.” Guilt poked at him, nudging him to confess. “We did date a few times when she first moved here, but I think it was more from homesickness on her part than any real interest in me.” “What about your interest in her?” Casie methodically fondled Get Away’s ear, who’d started dozing. “I don’t have any. I never did.” “Then why did you go out with her?” “She’d matured a lot since I’d seen her last. What can I say? I’m a normal, healthy male.” “She’s pretty.” Casie stated. “She is. But she’s like a third sister to me and I couldn’t see her any other way. It was…” He

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made a face. “Weird. I think we were both glad to see it end We were never meant to be more than friends. Then, at the end of her freshman year, she met…an older man and they…started dating.” Scott picked his words carefully. “Her mom and dad freaked out.” “Because of the age difference?” “Yeah. Among other reasons. Nina’s parents were extremely overprotective of their children. I don’t know if they disliked…this man…because he was older or because he had more influence with Nina than they did.” “If you ask me, her family sounds borderline dysfunctional.” “I suppose they are in a way. You have to understand that Nina is very shy and has almost no experience with the opposite sex. This guy is…very charismatic. She was easily taken in.” “What is he, famous or something?” Casie asked dubiously. “Sort of. He’s in a position of authority.” “A teacher?” “You could call him that.” Scott turned the conversation away from Lowell. “Needless to say, she and her parents had a major falling out. They’ve hardly spoken since.” “She’s an adult, entitled to date whomever she wants.” “Sure. But that’s no reason to make a stupid mistake,” Scott said, referring to Nina but thinking of himself. “There are no guarantees when it comes to relationships.” Scott wondered if she was alluding to Lowell. He didn’t ask. “Nina was on her own for the first time in her life, out from under her parents’ thumb, and enjoying her freedom. It didn’t last. She got pregnant, accidentally she assures me, and when she confronted the guy, he tells her he’s already en…in a committed relationship.” He watched Casie’s face, searching for any signs of recognition. Pain flashed momentarily in her eyes, but no accusation. He breathed a sigh of relief. “How nice. Where is he now?”

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Remembering his last visit to Nina’s, Scott answered, “He’s still in the picture, unfortunately.” “What does his,” she peered at him quizzically, “girlfriend did you say? What does she think of all this?” “They broke up.” Casie nodded philosophically. “Why doesn’t he help Nina out, now that he’s unattached? He’s the father, after all.” Scott shifted to a more comfortable position. “Nina’s determined to make it on her own, which is just as well. He’s bad news and she’s better off without him. But in order to support herself, she had to drop out of school and work full-time. I’ve tried to get her to apply for government assistance. She refuses. A matter of pride.” “And her family?” “They don’t know she’s pregnant. And she won’t tell them until she decides whether to keep the baby or give it up for adoption. She’s scared to death they’ll disown her if they find out.” “That may not be so awful, from all you’ve told me about them.” “No, it would be. The Cumblys are good people, just stricter than most. I’m sure they’d love and cherish a grandchild, once they got over the shock. Only I can’t convince Nina of that.” Casie narrowed her gaze at him. “Why didn’t you tell me this from the start? It’s not as if I wouldn’t understand.” Here came the tricky part. Scott crossed the room and knelt on the floor next to the chair where Casie sat. Get Away lay flat on her stomach, staking his claim and protecting his own. “Roe told me about Lowell long before you did.” “She’s such a blabbermouth.” Casie frowned in mild annoyance. “Don’t be mad at her. I badgered her relentlessly and as it was, she didn’t say much. Just enough to let me know the reason you avoided athletes like they were plague-infested rats. Being one myself, an athlete that is, not a rat, I was afraid you’d jump to the wrong conclusion if I told you about Nina.” Scott brushed the back of Casie’s hand with his fingertips. “I’m sorry for what Lowell did to you, honey. You

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didn’t deserve that. No woman does.” Her eyes misted. For a second, it appeared she might cry. With the help of a few sniffles, she maintained the tenuous hold on her emotions. “Did you ever sleep with her?” Scott hadn’t expected that question and felt Casie was testing him. “Absolutely not. Hell, I’ve never even kissed her, except on the cheek.” “Will you stop seeing her altogether?” “I will if that will make you happy, but I’d rather not. Nina’s vulnerable right now and needs a friend in her corner. I’d like to be there for her.” “What about your sister?” “She’s going to school in Boston. They haven’t seen each other since last summer.” Casie’s expression flickered, then softened. “Always helping out, aren’t you Scott?” “I try.” He perceived a change in her, but continued to exercise caution. One wrong move and he could lose all the ground he’d gained. “Remember that time you changed my flat tire? You said, let me be your white knight. Seems you’ve made a career of rescuing ladies in distress.” “A bad habit of mine.” Get Away whimpered and wagged his tail. “Appears your pooch has let you off the hook.” “What about you?” He took a chance and covered her knee with his hand. She placed hers on top of his. “Animals do have good instincts.” “So you understand my reasons for helping Nina?” He smiled, hoping she’d return it. She did. “Yes, and they’re commendable. But I admit I don’t like her being a part of your life.” “Casie. If things were different…” He didn’t finish. “They’re not. And I’ll deal with Nina, especially now that I know the truth. I really do value your honesty. I hope you won’t disappoint me. I’d never forgive you if I found out you were stringing me

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along.” Never forgive. That rang of finality, and Scott didn’t like it. His guilty conscience eased as the conflict inside him resolved. He wouldn’t tell Casie that Lowell was the father of Nina’s baby. What purpose would it serve other than to cause Casie more grief? And she’d had enough of that already from Lowell. Scott loved her and as such, he would protect her from harm, whatever form it came in. Acknowledging the cherished gift she’d bestowed upon him, he took her hands in his and raising them to his mouth, kissed the knuckles. First thing in the morning, he’d have a long talk with Nina. Somehow he find a way to reduce her dependence on him. His future with Casie depended on it.

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Chapter Ten

Casie agreed to be her sister’s birthing partner on one condition – she drove to the classes at the hospital in Hartford. They were on their way there now, having stopped for a quick bite of dinner first at Mama Mia’s Pizzeria. The thrill of new car ownership still hadn’t worn off for Casie. Neither had the experimenting. She and Scott hadn’t let their first clumsy attempt at making love in the Beetle stop them. During a second undertaking, the back seat proved even less accommodating than the front. Refusing to admit defeat, they’d tried again last weekend. On a spectacular spring morning, they headed to Coventry Lake and the Malcavey family cottage for a day of fun and relaxation. There, under the stars in a secluded woodland, Scott propped Casie up on the back fender and performed the most deliciously indescribable acts. Making up for years of abstinence definitely had its advantages. The last few weeks had been oh, so perfect. They didn’t discuss Nina anymore. Whatever Scott had said to her apparently did the trick, for she never called. At least not when Casie was with him, which was almost constantly of late. He once made a half-hearted offer to introduce them, but Casie vehemently declined. She wasn’t that enlightened. At first, Scott would tell her about his visits with Nina, his way of keeping things on the up and up, she supposed. While Casie appreciated that, she’d worry herself into a snit and after a while, asked him to stop. It was the same with his part-time job at The Happy Stork. Since learning about Nina’s pregnancy, Casie had become uncomfortable with the idea

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of Scott fitting women with bras, even though she knew he only offered advice and didn’t actually fit them in the technical sense. During her waking hours, she pretended Nina didn’t exist. On those rare nights when she slept alone, she admitted to herself that Nina may yet cause problems for her and Scott. Still, she didn’t insist he quit seeing his childhood friend, acknowledging the importance he placed on his promise to her parents. Rather, Casie convinced herself it was only a matter of time until Nina had the baby and went on with her life – separate from hers and Scott’s. Undoubtedly a cop out, but Casie didn’t welcome any dark clouds shadowing their growing love. Truly, the only real negative of late was her job at Connecticut Indemnity and Casualty Insurance. She didn’t recall specifically when it happened, but somewhere between the day she started work at Manchester Junior High and the formation of the elite dance team, she lost interest in her regular day job. Not that she ever jumped from bed in the morning raring to punch the clock, but neither had she minded. These days, she dragged her feet to the office and once there, counted the minutes until whatever time she was scheduled to leave. Afterwards, she’d race from the office to school. Well aware she needed a change in attitude, Casie had recently started finding new ways to renew her interest in her job, which pleased her boss. With a car payment that staggered her when she wrote the check, she needed to be gainfully employed. “Hello! Earth to Casie.” Joyce curled her fingers around her thumb and held her hand in front of her mouth, speaking in a distorted mechanical voice. “Come in, Casie, come in.” “Guess I was spacing again,” Casie admitted with a laugh. “In outer space, I’d say. On Planet Scott. Girl, love has knocked you for a loop. Don’t try and deny it.” She didn’t. “Yep, you’re right.” A satisfying glow spread through her from head to toe, leaving her giddy. Everything would be fine once she and Scott sailed over the little hump Nina caused in their relationship road. Roe and Dex had recently returned from honeymooning on The Cape and were settling into their

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own state of bliss. Despite the usual series of prenuptial disasters, their simple yet elegant wedding went off without a hitch. Casie had tried her best not to cry, but when Mr. Lindlow, the school principal, commended her efforts and asked her to return in the fall to train a new cheer squad, she started blubbering. Scott had immediately whisked her onto the dance floor, proving as proficient at tripping the light fantastic as all other physical activities. Many of the teachers and staff from the school had attended the wedding. Casie saw for the first time how much Scott’s co-workers liked him, not just for his excellent coaching skills, but as a teacher and a friend. He even won over Auntie Flo, who forgot about his advice to Joyce on toughening her nipples and declared him a living doll. “There’s the hospital. Turn right.” Joyce tapped the passenger side window. “Aren’t you excited?” “I’m beside myself.” Casie stifled a yawn and pulled into the parking lot. “Me, too.” Joyce completely missed the sarcasm in Casie’s retort. “After all these months, I finally get to meet Mom2BJune16.” “Who?” “You know. The girl from my FTM chat room. I’ve only told you about her a dozen times.” Joyce bubbled with enthusiasm. “When we found out we were both signed up for class at Hartford Hospital, we changed our schedules so we could be together.” “Oh.” Casie barely remembered some long ago conversation outside The Happy Stork. “Great.” “I feel so sorry for her. She’s all alone, you know.” “Yeah, you told me.” Not terribly interested in her sister’s friend, Casie centered her attention on squeezing the Beetle into a tiny parking space.

“Be careful!

Don’t slam the door so hard,” she

complained once there were out of the car. “You’re obsessed.” “You’re careless.” They started up the walkway to the hospital entrance. “Now tell me again why Mom can’t be your birthing buddy,” Casie said.

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“They’re called partners.” “Okay, birthing partner. She’d make a much better partner than me. She’s really into all this baby stuff, not to mention having a stronger stomach than I do.” Casie hoped they weren’t going to show any graphic films in class. The pizza she’d wolfed down wasn’t sitting well. “I tried last week. What a nightmare.” Joyce slapped her forehead. “Superman couldn’t have pried that video camera from her. Forget breathing exercises, timing my contractions, or massaging my back. She was too busy playing documentary film director.” “You’re the one who bought the camera. That way,” Casie mimicked her sister, “Troy can watch tapes of what he missed and not feel left out.” They wandered down the sidewalk to the hospital entrance, Joyce rubbing her huge abdomen. “How was I to know she’d flip out like that?” “This is Mom we’re talking about. Flipping out is a given.” Casie yanked open the glass door leading into the hospital’s maternity wing, and they walked inside. “Just remember, I only agreed to this on a temporary basis.” “Don’t bail on me, Sis.” They turned down a long corridor. Joyce took the lead, her thongs slapping against the highly polished tile floor. “You’re supposed to stay with the same partner all through the course.” “See? Another good reason to bring Mom.” “Promise you’ll be good tonight and not embarrass me.” “Me embarrass you? I was about to ask you the same thing.” Casie entertained high hopes that Joyce would be preoccupied with her cyber buddy and therefore leave her to fend for herself. “How will you recognize this mom-to-be person?” “She said she’d be wearing a yellow floral maternity smock. I said I’d be the one with a smart mouth for a partner.” “Very funny.” A squat, pear-shaped woman with a kind smile greeted them at the classroom door. Garbed in a

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pale pink lab coat, she resembled a giant ball of cotton candy. Joyce introduced her to Casie as Nurse Doolittle, the head instructor. Scanning the already packed room, they counted no less than four women wearing yellow floral maternity smocks. Casie leaned over and spoke softly into Joyce’s ear. “So, which one is your mom-to-be friend?” “Don’t know. I’ll just have to mingle.” “Everyone, practice your relaxation exercises until the rest of the students arrive,” Nurse Doolittle instructed the class. “Dr. Samuel Augustine will be joining us later tonight for a presentation on how to make your own birthing audio tape. Studies show that music has a soothing affect on mothers during labor. It also stimulates endorphins, the feel-good hormone.” “That’ll be neat.” Joyce chose two colorful beanbag chairs from a stack in the corner. “Oh, goodie. And here I thought birthing class would be dull.” Joyce plopped the beanbag down in an empty spot on the carpeted floor. “You could use a few endorphins yourself.” “I can only think of one I want.” “And I bet his name happens to be Scott Karstetter.” Both sisters snickered. “Come on, give me a hand. I need to work on strengthening my pelvic muscles.” “Don’t make me,” Casie grumbled. “I beg you.” “It’s not that bad.” It was horrible. Casie pretended to be invisible while Joyce squatted on a giant rubber ball, gripped the handle, and bounced up and down. “This always makes me feel like I have to pee.” “It makes me want to hurl. Joyce,” Casie pleaded, “my nerves can’t take anymore.” Joyce lost control and inadvertently bounced into another heavily pregnant woman, slamming into the back of her thin legs. The collision nearly sent both of them to the floor. Casie rushed over to pull her sister off the ball and steady the young mother-to-be. “Sheesh, I’m really sorry,” Joyce apologized when the young woman turned around, her initial

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astonishment fading into a shy smile. “The darn thing just slipped out from under me.” “Watch out for her,” Casie warned, rolling the ball into a corner far from Joyce’s reach. “She just got her learner’s permit last week.” “No harm done,” replied the young woman. “Those balls are hard to steer.” She wore a mustardcolored blouse dotted with tiny daisies. “Is this your first class?” Joyce inquired amiably. The young woman fidgeted anxiously. “Second.” “Mine, too. I was coming on Tuesdays, then switched.” Joyce chewed her bottom lip, then blurted, “Look, I probably sound completely bonkers, but are you by chance Mom2BJune16?” “BabyHereJune25?” The two women squealed with female delight and hugged. “I’m so glad to finally meet you. This is my sister,” Joyce said when they’d separated. “You can call her SourPuss.” “That’s me.” Casie reached out to shake hands. “I can tell you’re sisters. You look alike.” The young woman didn’t meet Casie’s eyes, reverting to her initial shyness. At Joyce’s suggestion, the young woman snared her own beanbag chair and the three of them made a nest in the last row near the wall. Joyce sat in the middle. While she and her newfound pal discussed the pros and cons of natural childbirth, Casie watched Nurse Doolittle set up. With the help of a father, she pushed a tall cart with a TV on the top to the front of the room. Casie got the willies when the instructor pulled a video tape from her smock pocket and inserted it into the VCR. “What are we watching tonight?” she asked around the thumbnail she’d shoved in her mouth. The young woman pointed to a white board on the wall. “‘The Life Cycle of Your Unborn Child’.” “Whoopee.” Casie moaned low. “Do they pass out air sickness bags beforehand?” “What I wouldn’t give to have my husband here,” Joyce said longingly. “He’s overseas and isn’t returning until the end of the month.”

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“That’s too bad,” commiserated the young woman. “But he’ll be home before the baby’s born, right?” “Yes, thank goodness,” Casie and Joyce said in unison. Casie settled deeper into her beanbag chair and looked around as her sister continued conversing with the young woman. “Which one’s your partner?” Joyce asked, trying without success to cross her plump legs and finally giving up. “He’s on his way.” The young woman checked her watch. “Should be here any minute. “He?” Joyce perked up. “Do tell.” “There’s nothing to tell, really. He’s an old family friend.” “No chance for something more?” The young woman shook her head and blushed a bright red. Casie concentrated on the couple sitting directly in front of her practicing their breathing exercises. “Hee, hee, hee. Pant like a puppy dog,” the man told the woman braced between his legs. Casie caught herself unconsciously breathing in rhythm along with them and sat up straight, hoping no one had spotted her. She turned toward her sister, ready to make a smart remark. At Joyce’s alarmed expression, Casie swallowed the words, then followed her sister’s wide-eyed stare. A familiar male figure stood in the doorway, speaking to Nurse Doolittle. Casie let out a gasp. So did the young woman. “What’s he doing here?” Joyce asked loud enough to turn heads. The floor beneath Casie moved, or so it seemed. Her insides rolled, and her vision blurred. What’s he doing here? she silently echoed Joyce’s question. “Of all the unmitigated gall.” Somehow Casie found the strength to place a restraining hand on Joyce’s arm. “Please don’t

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make a scene.” Her voice resembled a fingernail dragging across a sheet of sandpaper. “Bastard,” Joyce spat. As if hearing them from across the large room, Lowell Young looked straight at them. Nurse Doolittle gestured in their direction, unaware of the tumult his presence created. Casie panicked and stared at the floor. Sensing him approach, she gripped the beanbag chair with both hands to prevent herself from bolting. His feet entered her downcast line of vision. Like giant waves colliding against a wall of rocks, the past came rushing forward to meet the present. For a brief moment, she sat in another chair in another place, listening to Lowell offer up an insincere apology for his indiscretions. Casie had to force herself to remember where she was. Crossing his arms over his muscled stomach, he grinned boyishly, his glance traveling from one to the next. “Well, this is certainly awkward.” Casie clenched her teeth, determined not to fall apart. “Pregnancy must appeal to you, Joyce.” He leered at her chest. “It’s done wonders for your bust line.” “You always were a pig,” she sneered. “Same sweet disposition, too.” “Why are you here?” Casie ground out. He drew back, his surprise almost comical. “You really don’t know?” The young woman beside Joyce began whimpering. “Go away, Lowell. Leave me alone.” “That’s harsh, Nina. Considering I came all this way just to be with you.” “No you didn’t.” She was close to tears. “You’re just trying to manipulate me, force me to give up the baby.

You may its father, but that doesn’t mean you can walk in on my birthing class

unannounced.” “I’m doing no such thing. You need a partner.” “I have a partner already.”

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“Karstetter?” He chuckled. “It is him, isn’t it? Good old Scott, always shoving his nose in where it doesn’t belong.” Casie heard the exchange between the two of them as if in a dream. Nothing made sense. Lowell was the father of this woman’s baby? Wait. She pressed her palms to her hot cheeks. Hadn’t he called her Nina? And he’d said her birthing partner was…Scott Karstetter. With a deafening crash, the bottom dropped out of Casie’s world. She went weak and dizzy, and her lungs burned like she’d run five miles in high altitude. “Oh, my God.” Joyce muttered an expletive, apparently drawing the same conclusion as Casie. Abruptly, a group of students parted and Scott materialized in their midst, looking dangerously angry. Lowell drew himself up, and the two men faced off, their mutual dislike discernable to even a casual observer. Scott never took his eyes off Lowell. “What the hell are you doing here?” Lowell snorted. “Screw you. I have more right to be here than you.” It’s true, thought Casie with a strange sense of detachment. This wasn’t some outrageously horrible mistake. Scott’s friend Nina was the woman Lowell had slept with and subsequently got pregnant during their engagement. A soft moan escaped her throat, and she felt herself sliding off the beanbag chair. “Casie, are you all right?” Scott reached her first, before Joyce who sat right beside her. He took her by the shoulders and righted her. “Lowell is the father of Nina’s baby,” she whispered and snatched the front of his shirt, pulling him down to her level. He was strong, her shelter in the violent storm whirling around her. “All this time…it was Lowell.” “I know, honey.” He gently pried her fingers loose. “Let me take care of this problem first, then we’ll leave. Go somewhere quiet and talk.” “You know?” Casie’s arms went limp, falling to her sides. A physical blow couldn’t have stunned more than Scott’s admission.

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“Honey?” Lowell laughed out loud. “My, my. This is certainly cozy. Tell me, Karstetter, are you sleeping with all my castoffs or just Casie?” Scott wheeled on Lowell, stopped inches short of taking a swing at him. “You have precisely three seconds to haul your sorry ass out of here or I’ll do it for you.” A crowd had gathered, curious, yet maintaining a safe distance. Someone mentioned calling security. Another edged toward a white phone on the wall by the door. Casie didn’t remember escaping the room. When awareness returned, she was running down the hospital corridor, her purse clutched to her side. In her haste, she bumped into a group of doctors conferring and murmured an apology. Bursting through the double glass doors leading outside, she dimly heard someone call her name. It wasn’t Joyce. “Casie.” Scott caught up with her, his breath coming in great gusts. “Slow down.” He took her hand, matching her stride. “No,” she replied through tightly compressed lips, pulling away from him. “Will you quit it!” He wrenched her to a standstill. His use of force caught her off guard. “Wait just a minute.” She assessed him critically, her fury mounting. Because it felt good, she let it loose. “Who are you to be mad at me?” “No, you wait a minute.” He closed his eyes, flexed his jaw, and inhaled deeply. “I hate it when you do that.” “Do what?” “Clam up.” “Oh, please.” This from a man who’d hid a very significant piece of information from her for months. “It’s true, Casie. Whenever you’re faced with a difficult situation, you either run away or ignore it. Sometimes, like tonight, you do both.” “I do not.” She fiercely denied his accusation, though it was true. “Give me a chance to explain,” he implored, still hanging onto her hand.

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“This I have to hear.” “Being snide doesn’t suite you.” “Dishonesty doesn’t suite you. Scott Karstetter, self-appointed white knight, lied to me. All along you knew that my ex-fiancé was the father of Nina’s baby and yet you didn’t tell me. Explain that!” “I didn’t always know.” “When did you find out?” She narrowed her gaze at him, blocking out the pedestrians passing by on their way in and out of the hospital. A car horn beeped in the background. “A while ago.” “Be specific.” “That day Roe and I were talking, back when you first started working at the school. She mentioned Lowell. I suspected, but wasn’t sure until a couple weeks later when I talked to Nina.” “You told Nina before me!” Casie wanted to scream with frustration. “Why? Give me one good reason.” Hot tears pricked at her eyes, and she blinked them back. “I didn’t tell you because…because I…” Scott ran a hand over the top of his head, grabbing the hair at the back of his neck. “He’d hurt you so much already. Why add to it?” “Who are you to decide how much hurt I can tolerate?” “I was afraid you’d leave me. I couldn’t bear that, then or now. I love you, Casie.” She tried to understand his reasoning and failed. “No. That excuse doesn’t fly. I’m not saying I’d have handled the news well, but we might have been able to struggle our way through it eventually.” She made a fist with her free hand and pressed her knuckles into her forehead. “You should have told me. You should have.” “It’s my fault.” “Yes, damn it. It is your fault. This whole stupid fiasco could have been prevented with a little honesty.” “No, there’s more.” Scott let her hand go then, took a step back. His expression reflected an inner turmoil. “It’s my fault because…because I’m the one who introduced Lowell to Nina. I had no idea,” he

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rushed on. “I figured since he was already engaged…to you…that he wasn’t on the lookout for any new conquests. They met during a tournament last spring. Nina didn’t tell me she and Lowell were seeing each other, afraid I’d disapprove. Then she got pregnant and all hell broke loose.” All hell. Yes, that was one way to describe it. With this latest revelation, anger seeped from Casie like air from one of The Lush’s many flat tires. It left her void of emotion and weary to the bone. All she wanted was to go home, bury herself under the bed covers for a week, and lick her wounds. He must have read her thoughts, for he said, “Stay with me. Don’t run away.” “I have to go. I need to be alone to sort through…this.” No word adequately expressed the tangled mess of her feelings. “Don’t follow me. Don’t call me. Don’t come by.” “I can’t promise that.” “You have no choice.” She started to leave, then hesitated. “If it’s not too much trouble, will you take Joyce home?” “Of course.” As she followed the twisting sidewalk down to the parking lot, he remained standing at the top, watching her progress. With each step she took further away from him, the protective wall around her heart rose and thickened.

###

“Drink this.” “No thanks,” Casie said meekly. “I’m not thirsty.” Roe shoved a glass of lemonade into Casie’s hand. She’d made a pitcher in the kitchen while Casie reclined in a hammock in her back yard, sulking. A sinking sun clung to the edge of the horizon, its long, fiery fingers reaching across the landscape and painting tall shadows everywhere they touched. May loomed ahead and with it, endless days of glorious New England weather. “Quit the oh-woe-is-me act or I swear I’ll pinch your nose shut, tip your head back and pour this

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down your throat.” Casie lifted the glass to her lips and took a long swig. Secretly, she was glad for the cold drink, but she still behaved like an ingrate just because. “Your compassion knows no bounds.” “I’m here, aren’t I?” Roe dragged a folding lawn chair over next to the hammock and sat down. “I didn’t invite you. “You didn’t have to.” A small knot of gratitude pushed against Casie’s rib cage. She’d ached to talk to her best friend, but hadn’t built up the nerve yet to make a phone call. After the initial shock of learning about Lowell and Nina wore off, she’d gone into a state of semi-hibernation, leaving the house only for work and necessary errands. Fortunately, with the season winding down, there was only one afternoon cheer practice. Somehow she steered clear of Scott, catching a glimpse of him just once going into the nurse’s office. She tried repeatedly to reconcile in her mind what had happened and how he figured into the picture. It proved too difficult to manage alone, requiring the use of a sounding board. Still unable to face friends and family, she refused Roe’s overtures. Luckily, Roe didn’t easily surrender and ambushed Casie when she arrived home from work that evening. “Thank you.” Casie didn’t have to say more. The two friends shared an understanding that transcended simple language. “You’re welcome.” “He should have told me,” Casie said after spending several silent minutes observing the sunset. “Well, yep. I suppose so.” “You suppose?” The offhand comment had Casie fighting to a sitting position. She crossed her legs, tucking her feet under her. “I had a right to know.” “I’m not arguing that. I’m just not entirely convinced it was Scott’s place to tell you.” “How can you defend him?” Roe stirred her ice with an electric pink fingernail. The cubes clinked against the sides of the glass. “How would you have reacted if he told you about Nina and Lowell when you first started going out? Think hard, I want an honest answer.”

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Casie leaned over the edge of the hammock and set her nearly empty glass on the ground. “I don’t have to think at all.” She grunted and rose back up. “I’d have stopped seeing him.” “And as we’ve already witnessed firsthand, you’d also stop seeing him after months of dating and falling in love. At what point in between could he have told you and not risked a breakup?” “I’m not sure. But since I was never given the chance, it’s irrelevant.” “Is it? Let’s pretend differently for the sake of argument. When, Casie? When would your well of understanding not have been bone dry when it comes to Lowell?” Casie resisted Roe’s efforts to make her look at the situation from Scott’s viewpoint. “He didn’t tell me. I found out and it wasn’t pretty.” “That is unfortunate.” They didn’t speak for a time, each lost in their own thoughts. Wind chimes from a low hanging branch serenaded them with a bright, erratic melody. In the neighbor’s back yard, children chased toads, alternately screaming and giggling. Air just starting to cool nipped at their bare arms. Were Casie’s heart not broken in two, the evening would have been perfect. “Make me a promise.” Roe interrupted the stillness. “What?” “I’ll stay tonight as late as you’d like. You can cry on my shoulder, talk my ear off, rant, rave, stew, pout, or drop kick pillows into the wall. Whatever charges your battery. I’ll listen, be supportive, cluck sympathetically in all the right places, and say what you want to hear. I ask only one thing in return.” Her interest piqued, Casie leaned back, supporting herself on her elbows. The hammock rocked gently in response. “And that is?” “You consider Scott’s position with an open mind.” “Roe—” “Hear me out. He hurt you, Casie, I don’t deny that. But I know as well as I’m sitting here slapping at mosquitoes that he didn’t do it intentionally. He meant well. Let me repeat that because it’s

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very important. He meant well. Remember that when you’re busy finding fault with him.” “Good motives don’t excuse bad actions.” “He made a mistake. An error in judgment. It happens to the best of us. And besides, you’re not entirely blameless.” “Me!” Casie pressed a hand to her chest and gaped at Roe. “Yes, you. If you didn’t clump all athletes into one category, Scott might not have felt compelled to do what he did. The guy walked a very thin tightrope when it came to you. One false move and you’d have nailed him to the wall right along with Lowell. Don’t bother.” Roe raised a hand. “Arguing with me is academic because we both know I’m right.” Rose sighed wistfully. “With that kind of pressure, it’s no wonder he took the easy way out and omitted one small fact. I won’t say lie because it’s not the same.” “I’m going to cry now.” For almost a week, Casie had kept the tears bottled up inside her. One measly speech from Roe was all it took to release the torrent. “Want company? I brought supplies.” Casie nodded and scooted over. Roe sat with her on the hammock, then removed a wad of tissues from her sweater pocket. Casie used them all and then some, sending Roe into the house to restock the supply. For an hour, she ranted and raved, stewed and pouted. Roe clucked sympathetically and said what Casie wanted to hear. They went inside when the night became too chilly and when overcome with exhaustion, Roe left for home. Casie fell into bed and slept through the night for the first time in nearly a week. She awoke the next morning on steadier emotional ground and nearly ready to consider Scott’s viewpoint as Roe had asked. At work, she attacked her tasks rather than plodding through them and conjured up weak smiles for her coworkers. As the day drew to an end, she congratulated herself on making progress. The road to recovery stretched far ahead, but it no longer appeared endless. Her intercom buzzed. She depressed the flashing green light. “Yes?” “Casie, do you have few minutes?” her boss asked.

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“Sure, be right in.” Inwardly, she groaned. Gordon had a habit of dropping bombs at the last minute, and she wasn’t in the mood for overtime. When she stuck her head inside his office, he waved to her. “Shut the door behind you,” he said, picking up his telephone. He buzzed the operator. “Margie, hold my calls, please. And Casie’s, too.” Private conferences always worried Casie. They generally spelled trouble. As part of her job, she had access to a great deal of confidential information. “Something the matter?” she asked. His obvious agitation heightened her unease. She liked her boss. He was in no way responsible for her recent lack of interest in her job. Probably ten years older than her, he had a wife, two children, a hearty laugh, fifteen extra pounds, and a bald spot covering two-thirds of his head. He didn’t laugh now and his bald spot gleamed with perspiration. “I guess the best way to tell you this is to come right out and say it.” “Tell me what?” Her unease expanded to full blown dread and raced through her system like a swarm of angry bees on the loose. “I’m sorry, Casie, but we have to let you go as of today.” “I’m fired?” “You’re laid off. We’re downsizing. You know that, you type the budget reports. If it’s any consolation, you’re not the only one. There are fifteen others total.” Being amongst friends didn’t lessen her misery. She had a new car payment to make in a few days. Rent to pay. Groceries to buy. Ends to meet. “I’ve been trying really hard lately to do a good job.” “You have. Great, in fact. And maybe that’s part of the reason.” “I don’t follow you.” “Tom Piposaur from Accounting tells me you’re in there every afternoon picking up their slack.” “I enjoy learning new things. It makes me a more valuable employee.” And it fills the empty hours because there’s not enough work to keep one person busy. It suddenly struck her that her grand

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scheme had backfired. In trying to demonstrate self-motivation and a willingness to assume additional responsibility, she’d proven her job wasn’t necessary. “That is commendable. But you’re also in there because you’re looking for something to do. Am I right?” What difference did it make now? “Yes,” she admitted. Gordon twirled a gold pen between his finger and thumb, something he did to vent excess energy. He must dislike being the bearer of bad news as much as Casie disliked hearing it. “We’re letting Susan Bingham go, too, and combining your two positions.” Not Susan Bingham! The poor girl needed a job worse than Casie. “We’re giving you a generous severance package.” He passed her a thick manila envelope. “Six weeks pay in addition to your accrued vacation and 401K. There are also excellent letters of reference and your health insurance is paid through the end of the quarter.” Gordon droned on, but Casie stopped listening the instant he mentioned six week’s pay. She quickly ran a few calculations in her head. With no savings to speak of and only another week left at the school, she’d have to depend entirely on her severance pay until she found another job. If she pinched pennies until her fingers turned green, she’d last nine, possibly ten weeks. More if she hired on with a temporary agency. Would that be enough? With the economy being so slow, good jobs were difficult if not impossible to find. Good grief, when it rained, it poured. First Scott, and now her job. What next? She felt like one of those cartoon characters with a sign taped to their back saying ‘kick me’. Crying didn’t appeal to her, she’d done enough of that last night. Neither did pitching a fit. Gordon had been correct when he told her she was partially responsible for her termination. Had she also been partially responsible for what happened with her and Scott? And besides, you’re not entire blameless. Roe’s observation, delivered with such candor the previous evening, resounded in her head. Casie giggled, earning an odd look from Gordon. Heck of a time for an epiphany, she thought.

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“Sorry. I was just remembering something.” She rubbed the corner of her eye and endeavored to pay attention. “Well, as I was saying, you might consider a different profession.” “But office administration is what I studied in college.” “Can I be frank without offending you?” “I guess.” What was one more blow? “You’re a good administrative assistant, Casie. But at the rate you’re going, that’s all you’ll ever be. Your heart’s not in it. So unless you relish the idea of pounding a keyboard and crunching numbers for the rest of your life, find something else to do. A job that excites you, challenges you, and gives you the warm fuzzies all over.” “Warm fuzzies?” “There’s more to life than a regular paycheck.” “Sure. Easy for you to say. You weren’t just laid off.” “True.” He rose from his chair and came around his desk. “Think about what I said.” They shook hands. “Call me if you need anything.” “Thanks.” Deciding a clean break would be less awkward for the both of them, Casie turned on her heels and left Gordon’s office. Locating a cardboard box in the supply room, she emptied her desk of all her personal belongings. As she’d only been at Connecticut Indemnity six months, there weren’t many. She’d go through the envelope Gordon gave her at home tonight, figure out where she stood financially and plot her next move. But first, she’d indulge in a well-deserved pity party.

###

Scott spotted Casie’s red Volkswagen Beetle on his first lap around the Connecticut Indemnity and Casualty employee parking lot. As luck would have it, there was a vacant space right across from it.

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He swung a hard right and pulled in, then got out and scouted the immediate area for any potential witnesses. Finding none, he walked over to her car and checked the driver’s side door. It wasn’t locked. “Tsk, tsk, Casie. Didn’t anyone ever warn you about vehicular theft? This isn’t The Lush, you know.” Trying not to appear suspicious, he opened the door and reached inside. It took only a few seconds for him to locate the correct latch and release it. Going around to the front of the car, he lifted the hood and disconnected the battery cables with the wrench he’d brought along. He finished just as the electronic clock on the building tower read 5:05. A small parade of people entered the parking lot, followed by more. Scott returned to his 4-Runner, leaned against the sidewall and waited for Casie. Clouds gathered above him, dark and ominous, readying for a thunderstorm. They matched his mood perfectly. Time and space. Casie had asked for it, and he’d given it to her. For five full days. On the sixth day, yesterday, he started calling her. Fed up with leaving messages on her home answering machine and work voice mail, he devised a plan of action this morning while downing his second cup of coffee. He didn’t have to wait long for Casie to appear. As she walked to her car, toting a cardboard box, she stared at the blacktop in front of her. Her dejected appearance cut him in two. He’d wanted to make her happy, but had only brought her sadness. What he wouldn’t give to change that. Time and space had done Scott good. He learned a lot about himself during the past week. For starters, he should have told Casie about Lowell and Nina from the start and taken his chances. She’d have been angry, but that anger would have been aimed at Lowell and not him, eventually anyway. Second, he hadn’t given her enough credit. He was afraid she’d blame him, but Casie was an intelligent and fair person. Sooner or later she’d have come to realize that Scott had no control over what happened with Lowell and Nina. Lastly, he learned that he loved Casie more than life itself and refused to lose her without a fight. She climbed in the Beetle, set the box on the front passenger seat, and inserted the key in the ignition. When the car didn’t start, a perplexed scowl appeared on her face. She turned the key once

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more and still nothing happened. The door flew open, and a frustrated groan preceded her feet hitting the ground. “Now what!” Halfway to the front of the car, she spied Scott and froze in her tracks. The look of surprise on her face became one of trepidation when he started toward her. She backed up until her behind hit the side of the car, then stopped. “Car won’t start? Reminiscent of The Lush, wouldn’t you say?” He came up beside her and laid a hand on the car hood. In response, she scooted sideways, placing that damnable invisible shield between them. He expected as much and didn’t let it deter him. “Fortunately this baby’s still under warranty.” He rapped the hood. “Hope you didn’t get a lemon. Naw,” he surveyed the car from one end to the other, “more like a tomato.” She sent him a stare so chilling, nearby birds flew off in fright. “What have you done to my car?” “What makes you think I had anything to do with it?” “The circumstances are a bit too coincidental.” “I’m desperate, Casie. I have to talk with you.” “Why?” she asked guardedly. “Ten minutes.” He could see the wheels of her mind spinning. “That’s all I ask. Ten minutes during which you sit still and let me do all the talking.” He reached behind him and removed the wrench from his back pocket, holding it out like a peace offering. “Afterwards, I’ll gladly reattach the battery cables.” “Strong-arming me, Scott? That’s a bit chauvinistic, even for you.” He thought for a moment.

“No, not really.

I’ll sink to new lows if it means saving our

relationship.” “Do we have a relationship left to save?” When her eyes misted, she squeezed them shut. He edged closer, caught her chin in his hand. “If you want it. I sure as hell do.” “You have a funny way of showing it.” How he admired her. The same perseverance which helped her create a topnotch junior high

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cheer squad from a bunch of novices now kept her from yelling at him or breaking into tears, either of which she was entitled to do. Yes, he had an obligation to Nina, but he had a bigger one to Casie, one he hadn’t honored. He’d taken the easy way out because it made things simpler for him. Casie wasn’t the only one who ignored difficulties rather than face them. Scott was just as guilty. “How about we call a truce?” He wanted to kiss her, but didn’t. She’d only run the other way. Smothering his desire, he let his hand drop. “You have a lot of reasons to be—” A shrill buzzing cut him short. “Let me guess,” Casie replied tartly. “Your cellular phone.” Scott removed a small black object from his belt. “No. My paternity pager.” He checked the display, confused at the reading. “Nina’s in labor.” “You’ve got to be joking.” “I wish I were.” He pushed a button on the top of the pager to silence it. “Something must be wrong. She’s not due for another six weeks. I’ll call her on the way there.” He re-clipped the pager to his belt. “Since you’re leaving…” She held out her hand, palm up. “I’ll take that wrench.” Decisions, decisions, decisions. So many problems, so little time to solve them. If ever he needed a proactive solution, it was now. Switching to coaching mode, Scott quickly formulated his next move. A strong offense had always worked well for him. Angling around her, he pushed the open car door shut and took hold of her hand in a firm grasp. “Let’s go.” “Are you crazy?” “That remains to be seen. We should know very shortly.” He had the advantage of surprise. They were halfway to his 4-Runner before she realized it. He talked as he dragged her along behind him. “This won’t take long. When we’re done, I’ll deliver you safely back here.” “You said ten minutes.” Scott detected a slight lessening in her resistance and took it as a good sign. “Work with me on

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this.” “Why should I trust you?” “Because you love me.” “That isn’t enough.” Scott smiled to himself. By not denying her love for him, she’d admitted to it. His determination grew. “Yes, it is, more than enough. Love’s a risk, sweetheart, but the rewards are worth it.” “Says you.” “There comes a time when you have to quit running away and take a leap of faith.” He stopped abruptly and pulled her into his arms, his thumb stroked her cheek. “Leap with me, Casie. I promise to hang onto you the whole way and never let go.”

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Chapter Eleven

Do it, Casie’s heart urged. What if he hurts me like Lowell did? What if he doesn’t? “I’m not sure.” Her voice wavered unsteadily. “Trust me.” Scott’s softly issued entreaty reached a carefully protected place inside her. Casie closed her eyes, drew a fortifying breath and let her heart call the next shot. No sooner was she seated in Scott’s 4-Runner than he handed over the wrench.

Nothing

prevented her from jumping out and taking off. Despite what he said, Scott wouldn’t forcibly kidnap her. She reached toward the door, hesitated, then grabbed the seatbelt instead of the handle and buckled herself in. As they drove through the city, the wind picked up, lifting debris into the air and tossing it into the 4-Runner. A light rain splattered the windshield. As soon as they were on the freeway, Scott phoned Nina. He confirmed that she really was in labor, told her they’d arrive shortly, and disconnected. A few minutes of awkward silence followed, then Scott removed his wristwatch and handed it to Casie. Puzzled, she asked, “What’s this for?” “So you can clock me. I’ve got ten minutes, remember?”

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She stared at the watch in the grey light of dusk. A memory surfaced from another time he’d given it to her for safekeeping: moments before they entered the shower at her apartment, after spending an endless Sunday afternoon making glorious love. It wasn’t the first memory she had lately of her and Scott. She’d been besieged by them. Why? Because she missed him. Terribly. When she first saw him in the parking lot, she wanted to run to him. Wanted to let him comfort her as he’d done in the past when she had a difficult day at work. Even during her angriest moments the past week, she’d recall the feel of his arms around her, the security, the want, and the need they evoked. Tonight, when he held her, it had been like coming home after a long absence. Ten minutes is all he asked. Possibly the most important ten minutes of her life. Casie dropped Scott’s watch into her lap, the motion returning her to the present. “Okay,” she said, leaning back against the headrest. “I’m listening.” Scott drummed the steering wheel, pondered some, then began. “Lowell met Nina last spring during a celebrity charity tournament at the club. We have one every year to kickoff the season. It’s a big deal, lots of glamour and glitz. The employees are given a certain number of free tickets, so I offered a pair to Nina. She was thrilled and came with a classmate from college. “I’ve known Lowell since I started working at the country club a couple summers ago. To put it mildly, we didn’t exactly hit it off. One day he horned in on my lesson and after a rather heated disagreement, we maintained our distance. His reputation with the ladies is legendary at the club.” Scott glanced her way before continuing. “So I’ve heard.” Casie braced herself for the familiar stab of hurt. It came, but with significantly less severity than usual. When had that happened? “Lowell likes to shmooze,” Scott went on when she said nothing, “always paying special attention to our female members and guests. I was a bit bewildered when he joined Nina, her friend and I at our

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table during the banquet that evening, considering the lack of love lost between us. But the girls were dying to meet one of the celebrity golf pros, and I didn’t see the harm in introducing them. There were rumors circulating that Lowell was engaged and I assumed the man had some morals. Besides, Nina has a tendency to duck under the table the second a man so much as talks to her. Well, that’s basically what happened. Lowell turned on the charm and she hid, literally, getting all flustered and running to the bathroom. Eventually, Lowell left and that was the end of it. Or so I thought. “She took her time returning to the table, but Nina has hidden in public restrooms before so I didn’t worry. I found out much later that Lowell spotted her coming back to the table and cornered her. Before she quite realized it, she’d given him her phone number.” “Flattery,” Casie said, finding too many similarities between this story and her own for her liking. “He can charm the wings off an angel.” Hadn’t he done that with her, talked his way into her bed when no other man had before? “You’re probably right. I still haven’t figured out why he targeted Nina. She’s cute, but so young. Not the type Lowell usually preys on.” “She was a virgin,” Casie answered dully. Like herself. “What?” “A virgin. Lowell has…a thing for them.” She raked her fingers through her hair, lifting it off her face. “It’s why he pursued me so hard, though I didn’t realize it at the time.” “I find that difficult to believe.” When she huffed indignantly, he grinned. “Not because you aren’t attractive, but he’s always coming on to the…well, for lack of a better word, the more mature women at the club. Especially the wealthy divorcees and the younger wives of older men.” “It’s an act. Good for business. Lowell’s position there depends partly on how much money he brings in.” “True, but…” Scott nodded. “I see what you’re saying. He really is only flirting with them.” “Exactly. Being the first man a woman ever sleeps with is a turn on for him. And once he sets his sights on someone, he’ll do whatever is necessary to break through her resistance. Trust me, I know.”

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“I’m sorry, honey.” “Water under the bridge,” Casie said and really meant it. Did losing her job put things in perspective for her at last? With her immediate future up in the air, dwelling on the past seemed a waste of energy. “But regardless of that, you should have told me about Lowell and Nina.” “You’re right.” “You’re not just saying that?” “No. And I should have done it early on, as soon as I learned about it. By waiting, I only made myself look more guilty.” “You should feel guilty!” At Scott’s hangdog expression, Casie gave him a break. “For not telling me.

You couldn’t help what Lowell and Nina did anymore than I could. They’re adults,

responsible for their own actions. That’s something you and I have to accept.” “She’s pretty and smart.” The corners of Scott’s mouth quirked, but the smile that came to his lips was a wary one. “While we’re clearing the air, there’s something else I need to tell you about Nina.” “Oh.” Casie stiffened. “She asked me to marry her.” “She did what!” “She proposed. I said no, and would have even if I didn’t love you. She was just looking for a quick fix to her problems. That’s no reason to get married. Not even to a good friend. There are limits to how far this white knight will go.” “I realize she’s single and pregnant, but isn’t that a rather extreme solution?” Casie struggled to keep her voice level. She disliked the idea of Nina proposing even if Scott hadn’t taken her seriously. “She has other choices.” “Her folks are very strict, I told you that.” Scott punched the defroster button, and the foggy windshield cleared. “They raised her to believe that premarital sex is wrong, something only bad girls do. In her mind, if she were married, regardless if her husband was the baby’s real father or not, it would make everything all right.”

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“That’s swapping one set of problems for another.” “I agree. But she’s scared.” “Of what?” “Not what. Who. Lowell’s been pressuring her from the time she told him about the baby to get rid of it by one means or another. When she refused to have an abortion, he started insisting she give the baby up for adoption.” Casie believed Scott. “He doesn’t want any reminders around.” “Yeah. He’s also concerned it might affect his status at the country club. If the news leaked that he fathered a child with a then nineteen-year-old girl, he’d have a lot of explaining to do. I don’t guess he’s crazy about a possible paternity suit or having to shell out monthly child support either.” “I doubt it. But one thing still bothers me. Lowell is a stickler when it comes to birth control. How is it Nina got pregnant?” “Nothing’s infallible.” Casie shrugged. She supposed she should consider herself lucky that she hadn’t wound up pregnant herself. Think where she’d be now. “I lost my job today.” The words slipped out before she realized it. Scott’s head spun around. “You’re kidding!” “I wish I were.” “What happened?” “A layoff. I was one of the fortunate few chosen to be sacrificed for the good of the annual budget.” “Have thought about what you’re going to do?” “Not yet.” Casie’s throat burned. Why now? She hadn’t cried in Gordon’s office and sure didn’t want to in front of Scott. “My boss advised me to consider a new profession. Ha!” She gave a dry chuckle. “He says I should look for a job that gives me the warm fuzzies.” “He’s right.”

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“Not you, too.” “Casie, do you think I’m a teacher because of the great pay?” “No, but—” “I’ll never be rich, not on what I earn. If I didn’t work summers at the country club, I’d starve.” “You don’t have to justify your job to me.” “I think I do. Working with young kids gives me a kick. They’re fun, they’re challenging, and they teach me far more than I’ll ever teach them. Every school day morning I get to go to a job I love with the kind of rewards that can’t be measured in monetary value. Do you know what that’s like?” “No.” The fact that she didn’t gave her a moment’s pause. “Everybody should be half as lucky as me, but sadly, most people aren’t.” “I had no idea.” “Really?” Casie was at a loss for what to say. Why hadn’t she seen that quality in him before? It had been there all along, but she’d been wearing blinders. Scott wasn’t Lowell and he didn’t deserve to be lumped in the same category. Roe was right, Casie had been unfair to Scott. And a damn fool besides. “You’re a good person.” She spoke low, but clear enough for him to hear. He reached across the seat and brushed the back of his hand along her cheek. She went rigid, but not from aversion. Hardly. Her body welcomed the contact she’d missed so desperately since their falling out last week. She couldn’t think straight. Like that, Scott’s touch jammed her brain waves and sent arrows of liquid heat through her entire system. To distract herself, she focused on the wipers slapping the windshield and the sound of rain pelting the roof. So much had happened in the last hour, she needed a mental break. Scott returned his hand to the steering wheel, and they drove on in silence. While they talked, the rain shower had increased to a full-fledged thunderstorm, stealing what little daylight remained. Scott exited the freeway, and Casie propped her chin in her hand, observing the unfamiliar landscape.

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“Where are we?” she asked. “The north end of Hartford.” They stopped at a red light. “I’ve never been to this part of the city.” Graffiti covered the walls of tumble-down buildings lining the poorly lit streets. Two rough looking men strolled past her window, and Casie automatically leaned toward Scott. “It’s not your typical luxury neighborhood.” “No fooling. How come Nina lives here?” “Rents are low.”

Scott reduced his speed and turned down a side street between two tall

buildings. “She can’t afford better.” “And she won’t accept help from anyone?” “Right.” “What does she expect to gain with such a self-defeating attitude?” “It’s a matter of pride. But until she comes to terms with her pregnancy, she won’t be able to face her future. And I don’t think she can do that without telling her parents. Fear of their disapproval is preventing her.” “Even if her parents didn’t approve of her affair with Lowell, that’s no reason to turn their backs her.” “I don’t think they would.” “So why does Nina?” “She was the first in her family to attend college and sees herself as a failure for dropping out.” They entered the parking lot of a low-income housing project. Scott parked near the exit. Casie hesitantly opened her door, not at all anxious to leave the security of the 4-Runner. Instinctively, she reached for his hand. Like magic, her apprehensions abated when his strong fingers linked with hers. They went inside the dilapidated building and climbed three flights of stairs. Scott knocked on a door at the end of a dimly lit hallway. After a moment, they heard Nina’s muffled response.

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“Who’s there?” “It’s me,” Scott answered, his face close to the door. A series of clicks sounded, then the door opened, revealing a pasty-faced Nina. As they walked in, she moaned and doubled over in pain. Scott quickly led her to a shabby studio bed in a corner of the one-room efficiency apartment. The only other furniture consisted of a table and two chairs near the kitchenette, a battered five-drawer dresser, and a small TV on a plastic crate. There were no decorations except for a wall calendar. A laptop computer sat open on the table, the screen saver building a neverending maze of brick walls. “Nina, how far apart are your contractions? Casie, where’s my watch?” Scott fired the questions at them while settling Nina on the studio bed. She clutched her swollen middle and held up two fingers. “Casie,” he shouted. “Call 911. Her contractions are two minutes apart.” “We can drive her to the hospital quicker than waiting for an ambulance,” Casie said anxiously, giving Scott his watch. “She can’t walk in her condition, and I don’t think I’ll be able to carry her down the stairs.” “Is there an elevator?” “It hasn’t worked for months.” Nina howled, sending Casie frantically searching for a phone. She couldn’t find one, and her mounting apprehension affected her ability to think clearly. Concentrate, she told herself, tapping the sides of her head. Where could it be? The counter! She haphazardly shoved books, papers, and dishes aside, finally uncovering the base of a portable phone unit. No handset! She pressed the page button and followed a loud beep to Nina. “The phone’s here.” “Nina.” Scott gently jiggled her arm to rouse her. “We need the phone. Are you lying on it?” She nodded and tried to scoot over, only to cry out. Scott rummaged among the tousled covers, finding the phone under a throw pillow. He thrust it at Casie. With fumbling fingers, she dialed the number.

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“911, what’s your emergency?” Words spilled from Casie in a jumble.

“We need help.

There’s a woman in labor.

Her

contractions are two minutes apart. We can’t move her.” “Are you at 54 West 89th Street, apartment 306?” came the reply. “I…I…don’t know.” Casie paced back and forth along the counter. “Is there anyone else there you can ask?” “Scott,” she hollered. “What’s the address here?” “I can’t remember,” he barked. “Something West 89th Street. Tell them we don’t have much time. The contractions are coming one right after the other.” On impulse, she rifled through a pile of papers on the counter and found a magazine subscription renewal addressed to Nina. “Yes, that’s the address. 54 West 89th Street, number 306.” Casie heard multiple phones ringing in the background and the muted voices of other dispatchers. The storm had apparently contributed to a number of emergencies. “We have medics on the way. You need to keep her comfortable and quiet. Is the baby crowning? “What’s that?” Casie wailed. “Can you see the baby’s head?” “Oh, my gosh!” She looked toward Nina, but Scott obstructed her view. “I can’t tell.” The magnitude of recent events overwhelmed Casie, leaving her with a strange sense of unreality. “Please,” she begged quietly. “Hurry.” She hung up the phone after the dispatcher gave her more instructions. She wrung her hands and went to stand beside Scott. “How’s she’s doing?” “We have a problem.” Scott stood and ushered Casie to the far side of the room. In a low murmur, he said, “She’s been having mild contractions all day. Since she’s six weeks early, she assumed it was false labor. Then, an hour ago, her water broke and the contractions intensified.” “What does that mean?” Casie’s knowledge of the birth process could fit on a postage stamp.

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“If the paramedics don’t show up soon, you and I will have to deliver the baby.” “No.” Casie shook her head, panic rising within her. “Not me. I’ll freak.” “Casie, I’ll need your help.” He took her hands in his and pinned her with a hard stare. “You can do it.” “I can’t.” “You have more courage than anyone I know.” “I’m a wimp.” “A wimp doesn’t lead her team to the National cheerleading championships three years running.” She still resisted. “I don’t know what to do.” “I do, more or less. Son of a bitch.” He dropped her hands and clutched the back of his neck, looking around the room. “This is all my fault.” “No, it isn’t. You had no control over when she went into labor.” “Yes, it is. If I hadn’t made her to quit calling so much, she’d have telephoned me earlier.” Guilt consumed Casie. “It’s my fault. I forced you into it.” “But if I had told you the truth from the start—” Nina howled in agony, and they both hurried back to her, their disagreement no longer relevant. “It hurts so bad.” She bunched the covers between her small fists and arched off the mattress. “Nina, listen to me carefully.” Scott sat on the edge of the studio bed and bent over her. “Help is on the way. We’re going to do a few things to make you more comfortable. Are your slacks binding you? Would it help if we took them off?” “Yes.” Her slender face had turned ashen. As Scott covered her with a blanket after gingerly removing her slacks, it hit Casie how young Nina was. Young, innocent, and naive. She’d believed herself to be in love with an older, sophisticated man, only to be taken advantage of by him and then abandoned. Just like Casie had been. She and Nina were alike in more ways than not: hurt by Lowell, and loved by Scott. In that instant, Nina stopped being a threat. She was simply the helpless victim of a relationship

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gone sour. The revelation altered Casie, and her defensive wall deteriorated into a pile of dust. “What should I do?” she asked Scott, feeling stronger. “Let’s pull the bed away from the wall. If you can elevate her into a sitting position during the contractions, it might lessen the pain.” “All right,” Casie said with assurance. He patted her hand. “That’s my girl.” After moving the bed, they propped Nina up with pillows, Casie put a pan of water of the stove to heat and returned with some clean towels she’d located in the minuscule bathroom. “Do you have any scissors, Nina, or a razor blade? And what about some string?” Scott asked. “In the top drawer by the sink.” She grimaced as another contraction asserted itself. Casie went behind the studio bed, hooked her arms underneath Nina’s and lifted her. It was harder than Casie imagined. Nina didn’t help matters by involuntarily pushing backwards with her heels. “Don’t fight the pain,” Casie spoke in Nina’s ear. “Visualize the part of your body that hurts and try to relax it.” A flood of memories assailed Casie. Flashes of when she’d been injured, and her coach had taught her techniques to manage the pain. “I can’t relax,” Nina spit out. “Yes, you can. Focus.” Nina’s rigid muscles loosened slightly. “That’s it,” Casie cheered. “You’re doing it.” “I feel something.” Nina threw her head back and sobbed hysterically. “I think the baby’s coming.” The contraction lasted forever. When it was over, Nina gasped for air and slumped against Casie in exhaustion. “Breathe in, breathe out.” Casie kneaded Nina’s neck and shoulders. “Focus.” “Nina.” Scott placed one of the clean towels underneath her. “I’m going to check your progress. Are you okay with that?” She nodded feebly.

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He caught Casie’s eye as he drew the blanket back over Nina. “How is she?” Casie’s alarm flared at the anxiety and concern evident on his face. “She’s very close. Labor can advance quickly in premature births.” “Oh, crimeny.” “Stay with me, Casie.” “I’m fine.” She practiced her own focusing techniques by fixing her attention on a hole in the wall. “You’re doing great.” “You think?” “I know.” His encouragement gave her a boost. “But not like her.” Casie indicated Nina with a tilt of her head, wondering how someone so small and frail could endure such awful pain. “She has real courage.” Nina wailed and convulsed, digging her elbows into the bed. “It’s coming again.” “I can see the baby’s head.” Scott’s forehead glistened with perspiration. “Push, Nina.” “Oh, God, it hurts,” she hollered at the top of her lungs. Casie remained riveted on the spectacle before her. Nina’s rantings blocked the raging storm outside, her nails dug into Casie’s arm. All at once, a tiny head covered with black hair emerged. “Oh, oh,” she and Nina cried in unison. “Push,” Scott ordered. The baby’s shoulders appeared. Nina strained while Casie held her upright, her own strength nearly depleted. Their groans combined into one. With a last tremendous effort on Nina’s part, the baby slid into Scott’s waiting hands, crying loudly and lustily for one so small. An uncanny vibration commenced in Casie’s breast and rippled outward to her extremities. Surprise, amazement, and elation filled her, along with a clear understanding that she’d been blessed with a rare and special privilege: that of watching new life enter the world.

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“You did it, you did it! You have a son.” Casie impulsively hugged Nina, who collapsed on top of the pillows, completely exhausted. “I do?” She laughed ecstatically. “Is he all right?” “Quick, Casie,” Scott barked. “Come here.” Casie left Nina and hurried to the other end of the bed, fearing for the newborn’s well-being. “What is it?” “Grab a towel.” She did, and Scott wrapped the baby in it before handing him over to Casie. After a brief moment of indecision, she took him and drew him close. He immediately stopped crying and peered at her with fuzzy, inquisitive eyes. Casie’s heart melted. “Happy birthday, little one,” she crooned. “Are you ready to meet your mama?” She took the baby and set him in the crook of Nina’s arm. “He’s beautiful, isn’t he?” The new mother blinked back tears and snuggled her son. “Positively gorgeous.” Casie stroked the baby’s head. “Lowell doesn’t know what he’s missing.” “And he never will if I can help it. My son deserves a real father.” Nina sighed contentedly. “I’m going home, Scott,” she said as he joined her and Casie at the head of the studio bed. “Back to my parents. I was wrong. They’ll understand, and they’ll love their new grandson.” “Of course they will.” He placed his finger inside the baby’s hand. Minuscule fingers grasped it. “I’m not sure how, but I’ll make this work. I want to raise my son in a safe, loving home. Not here, and not alone.” “I figured you’d come around eventually.” “You did?” Scott’s answer was a lopsided grin. “Men!” Nina snorted with mock disgust. “Is he always like this?” she asked Casie. “So sure of himself?” “Most of the time.”

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“Don’t you just hate it?” Casie grinned. “Most of the time.” Nina sniffled and fumbled for Casie’s hand. “Thanks for everything. You were really cool.” “Yeah, I was, wasn’t I?” Casie returned Nina’s squeeze, feeling a bond of friendship forming. “Didn’t think I had it in me.” “Scott’s lucky to have you. I can see why he adores you so much.” Casie risked glancing at Scott. Love shone in his eyes, but also question. Yes, there were many questions that needed answering before they could resume where they left off. But not right this minute. First, they had a new little family to care for. He gave her an imperceptible nod, letting her know there would be time for the two of them later. “I’m so sorry, Casie.” Nina started to cry again. “I’ve been a real pain in the butt lately.” “Don’t sweat it.” Casie pushed a lock of damp hair from Nina’s face, but directed her answer at Scott. “Everything worked out for the best.” They all three started at a loud pounding on the door. “Paramedics,” a man yelled. “Did someone call in an emergency?” Scott clamored to his feet. “Yeah, we did.” He threw open the door and a half-dozen uniformed men stormed inside. “Hate to tell you this, guys, but you’re a little late.”

###

“You say neither of you has ever delivered a baby before?” Both Scott and Casie shook their heads at the head paramedic’s question. “You did pretty good for a couple of amateurs,” he added while making notes on a report. The rest of the crew were occupied with packing equipment and clearing the medical debris. They’d transported Nina and her baby down to the ambulance a few minutes earlier. She and her son had been pronounced fit and healthy, but would be taken to the hospital for a precautionary examination.

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Casie waited near the kitchenette, a mixture of

conflicting feelings leaving her drained. To keep herself preoccupied, she began picking up the scattered papers. “This birthing business is hard work.” Scott came up alongside her and straightened her crooked shirt collar. “You hungry?” “Famished.” She hadn’t noticed her growling stomach until he mentioned eating. “Let’s grab a bite somewhere.” “Nothing fancy, I’m kind of grubby.” “You look fantastic.” He held her away from him, his expression tender. “I’m not kidding, Casie. You’re radiant.” “Really?” For some reason, that pleased her. “Could I by chance be responsible?” “Somewhat.” “Only somewhat? My poor ego. Remember how sensitive it is.” “Oh, Scott, be serious.” He pretended to be hurt. “I am.” Casie ignored him, still heady from the experience of watching Nina give birth. “It was fantastic,” she marveled. “The baby being born, I mean. I never knew it would be like that. Oh, sure, I’ve heard people rave, but I always figured they were exaggerating.” Scott captured her in his arms, stilling her animated movements. “Come on, you can effuse all you want over a hamburger. And I promise to hang on your every word.” Inexplicably overcome with love, she crushed him in a fierce embrace. “I’m sorry, Scott. So sorry.” “About what?” He returned the hug, pressing his lips to her temple. “Everything. For jumping to conclusions, for not trusting you, for shutting you out and running off. I’ve been an idiot. Any man who would take in a miserable excuse for a dog like Get Away and

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rehabilitate a rabbit isn’t the kind of man to, well, treat me the way Lowell did. I was wrong.” “Honey, that’s nice of you to say, but it’s me who owes you an apology. After you found—” “Shh, it’s over now.” She stood on her toes and pressed her mouth to his, silencing him with a kiss. “No point rehashing it.” “I’m all for starting over.” “Me, too.” She laid her cheek on his chest. “I’d like to stop by the hospital after we eat to check on Nina and the baby.” Did she just say that? Who would have thought she’d be the one to suggest visiting Nina? Funny how her whole perspective had changed in the span of an hour. “Absolutely.” They broke apart and started toward the door, hands still clasped. “We need to stop and buy flowers on the way,” Casie babbled. “And can we run by my apartment? I’d like to change into clean clothes.” “Only if you let me watch.” Scott’s remark, made in jest, halted Casie in her tracks. She waited by the door, not yet reaching for the knob. What now? Just because they’d apologized and resolved the situation with Nina, did everything automatically revert to the way it was before? The happy smile on Scott’s face gave her the impression that’s what he believed. So why then did she hesitate? She wanted Scott, of that she was certain. But she also wanted more from him. She wanted a commitment. A full, no-holds barred commitment.

One that involved not only faithfulness and life-long

devotion, but unconditional support. He cleverly skirted the issue of helping her convince Mr. Lindlow to allow boys on the cheer squad. And worse, she let him. Well, no more. Until he was ready to stand behind her one hundred percent, their future remained in limbo. The cheer squad. Just think about it gave Casie a rush of pleasure, a burst of energy, and a drive to succeed. What was it Scott had said? Rewards that can’t be measured in monetary value? Hmmm. Maybe she’d been looking in the wrong places all along.

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“What’s the matter?” Scott gazed down at her with question. She returned his smile before opening the door and stepping out into the hallway. “Nothing. In fact, everything is right for the first time in a long time. I’m glad you’re in the mood to listen because I have a lot I want to say.”

###

Casie signaled the captain of the Mat Maids to ready her teammates for their next number. The final wrestling match of the regular season was almost over. A glace at Scott’s long face told her the Patriots wouldn’t win. The bleachers were less than half full, a marked decrease from basketball. At the start of wrestling season, parents had flocked to the tournaments in droves. But as the Patriots lost again and again, those numbers declined. Most of the fans in attendance today were family and friends of the Mat Maids. The girls had developed something of a following as their reputation spread. Twice Casie had noticed P.E. teachers from neighboring schools in the audience, there for the sole purpose of watching the Mat Maids perform. The squad was comprised of seven girls, all handpicked by Casie because of their dedication and promise. With the help of her mother, Casie had choreographed lively dance routines set to pop music hits. Arlene herself had designed and sewn the jazzy costumes, which complimented the Mat Maids’ energetic hip-hop dance style. The girls quickly became a favorite of the wrestling tournaments and had recently been invited to perform at the nearby High School. A buzzer sounded, and the referee separated two youths tangled together on the mat. When they were both standing, he manacled the wrist of the Visitors’ competitor and raised his arm high in the air. Sporadic applause trickled from the bleachers. “What’s the matter, Coach?

Too busy peddling booties to train your team to win?”

Genovese’s snide remark carried across the half-empty gym from his fourth row bleacher seat.

Mr.

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It wasn’t until Casie heard him that she recognized his son, Kevin, as the losing Patriots’ contender. She winced. Convincing the man to allow his younger son, Johnny, to join the cheer squad next fall would be no simple task. “So, how did the meeting with Mr. Lindlow go yesterday?” Ruth Tucker asked, evidently thinking along the same lines as Casie. She’d become a staunch advocate of Casie’s bid to change school policy as well a close friend. They usually sat next to each other during the tournaments, with Ruth assisting Casie if needed. “I made some inroads,” Casie replied. “He listened, which is more than I can say for some, and told me he’d present the matter to the board for their consideration.” “That beats a flat out no.” “Yeah, I suppose it does.” Casie twisted her mouth into an exasperated frown. “So, why aren’t you happy?” “He said if any policy changes were made, and I stress the word if, they won’t go into effect until the new school year or later.” “That’s politics for you. Hang in there.” Ruth nudged Casie’s shoulder with her own. “Change doesn’t happen overnight. But if anyone can convince our school administration, it’s you.” “If I don’t, it won’t be for lack of trying. I have all summer to wear them down.” “What does Scott have to say about it?” Casie wished Ruth hadn’t asked that question. The other night, after leaving Nina’s apartment, Casie and Scott had gone to a Chinese fast food restaurant and talked. Really talked, clearing the air on every matter except one. When Casie had outlined her plan to include boys on the cheer squad, Scott balked and refused to comment other than to say he understood her reasons. After that, the atmosphere between them became strained and had remained that way ever since. She wanted him to take a position on the subject, one way or the other. Even if he disagreed with her, she’d respect his right to an opinion.

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“He’s not saying much.” She purposely kept her response to Ruth vague. The three of them worked together, and Casie didn’t want to give a wrong impression that might affect their professional relationships. “The good news is that Mr. Lindlow has agreed to make a recommendation to the board that I be hired on permanently, starting in the fall.” “Casie, that’s great!” “It is.” A warm glow spread through her, erupting in a wide smile. It still delighted her how enthusiastically Mr. Lindlow embraced the proposal she presented to him that morning. “I’ll be dividing my hours equally between the high school and junior high.” “I’m so happy for you.” “There’s more. I’m going back to college.” “You are?” Ruth’s hand flew to her mouth. “I’ve decided to become a teacher.

Now don’t look so shocked.”

She laughed at Ruth’s

flabbergasted expression. “I’ve already got my degree, I just need to take a few courses to become certified. Mr. Lindlow says I’ll be able to substitute teach in the meantime. Working in an office wasn’t for me, but I still like to put my skills to good use. I’m hoping to teach business administration classes at the high school as well as coach the cheer squads.” “Oh, Casie,” Ruth blubbered. “Welcome aboard.” “Thanks.” They hugged. “It’ll be tough financially for a while, but I think I can swing it.” “Of course you can.” “Oops, that’s our cue. Be right back.” In one motion, she stood and shooed the Mat Maids onto the gym floor. She then nodded at the mother who operated the sound equipment, prompting her to start the recording. When the girls were in position, she retook her seat next to Ruth. Spectators on both sides of the gym clapped their hands to the music. Some hooted and some hollered while others sang along. All in all, the Mat Maids were a show stopper.

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Out of the corner of her eye, Casie noticed Johnny Genovese. He sat on the bench along with his teammates not twenty feet from her. Earlier that afternoon, he’d competed, losing his match to his opponent. Fooling around with the boy sitting beside him, the two began mimicking the Mat Maids’ dance moves. All at once, the other boy laughed hysterically and shoved Johnny off the bleachers. “Get your butt out there. You can dance as good as them stupid girls. Better.” “Quit it.” Johnny tried to sit back down, but his buddy blocked him. “Come on, man. Give me a break.” He laughed along with the boy, then turned his head in the direction of the girls. For a brief moment, his laughter died, then resumed when a third boy entered the fun. “Dance, dance, dance,” the first boy chanted, still pushing Johnny toward the gym floor. Several parents behind the boys looked on with concern. Knowing Scott was deep in strategy planning with the wrestlers left to compete, Casie debated stepping in. She rose, then as she saw Johnny tentatively making his way toward the Mat Maids, lowered herself back down. He glanced at his father and momentarily faltered, then his gaze shifted to Casie. When she nodded and smiled encouragingly, he continued on his way. Ruth nudged her. “Would you look at that!” “I know.” Casie held her breath, feeling on the verge of something significant. “I don’t believe it.” “The kid’s got guts, I’ll give him that. His dad’s going to blow a fuse.” “Oh, gosh. I hope he doesn’t make a scene in front of all these people.” Johnny slipped in line with the girls, who parted to make room for him. He practiced enough times with the Mat Maids to know all their routines. Pale and nervous, his confidence grew as the girls happily welcomed him. Scott hadn’t lied when he called Johnny a Romeo. Several of the Mat Maids had serious crushes on him. To Casie’s relief, Johnny had begun transferring his attention from her to those girls. At the first swing of his arms and gyration of his hips, the spectators went wild. Their applause brought the house down when the number came to an end. Unsatisfied, they demanded an encore and the

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Mat Maids, including Johnny, were eager to oblige. Casie started to motion the mother operating the sound equipment to put on the next recording, but the woman was way ahead of her. As the music swelled, the dancers moved like mechanical robots in perfectly synchronized steps. “Hear that?” Ruth jiggled Casie’s arm. “They love him.” “They do!” Joy overflowed Casie’s heart. Everyone there, including the coaches and wrestlers from both teams, stopped what they were doing to watch the Mat Maids.

After this, she’d have no trouble

convincing the school administration to change its policy. The bleachers vibrated beneath her. She looked up and gave a start to see Mr. Genovese tromping down them and right at her. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He loomed over her, raising his voice above the blaring music. “You get Johnny out of there right this instant. Do you hear me?” “B-b-but…Mr. Genovese.” Casie hadn’t expected Johnny’s father to be delighted, but neither had she anticipated a public confrontation. He leaned in close to her. “My kid’s no sissy and I won’t let you turn him into one.” “Johnny’s no sissy.” Scott had somehow appeared beside them, his hand firmly planted on Mr. Genovese’s upper left shoulder. “As he’s my student, why don’t you take this up with me instead of Ms. Malcavey?” Mr. Genovese rose up and brushed Scott’s hand away.

Though shorter, the man weighed

considerably more than Scott and most of that weight was muscle. “Oh, I intend to, too, diaper man. In fact, I’m looking forward to it.” Not the least bit daunted by the insult, Scott said, “Fine. But not here and not now.” “My kid isn’t dancing with those girls.” Mr. Genovese’s cheeks darkened to an unhealthy purple as he jabbed Scott in the chest with his index finger. “I won’t have people making fun of him the way they do you.” Ruth touched Casie’s arm. Only then did she realize she’d moved to the edge of the bleacher.

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The deafening roar in the background faded to a low hum as she waited for Scott to react. Seconds stretched into infinity with each man stonily refusing to give an inch. Something shifted in Scott’s eyes and all at once, Casie understood why he’d refused to support her bid for a co-ed cheer squad. He didn’t want his boys to suffer the same sort of humiliation he was right now. How could she not have realized that before? Scott knocked Mr. Genovese’s hand away. “Boys aren’t permitted to cheer with the girls. I assure you, sir, that your son won’t be dancing with them again.” “Damn straight he won’t.” Mr. Genovese drew himself up and sneered triumphantly. Scott arched his eyebrows. “But when school starts in the fall and the new policy takes effect, Johnny will be able to join the cheer squad if he wants to.” Scott jabbed his own finger in the center of Mr. Genovese’s chest. “And I’ll personally see he does.” “Scott!” Casie had to hold back from rushing to him. “Why you—” Scott never gave Mr. Genovese a chance to finish. “There’s nothing wrong with Johnny wanting to be a cheerleader. Or a dancer or a maternity store clerk for that matter. The only thing wrong is narrow-minded individuals like you who make guys like us question our choices.” Applause and shouts erupted as the Mat Maids’ number ended. Scott cupped his ear. “Listen. Do you hear that? They’re applauding your son. Unless I miss my guess, all these folks here think he’s a pretty talented young man. So does Ms. Malcavey and so do I. If you can’t be proud of him, you don’t deserve to be his father.” Mr. Genovese tried to speak, but his mouth refused to function properly. He tilted his head awkwardly to the side. “They’re applauding Johnny?” “Yes, they are.” Scott retreated a step, dropping his arm to his side. “Congratulations. Your son is a huge success.” Johnny and the Mat Maids bounded off the gym floor, chattering exuberantly. As soon as Johnny saw his father, he stopped short. For a moment, the two of them just stood and looked at each other in silence. Then, very slowly, Mr. Genovese opened his arms, and Johnny ran into them.

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Casie turned to find Scott. She’d never loved him more than at that exact moment and wanted to tell him so. But he’d left, returning to the wrestling team and the next match, which had just begun. She didn’t have a chance to speak to him for the rest of the tournament. After making sure all the Mat Maids were picked up by their parents, she tracked him down. “Have you seen Coach Karstetter?” she asked the janitor sweeping the gym floor. “In there,” the older man said, indicating the equipment room near the boy’s locker room entrance. She waited outside the door and when Scott emerged, charged him, wrapping her arms around his neck and crushing him in a fierce embrace. “Thank you, thank you.” “You’re welcome.” He returned the hug, lifting her high in the air. “But I’m not sure what for.” “For standing up to Mr. Genovese. That took a lot of courage.” “I wasn’t about to let an eleven-year-old kid show me up. I figured if Johnny could do it, then so could I.” He thumped his chest with a closed fist. “You are both such real men.” “Casie.” He abruptly sobered and tucked a lock of loose hair behind her ear. With his other hand, he tugged her closer. “I love you. I want us to be together always. And if you’re not sure about having a baby, I understand. We’ll figure something else out.” “Not want a baby!” She touched his cheek with her fingertips and stroked the bristly whiskers of his five o’clock shadow. “After watching the miracle of Nina’s son being born, I finally understand why my mom and sister are so obsessed with babies.” “Think you might be willing to have one or two miracles of your own someday?” “Maybe.” She nuzzled his neck, loving the smell of his skin and the pressure of his hand cradling the small of her back. “Are you volunteering to assist me?” “Hell, yes.” His dropped a light kiss on her lips. “Say the word, and we’ll get started. Right after we’re married.” “Is that a proposal?” “It most certainly is.”

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“I have one condition before accepting.” “Name it.” “You give up fitting women for bras for good. Except me, of course.” His answer was a dizzying kiss that promised a lifetime of miracles.

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Epilogue

Fourteen months later Brahms Lullaby started playing on the overhead speaker. Scott looked up from pricing the layettes for tomorrow’s sale. He’d placed the closed sign in the front window half-an-hour ago, but apparently forgot to lock the door. He’d have to inform the customer The Happy Stork was closed. “Anyone here?” a female voice sang out. “Back here.” He stood and upon recognizing the woman, flashed her a lazy grin. “Hi. Can I help you?” “I’m here to pick up some bras.” “Maternity or nursing?” She rested a hand on her gently rounded belly. The fluorescent light overhead reflected off her diamond wedding set. “Maternity. Can’t you tell?” “Of course. Right this way.” He paused after a few steps. You’re what? A thirty-two B?” She thrust out her chest and smiled flirtatiously. “I was. I’m at least a C cup now.” He scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Hmm. Are you sure? We might want to fit you.” She appeared to consider his suggestion. “I went to the manufacturer’s web site last night and verified my size, but you never know.” “That’s right. You don’t want to be,” he regarded her breasts and experienced an all too familiar

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ache, “uncomfortable.” “Are these the bras?” She walked to the display and picked one from the top rack. “That’s our most popular style.” “I’ll try it on.” She sauntered toward the dressing room. “Can I watch?” She lingered, her hand on the curtain and a seductive invitation in her blue eyes. “Only if you promise to behave.” “Not a chance.” She disappeared into the dressing room. Scott followed and once inside, imprisoned her between himself and the mirror. “I forgot to lock the front door.” “I didn’t,” she teased. He ran his hands over her body, enjoying her full breasts and bountiful curves. Especially the one in front where she carried his child. “I love you, Casie Karstetter.” “And I love you.” She kissed him then, her tongue and lips conveying intimate, unspoken messages to his. “Did I tell you we have an appointment next week for the ultrasound?” she asked between little huffs. “Is your mother coming, too?” “No. She and dad will be in New York, visiting Joyce and Troy. Mom would never miss her granddaughter’s first birthday. Not even for my ultrasound.” “Too bad.” Scott wasn’t disappointed. While he didn’t mind sharing Casie and the baby with their families and friends, he enjoyed keeping some things between the two of them. “Now we’ll find out for sure if I’m having twins.” “Oh?” He slipped his hand under her blouse, and she clung to him as he ran his fingertips over the

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front of her bra cups. “You never mentioned that.” “Twins run in my family, you know.” “Since when?” “Auntie Flo had twin cousins.” “Then it’s possible.” He chuckled before kissing her senseless. They were both panting when he released her. “A slim one.” She wiggled beneath him. “If not, we’ll try again.” “You sure?” “I want to have lots of babies with you.” “I’ve created a monster.” “You’ve no one to blame but yourself.” Casie stiffened suddenly and pushed away from Scott, a look of complete enchantment on her face. She held her tummy, then took Scott’s hand and placed it where hers had been. “Can you feel it? That’s our baby.” A small flutter tickled Scott’s palm, then traveled up his arm where it lodged deep inside his chest.

The End