Forbidden (Southern Comfort)

stalking to the window beside her mother.  It was hotter than blue blazes in the trailer, and the small amount of fresh air that made it past that puff of hair felt like a little slice of heaven.
Lola took the greasy plate from Casey without bothering to spare her a glance.
However, the man she’d been trying to seduce – about six foot, brown hair, brown eyes and enough muscles to indicate that he had a lot of time for weightlifting on his hands – appeared a lot more interested.  His ball cap obscured his face, but from beneath its brim his gaze slid over Casey in a way that made her feel as if he’d just undressed her with his eyes.
At fourteen – or near enough, anyway, considering her birthday was next month – Casey was just beginning to show promise of the future beauty she was destined to become.  She was lithe where her mother was voluptuous, dark where her mother was fair.  Not to be stuck up about it, but genetically speaking, she’d hit the jackpot by taking after her slim, handsome Hispanic father.
As far as everything else was concerned, she’d drawn a bitch of a hand.
Her father had left her and her mother for parts unknown when Casey was still in diapers. Since then, Casey had watched a steady stream of losers parade in and out of her mother’s life.  About six years ago, one of those losers had convinced Lola to hit the road with him in this traveling flea-bag carnival, but he’d left her high, dry and pregnant when he met a sweet little thing in one of the towns they visited and decided to settle down.
Since then, Casey had been in and out of about ten different schools, lived primarily out of cheap hotels and campers, and acted as surrogate mother to her little sister while their real mother was at work.
Despite the unpredictability of their lifestyle, Lola was fanatic about guarding her daughters against the wages of sin, or whatever, and consequently Casey was sheltered in a way that most of the other girls in the carnival were not.
But she was still mortified when she found herself blushing.
She’d had plenty of invitations for experimentation from some of the boys they traveled with, but this was the first time a real man had bothered to look at her that way.  Like she was more than just some kid.  She glanced up from under the heavy fringe of her lashes…
He smiled.
Casey thought he was kind of handsome.
“Thanks, Casey,” her mom said, in that absent way people talked when they were distracted. She handed the man his funnel cake and went about the business of making change.  “Why don’t you go grab your sister and take her on some rides?”
To Casey’s slight disappointment, the man withdrew his attention.  Probably because Lola offered another eye catching view of cleavage while counting out his fives and ones.
“Okay.”
With a last glance toward the man she pulled open the door, welcoming the blast of fresh air as she strolled off to find her sister.
CHAPTER SIX
“FIRST I want to ride a roller coaster, and then I want to eat one of those frozen bananas on a stick, and then I want to go in the fun house but you might have to hold my hand because sometimes the fun houses aren’t so fun and I get scared.  I don’t know why they call ‘em fun houses when they make ‘em all dark and spooky.  Last time I went in one there was a gorilla in a cage and I almost peed my pants until Mommy showed me that he wasn’t real.  I don’t know who would want to keep a fake gorilla in a cage when he’s not going to get away because he isn’t even real.  And there was a funny mirror that made Mommy look real short and fat and she said that she didn’t like it.”
“He talks a lot when he gets excited.” Tate’s tone was rueful as they pulled into the grassy parking lot.  So far her son hadn’t managed to divulge any more than two or three of her more embarrassing secrets, but given the time he had at his disposal today, she figured he’d completely humiliate her before they made it back home.
She grimaced at Clay while the chatter from the back seat continued unabated.
“So I noticed.” Clay’s smile was easy as he turned the SUV into an empty spot.  They’d just finished their greasy hamburger and French fry lunch and her son hadn’t stopped babbling once during the entire ride.
Clay turned off the engine, came around to open Tate’s door, taking her hand as he helped her alight. Then he opened the rear passenger door to unhook Max from his car seat.  He studied the contraption in confusion, to which the chattering Max was oblivious, but finally managed to free her excited child from his restraint.
Tate’s throat constricted as she watched him lift Max from the car.
She wasn’t unused to a man with manners – southern men were famous for their chivalry, after all – but the unstudied ease of the action piqued her curiosity.  “Do you have children, Clay?”
Clay startled at the question.  “What? No. Why do you ask?”
She gestured toward the car seat and the small child standing in his shadow.  “You don’t seem the least bit uncomfortable.”
“Ah.  A by-product of training and experience.” Tate took Max’s hand and they started to move off in the direction of the action.  “I studied under a renowned child psychologist, and my best friend – Justin’s brother, actually – is the father of a three-year-old girl.  Last time they visited, she refused to let anyone but ‘Uncle Clay’ do anything for her.  I learned a lot in an awfully short period of time.”
“I can relate,” Tate said with amusement.  She knew he’d never been married, as they’d discussed as much at lunch, but the possibility that he might have a child out