“Do you want to hear the truth?” he said, his lips an inch from hers. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more beautiful woman than you, sugar.”
Her lips parted, but before she could speak he kissed her again. His hand threaded into her hair, held it wrapped like a copper flame around his wrist. His mouth opened over hers and the tip of his tongue brushed against her lips.
Angelica made a soft sound of pleasure. Her eyes closed, her lips parted, and her fingers curled into his shirt.
Cade groaned softly. He touched his mouth to her earlobe, then left a trail of warm kisses along her flesh until he reached the hollow of her throat. His hand slid up her ribs, moved under the cotton camisole. He felt her tremble and he whispered her name and cupped her naked breast in his palm.
His brain was shrieking out a message, but his body wasn’t listening. It was hardening, aching with the need to possess this soft, sweet-smelling woman, this Angelica who burned like fire in his arms.
He sat down on the bed beside her, sliding his hand over her belly, over the foolish cotton panties, and he cupped her through the soft fabric.
Angelica groaned and strained toward him, her mouth open and hungry, her arm winding around his neck.
Sensation after sensation swept over her, each electrifying. The feel of Cade’s mouth moving against hers, and the taste. The stroke of his fingers against her nipple. And oh, the heat of his hand moving between her thighs, the weight of it pressing against her so that she was suddenly flooded with dampness.
“Sweet,” he whispered, “sweet Angelica.”
She whispered his name, reached up to him, took his face in her hands…
And cried out in pain.
Cade sprang back. He stared into her flushed face, into her stunned eyes.
My God, he thought, what am I doing? What kind of man took advantage of a woman groggy from medication?
He hadn’t meant to take advantage, hadn’t even meant to kiss her.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “I didn’t mean to…” He drew the blanket to her chin. “Are you all right?”
She wasn’t, she thought, she wasn’t all right. How could she be, to have let herself be carried away like that? It had to be the medicine, and exhaustion.
“Angelica?”
“Yes,” she lied, “I’m fine.” She took a deep breath. “Cade, it’s been a long day, and the medicine… I think— I think it’s time you left.”
“All right.” He rose from the bed. “But I don’t think you should be alone for a while. Suppose I go downstairs and call Emily? I’m sure she’ll be happy to stay with you for a couple of days.”
“No, I don’t need—” She hesitated. There was no point in pretending. What had just happened was proof that it was all catching up to her, the stress and the pain, and with a little shrug of her shoulders, she gave in. “OK. Maybe you’re right. Her number is tacked to the wall next to the phone in the kitchen.”
Outside, in the hallway, he took a deep breath, cursed himself for being seven times a fool and decided that his decision to leave Dallas had been a very wise one.
Whatever had happened in that bedroom just now only proved that when you reached overload, anything was possible.
He found Emily’s number and dialed it and, as her phone rang, he tried to concentrate on the woman waiting in Dumai instead of the one lying in that narrow bed upstairs.
What was her name? What did she look like? It upset him that he couldn’t remember. He frowned. Exhaustion was clearly catching up to him.
“Come on,” he muttered, as the phone rang and rang. What was taking so long? The tiny rooms and narrow staircase of this little house were threatening to crush him.
Finally, a voice croaked brokenly in his ear.
“Hullo?”
“Emily?” he said, puzzled.
“Mr. Landon? Is that you?”
“Yes, it’s me. Emily, what’s wrong? You sound terrible.”
“I feel terrible, Mr. Landon. I’ve got the flu.”
Cade closed his eyes. It never rains but it pours, he thought wearily. No, he said calmly, no, he hadn’t called about anything terribly important. He’d just—he’d just…
Hastily, he improvised, offering a barely coherent reason for his phone call. Not that it mattered. Emily was too sick to notice. She wasn’t going to be at work for the next several days, she said, and apologized for the inconvenience.
“No problem,” Cade said cheerfully.
He hung up the phone and ran his fingers through his hair. Now what? He’d thought he could simply put Angelica to bed and walk out, but he’d been kidding himself. She needed someone.
A home nursing service. Yes, maybe that would do it—but he wouldn’t be able to reach one at this hour.
Perhaps she had a friend who could come stay with her. A woman? A man? Was there a man in her life?
Cade’s jaw clenched. It was none of his business what she did or who she did it with. Why should the thought make him so angry? Because he was tired and hungry, that’s why, he thought grimly. Well, at least he could solve part of that problem.
He got to his feet, went into the kitchen, yanked open the refrigerator door and peered inside.
There was a lump of something unidentifiable, a heel of bread on its way to becoming penicillin and a carton of yogurt. The cupboards yielded little more except the knowledge that if he wanted a cup of coffee, or tea, or even cocoa, he was in trouble.
Cade was scowling as he headed up the stairs to Angelica’s room.
“Angelica,” he said severely—and fell silent.
She was fast asleep, lying as he had left her, looking as forlorn as anything he’d ever seen. He made a move toward the bed, his hand lifting as if to smooth down the covers, but then he took a step back.
“This is ridiculous,” he muttered to her sleeping form. “Why didn’t they keep you in that hospital overnight?”
Not that she’d have stayed if they’d suggested it, he thought. She’d have insisted she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself.
With a groan, he sank down in the old-fashioned rocking chair opposite the bed and lay his head back.
Now what? he thought.
It was a good question. A very good question. The trouble was, he had no answers.
Cade closed his eyes. Seconds later, he was asleep.
CHAPTER SEVEN
ANGELICA stirred as the morning sun cast its bright light across her face.
She sighed, murmured something unintelligible and turned her face to the side, but the light wouldn’t go away. Frowning, she threw her arm over her face to shield her eyes—
And came swiftly awake.
Pain shot through her arm, radiating sharply from her hand to her shoulder. She gave a hiss of distress, struggled up against the pillows—and gaped in astonishment at what she saw.
Cade was sound asleep, sprawled in the old rocking chair near her bed. His long legs were stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles, his head lolled back against the headrest at an angle that had to be uncomfortable. The chair, too small for his bulk, might have made another man look foolish.
It only made Cade look more blatantly masculine.
Angelica swallowed dryly, then ran the tip of her tongue over her lips. Automatically, the fingers of her left hand closed around the edge of the blanket and she drew it to her chin.
What was Cade doing here? Last night’s memories were blurred. Damn those horrible pain pills! She could recall only bits and pieces of the flight from Notrees and the drive to the house, and things were hardly clearer after that—Cade carrying her into the house, then up the steps to her bedroom; Cade undressing her…
Angelica blushed. It had been embarrassing—but not humiliating. Cade had been so gentle, so matter-of-fact about taking off her clothing. He’d been careful of both her injured hand and her sensibilities, something she’d never have expected from a man like him.
But there was another memory, a di
squieting one.
Cade putting her to bed. Cade taking her in his arms and kissing her. The heat of his mouth, and the heat of his hands as they’d moved on her flesh, the way he’d held her and touched her and awakened a fire in her so hot its flames should have consumed her.
Angelica closed her eyes, wishing desperately she could forget and knowing that she couldn’t. Her wildly uninhibited response to him was so crazy, so unlike what she…
It must have had something to do with the medication she’d taken.