She felt a swell of emotion and rushed to lighten the mood. "You should have seen Roxy bargaining over the plants. We found them at a garage sale. The man was asking fifty dollars for all of them. Roxy got him down to ten, then called Gary to come over in his pickup and load them up before the man changed his mind. I rode in the back of the truck so none of them would get crushed."
"I would protect my benjammia with my life. I couldn't stand for it to get crushed."
His face was too angelic for her not to be suspicious. There was a play on words in there somewhere, but she had better sense than to ask him to expound.
She cleared her throat. "I bought the bentwood rocker there, too, for five dollars. All it needed was a coat of paint."
"I like what you did to that wall."
"The fabric was a remnant I found at K mart. Roxy helped me tack it to the wall so I would get the pattern straight." She had used what was left over to make small throw pillows for the sofa.
The colors she had selected to accent her new furniture were restful, yet oddly stimulating—mulberry, navy, slate, and beige. "The candles smell good," Cage said, nodding toward the attractive arrangement on the end table.
"I found the brass candlesticks in an antique store, one of those dim, ratty places out on the Pecos highway. I had to move aside cobwebs to get to them. It took two cans of Brasso and three nights of elbow grease to polish them up."
"Everything looks great."
"Thank you," she replied demurely.
"Especially you." He suddenly bent his head to kiss her. She expected a soft, fraternal, hello-type kiss. Instead, his lips were commanding and his tongue bold. After several moments, she pulled away breathlessly.
"I'd better get these flowers in water before they wilt."
Or before I do, she thought as she hurried into the kitchen to look for something to serve as a vase worthy of the roses. She didn't have anything, and they ended up in an orange juice carafe. She had already arranged a bunch of heather to serve as an abstract centerpiece for the dining table, so she carried the roses into the living room and, with an apologetic smile for their humble container, placed them on the coffee table.
"Is that a new outfit?"
"Yes," she answered nervously. "Roxy picked it out and made me buy it."
"I'm glad she did."
The long skirt and oversized blouse were raw silk in its natural color, and unlike anything that Jenny had worn before. A wide braided belt was knotted around her waist. She had on the flat, ankle-strap shoes Cage had admired before. Her hair had been swept up, but with a calculated messiness so that soft wisps escaped to lie on her neck and cheeks.
"It's sort of a Gypsy look," she said, self-conscious under his assessing eyes. "I only let Roxy talk me into it because the blouse has a long tail and will be full enough to wear when I start showing."
"Turn around." She made a slow three-hundred-and-sixty degree pivot until she faced him again. "I love it," he said with a slow smile. "But are you sure you're in there? All that cloth is camouflaging."
"I'm in here, all right," she said, patting her tummy. "I've gained two pounds."
"Good for you! Does the doctor say everything is okay?"
His brow wrinkled with concern. "You're halfway through your pregnancy, but you barely show."
"Barely show? You should see me without my clothes on."
"I'd like that."
His expression was altogether too sexy. "What I mean is," Jenny said quickly, "I'm showing a little in my tummy. The doctor said the baby is growing nicely. He's just the right size for almost five months."
"He?"
"The doctor thinks it's a boy because of the heartbeat. Typically, boys have a slower heartbeat than girls."
"Then I'm atypical," Cage whispered. "My heart's racing."
"Why?" His amber eyes seemed to pull at her like a magnet. She inclined toward him slightly.
"I'm still thinking about seeing you without your clothes on."