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“Of walking those steps?” He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
Well, no. She wasn’t and she knew it. With luck, she hoped she might be able to make it to the love seat in the living room—not the best place to spend the night, considering her height and the love seat’s length, but—
“Angelica,” Cade said, “I’m going to ask you one more time. Where is your bedroom? And before you decide I only want to know so I can have my evil way with you, let me assure you that all I want is to see you safely to bed so I can get the hell out of here and back to my hotel where maybe, just maybe, I can sit down at the bar and have a steak and fries and a bourbon and branch water in peace.”
“In peace—with some woman, no doubt!”
What on earth had made her say that? But Cade didn’t seem to notice. He simply went on glaring at her until finally she puffed out her breath.
“Upstairs. First door on the right.”
“Thank you very much,” he said coldly.
She turned her face from his as he made his way up the stairs. So, he was as eager to get rid of her as she was to get rid of him. That was a comfort.
But it wasn’t a comfort to imagine him sitting in some cozy pub while some smiling blonde with a large chest and a tiny brain hung on his every word.
“—the right room?”
Angelica swallowed hard. “I—I’m sorry,” she said, “did you—did you ask me something?”
“I said, is this the right room?”
“I—uh…” She looked around her, then nodded. “Yes, this is it. The light’s there, on the table beside the bed.”
Cade carried her to the bed, put her down, then turned on the light. He straightened up and glanced around him.
The room was small, he saw, and the bed narrow. It must have been Angelica’s when she was a girl.
“I suppose it’s time to thank you again,” she said.
He laughed and looked at her. “Even if it’ll kill you to do it,” he said—and frowned.
Damn! The woman had kept him so busy arguing that he hadn’t really taken a good look at her in hours. Now that he did, what he saw was disconcerting.
Her eyes were smudged with fatigue and almost sunken into her head. Her face had taken on a white, pinched look; even her mouth, that soft, rosebud mouth, was drained of color.
He looked at her hands, lying in her lap. The bandaged one was obviously swollen; the other was trembling.
Cade felt as if someone had just sunk a fist into his belly. She wasn’t just tired, she was exhausted—or worse.
“Angelica.” She looked up, and he could see the effort the simple action cost her. “Angelica,” he said, sounding fierce and angry, “are you ill?”
“I’m fine,” she said quickly. Too quickly, he thought, and he reached down and gripped her shoulders.
“No games,” he said, his eyes on hers. “Just tell me the truth. Are you feeling sick?”
She hesitated, and then she sighed. What was there to gain by lying?
“Not sick,” she said. “I just—I feel tired. More than tired. And my head hurts. My hand, too, and my arm…” She looked at him and gave a shaky laugh. “Is that truthful enough for you?”
A muscle knotted in his cheek. “Yes,” he said grimly, “it is.”
“All I need is a night’s sleep… Hey!” Her voice rose as Cade began undoing the buttons on her blouse. “Hey, what are you doing?”
“You’re the one with two university degrees,” he said tightly. “Figure it out for yourself.” She slapped at his hands but he ignored her. One by one, the buttons slipped from their holes. “Let me tell you something, sugar. This may come as a shock—hell, maybe it’s going to be a disappointment—but I am not a man who’s turned on by women who look as if they’re about to pass out.”
“I’m not…” She frowned. “Is that—is that how I look?”
Cade smiled tightly. “To be precise, you look like something the cat dragged in. Give me your left arm, please.” She did, and the blouse slid from her shoulder. “Can you move your right arm at all?” Her sudden intake of breath provided all the answer he needed. “Just sit still, then, and let me—OK. Now, lift your leg.”
“Cade, really, you don’t have to undress me!”
“Somebody has to,” he growled as he undid her laces and yanked off her shoes. “And I don’t see any ladiesin-waiting hovering in the background.”
“Yes, but—”
“But what?” He lifted angry eyes to her face. “Are you going to tell me you’ll be able to unzip your jeans or get them off?” He smiled grimly at her silence. “Exactly. Now, lie back, please, and stop arguing.”
Stop arguing? Angelica would have laughed, but she didn’t have the energy. Arguing was useless. Cade had already tilted her onto the bed, already reached for the snap at her waist. His touch was deft and impersonal, but she closed her eyes anyway.
This was not how she’d imagined Cade Landon undressing her, she thought.
Her eyes snapped open. She hadn’t thought of him undressing her at all—or had she?
“Lift up,” he said. His face might have been carved of stone, for all the expression it wore.
Dutifully, she raised her hips while he slid down her jeans and tugged them off, leaving her in a white cotton camisole, white cotton panties and heavy wool socks.
A truly alluring outfit, she thought. Not that it mattered. If Cade Landon were the last man on earth, she wouldn’t—she couldn’t—
Oh, God, she thought, and a tremor raced through her.
“Angelica?” She looked at him. The expression on his face had changed, become puzzled.
“I—I’m OK.” Say something, she told herself, say anything. “I—I have to go to the bathroom.”
Cade smiled a little. “Sorry. I should have thought of that. OK, put your arm around my neck and—”
“No! I mean—I can do that much without help!”
“But you’ll need help to get there,” he said, and lifted her into his arms. “Which way?”
Which way? Which way, indeed? My God, what was happening to her? This man—this contemptible manwas holding her all but naked body in his arms, she hated him and he hated her, and yet—and yet, the desire to bring his mouth down to hers, to spread her hand over his chest and feel the beat of his heart, was almost more than she could endure.
“Angelica,” he said impatiently, “where’s the bathroom?”
The bathroom, she thought, the bathroom.
“It’s—it’s just down the hall.”
He nodded, his expression blank, and carried her into the corridor. It was all she could do to keep from burying her face in his shoulder for fear he might read in her eyes what was happening to her, the hot, sharp waves of desire that were curling through her bones.
She was almost breathless by the time he put her down inside the white-tiled room.
‘I’ll be just outside,” he said, and switched on the light. Then he smiled reassuringly, shut the door after him—and groaned softly into the silence.
Damn! Maybe he really was contemptible. Maybe he was the no-good bastard Angelica Gordon thought he was.
> No, he thought, and took a deep, deep breath, no, if he were really that, he’d have acted on the sudden, intoxicating desire that had almost driven him to his knees, he’d have stripped away that silly, virginal camisole, the cotton panties, the sweat socks—he’d have stripped off that whole idiotic outfit and made love to Angelica until she lay trembling in his arms.
How could he have felt that way? Undressing her had been a purely mechanical act, one he hadn’t thought about except in terms of how to best do it efficiently, without hurting her injured hand.
And then, when he’d finished, he’d looked at her as she lay there in that sexless getup and all of a sudden he’d felt as if the breath were being sucked out of his lungs.
He’d wanted to kiss the weariness from her eyes, to kiss her lips until they were pink again. He’d wanted to stroke the smooth inch of belly that he glimpsed under the hem of the camisole….
He sighed, lifted his hands to his face and massaged his temples. Forget the bourbon. Forget everything but a hot shower or, better still, a cold one and then a good, sound night’s rest.
Sleep was what he needed, sleep and a ticket on the first plane out of Dallas—
The bathroom door swung open. Cade turned around. Angelica was standing in the doorway.
“I’m finished,” she said—and all at once, to his horror, tears rose in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.
“Sugar,” he said, clasping her shoulders, “what is it?”
“I—I just got a look at myself in the mirror,” she sobbed, and raised tearstained lashes to him. “You’re right, Cade, I look like hell.”
He stared at her for a long moment and then he laughed and swept her into his arms.
“I lied,” he said as he carried her into the bedroom. “You’re beautiful.”
For some reason, the flippant answer made her angry.
“Don’t treat me like a fool,” she snapped. “I know I’m not!”
He grinned as he whipped back the blankets and deposited her gently beneath them.
“OK, then you’re not.”
“Cade, dammit—”
He leaned forward, captured her face in his hands and kissed her gently on the mouth.
