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“You’re not contemptible, Cade,” she said, “you’re despicable.”
She pulled away from him and made her way to the stairs. Cade let her go, watching her as she made her way down them, his face like stone. He didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until she reached the front door. Then he exhaled sharply and loped down the steps after her.
CHAPTER EIGHT
HIS suite, Cade had said, was spacious.
One look told Angelica that “spacious” was far too simple a word to describe his accommodations.
He unlocked the door, and she stepped past him into a sitting room that seemed to stretch interminably to meet a curtained wall of glass.
The room was beautiful. The furniture was spare and elegant, depending on pale woods, paler leathers and linear design for impact. Paintings in vivid primary colors brightened the soft white walls; the white marble floor was bare, except for one extraordinarily beautiful, handwoven rya rug.
Cade shut the door behind him, dropped the keys into a terra-cotta bowl and turned to her.
“My bedroom is the one to the right,” he said. “Yours is through that door on the left.” He smiled tightly. “They’re the same, except for the views. If you prefer mine, say so. We can swap.”
Change rooms? Sleep in the room that was Cade’s? In his bed? For some inexplicable reason, the thought made her breathless, but she only smiled coolly.
“Such gallantry, Cade. Who’d have expected it?”
“Not you,” he said with a little laugh, “we both know that.” He walked to the windows and drew open the curtains. “Tomorrow, when you’re feeling better—”
“I feel perfectly fine.”
“Tomorrow,” he repeated, “we’ll see about getting you something to wear.”
“What does that mean? I have plenty of things to wear. If you’d given me time to pack—”
“Right.” He smiled coolly as he turned toward her. “You’ve got enough suits to stock a department store, but nothing—”
But nothing soft that would cling to her soft curves, that would be the right color to bring out the emerald of her eyes or the fire in her hair.
Damn! Where had that bit of nonsense come from? Cade scowled and put his hands on his hips.
“I thought I made myself clear. I’ve no intention of standing around like a fool, waiting for you to try to get yourself ready for work in the mornings.”
“And I’ve no intention of wasting money on frivolous things I don’t need!”
“You don’t have to. I’ll pay for whatever you need.”
“That’s out of the question. I am not going to permit you to—”
“Dammit,” he snapped, “get down off that high horse! You were injured on the job, remember? If proper clothing is necessary for your rehabilitation, your employer is obligated to pay all necessary expenses—and Landon’s is your employer, isn’t it?”
God, he thought, he sounded like a fool. What in hell was the matter with him?
“Look,” he said, “I’ll check with my legal people, if that will make you feel better.” And brother Grant would agree, Cade thought, he’d see to that. He sank down into one of a pair of low, white leather couches that flanked a teakwood coffee table, linked his hands behind his head and sighed wearily. “In the meantime, spare me the speeches. I’m not up to a feminist lecture just now.”
“Anything I say that you don’t agree with is not a—”
“Let’s try a neutral subject. What do you think of your new accommodations? Do they satisfy you?”
“My own home satisfied me.”
“It’s a simple question, Angelica.” He sat up and glared at her. “Will you be comfortable here?”
“Why? Does my comfort—or my opinion—matter?” She shrugged her shoulders. “If you’re waiting for me to ooh and ah, forget it. You’ve gotten your way. I’m here, and now I’ll just have to make the best of things.”
Cade opened his mouth, started to answer, and then he sighed, leaned his head back again and shut his eyes.
“You know something, sugar? I’m too tired to argue.”
Angelica’s gaze swept over him. Cade Landon, too weary to argue? It hardly seemed possible—but he did look tired, she thought suddenly. The trip from Dallas to Notrees and back meant he’d flown eight hundred miles. He’d stayed at her side all through her ordeal with the scorpion, and topped things off by spending the night in a chair that wouldn’t have been comfortable for a man half his size.
She felt a twinge of guilt. In his own way, he’d tried to be kind to her. It wasn’t his fault that he thought kindness meant taking over a person’s life.
“Cade?” Angelica cleared her throat. “I suppose—I suppose I should thank you for all you’ve done.”
“You already did. You choked out a thank-you that almost sounded like you meant it a couple of hours ago, remember?” He opened one eye and looked at her. “Do it again and I’m liable to figure that scorpion sting’s affected your sanity.”
Her lips compressed, but after a minute she saw his lips twitch. She smiled.
“Actually,” she said. “I’m feeling much better.”
Cade sat up and looked at her. “I’m glad to hear it. How about if I send down for some lunch?”
Angelica shuddered. “After the breakfast we just ate? No, no lunch for me.”
“Tea, then? Or coffee?”
“No, really, I don’t want anything—except a bath.”
“Of course.” He rose to his feet and walked slowly to where she stood. “Tell you what. You go on to your room and take a nap.”
She smiled at him. “I will—after I bathe.”
He smiled back at her. “Maybe later.”
“Maybe later?” Her brows lifted and she gave a little laugh. “What do you mean, maybe later? I don’t recall asking permission.”
“Look, you’ve been feeling pretty woozy.” Cade put his arm around her shoulders and walked her slowly toward her door. “I don’t want you to push things.”
“I’m not going to push anything. I was woozy, but I’m fine now. A bath’s just what I need.”
“Not just yet.”
Angelica swung toward him. “What is this, Cade?” Her smile was stiff at the edges. “Has the city gone on water rationing without my knowing?”
He chuckled. “Not to worry, sugar. There’s plenty of water, enough to fill the Jacuzzi in your bathroom and mine a million times over.”
“Well, that’s good news,” she said lightly. “For a minute there, I thought—”
“I don’t want you to bathe until we’re sure you won’t feel light-headed again. Passing out in a tub full of water—or in the shower, for that matter—could be dangerous.”
“I appreciate your concern,” Angelica said politely. “And I’ll think about it, but-”
“There’s not anything to think about,” Cade said with a little smile. “You know I’m right.”
“Listen here, Cade—”
“You can bathe when we decide you’re up to it.”
“We?” she said, “we?” She tossed the hair from her face. “I know you like to think you’re emperor of the universe, but you’re beginning to take your paranoia a bit far.”
“Look, I know you’re tired and irritable—”
“I am neither tired nor irritable! I am just not interested in continuing a stupid discussion about if and when I should take a bath!”
“Well, we don’t have to decide now.” He was still smiling, but it was the kind of smile people reserved for incompetents and children. “Take your nap first. We can discuss it again after you wake up.” He touched the tip of his finger to her lips, then turned her around and propelled her gently through the doorway and into her room. “Sleep well. Remember, if you need me—”
“Don’t hold your breath!”
Angelica kicked back her heel and slammed the door shut.
She stood still for a moment, struggling for control, and then she clapped her h
and to her forehead.
Arrogant? Insolent? The word to describe Cade Landon hadn’t been invented yet. The more time they spent together, the worse he got.
And she was tired of it.
He was going to decide when she might shower?
“Ha!” she said into the silence.
She’d take a dozen baths, and another dozen showers, if that was what she wanted.
She kicked off her shoes, undid the buttons on her dress and stepped out of it. It was just a miracle Cade hadn’t insisted on undressing her again. Not that she’d have let him. Last night had been different; she’d been sick and groggy and almost out on her feet, which was why he’d been able to boss her around…
…which was why she’d behaved the way she had when he’d put her to bed. Heat flooded her skin as she remembered what had happened, that dizzying kiss, the touch of his hands on her breasts…
She shook her head impatiently as she padded across the plush carpet. Who was Cade Landon, to think he could give her orders?
The bathroom was a revelation. It was enormous, as big as her living room at home, and it gleamed with marble, gold plating and mirrors. A small TV hung from a corner bracket. With a little smile, she switched it on. Men in Arab dress dashed across the screen on the backs of high-stepping horses, and the familiar theme music from Lawrence of Arabia filled the room.
