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He moved toward her, his boots crunching on the gravel. Cupping her face between his hands, he whisked his thumbs over her cheekbones. "You could make this a lot easier on yourself if you'd just marry me. The baby would have a daddy and everything would be neat and nice and legal."
"I can't, Cage."
"Sure?"
"Sure."
"That's not the last time I'll ask."
His breath was hot and sweet on her lips before they actually made contact with his. He eased her face upward to his descending mouth and kissed her with gentle possessiveness.
As before, his lips were open and moist. But unlike the other time, his tongue touched hers. Just the tip. Just enough to make her breath catch in her throat and her heart beat erratically. Just enough to make her breasts flare in instantaneous response.
He slid the end of his tongue back and forth over hers in a lazy movement. Then he withdrew and left her wanting. When he stepped away from her and took her arm to guide her to the car, she felt chilled with the absence of his body heat.
He stored her suitcases behind the seats of the Corvette as best he could. "The first thing on the agenda is finding you a place to live," he remarked when they were under way.
Somehow her hand had come to rest on his thigh. "Have any ideas?" she asked vaguely.
"You could move in with me."
Their eyes locked across the console. His were inquiring and mischievous; hers were chastising. "Next suggestion."
He chuckled good-naturedly. "I think I can fix something up with Roxy."
* * *
Chapter 8
«^»
"Roxy Clemmons?" Jenny asked, snatching her hand away from his thigh.
"Yeah. Do you know her?"
Only by reputation, Jenny thought snidely. Only by reputation as one of Cage's regulars. "I've heard of her." She turned her head away to gaze out the car window. Despair and disappointment tasted acrid in her mouth.
He had kissed her with such sweet intimacy. His embrace had been warming and security-lending. She was coming to like it when he touched her, liking it even more when be kissed her. But he wasn't doing to her what he hadn't done to hundreds of others. His kisses might set off fireworks in her head, but that kind of passion wasn't a new experience for him. His kissing technique could have been perfected only by hours of practice.
Was she destined to become one of Cage Hendren's "women"? Did he plan on lumping her into that sorority, actually ensconcing her under a roof where she would always be convenient to visit?
"You don't sound very enthusiastic about the idea," he commented.
"I don't have much choice, do I?"
"I offered you an alternative. You rejected it."
She sat in stony silence. She was angry and couldn't quite pinpoint why. Why should she be feeling mad and insulted? She certainly had nothing in common with that Clemmons woman. There was one major distinction between them.
Jenny Fletcher wasn't one of Cage's women … yet.
Had she been subconsciously harboring the thought that they would become lovers? Why? Because he had kissed her a few times? Because of the night in Monterico? Or because she had always felt an inexorable gravitation toward him? It had frightened her and she had resisted it. Until recently.
Well, if he thought she was going to join the ranks of his other women, he had another think coming. Roxy Clemmons and so many other women were strung like beads on a thread of sexual encounters that wound through several counties. Maybe because of her fall from grace with Hal, Cage now considered her fair game. He couldn't be more mistaken.
They didn't speak for the reminder of the trip back. The streets of town were deserted by the time they reached La Bota. Cage pulled his car into the parking lot of an apartment complex and cut the engine. "What's this?" Jenny asked.
"Your new address, I hope. Come on." He led her up to the apartment with a discreet sign reading Manager stuck in the front yard.
