LED ASTRAY

by Sandra Brown

  "Maybe not yet," Roxy said intuitively.

  Jenny would have had little doubt as to the future of her relationship with Cage if she could have seen him the night before in Roxy's apartment. It was downright comical. Roxy had seen men in every human condition, but she'd never seen one so lovesick.

  Cage had sat on her floor, his back propped against her couch, staring into space, wearing the silliest expression on his face. He had talked about Jenny until Roxy had physically hauled him up and ordered him to go home, telling him that she was sleepy and if she heard Jenny's name one more time, she was going to throw up.

  As much to divert the conversation away from her and Cage as to apologize, Jenny said, "I've been so rude to you."

  "Naw," Roxy said, dismissing Jenny's apology with a wave. "Forget it. I'm used to being snubbed as a fallen woman."

  "I like you," Jenny said bluntly, realizing that it was true. One knew exactly where one stood with Roxy. There was no pretense. She didn't put on airs and wouldn't let anyone else get by with it, either.

  "Good," Roxy replied as if they had reached an agreement after days of debate. "Now eat the rest of this fattening temp­tation before I do. Your cute little butt can stand it, but my big fat one sure as hell can't."

  Laughing, Jenny sliced herself another piece. "I promised Cage I'd eat to gain weight."

  "He's worried about the baby."

  "He is?" She tried to appear nonchalant but failed.

  Roxy grinned. "He thinks you're too dainty to carry it. I assured him you would come through the pregnancy with fly­ing colors."

  "I'm not concerned about me. I worry about people pun­ishing the child for something I've done."

  "Forget 'people.'"

  "That's what Cage says."

  "And he's right. Are you glad about the baby?"

  "Yes. Very," Jenny confirmed, her eyes shining.

  "With his mama and his uncle Cage loving him, the kid'll have no problems," Roxy assured her.

  "You never had children?"

  Roxy's smile faded. "No. I always wanted kids, but Todd, he, uh … hurt me one time, you know? Ruined all the plumbing and it had to come out."

  "Oh, Lord, I'm so sorry!" Jenny exclaimed in a soft voice.

  Roxy shrugged. "Hell, I'm getting too old to have a kid anyway and Gary says it doesn't matter to him."

  "Gary?"

  "He's the guy I'm seeing," Roxy said, her ebullience re­stored. "Cage introduced us. He works for the phone com­pany. In fact, he should be here soon to install your phone."

  From Roxy's description Jenny was expecting Gary to be a cross between a Playgirl centerfold and Prince Valiant. He was neither. He had big ears, a long nose, and a toothy grin, but his face beamed wholesomeness and a self-effacing good hu­mor.

  It was obvious to Jenny within moments of his arrival that he and Roxy were madly in love.

  "I wanted to come to the party last night and welcome you to the neighborhood," Gary said, pumping Jenny's hand, "but I got called out on an emergency. Where do you want your phones?"

  "Phones? Plural?"

  "Three."

  "Three?"

  "That's what Cage ordered. I suggest the bedroom, living room, and kitchen."

  "But—"

  "You might just as well go along with it, Jenny, if that's what Cage ordered," Roxy said.

  "Oh, all right."

  While Gary went about his business Roxy helped Jenny organize her kitchen. Later they laundered all the new bed linens and towels before folding and storing them. They talked nonstop. By noon Jenny felt she had known the other woman all her life. Despite their separate backgrounds, they liked each other immensely.

  "Anybody hungry?" Cage stuck his head through the front door, which Gary had left open on one of his trips to his truck.

  Jenny was so relieved to learn that Cage and Roxy hadn't been lovers, she turned toward the door at the sound of his voice and flashed him a dazzling smile. She rushed forward, stopping just short of flinging herself in his arms.

  "Well, don't stop there," he said softly.

  She closed the remaining distance between them and hugged him, even going so far as to boldly slide her hands beneath his denim vest. "Hi," she whispered shyly when she backed away.

  "Hi." He made three syllables out of one. His eyes were busily scanning her face. "Tell me what I did to deserve that welcome and I'll do it some more."

  "I'm mad at you."

  "Stay mad. I like it. Hug me again."

  "Once is enough."

  "But my hands are full and I can't hug back, so you've got to hug me twice."

  It was pure madness, but in her state of mind it made perfect sense. She reached around him again and linked her hands behind his back, tilting her head back to look up at him. "Now, what are you mad about?" he asked.

  "What am I going to do with three telephones?"

  "Save yourself a lot of steps." He kissed her quickly. "But you were glad to see me. I could tell. Why?"

  "You brought lunch," she quipped, nodding toward the sacks he held in his hands.

  "You like cheeseburgers?"

  "With onions?"

  "Yes," he answered warily.

  "Love 'em"

  The four of them had a riotously gay lunch together. "I think you guys planned this," Roxy said suspiciously, biting into a fat golden french fry.

  "I didn't plan this," Cage swore, crossing his heart. "Did you plan this, Gary?"

  "I didn't plan this," he said, licking salt off his fingers. "Pass me one of those little catsup doodads, please."

  "Roxy and I might have made other plans for lunch," Jenny said loftily.

  Cage grinned at her, pleased that she could easily join in the joking now. "We assumed you didn't."

  "Assumed, huh? Don't start taking us for granted," Roxy warned. "Right, Jenny?"

  "Right."

  She would have taken a bite of her cheeseburger then, but Cage leaned down and kissed her solidly on the mouth.

  * * *

  She never remembered being happier or feeling freer. Despite her pregnancy, Jenny felt like she had shed a hundred pounds. She had left the parsonage behind like an old skin. Her whole being breathed new life.

  But she didn't shirk her responsibilities at the church. She attended regularly and Cage went with her. They sat near the back and rarely saw Bob except in the pulpit. If he knew they were there, he gave no sign. They didn't see Sarah where she sat in her usual place in the second row.

  She and Cage could feel the furtive glances cast in their direction and hear the whispered conversations they left in their wake, but they spoke politely to everyone. With Cage by her side, it was easy for Jenny to hold her head high and walk proudly.

  She became more involved with work in the office. She had graduated from answering the telephone and writing corre­spondence to handling filing and research that Cage had never intended her to do.

  "You're going to wear yourself out," he said one day when he stopped by to leave some mail and found her still there.

  "What time is it?"

  "Long after five o'clock."

  "This is so interesting. I lost track of time."

  "Don't expect me to pay you overtime."

  "I owe you the time. I went to the doctor today on my lunch hour."

  "Your lunch hour and a half."

  "Whatever. Anyway, they were running behind and that put me late getting back, so stop bugging me."

  "You're getting pretty feisty, Miss Fletcher. If you don't watch your step, I'm going to give up the idea of marrying you and start looking for a nice docile girl who will treat me with the respect I deserve."

  She folded the chart. "If you were treated with the respect you deserve, you'd get a thrashing."

  "Hm, that sounds … interesting." He came up behind her where she was now standing at the file cabinet, encircled her waist with his arms, and nuzzled her neck.

  "Don't tell me you're into S and M."

  "S and M?" He la
ughed, lifting his lips from her neck but keeping her imprisoned between him and the file cabinet. "What do you know about S and M?"

  "Lots. Roxy has a book that gives step-by-step instruc­tions."

  "Roxy's corrupting you. I should have known better than to entrust you to her. Don't look at any more of her books."

  "You don't have to worry that I'd get involved in anything involving whips and chains. It all looks painful. Besides," she teased, "I don't think those skimpy black leather outfits would look very good on my new figure."

  "I think your new figure would look delicious in anything. It's lovely."

  He lowered his hands to her abdomen and massaged sooth­ingly, before moving them down to stroke the tops of her thighs through her skirt. Jenny whimpered and struggled to turn around. He allowed her to, but facing him didn't give her any freedom. If anything, it made her situation more precari­ous. "I've got to go, Cage."

  "Later." He moved her hair aside with his nose and dedi­cated himself to pleasuring her ear.

  "It's getting late," she gasped when she felt the wet stroke of his tongue. "I should be getting home."

  "Later."

  The word was spoken against her open lips and when he closed his mouth over hers, all her resistance melted. He braced his hands on the file cabinet and leaned into her, press­ing his body against hers. He eased away, then leaned forward again, as though doing push-ups against the cabinet. Every time his body brushed against hers, the contact set off electric charges in her.

  Moving his hands to her neck, he closed his fingers around it loosely, deepening the kiss as he did so.

  "Hm, Cage, no," she protested feebly when she managed to work her mouth free. It was a bone-melting, mind-stealing kiss and she could feel herself succumbing to it.

  "Why not?"

  "Because it's unhealthy."

  He moved against her suggestively. "I beg to differ."

  The proof of his healthy condition probed the soft delta between her thighs. "We shouldn't…" He moved again and she groaned in spite of her best intentions to remain immune. "We shouldn't do this in here, in your place of business."

  "How about my house?"

  "No."

  "Your apartment?"

  "No."

  "Then where?"

  "Nowhere. We shouldn't be doing this anywhere." Recently, every time he kissed her, she was reminded of the night with Hal. Cage's kisses evoked memories that were startlingly vivid. The brothers kissed with similar intensity, their caresses were equally stimulating. But somehow, by re­sponding to Cage's kisses, she felt she was betraying Hal. Had she trembled in his arms the way she did every time Cage touched her?

  "Jenny, please."

  "No."

  "I ache. I haven't been with a woman since—" He stuttered to a halt just before saying, "Since making love to you." He changed it to "For a long time."

  "Whose fault is that?"

  "Yours. I don't want anybody but you."

  "Go to one of your old haunts. I'm sure you'll find an obliging lady." She would die if he did. Each day she figu­ratively held her breath, wondering when Cage would tire of spending so much time with her and resort to his carousing. She felt compelled to press her luck. "Or check out the gro­cery store."

  "Invite me over tonight."

  "No."

  "You've been living in your apartment three weeks and I've been invited inside exactly twice."

  "And that was two times too many. You stay too long and don't behave while you're there." Lord, she wished he'd stop kissing her neck that way. It felt so good. "People are seeing us together around town and they're starting to talk."

  "What else have they got to talk about? It isn't football season."

  "Don't you see? When word gets out that I'm pregnant, everybody will jump to the conclusion that—" She didn't finish.

  His head came up and his eyes drilled into hers. "What conclusion will they jump to?"

  "That the baby is yours," she answered, staring at the collar button on his shirt, unable to meet his eyes.

  "And would that be so terrible?" His voice was as gravelly, and emotion-packed as hers.

  "I don't want you to be blamed for something you didn't do."

  "I wouldn't consider it being blamed. I wouldn't mind in the least taking the credit for fathering your baby."

  "But that wouldn't be right, Cage."

  "I've been blamed for things I didn't do before. People make up their own minds. If they get the facts jumbled, there's little you can do to change public opinions."

  "I don't believe that."

  "Didn't you think that Roxy was my lover?"

  "No!"

  "You can't lie worth a damn, Jenny," he taunted. "You even called her one of my sluts. You thought we were having an affair. That's why you pouted all the way home that night after I took you off the bus."

  "If I was pouting, it was because I'm not used to being chased down by a maniac who has the unmitigated gall to stop a Greyhound bus and haul somebody off it."

  Her flare of temper delighted him. "God, you're cute." He kissed the end of her nose. "But you're not going to get off the hook by changing the subject. You thought Roxy and I had a thing going, didn't you?"

  "Well, can you blame me?" she said defensively. "You can't keep your hands off her."

  He squeezed her ribcage where his hands were currently resting. "I can't keep my hands off you either, so we know that's not conclusive evidence that two people are sleeping together."

  She felt flustered from the inside out. "Which only brings me back to my original point. You shouldn't touch me all the time." Her voice lacked conviction even to her own ears.

  "You don't like it when I touch you?"

  Who wouldn't like it? Who wouldn't like the way his thumbs lightly grazed the undersides of her breasts while his strong fingers aligned themselves to her ribs? "I sure like touching you," he whispered as his hands slid around her back and drew her close for another kiss that she was powerless to resist.

  "Ask me to supper, Jenny. What's the harm in having din­ner at your house?"

  "Because when Cage Hendren has dinner at a woman's house, it automatically implies more than eating a meal."

  Their mouths continued to come together and drift apart in soft, damp caresses. "Gossip."

  "Based on truth."

  "Okay, I confess. I want to spend an evening alone with you. Get in a little necking and heavy breathing. What's wrong with that?"

  "Everything."

  "All right," he sighed. "I asked you nice, but you want to play rough. I'm not letting you leave this office until you invite me to your apartment for dinner. Now, I can stand here till doomsday kissing you, only, I'm getting very aroused."

  He wedged his legs between hers and fit their hips snugly together. "Soon, kissing's not going to be enough. I'll be driven to undo those buttons on your blouse. I've counted. There are exactly four. That should take three seconds, three and a half at the most. Then I'll know if your brassiere is lilac or blue. I know it's sheer, but I can't quite tell the color. And then—"

  She pushed him away. His grin was undiluted deviltry, but he spoke like a good little boy who had just gotten all A's. "I'm free Friday night."

  "Don't play so hard to get, Cage," she said sarcastically.

  "Jenny, where you're concerned I'm as easy as Ruda Beth Graham was in the tenth grade."

  "Oh, you're horrible!" She shoved him aside and picked up her purse. "You're blackmailing me again, but come at seven o'clock."

  "Six."

  She shot him a disparaging look and reached for the door­knob. "Jenny?" She turned back. "What color is that bras­siere?"

  "That's for me to know," she said saucily as she swung out the door.

  "And for me to find out," Cage said with a sly grin.

  * * *

  Chapter 10

  «^»

  Jenny flattened her hand over her stomach in the hope of subduing the butterflies inside. She wet her li
ps. She touched her hair. She drew a deep breath and opened her front door.

  Cage was standing on her threshold. He was wearing a pair of tailored brown slacks, a light cream-colored shirt, and a camel sport jacket. The ensemble couldn't have been better coordinated with his own sandy coloring.

  His hair was clean and shiny, but, as usual, any styling had been left to chance. As tousled as it was, he could have just gotten out of bed. Indeed, that was what his expression insin­uated. His eyes looked like smoky Mexican topaz as they toured Jenny. One corner of his sensuous mouth was hiked into a sly smile.

  "Hi," she said timidly.

  "Are you dessert?" he drawled. "If so, I'm opting to skip dinner."

  The butterflies soared and sailed despite her previous efforts to calm them.

  The sensations pulsing through her were ridiculous. She had spent the morning with Cage in his office, catching up on the week's correspondence. They had worked companionably, in carefree camaraderie.

  Where had this tension between them come from? What had caused this tingling awareness? The air crackled with suppressed sexuality, and she knew Cage felt it as keenly as she did.

  As long as they were working, they were able to control these undercurrents. But the moment they let down that pro­fessional barrier, the latent desire between them began to churn and bubble like the waters in a hot tub.

  Jenny had left the office at noon, as she did every Friday. But this afternoon she hadn't rested. She had thrown herself wholeheartedly into preparations for the evening. She wanted the meal, the apartment, herself to be perfect.

  With each passing hour her expectancy had mounted until now, when she stood face to face with him, she felt like faint­ing.

  "Are those for me?" He was holding a large bouquet of pink roses and baby's breath. The long stems were wrapped in green tissue and they filled the air with nature's sweetest perfume.

  "Do you have a twin?"

  "No."

  "Then I guess they're for you." He passed them to her and she moved aside so he could step into the room. He halted before he had taken two steps. "What the—"

  He gazed around him in awe. The room had undergone a transformation since he'd last seen it. Jenny had spent her lunch hours and afternoons browsing through thrift shops and garage sales looking for "goodies."