LED ASTRAY

by Sandra Brown

  With Roxy's help she had made the apartment into a home, and she was proud of the results. She was twenty-six years old, yet this was the first time in her life that she'd had the privilege of choosing her own decor in her own home. Unlike her room in the parsonage, there wasn't a ruffle to be found. Her taste was simple and elegant, but warm.

  "Do you like it?" she asked anxiously, wringing her hands.

  "Like it? I may move in tonight."

  She laughed, knowing he wasn't suggesting anything illicit, only complimenting her on a job well done.

  "I paid a decorator an astronomical fee to do my house. I should have let you do it. I didn't know you had a hidden talent for this kind of thing." Cage scoured her speculatively with narrowed eyes. "What else do you have a hidden talent for?"

  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."

  The impulse to gravitate toward him was almost irresistible, but she drew on enough self-discipline not to. Pulling herself both mentally and physically away from him, she turned toward the louvered half doors that led into the kitchen. "I need to check on dinner."

  "What are we having? It smells scrumptious."

  He reached the swinging doors in time to see her bending down to check the simmering contents in the oven. The view was captivating and stirred up another of Cage's appetites, one more ravenous than that in his stomach.

  "Stuffed pork chops, asparagus with hollandaise… Do you like asparagus?" He nodded and she looked relieved. "Pota­toes with parsley and butter, hot rolls, and Milky Way ice cream."

  "You're kidding! Milky Way ice cream?"

  "No, I'm not kidding, and I paid for the Milky Way bars."

  He ignored the jibe and pushed through the swinging doors. As soon as she had slid a cookie sheet of rolls into the oven, he clasped her arms and turned her to face him. "Trying to impress me?"

  "Why do you ask that?"

  "You went to a lot of trouble for me." He captured a free strand of her hair and wound it around his index finger. "Why, Jenny?"

  "I like to cook." She watched, mesmerized, as he lifted the strand of her hair to his lips and kissed it, at the same time drawing her face dangerously close to his. "And … and … uh, your parents didn't like to experiment. I like to try out new recipes, but they always wanted to eat the same—"

  His mouth stopped the flow of nervous chatter with a kiss. "Do I get to choose dessert?" he asked in a soft murmur when he lifted his lips from hers.

  "No."

  "I choose you," he said, heedless of her denial. "You're the sweetest thing I've ever tasted."

  He moved forward until he had backed her against the coun­tertop. It caught her in the small of her back. Cage molded his body to hers in a complementing fit that left little doubt as to who was female and who was male. Seconds later she was shamelessly responding to the subtle nudges against her middle and her hands were crawling up his back. The fiery em­brace lasted until the smell of warm yeast rolls permeated the small kitchen.

  "Cage," Jenny gasped, drawing enough breath to dispel the ringing in her ears, "the rolls are burning."

  "Who gives a damn?" he growled against her throat.

  "I do." She pushed him away. "I worked hard on them."

  He sighed and stepped back so she could retrieve the rolls from the oven. "Do you mind if I take off my jacket?"

  "Are you too warm?"

  For answer one of his sand-colored eyebrows arched up­ward. "Hot, Jenny darling, hot."

  He joined her at the table a few moments later in his shirt-sleeves. "This looks delicious," he said, seating her before he sat down. She served him and waited anxiously for his verdict after the first bite. "Better than my mother used to make," he said.

  Pleased, she smiled and began eating. "Have you seen them, Cage?"

  "Who? Oh, Mother and Dad? No. At least not to speak to. Have you?"

  "No. I feel guilty about driving this wedge between them and you."

  He laughed mirthlessly. "Jenny, that wedge has been there since I was old enough to toddle."

  "But my mov
ing out and the baby have made things worse. I hate that. I was hoping you'd be drawn closer together. They need you now."

  His eyes wandered around the apartment. "You know, I think they'd be jealous if they could see what you've done here."

  "Jealous?"

  "Yes. I think they wanted you to need them as much as they needed you. And you didn't. You don't. They were afraid to let out your leash on the chance you'd discover that. So they kept you bound to them by obligation."

  "That's unfair, Cage. They're not manipulative."

  "Don't get me wrong," he said, covering her hand briefly. "I didn't mean to suggest that they did all this consciously. They'd be horrified to think themselves capable of such self­ishness.

  "But think about it, Jenny. I wasn't what they wanted their son to be, so they gave up on me completely and poured all their hopes and energies into Hal. Luckily he was a perfect candidate for what they had in mind and they groomed him meticulously. Then you came along. You were a sweet, obe­dient little girl who would make them a charming daughter-in-law."

  "I'm sure they don't feel that way now."

  "I'm sure they don't either, but it's healthier for everyone this way. You're a free agent. That doesn't mean you love them less." He shook his head in puzzlement. "That's what they never could understand. I loved them. I wanted them to love me. If they had shown me any affection, I wouldn't have been so unmanageable. It wouldn't have been necessary." His eyes came back to hers. "You've rebelled in your own way. Maybe this time they'll see the light."

  "I hope so. I hate to think of them alone in that big house after having suffered Hal's death. I guess sooner or later, with or without our support, they'll adjust to the loss."

  "And what about you, Jenny? Have you adjusted to it?"

  Finished eating, she laid her knife and fork diagonally on her plate. "I miss him. Hal and I were very close. We used to talk for hours." A vein was ticking in Cage's temple, but she didn't notice as she went on musingly. "He was such a sweet person. I don't think he would have intentionally hurt anybody."

  "Do you still love him?"

  She was on the verge of saying, "I'm not sure I ever did," but she caught herself in time. For years she had thought she was in love with Hal. Had she only been trying to convince herself that it was so?

  She had had a deep and abiding affection for him, but his kisses had never made her dizzy as Cage's did. Her heart hadn't begun to flutter each time Hal walked into a room. No, she had never felt this yearning, aching need for Hal the way she did for Cage. It was a persistent longing, as constant as her heartbeat.

  Out of respect for Hal, she couldn't discuss her feelings for him with Cage. She evaded giving him a definitive answer. "I'll always love Hal in a special way."

  Cage was unaccustomed to being put off. He never skirted an issue and wasn't going to tolerate it from Jenny. "If he were still alive, would you want to marry him?"

  Her eyes flickered toward his, then away. "There would be the baby to—"

  "If the baby weren't a consideration?"

  She hesitated, because she had to come to terms with that hour spent in bed with Hal. Had it only been one of those magical comets of emotion that rocket through one's life before burning out? Had it been a fluke? Had each of them been so emotionally high strung that particular night that it had been easy to lose their heads?

  She was beginning to believe that such was the case. As splendid as it had been for her, she now knew that her passion wasn't necessarily limited to one person. She had been just as aroused by Cage's kisses as she had been by Hal's that night.

  Knowing that he was waiting for her answer, she softly replied, "No, I don't think so. After living on my own, I realize that Hal and I weren't intended to be man and wife. Friends. Good friends. Perhaps brother and sister. But I don't think I would have been the kind of wife Hal needed for the life he chose."

  Cage kept his features under control so that his relief and elation wouldn't show. "Let me help you with the dishes," he said, standing.

  "You haven't had your dessert yet."

  "I'm letting the anticipation build."

  His inflection hinted at an underlying meaning, but again Jenny thought it best not to pursue it. His eyes held a golden glint that was only partially due to candlelight.

  They conversed easily while they cleared up the kitchen. The second oil well had come in on the Parsons property and a third was already being drilled. Cage had his eyes on another tract of land he was sure topped a basin of oil.

  Jenny loved the excitement that he emanated when he talked about wildcatting. He was successful, but money wasn't his incentive. The challenge, the gamble, and the flirtation with disaster were what motivated him. Most would call him reck­less, but she knew better. He drove fast, but he knew what he was doing behind the wheel of a car. He used the same dashing skill in his business dealings.

  He dished up the ice cream, unabashedly licking the dipper as he did so, while Jenny arranged the coffee things on a tray. Together they moved into the living room. "Don't drip any of that on my new sofa," Jenny scolded as Cage raised a spoonful of the ice cream to his mouth.

  "Sinful, positively sinful." He let the ice cream melt in his mouth.

  "Then it's true what they say?"

  "What's that?"

  "That the way to a man's heart is through his stomach."

  He was holding the spoon upside down in his mouth. His tongue cleaned out its shallow bowl, then he pulled it through his lips slowly as he gazed at Jenny. "That's one way to get there, I guess, but I can think of another route that's much more fun to take. Want me to give you the guided tour?"

  "Cream or sugar?" she asked in a thin, high voice.

  He chuckled at her shaking hand as she poured his coffee. "Jenny, you've been pouring coffee for me for years. You know I drink it black."

  "I forgot."

  "Like hell. You're just all atremble over what I said."

  "It was outrageous and uncouth." She still couldn't look him straight in the eye. Her cheeks were burning.

  "You're a paradox," he observed, learning back against the cushions to drink his coffee. He had finished his ice cream and had set the empty bowl on the tray.

  "A paradox?"

  "Yes. You're carrying a child, yet any time the subject of sex is even hinted at, you come all undone."

  Her sweet tooth suddenly went sour and she set aside her bowl of ice cream after having taken only a few bites. "You think I'm a prude, a holdover from another era, a Victorian dinosaur trying to survive in the age of sexual enlighten­ment?"

  "Don't put words in my mouth. I didn't mean to imply any such thing. Your innocence is endearing."

  "I'm hardly innocent," she mumbled, her chin tucked against her chest. She closed her eyes, recalling the sound of her own breathing at the point of climax. The moans of ful­fillment echoed in her head even now when she remembered how her body had exploded into full bloom like an exotic neon flower. She could feel again her back bowing, her hips lifting, her limbs quaking, all greedily experiencing the pleasure.

  "You said you were a virgin the night—"

  "I was."

  "Never before?"

  "No."

  "Close?"

  "No."

  Cage placed his coffee cup on the tray. He moved closer to her, resting his bent elbow on the back of the sofa. He lightly stroked her cheek with his knuckles. "You must have been deeply moved that night to give away what you had cherished for so long."

  "I've never felt like that in my life."

  Cage's heart leaped in his chest. What he was about to do was unforgivable, but that had never deterred him. "Tell me how you felt."

  Deep in thought, Jenny unconsciously lifted her hand to his chest. Her fingers strummed the placket of his shirt. "It was like I had stepped out of myself and was watching what was happening to someone else. I shed all my inhibitions. I cast aside the restrictions I normally impose on myself. I existed only for those moments.
I became purely carnal, and yet my spirit had never felt more elevated or expanded." She raised her eyes to his like a confused little girl. "Do you understand what I mean?"

  "Yes. Perfectly," he answered honestly.

  "Nothing that we did seemed sordid or wrong. It was all beautiful. I wanted to love and to be loved. It wasn't enough to verbalize our love; I wanted it demonstrated."

  "And Hal was willing?"

  "Not at first."

  His hand cradled one side of her face. "But you talked him into it."

  "That's a nice way of saying I seduced him."

  "All right, you seduced him. What happened then?"

  She smiled and ducked her head shyly. "Then he was more than willing. He'd never been that way with me before."

  "What way?" If Jenny had been looking at Cage's face, she would have read the hungry expression there.

  She closed her eyes briefly, as though to get a hold of herself and carefully choose her words. Cage studied the path her tongue took as it wet her lower lip before she continued.

  "Lusty, a trifle wild, sensual." She laughed lightly. "I don't know how to describe him."

  "Rough? Too rough?"

  "No, I didn't mean to imply that."

  "Tender?"

  "Yes. Through it all, he was extremely gentle, but … passionate."

  "Were you afraid when he slipped your nightgown off?" Her eyes swung up to his inquiringly and Cage cursed himself for a careless damn fool. "You were wearing a nightgown, weren't you?"

  For the last few minutes his soft, sand-raspy voice had been inducing a trance, and like someone who is hypnotized, she had responded to it. But his last question snapped her out of her stupor. "I shouldn't be talking to you about this, Cage."

  "Why not?"

  "It's embarrassing," she cried softly. "Besides, it's not fair to Hal. Why do you want to know about that night?"

  "Because I'm curious."

  "That's sick!"

  "Not sick, Jenny, normal." He leaned over her, forcing her against the corner cushions of the sofa. He braced one hand on the back cushion, the other on the armrest, and trapped her in the triangle his arms formed. "I want to know what you think about making love."