"Aren't you?" he pressed. "Aren't you thinking that you had no business sleeping in my arms, wearing nothing but your slip? Don't you feel that we were somehow being disloyal to Hal while he lay dead in his coffin? Isn't that what you're thinking?"
She turned her back on him and crossed her arms over her stomach as though it pained her. Tightly she clasped her elbows with the opposite hands. "I shouldn't have been with you like that."
"Why?"
"You know better than to ask."
"Because you know what everyone thinks of a woman who spends a night on a bed with me."
She said nothing.
"What are you afraid of, Jenny?"
"Nothing."
"Are you afraid that someone will find out about that night?"
"No."
"Afraid that your name will be added to the list of Cage Hendren's has-beens?"
"No."
"Are you afraid of me?"
Even the relentless wind couldn't disguise the hesitation and heartbreak in his voice. She whirled around and saw the misery on his face. "No, Cage, no." To prove it, she stepped forward and put her arms around his waist, laying her cheek on his chest.
Instantly his arms went around her and held her close. "I wouldn't blame you if you were, especially after what happened tonight. But, God, I'd hate that. I'd hate that worse than anything else. I couldn't bear for you to be afraid that I'd hurt you."
She could have told him that she wasn't as afraid of him as she was of her own reactions to him. When he was near her, she stepped out of the shell she lived behind in the parsonage and became another woman.
He made her heartbeat escalate, her breathing accelerate, her palms grow moist. She was never herself when she was with Cage, whether it was riding a motorcycle and loving it, or sharing a bed with him. With him she forgot who she was and where she came from, living only for a moment.
It was almost as if she had been in love with Cage all these years instead of Hal. She had made love with Hal, but the night she had slept in Cage's arms had been almost as wonderful. She couldn't quite reconcile herself to that. How was it that only a week after Hal's death, she could be wondering what making love with Cage would be like?
Startled by the thought, she backed away from him. "We'd better go home. They'll be worried."
He looked disappointed but escorted her to the car without argument. Ruefully he recapped the flask and returned it to the glove compartment. He tossed the pack of cigarettes out the window.
"Litterbug," Jenny said from her side of the car.
"Women," Cage muttered in exasperation as he put the car into low gear. "They're never satisfied."
They grinned at each other. Everything was all right.
When they arrived at the parsonage after a sedate trip back into town, he came around and opened the door of the car for her. He placed his arm around her waist as he walked her toward the door, and companionably, she did the same.
"Thank you, Jenny."
"For what?"
"For being my friend."
"Lately you've been mine often enough."
"Thanks anyway." At the door they stood facing each other. He seemed reluctant to leave. "Well, good night."
"Good night."