"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."
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?"