He got out and came around to assist her. "What are we doing here?"
"I'm going to see to it that you eat a good breakfast. And," he stressed when she opened her mouth to protest, "there will be no argument about it."
She was too weary to argue anyway, so she said nothing. He unlocked the front door and she trudged upstairs behind him into the master suite. "The bathroom's yours for ten minutes." He rummaged in a drawer and came up with a Texas Tech T-shirt. The red double T against the black cotton was faded from many washings. "Take a hot shower and put this on when you get out. If you're not downstairs in ten minutes, I'm coming to get you." He kissed her swiftly and she was left alone.
The water was scalding, the soap fragrant and sudsy, the shampoo luxurious, the towels plush. When she pulled the T-shirt over her head, she felt one hundred percent better and ravenously hungry.
Hesitantly she stood on the threshold of the kitchen, feeling vulnerable and exposed. Her hair was wet and all she had on under the T-shirt was a pair of panties. The hem of the shirt reached mid-thigh, but she still felt awkward and self-conscious.
Cage seemed not to notice either the brevity of her costume or her bashfulness. The moment he saw her he said, "Well, don't just stand there. Two hands are better than one."
"What can I do?"
"Butter the toast."
She did and within minutes they were sitting down to a steaming platter of bacon and eggs. Hunger made manners dispensable and she dug right in. After several hefty mouthfuls, she caught Cage's amused eyes on her. Chagrined, she blotted her mouth with a napkin and took a demure sip of cold orange juice. "You're a good cook."
"Don't let me slow you down." By the time she had cleared the plate of food, she was so exhausted she could barely lift the cup of herbal tea Cage had steeped for her.
"Come on before you drop," he said, pushing back his chair.
"Where am I going?"
"To bed." He swept her into his arms.
"Your bed?"
"Yes."
"I should dress and go home. Put me down, Cage."
"Not until we get to the bed."
She should stop him before he took another step up the stairs, but she couldn't collect the energy. The long nap in the car hadn't been
sufficient. She couldn't remember ever feeling so wrung out. Her head fell against his chest and her eyes slid closed. He was so strong. Capable. Trustworthy. And she loved him.
The sleeve of his shirt felt rough against the backs of her bare thighs. She was reminded of that night in bed with Hal and the way his clothes had felt against her skin, how sensuous it had been.
Cage set her down beside the bed but kept an arm around her as he flung back the suede spread. Then he gently lowered her to the fresh-smelling sheets. "Sleep tight," he whispered as he pulled the top sheet over her. He brushed a strand of damp hair away from her cheek.
"What are you going to do?"
"Wash the dishes."
"That's not fair. You drove all night. You cooked the food." Her mind had a difficult time organizing the words in the right order. Her lips had an even harder time forming them.
"You can make it up to me another time. Now you and baby get some rest." He kissed her lips softly, but she didn't feel it. She was already asleep.
* * *
Chapter 12
«^»
It took her a moment to orient herself when she woke up. She lay without moving, taking in her surroundings with sleepy eyes until she recognized Cage's bedroom.
Memory came back intact then. She remembered the sequence of events that had led to her sleeping in his bed. So much had happened since she had opened her front door to him last night and seen him standing there holding the roses.