An Indecent Proposal

by Sandra Marton

  “You’re not contemptible, Cade,” she said, “you’re despicable.”

  She pulled away from him and made her way to the stairs. Cade let her go, watching her as she made her way down them, his face like stone. He didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until she reached the front door. Then he exhaled sharply and loped down the steps after her.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  HIS suite, Cade had said, was spacious.

  One look told Angelica that “spacious” was far too simple a word to describe his accommodations.

  He unlocked the door, and she stepped past him into a sitting room that seemed to stretch interminably to meet a curtained wall of glass.

  The room was beautiful. The furniture was spare and elegant, depending on pale woods, paler leathers and linear design for impact. Paintings in vivid primary colors brightened the soft white walls; the white marble floor was bare, except for one extraordinarily beautiful, handwoven rya rug.

  Cade shut the door behind him, dropped the keys into a terra-cotta bowl and turned to her.

  “My bedroom is the one to the right,” he said. “Yours is through that door on the left.” He smiled tightly. “They’re the same, except for the views. If you prefer mine, say so. We can swap.”

  Change rooms? Sleep in the room that was Cade’s? In his bed? For some inexplicable reason, the thought made her breathless, but she only smiled coolly.

  “Such gallantry, Cade. Who’d have expected it?”

  “Not you,” he said with a little laugh, “we both know that.” He walked to the windows and drew open the curtains. “Tomorrow, when you’re feeling better—”

  “I feel perfectly fine.”

  “Tomorrow,” he repeated, “we’ll see about getting you something to wear.”

  “What does that mean? I have plenty of things to wear. If you’d given me time to pack—”

  “Right.” He smiled coolly as he turned toward her. “You’ve got enough suits to stock a department store, but nothing—”

  But nothing soft that would cling to her soft curves, that would be the right color to bring out the emerald of her eyes or the fire in her hair.

  Damn! Where had that bit of nonsense come from? Cade scowled and put his hands on his hips.

  “I thought I made myself clear. I’ve no intention of standing around like a fool, waiting for you to try to get yourself ready for work in the mornings.”

  “And I’ve no intention of wasting money on frivolous things I don’t need!”

  “You don’t have to. I’ll pay for whatever you need.”

  “That’s out of the question. I am not going to permit you to—”

  “Dammit,” he snapped, “get down off that high horse! You were injured on the job, remember? If proper clothing is necessary for your rehabilitation, your employer is obligated to pay all necessary expenses—and Landon’s is your employer, isn’t it?”

  God, he thought, he sounded like a fool. What in hell was the matter with him?

  “Look,” he said, “I’ll check with my legal people, if that will make you feel better.” And brother Grant would agree, Cade thought, he’d see to that. He sank down into one of a pair of low, white leather couches that flanked a teakwood coffee table, linked his hands behind his head and sighed wearily. “In the meantime, spare me the speeches. I’m not up to a feminist lecture just now.”

  “Anything I say that you don’t agree with is not a—”

  “Let’s try a neutral subject. What do you think of your new accommodations? Do they satisfy you?”

  “My own home satisfied me.”

  “It’s a simple question, Angelica.” He sat up and glared at her. “Will you be comfortable here?”

  “Why? Does my comfort—or my opinion—matter?” She shrugged her shoulders. “If you’re waiting for me to ooh and ah, forget it. You’ve gotten your way. I’m here, and now I’ll just have to make the best of things.”

  Cade opened his mouth, started to answer, and then he sighed, leaned his head back again and shut his eyes.

  “You know something, sugar? I’m too tired to argue.”

  Angelica’s gaze swept over him. Cade Landon, too weary to argue? It hardly seemed possible—but he did look tired, she thought suddenly. The trip from Dallas to Notrees and back meant he’d flown eight hundred miles. He’d stayed at her side all through her ordeal with the scorpion, and topped things off by spending the night in a chair that wouldn’t have been comfortable for a man half his size.

  She felt a twinge of guilt. In his own way, he’d tried to be kind to her. It wasn’t his fault that he thought kindness meant taking over a person’s life.

  “Cade?” Angelica cleared her throat. “I suppose—I suppose I should thank you for all you’ve done.”

  “You already did. You choked out a thank-you that almost sounded like you meant it a couple of hours ago, remember?” He opened one eye and looked at her. “Do it again and I’m liable to figure that scorpion sting’s affected your sanity.”

  Her lips compressed, but after a minute she saw his lips twitch. She smiled.

  “Actually,” she said. “I’m feeling much better.”

  Cade sat up and looked at her. “I’m glad to hear it. How about if I send down for some lunch?”

  Angelica shuddered. “After the breakfast we just ate? No, no lunch for me.”

  “Tea, then? Or coffee?”

  “No, really, I don’t want anything—except a bath.”

  “Of course.” He rose to his feet and walked slowly to where she stood. “Tell you what. You go on to your room and take a nap.”

  She smiled at him. “I will—after I bathe.”

  He smiled back at her. “Maybe later.”

  “Maybe later?” Her brows lifted and she gave a little laugh. “What do you mean, maybe later? I don’t recall asking permission.”

  “Look, you’ve been feeling pretty woozy.” Cade put his arm around her shoulders and walked her slowly toward her door. “I don’t want you to push things.”

  “I’m not going to push anything. I was woozy, but I’m fine now. A bath’s just what I need.”

  “Not just yet.”

  Angelica swung toward him. “What is this, Cade?” Her smile was stiff at the edges. “Has the city gone on water rationing without my knowing?”

  He chuckled. “Not to worry, sugar. There’s plenty of water, enough to fill the Jacuzzi in your bathroom and mine a million times over.”

  “Well, that’s good news,” she said lightly. “For a minute there, I thought—”

  “I don’t want you to bathe until we’re sure you won’t feel light-headed again. Passing out in a tub full of water—or in the shower, for that matter—could be dangerous.”

  “I appreciate your concern,” Angelica said politely. “And I’ll think about it, but-”

  “There’s not anything to think about,” Cade said with a little smile. “You know I’m right.”

  “Listen here, Cade—”

  “You can bathe when we decide you’re up to it.”

  “We?” she said, “we?” She tossed the hair from her face. “I know you like to think you’re emperor of the universe, but you’re beginning to take your paranoia a bit far.”

  “Look, I know you’re tired and irritable—”

  “I am neither tired nor irritable! I am just not interested in continuing a stupid discussion about if and when I should take a bath!”

  “Well, we don’t have to decide now.” He was still smiling, but it was the kind of smile people reserved for incompetents and children. “Take your nap first. We can discuss it again after you wake up.” He touched the tip of his finger to her lips, then turned her around and propelled her gently through the doorway and into her room. “Sleep well. Remember, if you need me—”

  “Don’t hold your breath!”

  Angelica kicked back her heel and slammed the door shut.

  She stood still for a moment, struggling for control, and then she clapped her h
and to her forehead.

  Arrogant? Insolent? The word to describe Cade Landon hadn’t been invented yet. The more time they spent together, the worse he got.

  And she was tired of it.

  He was going to decide when she might shower?

  “Ha!” she said into the silence.

  She’d take a dozen baths, and another dozen showers, if that was what she wanted.

  She kicked off her shoes, undid the buttons on her dress and stepped out of it. It was just a miracle Cade hadn’t insisted on undressing her again. Not that she’d have let him. Last night had been different; she’d been sick and groggy and almost out on her feet, which was why he’d been able to boss her around…

  …which was why she’d behaved the way she had when he’d put her to bed. Heat flooded her skin as she remembered what had happened, that dizzying kiss, the touch of his hands on her breasts…

  She shook her head impatiently as she padded across the plush carpet. Who was Cade Landon, to think he could give her orders?

  The bathroom was a revelation. It was enormous, as big as her living room at home, and it gleamed with marble, gold plating and mirrors. A small TV hung from a corner bracket. With a little smile, she switched it on. Men in Arab dress dashed across the screen on the backs of high-stepping horses, and the familiar theme music from Lawrence of Arabia filled the room.

  Humming happily, Angelica turned her attention to the room’s fixtures. The shower was grand, a big glass enclosure with spray heads everywhere.

  Ah, but the tub was something else entirely. It was a sunken oval of shiny black that looked as if it could accommodate a family of four without crowding—and it had a hand-spray attachment. She could wash her hair, rinse it, then sit in the water until her toes began to shrivel.

  She smiled as she turned on the taps. A long, luxurious soak would go a long way toward making her feel more human.

  Still humming, she plucked tiny packets of scented bubble bath and shampoo from a small wicker basket on the vanity. Her injured hand hampered her a little, but eventually she managed to tear open the bubble bath and pour it into the rapidly filling tub.

  Angelica shut off the water, stepped carefully down into the tub and sighed with pleasure. She bathed quickly, washed her hair despite the occasional twinges of pain in her hand, and then, at last, she lay back and closed her eyes.

  It was heaven, letting the bubble-filled water lap gently over her breasts while the music streamed down over her like a waterfall of sound…

  “Angelica!”

  Her eyes flew open. Cade was standing in the bathroom doorway. With a cry of outrage, she sank lower into the bubbles.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” she shrieked. “You get the hell out of this bathroom!”

  “What are you doing in that tub?”

  “What does it look like I’m doing? Damn you, Cade, get out!”

  “The hell I will!” He folded his arms over his chest, his face stony. “You were supposed to be napping.”

  “Do you have difficulty understanding English? Get out of this room!”

  “But were you napping?” he continued nastily. “No, you were not!”

  “And how did you find that out?” Angelica demanded. “By sneaking into my room!”

  “I thought to look in and see how you were doing.”

  “Ha!”

  “I knocked, but you didn’t answer. So I opened your door-”

  “And you decided to come barging into my bathroom!”

  “I heard noise coming from the bathroom,” he said coldly, “and even though I knocked again—” He leached up and punched the button on the TV set. A tense silence filled the room. “Dammit, Angelica, for all I knew you’d fallen and broken your fool neck!”

  “The only neck that’s going to be broken is yours, if you don’t turn around and get out of here!”

  “What in hell’s wrong with you?” A look of thunderous disapproval spread across his face. “Weren’t you paying attention when we discussed this?”

  “Are you deaf, Cade?” She pointed her hand at the door. “Go away!”

  “You said you’d call me if you needed me,” he growled as he started toward her. “You said—”

  “I said no such thing.” She slid lower in the concealing bubbles. “No one says much when you’re around. You do all the talking.”

  “You could have gotten dizzy. You could have fallen. Knowing your track record, you could have drowned! Hell, this morning you were determined to burn down your house.”

  “I was not. Besides, I was ill then. I’m fine now, and…” She took a ragged breath, then spat out a word never used by anyone at Miss Palmer’s Academy. “What am I doing, explaining myself to you? If you don’t get out of here this instant, I’m going to scream.”

  “So scream,” he said coldly, and snatched a bath towel from the heated rack. “See if I give a damn. See if anybody gives a damn! Go on, scream and let the staff and the guests come running. Let them crowd in here and then maybe you can tell all of us why you’re so pigheaded.”

  “I don’t have to explain anything to anybody, Cade Landon! I am my own person.”

  “You mean, you’re your own worst enemy. Come on, woman. Get out of that tub.”

  “Get out of this bathroom!”

  Cade’s eyes narrowed to slits. “You’ve got five seconds to get moving.”

  “I’m not going anywhere, not until you’re on the other side of that door.”

  “Five seconds, or I’ll come in and get you.”

  She stared at him, enraged.

  “One,” he said.

  Would he do it? No. Not even Cade Landon was that crazy.

  “Two.”

  For one thing, he was fully dressed.

  “Three.”

  For another, he had to know that she would sooner drown than let him drag her from the tub.

  “Four.”

  On the other hand, this was the man who’d spent the night in her bedroom, who’d all but blackmailed her into moving into this hotel…

  “Five. That’s it, sugar. Here I come.”

  “Damn you, Cade!” Angelica touched the tip of her tongue to her lips. “You cannot really expect me to—to get out of this tub and into that towel while you hold it.”

  “Can’t I?” His lips drew back from his teeth. “It’s bad enough I’m going to have to pick up yesterday’s hospital bill, but if you expect me to pay the fees when you step out of that tub, slip and break your silly neck, you’d better think again.”

  “What I think,” Angelica said, her voice trembling, “is that it’s always best to placate a madman!” She looked at the towel in his hands. Stretched to its limits, it was almost the size of a blanket. “Lift that towel higher. And if you so much as touch me, I’ll scratch out your eyes.”

  “There’s nothing to worry about,” he snapped. “I prefer my women with at least a modicum of femininity.”

  He lifted the towel. She took a breath, rose and stepped quickly from the tub. With one deft movement, she stepped into the towel, snatched it from him, wrapped it around herself and knotted it above her breasts.

  “I am out of the tub,” she said. “Now you get out of this bathroom. And out of my bedroom. I am going to dry off, get dressed, go home and lock my door. Tomorrow, I will be at the office at whatever hour you like. And I will stay there until whatever hour you like.” Her chin shot forward. “And if you harass me or threaten me or do any of the impossible things you’ve done in the last twenty-four hours, so help me, I’ll—I’ll bring charges against you!”

  He didn’t move.

  “I don’t understand you,” he said, shaking his head. “Is it beyond you to accept help when you need it?”

  “Help? Is that what you call your—your interference? You don’t offer help, Cade. You control, you command, you try to take over another person’s life!”

  Cade’s mouth narrowed. “I do not.”

  “You do. It’s the truth, but you d
on’t give a damn about the truth!” She glared at him. “You don’t give a damn about anything I say, because I’m a woman! If I were a man—”

  Cade grabbed her by the shoulders. “If you were a man, I wouldn’t be in this mess! I’d have driven you home last night, poured you a shot of whiskey and said listen, pal, hire yourself a housekeeper and send the bill to me.”

  “Well? Why didn’t you?” Angelica lifted her chin in defiance. “What does my sex have to do with anything?”

  The question jolted him with its directness. What did it have to do with anything? She was a woman, yes, a gorgeous woman—but she wasn’t the type that appealed to him. She was a copper-curled spitfire and nothing would ever matter half as much to her as her own ambition.

  His hands tightened on her, and suddenly he knew the answer.

  Angelica Gordon was nothing he wanted—and everything he had to have. Hell, he’d known it all the time, but he’d refused to admit it.

  There would be no peace for him until he took Angelica Gordon to bed and subdued her in the oldest way a man could subdue a woman.

  Then she’d be out of his system, and for good.

  Something of what he was thinking must have showed in his face. He could tell by the sudden intake of her breath, by the way a pulse leaped to nervous life in the hollow of her throat.

  “Cade,” she said, “Cade, I’m warning you—”

  Hell, it was what they needed from each other, what all the pettiness and snarling was about. It was about being oil and water, yin and yang, fire and ice, it was nothing but a hot, physical need that had been eating at them both from the beginning.

  And there was only one way to put an end to it.

  “Cade,” Angelica said again, and he smiled.

  “What?” he said. His voice sounded thick; his tongue felt thick, as if he were drunk. And he was. He was drunk on the remembered taste of that rosebud mouth, that creamy skin. “What are you warning me about, sugar?”

  “I’m—I’m warning you not to—not to…”

  She caught her breath as his hands moved against her skin. His fingers were callused and rough; the sensations they drew from her nerve endings sent a race of flame along her flesh.

  “Cade,” she said.