"What do you do when you're not busy confronting the current challenge?"
"Lapse back into happy isolation in a basement or spare room somewhere," he admitted promptly. "Or head for the solitude of a beach. Just like you."
Leya ignored the bid to draw a paraiiei with herself. "What about the blondes you mentioned at the party? Do you drag them down into your basement or to the beach?"
"I wondered when we'd get around to them," he chuckled.
"I'm asking when do
you
get around to them?" she retorted.
"Whenever the mood comes over me!"
"Do you see each new one as a challenge?" Leya asked kindly, incredibly irritated at his admission.
"Hardly," he quipped blandly. "My women tend to be in the same category as your Alex Harlow. Pretty but rather self-centered and not too bright."
"Have you ever married one of them?" Leya couldn't resist the question. At his age, it would be quite natural if he'd been married.
There was a distinct pause while Court considered his answer. "I came damn close once," he finally admitted softly. "We were engaged before I realized my mistake."
"What was the mistake, Court?" Leya pressed tightly. "Almost succumbing to a challenge?"
"My mistake," he told her flatly, eyes narrowed, "was in thinking she was different from the others. I was lucky. I found out in time she wasn't. She wanted what the others wanted, but she was better at disguising her goals than most."
"What happened?" Leya hated herself for asking, but she couldn't stifle her curiosity.
"She thought I was going to be offered the chief executive position at the firm for which I was working at the time."
"And?"
"And I was," he said simply. "But I declined. When she found out, she declined me."
"Were you very hurt?" Leya asked tentatively, astonished at the wave of compassion for him which suddenly moved her.
"My pride more than anything. When I realized that, I also realized I'd had a very narrow escape!"
"And you've been cautious since then, right?" she hazarded, smiling gently. "Stuck to the nonchallenging blondes who are easy to handle?"
The flash of mutual understanding that passed between them was impossible to ignore. Leya knew exactly what Court had felt when he discovered he had been used. She'd been through it with Alex. Court proved he was on the same wavelength when his eyes met hers directly and he said softly, "Is that so different from what you've been doing since Harlow?"
"What do you know about what I've been doing since I dated Alex?"
"Your brother told me. He said you've been seeing a string of easily managed types who do exactly as they're bid or find themselves out of the running."
"I'll have to speak to my brother. He clearly has no feeling for family loyalty," Leya sighed irritably.
"Is it true?" Court probed.
"What if it is?" she returned aloofly, chin lifting. "Can you blame me for not wanting to get burned again?"
"No, I've been just as cautious," he murmured soothingly. "I always make it a point to find out the price first now. I didn't like being used, either. Maybe we've both been waiting for the right, uh, challenge."
"Court!" The tension in the room suddenly elevated again.
"I'm only teasing you, honey," he said quickly. "Couldn't you please take pity on a basically peaceful, leisurely male who wants a peaceful, leisurely relationship with you?"
He looked so persuasively pleading that Leya almost forgot herself. Then her lower lip firmed.
"Everything you've told me so far only points up the fact that whatever attraction I hold for you is on the level of a ... a novelty," she whispered dejectedly. "I think my brother was right. When you get involved in a suitable challenge you like to win.
Somehow, in your mind I've become part of the challenge of Brandon Security, and you want to make sure I'm under your control. Are you afraid I'll try and turn my brother against you? Or use my shares to block your decisions?"
"That's got nothing to do with it!" he glowered. "How many times do I have to tell you this is strictly between you and me?"
"I might have believed you if my brother hadn't come out on the terrace when he did tonight. But hearing him describe you storming out of his office when you found out I wasn't showing up for the meeting and that—that awful remark about controlling women by taking them to bed! How do you expect me to believe you after hearing all that? It's clear you saw me as a thorn in your side. A woman you're determined to bring to heel the only way you know how. It's no use, Court, you're not going to talk me into bed!"
He set the teacup down on the end table with a warning clatter.
"You are a stubborn, illogical little shrew, and I've had it with trying to reason with you tonight!"
He was on his feet with an electric movement that was much too fast for a man who didn't believe in athletic endeavors.
Before she could safely set down her teacup and leap to her feet, he was reaching for her wrist and pulling her up in front of him.
"Let me go, Court. If you can't conduct a civilized conversation, then you may as well take me home!" With a regal tilt of her dark head, she indicated the door. "I'm sure you'll understand my stubborn, illogical reasons for wanting you to do so!"
The tortoiseshell eyes were alive with male purpose, and his hold tightened on her wrist.
"I'm not taking you anywhere except into my bedroom," he drawled. "If we can't communicate verbally, we'll rely on more primitive techniques!"
"Court, this has gone far enough," Leya declared forcefully, calling on her total reserve of willpower. "You've done nothing but manhandle me this evening and I've had it!"
"You're telling me!" he agreed with heavy mockery, ignoring her attempt to free her wrists. "You're determined to run me to a frazzle, aren't you?" he went on accusingly, his face very close to hers, his eyes sweeping over her parted lips. "I've told you time and again I'm not a terribly energetic man. Why do you do this to me?"
"You're the one who started it!" she gasped, infuriated and desperately trying to retain some semblance of self-control. "You insist on playing the heavy-handed male and then wonder why I object!"
"You force me into that role because you keep playing the part of the recalcitrant, willful female."
"You forget," she charged defiantly, "that's my main attraction for you! If I turned meek and willing, you'd probably lose interest immediately!"
"Is that why you behave this way?" he asked, as if understanding had just dawned.
"You're trying to hold my attention?" He looked very pleased.
"No!" she stormed, incensed that he had deliberately misunderstood her.
"Then why don't you try being meek and willing and see if that succeeds in getting rid of me?" he suggested helpfully.
"Because by the time I found out whether or not that would work it would be a trifle too late!"
"I've got news for you, honey," he retorted, stooping to swing her high into his arms. "It's already too late. Much too late."
"Court!" Leya was clamped tightly to his broad chest, and the heat of him threatened to burn her fingertips through the material of his shirt. "Put me down this instant! I will not be . . . be carried off for your amusement!"
"When you discover something amusing in all this," he told her encouragingly, striding toward the hall, "let me know. Personally, I'm not laughing."
"I'll never forgive you!" she tried valiantly as he rounded the corner with due caution for her head.
But already she could feel the excitement churning in her veins, almost swamping her with its intensity. She didn't want it to be like this, not with so much unresolved between them. But she couldn't deny to herself that she wanted him. She had wanted him since their meeting in Oregon. And she was very much afraid it was amounting to something much deeper and more dangerous. With feelings this chaotic, was love very far away?
"You already forgave me earlier this evening out on that terrace," he pointed out, kicking open the bedroom door with a careless foot. "You said we could take up where we left off in Oregon. This, in case you've forgotten, is where we left off!"
"Not quite!" she hissed as he tossed her down lightly onto a wide, low bed and flipped on the small lamp standing on the bedstand. "We were still getting to know each other. We weren't sleeping together!"
The room was as sleek and modem and neutrally colored as the rest of the condominium. Low-profile teak furniture and cream-colored carpeting and drapes were relieved by a suitably modern abstract painting hanging over the bed. The quilt on which she lay was a fat, fluffy goosedown affair that had probably cost a fortune.
Too bad it had been done in beige. A part of Leya insisted it would have looked much better in a vibrant red.
"We weren't sleeping together only because you hadn't gotten around to admitting you really wanted me," he drawled, baiting her with a caressing, knowing glance as he straightened. "But now that you've crossed that hurdle—"
"I never admitted that!" she almost screeched, nails digging into the quilt. At least not out loud, she added in silent justification.
"Yes, you did. I distinctly heard you tell Alex Harlow that you were in love with me and that you planned to marry me," he reminded her with deep satisfaction.
"That's the main reason I refrained from throwing him over the rail, you know. I decided you'd done a good enough job of punishing him for daring to kiss you."
"You beast! You know I only said that to get some revenge! I didn't mean it!" But how much of it had she meant? The words she had used so easily to revenge herself on Alex had come quite readily to her tongue. It was easy to say she was in love with Court. Too easy.
"You can say it again tonight, then," he told her agreeably. "And this time you can mean it!"
She watched, wide-eyed, as he began unbuttoning his shirt. The sight had a certain mesmerizing quality that caught at her senses. When he started on the cuffs, the shirt front now hanging open and reveahng the dark mat of hair on his chest, Leya finally summoned the will to move.
She flung herself without any warning to the far side of the bed. But fast as she was, Court was even faster, diving across the low, wide bed and snagging her around the waist before she could get to her feet.
"My God!" he breathed, aggrieved, "why didn't someone tell me taming shrews was such hard work? If this keeps up much longer, I'll need a rest cure!"
"Damn you!" Leya wailed as he hauled her down, pinning her beneath him and using his weight to crush her gently into the quilt. "Isn't there any way of making you see reason?"
"Stop fighting me," he whispered, his voice deepening as his gaze burned over her.
"I can be a very reasonable man. All I ask from you tonight is the truth, or at least a portion of it."
"What portion?" she hissed scathingly, already violently aware of the warmth and weight of him as it overwhelmed her senses.
"At least admit that you want me!"
His hands gently caught her wrists and pinned them on either side of her head, his mouth hovered an inch above her lips. Leya's breath was beginning to come more quickly as her nerves registered the impact of him.
"You mean give you the victory you want," she corrected dismally.
"Think of it any way you like," he rasped. "Just stop fighting me long enough to let me show you how good it will be between us!"
Leya watched him in the soft light, her eyes heated emeralds as the sensual tension deepened and vibrated all around them. A strange lethargy seemed to grip her limbs, strange because even though it made her feel weak, it also made her pulses pound in mounting excitement.
She did want him so, she acknowledged to herself, swallowing thickly. How could she deny it if he tried to force the confession from her with these tactics?
"You look very good lying across my bed, your dark hair on my quilt," he said quietly. "I want you so badly, my little Leya, and I know you want me. I saw it in your eyes that first night in Oregon."
He shifted slightly, raising himself far enough to finish peeling off the shirt and hurling it to the floor. Then he reached down and slipped off his shoes, still anchoring her carefully.
One of Leya's evening sandals had already fallen silently to the floor beside the bed.
Court pushed the
other one off her foot and then stretched out along her length again.
"Court, please don't do this," Leya began, uttering each word with great care. She knew she was trembling now, and she also knew the reaction wasn't one of fear or anger.
He held her wrists in one hand above her head, letting his fingertips trail sensuously down the length of her throat.
"After tonight," he muttered, "you will play your games with no one else. I told you once in Oregon that I will be a very possessive lover, my sweet Leya. I meant it. I'm going to make sure that you know the limits of the golden chains ..."
"Chains work both ways," she whispered, her nails curving into her palms.
Instinctively, she lowered her lashes, watching his face through them. "The one who attaches a chain must continue to hold on to the other end. He is as much a prisoner as the one he would control."
"Do you think I don't know that?" Court growled, eyes blazing with a lambent flame.
And then he was burying his lips in the scented place behind her ear.
Leya shivered again uncontrollably, and he abruptly released her hands, sensing her body's incipient capitulation with masculine certainty. Leya knew she was succumbing to the sensual power of the moment, knew she wanted him, perhaps even loved him. How did a woman resist the man she wanted when he let her know the full extent of his need as Court did now? How did a woman resist the man she was coming to love?
"Leya, Leya! Please don't deny me tonight," he begged. "Can't you see how I need you!"
She felt the passion in him as it mingled with her own, drawing them together in an elemental way that was nearly irresistible. It had been building throughout the evening, she knew, from the moment she had walked out of her bath to find him waiting for her.