But the thought of admitting her love for a man who had made it clear he only felt desire was another assault on her pride. Court was right. That pride was a factor in the situation, a very big factor. Was she going to be too arrogant to confess her love for a man who had shown her the weakness he could create in her?
But Court had found a way around the necessary words, she remembered as she walked back into the bedroom brushing her long dark hair. She stood silently for a moment, staring at the dangerous green box.
* * *
It was fun tasting the various products of the vintner's efforts and selecting bottles to purchase and take home. They argued good-naturedly over the merits of Chardonnays and Cabernets, bought cheese and sourdough bread, and picnicked at a scenic point overlooking acres of neatly trimmed vineyards. True, it was a little chilly to eat in the open, but there was something cozy and intimate about dropping crumbs on Court's leather upholstery.
They talked about wine, electronics, jewelry making, and business, everything, in short, except the state of their strange relationship. It was a very pleasant day, one of those days when Court felt "safe" to Leya,
They took the organized tour offered by one of the larger establishments, exploring the huge cellars and delighting in the tangy scent of fermenting wine. Once, as the main party of tourists passed momentarily out of sight behind a huge redwood vat, Court reached out and dragged Leya close for a quick, hard kiss that took her breath away for an instant.
"Couldn't resist," he explained matter-of-factly when she blinked her surprise.
But later that night after an evening spent dining and dancing at an elegant restaurant secluded in the vineyards, Leya felt compelled to take Court's hand as he was aboutjo leave her with grave politeness on her doorstep.
"Wait," she said impulsively. "There's something I want to show you."
He arched an eyebrow in inquiry, but said nothing as he followed her into the house.
Without a word, she led him firmly toward the stairs and knew by the sudden tightening of his hand what he was thinking.
"No," she said, slanting a mischievous smile up at his suddenly urgent eyes. "We're making a right at the top of the stairs, not a left."
Left was the direction of her bedroom. She felt the humor in him as she determinedly guided him right and threw open a door at the end of the hall.
He shot her a quick look and then whistled soundlessly as he walked past her into the functionally designed interior.
"Quite a setup." He nodded approvingly as he scanned the workbench.
Leya relaxed slightly at his obvious appreciation of her jewelry workshop. She watched in anticipation as Court bent over the assortment of fine tools and delicate apparatus. Little glass boxes filled with thin wire, earring clips, and other odds and ends lined one end of the table. A collection of polished rocks was housed near it.
Sheets of hammered metal were stacked nearby.
He smiled at her across the short distance separating them. "I can see you getting lost in here for hours at a time." He picked up one of the small tools lying on the end of the counter.
"It's a hobby," she said offhandedly, not wanting to fully admit just how much she was enjoying his interest.
"Why did you show me your secret hideout tonight?" he murmured deeply, setting down the tiny tool and walking slowly forward to stand in front of her.
"I don't know," she whispered honestly. "Perhaps because it was such a lovely day
..."
"And perhaps because you instinctively wanted to show me how much we really do have in common?" he mused, cupping her face gently between his hands.
"I... I'm not sure why I did it. It was an impulse," she shrugged.
"Do you realize why today felt so good?"
"Why?"
"Because it felt like Oregon again," he told her softly.
Leya hesitated, knowing he was right.
"And I'm going to do my damnedest to create a lot more days just like this one,"
Court swore, bending to kiss her in a sweet, drugging way that made her want to bury herself in his arms.
But he didn't give her the chance. His leavetaking was warm, filled with sensual tension, but very restrained.
Exactly like the leavetaking of the next several nights, Leya thought in wry amusement as the week progressed. Court had established a truce, she had allowed him to do so, and he intended to maintain it.
The planning for the new branch of Brandon Books went beautifully during those days, with everything seeming to faU satisfyingly into place. And the nights were filled with a fairytale prince who was all grace and charm and restrained desire.
Leya knew she was being wooed, and she also knew Court was intending for the romance to have a thoroughly definite goal. But he carefully said nothing about that goal. It was only when she slipped dreamily into bed at night, and glanced at her nightstand to see if the green box was still there, that Leya allowed herself to remember the ending Court wanted.
It was over a dinner of curried lamb and green salad, which Leya had fixed on Sunday night, that Court made his announcement.
"I'm going to have to go back to the Valley tomorrow for a few days to wind up matters on a project I was finishing before I moved here," he said calmly.
"San Jose? Silicon Valley?"
"Right. I should be back in time for that party your brother is giving Friday night.
You'll be there?"
"I hadn't heard about it," Leya shrugged, accustomed to her brother's offhand invitations. He would probably have called her the day of the party to invite her.
"But you'll be going?" Court persisted, helping himself to more chutney.
"Probably. Why?"
"Because I'll know where to come looking for you when I get back into town, won't I?" he grinned. "I'd pick you up but I don't know what time I'll be back so I'll volunteer to drive you home, instead. That's always the more interesting part of the evening, anyway!"
Leya bared her teeth good-naturedly at him from across the table and he laughed.
* * *
"Are you sure you're not calling just to check up on my whereabouts?" she accused cheerfully on Tuesday night.
"Am I displaying a lack of subtlety again?" he sighed.
"A bit, but that's all right. Your phone calls are much better than television."
"Thanks!"
He told her how his work was going, asked about hers, and somehow it was nearly an hour before he hung up.
The green box was waiting in its usual place on the nightstand when Leya went to bed that night. She lay very still in the darkness for a long time, staring at it and remembering the warmth in Court's voice on the telephone.
She crawled back out of bed and reached for the extension phone. Deliberately, she dialed Cynthia's number.
"Cynthia, I have a personal question to ask you," Leya began carefully.
"At this hour of the night?"
"Does it hurt very much to have your ears pierced?"
There was a moment of dead silence on the other end of the line. "Are you serious?"
Cynthia finally demanded, sounding as if she were smothering a laugh.
"Very."
"Going to do it?" Cynthia prodded.
"I... I think so."
"Tomorrow?"
"If I put it off any longer, I may never bring myself to do it!" Leya confessed.
"Okay, boss, tomorrow it is. There's a department store across from the store that does it free if you buy the earrings from them. I'll go with you and hold your hand."
"I've . . . I've already got the earrings," Leya said slowly, having regrets already. The commitment she was contemplating seemed very final. But something told her Court was strong enough to handle it. She smiled to herself at the thought. She
trusted
him to be able to handle it. She
trusted
him to know what he wanted, and he had told her he wanted her.
"Well, you can buy some more cheap ones from them, or I will, so we can get them to do the ear-piercing free," Cynthia said cheerfully.
"Thanks, Cynthia, for volunteering to go with me, I mean. But you haven't answered my question. Is it going to hurt?"
"Bring a bottle of wine down to the shop with you, Leya," Cynthia advised and hung up the phone.
The next day turned out to be one of those inexplicable workdays that is an absolute rush from the opening hour in the morning until closing. Leya and Cynthia, who came in at noon as scheduled, were swamped.
It wasn't until Cynthia finally was able to turn the "closed" sign over in the window that Leya was able to talk to her about the earrings. Wordlessly, she handed the paper bag containing the unopened bottle of wine to her assistant.
"Do you mind telling me," Cynthia asked, taking the wine from Leya's grasp and carrying it to the back of the shop where she dug out two paper cups, "what brought on this momentous decision? I thought you had a thing about the ridiculousness of piercing one's ears!"
"Cynthia, I think I've gone crazy. This will probably be like getting a tattoo. I'll wake up in the morning and regret it!"
"No, you won't," Cynthia assured her, laughing as she opened the wine and poured it into the paper cups. "You're going to love being able to wear delicate little earrings.
And it will be much more comfortable. No clips to pinch your ears. With your love of jewelry, I'm surprised you haven't done it sooner! Here, take a nice, big swallow."
Leya took the offered cup and did as she was bid. "Are we going to down the whole bottle before we troop over to the jewelry counter at the department store?" she asked interestedly, her eyes lighting with humor.
"Nope. Some for now, some for after. That's the way I did it. Let's see these earrings you've got that have made you take this big step."
Leya silently drew forth the green velvet box and handed it to her friend.
"Ah!" Cynthia breathed a moment later. "I understand. They're beautiful, Leya. A gift from Court?"
"Yes." Leya bit her lip and took another sip of wine.
"He knew what he was doing. They match your eyes perfectly."
Leya peered over to look at the emeralds. "Do you really think so?" She found it oddly touching that Court had thought of her eyes when he'd made the purchase.
"Definitely. It can't be a coincidence. These stones were very carefully picked out,"
Cynthia declared with assurance, handing back the earrings. She searched Leya's face. "You're in love with him, aren't you?"
"Like I said, I think I've gone a little crazy."
"Same thing. Have another glass of wine and we'll get the bloody deed done!"
"Cynthia!"
Friday morning, Keith remembered to invite Leya to his party.
"Can you come?" he demanded cheerfully of his sister. "Court will be there if he gets back into town on time."
"Is that supposed to be a lure?" she joked.
"Naturally. I figure you two will probably be panting to see each other after his absence, but I'm hoping you'll both come to the party."
"You don't think we're a little too old for your crowd?" Leya asked mockingly.
"Not since I moved into the staid business establishment. I figure the pair of you will fit in nicely."
"Poor little brother. Miss your disco floors?"
"Not since I discovered women go for that aura of power we businessmen have!"
Leya hung up the phone with a rude crash, her fingers going absently to her earlobes as they frequently did now.
There was no point in worrying about it at this juncture, she told herself later that evening as she dressed for Keith's party. The decision had been made; the deed done. It remained only to try and carry off the official signing of the peace treaty with a certain amount of style and panache. And if Court Tremayne had an ounce of common sense, she added grimly, he wouldn't tease her about it. She wouldn't be responsible for her actions if he dared to mock her!
She chose the emerald-green dress deliberately, liking the way it went with the earrings that blazed like small green stars in her ears. Cynthia had been right about one thing: Leya did like the more delicate nature of pierced earrings. It opened up all sorts of new design possibilities, she decided, glancing in the mirror yet again. She still couldn't get used to the sight of them, though, or what this particular pair of earrings represented.
She told herself at first that the last-minute decision to wear her hair down was a whim and then admitted the truth. The long, dark tresses cascading past her ears and over her shoulders provided a shield for the emerald earrings. With a small forward motion of her head, they could be hidden entirely, at least until another small motion, such as turning her head, caused the hair to fall back.
On the drive across town to her brother's apartment, it occurred to her that there was no absolute guarantee Court would be able to get back in time for the party, although he'd seemed convinced he would. It would serve her right, she told herself as her humor surfaced, if she'd gone to all this trouble and then had no grand scene to play!
That thought and the excitement radiating through her veins put a glow in the silver-green eyes that could only be compared to the tiny emeralds in her ears as she knocked on the door of her brother's elegant town-house apartment.
"The lady in green!" Keith grinned, opening the door an instant later and shepherding her inside. "You look quite ravishing tonight, sister dear. Can I guess why you're imitating an emerald?"
"A little too much green?" Leya groaned, glancing down the length of her long skirt.