But it wasn't only the passion she remembered, it was the humor they had shared and the conversation and the walks on the beach. It all added up to a very dangerous package, and if she had half the brains she credited herself with, she would tell Keith everything and demand they unite to fire the man!
Well, she decided as she slowly got to her feet and made her way into the cozy bedroom with its huge brass bed, she would have a small breather in which to think about what she wanted to do.
* * *
The towel wrapped around her torso and tucked in just above her breast, she pulled a brush through the unbound deep-brown hair until it fell in a rich mass down her back. She would rebraid it when she had dressed. Maybe she would twine through her hair the beaded metal ribbon she had completed last week, she thought, opening the door of the warm, steamy bath and stepping into her bedroom.
A scream rose in her throat even as she recognized the large male figure standing by the window. She barely stifled it, her hand going to her mouth in classic shock.
Immediate fear was replaced at once by unadulterated outrage.
"Court! What the hell do you think you're doing in my bedroom! How dare you?"
She clutched automatically at the fastening of the towel but her mind was churning with too much anger to be overly cautious at that point.
He turned, gold-misted eyes sweeping the length of her figure encased only in the towel and coming to rest on the flaming silver-green gaze. Something stirred in his expression. Something primitive and masculine and dangerous. But he smiled. And that smile made Leya more wary than anything else he might have done.
"I came to take you to the party," he said simply, not moving.
"The party," she repeated stupidly. "But . . ."
"I know we had a date for dinner, but I'm agreeable to a change of plans.
Fortunately, your brother filled me in on the change, though. Otherwise there might have been a most unfortunate misunderstanding between us." Still he didn't move, watching her with his hands clasped casually behind his back. Leya had the impression he did that to keep from reaching for her throat.
"I never said I would go out with you this evening," she started aggressively. Going on the offense was the only thing she could think to do under the circumstances.
Perhaps she could bluff him.
"You allowed me to believe you were accepting my invitation and you know it," he returned coolly.
"You assume far too much!"
"Because I want you so much," he countered. "Although at the moment I might find it more satisfying to beat you than make love to you!"
"How did you get in here?" she shot back suspiciously, her mouth hardening with hostility. "The front door was locked. I know it was locked!"
"Ah, but not with a Brandon Security Systems lock," he murmured. "You really should use the family brand, Leya. It's very good, and living alone in a big house like this you should take every precaution!"
"This is the first time in two years I've had any reason to worry!"
"Are you worried, little Leya? If so, then I commend your intelligence."
"Are you resorting to threats, Court?" she demanded boldly.
"I told you once I prefer the easiest, least taxing methods."
"Get out of here!" she hissed violently.
He moved abruptly, starting toward her with long, lean strides that ate up the distance between them before she could get back into the bathroom and lock the door. Her hand was on the knob behind her when his fingers closed on her bare shoulder.
He jerked her toward him, bringing her close against his long-sleeved yellow shirt and dark brown slacks. He wasn't wearing a necktie, and the open collar revealed the tanned line of his throat and the beginnings of crisp, curling chest hair.
"Stop it!" Leya clutched frantically at the towel's insecure fastening, which was threatening to come undone under the violent treatment it was receiving.
He grasped both of her wrists and puiied them around behind his back, forcing her head to tip up and her eyes to meet his.
"The only way you're going to keep that towel in place," he pointed out with drawling amusement, "is to stand very close to me. The fact that it's still between us is your best hope right now."
"Take your hands off me," she snarled, knowing herself physically helpless and hating the sensation. "You're behaving like a ... a ..." Words failed her.
"Like something besides a gentleman?" he suggested almost mildly, eyes gleaming as he forced her close. "But you have only yourself to blame for that, don't you? A
lady
who makes plans to break a date shouldn't expect too chivalrous a response from the man involved!"
"I've told you, I never agreed to go out with you tonight! You ordered me to do so, but for your information, that is not considered the same as an invitation!"
"Details," he growled softly, lowering his head to touch her forehead and then her cheekbones with his lips. "But I'm willing to let bygones be bygones. Unlike some people I know! Show me you're sorry and I'll show you how lenient I can be. Come on, Leya, a pretty little apology." he coaxed with mocking charm as he feathered her face with more and more warm, tiny kisses. Kisses that beguiled and cajoled just as they had that night she had almost wound up in his bed, Leya reminded herself fiercely, as she tried to retain her basic good sense.
"Court, you've had your big scene," she muttered, aware of the heat in her body and terribly afraid he must know of it also. She had so little on that she was literally unable to clothe her reactions. "Please get out of here and let me get dressed!"
"But I like you wearing only a towel," he whispered deeply, his teeth nibbling at her ear and the sensitive area behind it. "You seem much less formidable this way, do you know that? And the softness of your hair is an invitation to any man, especially one who happens to be in your bedroom."
"Please!" she almost begged, acutely aware of her body's rising tide of response.
How could she let this—this
liar
take advantage of her? What was wrong with her?
But she had been thinking of him all day, and it was as if his sudden and totally unexpected presence in her room was the result of her overactive imagination. As if she had somehow conjured him up out of thin air from the sheer force of her thoughts!
She heard his muffled groan and knew his own body _ was leaping into hard, demanding alertness. It called to her on a nonverbal level, seeking her, wanting to bury itself in her warmth. The gentle, teasing quality of the kisses changed gradually, deepening into the heavy, drugging, seductive caresses that had left her so helpless on the beach the previous morning.
"You can't hide from me, honey," he grated, his mouth sliding moistly, burningly along her cheek to cover her hps in a plundering, arousing kiss that shook off the last of the gentle cajolery and bared the uncompromising male desire beneath.
"I know you want me. It's only your silly female pride standing in the way," he murmured against her bruised lips. "But I've apologized for that business with the contract. Forgive me for that and I'll forgive you for trying to sneak out tonight!"
"It's not that simple, damn you," she wailed, her lashes moving restlessly against her cheeks as she felt the throbbing in her stomach.
"Yes, it is," he countered throatily. "It's as simple as getting rid of the towel between us!" With that he moved against her, his chest crushing her breasts for an instant before he stepped back a couple of inches.
The red towel gave up the battle and slipped soundlessly to the floor at their feet.
"No!" Leya whimpered, and then her words were swallowed up as he forced his tongue deeply into her
mouth and his arms released hers to encircle her still-damp, nude body.
It was getting worse, she thought frantically while she could still think at all. Every time he held her she was less able to resist, less able to deny him. She felt the firm thrust of his strong thighs as he lowered his hands the length of her back and arched her hips into him. His fingers snarled themselves in the long ends of her hair and used the leverage to force her head back further so that his mouth could explore her throat.
"God, Leya!" he swore, his lips branding her, "I love the feel of you. I could get lost in your body. So much passion waiting for me, so much pleasure, I've wanted you since I first saw you across the lobby at that inn! You're going to drive me crazy if you don't admit you want me, too!"
"But that's not enough!" she, gasped as his fingers dug into the soft flesh of her buttocks. A violent shiver rocked her.
"It's a damn good start!" he retorted, using his grip to force her into full awareness of his growing desire.
The unmistakable desire in him was a commanding, aggressive pull on the very core of her femininity. It stirred her loins and weakened her knees until she was clinging to him for support.
"Yes," he whispered in thick triumph as he felt her clasping hands move over his back. It was as if he were accepting a surrender she hadn't voiced aloud, and it shook her back to awareness as nothing else could have done in that moment.
"Let go of me, Court!" she ordered in a rough, shaking voice. "We're going to a party, not to bed!"
She struggled wildly, as much against the masculine triumph she perceived in him as against the force of her own desire. He was not going to make a complete fool out of her!
"Sweetheart, don't fight us both. You can't possibly win," he purred huskily in her ear, his hands gentling her spine. "It's going to be all right. Let me show you how good it's going to be between us. You can trust me . . ."
"About as far as I can throw you!" With a last, desperate push, Leya wrenched herself free and grabbed madly for the towel. She clutched it tight around her trembling body and backed slowly away from him. He followed her with his eyes but made no move to recapture his victim.
"You've got a lot of nerve telling me to trust you after what you did to me!" she blazed, sweeping one hand harshly through her disarrayed hair. "And now you've come sneaking into my house like a common thief!"
"You'd better hurry if we're to get there on time," he interrupted absently, glancing at the thin gold watch on his browned wrist.
"What?" she managed, taken aback. She eyed him in confusion. "If you think I'm really going to that party with you ..."
"You just said you were," he reminded her with deceptive casualness. A casualness that didn't hide the underlying steel. "You said we were going to a party and not to bed. You wouldn't think of backing out of a second date with me, now would you?"
"Court—!" Leya began wrathfully, a growing conviction that she was being manipulated eating into her bones.
"Get dressed, Leya, or I'll help you," he ordered calmly.
"The only thing you'll do is get out of my bedroom! Now!"
"Darling," he murmured in a tone of weary patience, "I'm trying very hard to tame my shrew with kindness and a degree of gentleness but if she doesn't learn the limits of how far she can push me that way, I'll be forced to try another technique. The choice is up to her. Which is it to be?"
"You're insufferable!"
"You're intoxicating. Even when you're scowling at me," he retorted smoothly.
"Fifteen minutes? I'll wait for you downstairs."
Leya stared at his broad back as he sauntered out of the room. Never in her entire life had a man ever told her she was intoxicating.
She deliberately stretched the fifteen minutes to twenty but didn't quite have the nerve to push it any farther. It wasn't that she was the least bit afraid of Court Tremayne, Leya reassured herself, it was just that he was a great deal larger than she was and he was currently blocking the only exits out of the house. And she had been intending to go to the party anyway.
With any luck, she told herself in renewed spirit as she descended the stairs a few minutes past the deadline, she would find some opportunity at the party to repay Court for his ill-treatment. At the very least, she would make certain she had another ride home. Keith would be there and he could be relied upon to provide transportation. Court Tremayne might be escorting her to the event but she didn't intend to allow him to bring her home!
The subject of her thoughts lifted his streaked brown head as she came toward him, tossing aside a magazine on gemstones as he got to his feet. He was smiling with that curious, proprietary smile of a man who thinks he has only to put out his hand and the prize will be his.
"More of your own hand-crafted jewelry?" he asked, his eyes going to the unusual chains at her neck, which nestled in the hollow of a high-standing oriental collar. The dress was a boldly marked sheath of red and gold.
She nodded curtly, stepping lightly aside to collect her shawl as his fingers reached out to touch the necklace. The small evasion served its purpose, but when she glanced at him again she could have sworn she surprised a strange degree of hurt in the tortoise-shell eyes. It was gone in an instant as bis hand dropped to his side.
"You can't avoid it forever, you know," he cautioned softly as he took her arm and started toward the door. He slanted a glance down at her profile, his eyes lingering on the dark braid. "Sooner or later you'll have to forgive me. Why not make it now?
Tonight?"
"Think how much easier that would be for you," she scoffed sweetly. "No need to exert yourself at all!"
He grinned wryly. "I knew you'd understand."
"Sorry, Court, you're not getting off that easily," she muttered waspishly.
"What are your terms?" he demanded cheerfully, opening the car door for her.
"I'm still drafting them,"
"Let's hope I don't entirely run out of patience before you decide how I'm supposed to make up for my misdeeds," he observed politely.