Challenge Accepted - A Contemporary Romance (3 page)

Of course, it was none of her concern what kind of man he was on a personal level. Their only contact was business. Colton Granger had his goals and she had hers. Someone had to be the loser.

CHAPTER THREE

"So," Colt said, slapping his hand on a window sill, "let's talk about how we're going to tackle this beauty."

Hayley shook herself out of her reverie.

"I think we ought to split up the jobs," he declared matter-of-factly. "You take the decorative stuff and I'll handle the functional things. Roof, plumbing, wiring."

"Now wait just a minute!" Hayley jammed her hands on her hips. He was giving her the "decorative" jobs? He couldn't be serious.

Colt looked at her in surprise.

''I'm fully capable of handling all the re
pairs to this house, functional as well as decorative!"

"We're not talking about capability," he said. "It's a matter of sheer physical strength. Can you see yourself digging for the sewer line or repairing the roof?"

"I've done both," she snapped, pushing away the memory of standing in a driving rainstorm, knee-deep in muck.

"The decorative reconstruction is more than half the job on a house like this." Colt's tone shifted in an obvious attempt to soothe her. "The painting alone is a major undertak
ing. I'm not just giving you the girl jobs."

"I resent the implication," she shot back, "that all I'm fit for is choosing wallpaper while you big, strong men take care of the important stuff"

"Come on, Hayley-" He raked a hand through his hair.

"I want the roof," she demanded impul
sively, a sane part of her mind shrieking,
What are you saying?

"The roof? Why? What are you trying to prove?"

"Nothing, I happen to like roofs," she lied, deliberately not mentioning her lifelong fear of heights. "And I want you to know that even though it suits me to work with you on this one house, I'm going after the contract for the rest of them. And I'm planning on handling them by myself."

"I know that," he bit out. "But I'm still not letting you do the roof. Do you have any idea how steep it is? Even my roofing crew isn't looking forward to it."

"I can handle it," she declared rashly.

"No. If you want to prove something, go do it on someone else's job. I'm not risking the liability of you breaking your neck."

"I am not your responsibility," Hayley yelled, a tremble of frustration and anger running through her. What was it about her that brought out the protectiveness in men?

"The roof isn't a negotiable item, Hayley," he replied, unshaken by her display of tem
per. "My men are starting on the plumbing repairs and the rewiring first thing tomorrow. We'll get to the roof by the end of the week. "

Hayley took a deep breath and held it long enough to count to three. "If this is your idea of our working together, maybe we need to reconsider the whole project. You aren't the foreman here and, as far as I'm concerned, everything is negotiable."

She held his gaze for a long moment, the blood rushing in her ears as it always did when she had to handle a confrontation. Not waiting for his response, Hayley turned and left the bedroom.

*

"Granger?" the unfamiliar voice barked through the phone line. "Henry Haslett here."

Colt straightened in his desk chair. He'd only met Hayley's father that once and the of
fice complex he'd subcontracted on for the man was finished more than a year ago. Why would he be calling now?

"Nice to hear from you, sir," he offered, curious.

"I understand you're involved in a little project with my daughter." The older man's voice buzzed with an aggressive energy.

"Yes. We're involved in a restoration ven
ture. "

"I heard this is a multiple-house deal. She's a spunky kid." Haslett paused. "But she's not a businesswoman. More creative like her mother, God rest her soul."

Not knowing what to reply to that, Colt waited. From what he knew of Hayley, he tended to agree with her father's assessment, but saying so felt like a betrayal.

"Oh, she's sharp as a tack," Haslett contin
ued. "But she's never really been out in the world. She's too good-natured, sees the best in people, but doesn't know how to deal with the rough and tumble of business."

Colt made a noncommittal murmur in re
ply. As far as her father knew, Colt was a stranger to Hayley, and yet, he sat here discussing her as if she was a child and they were the adults.

"She's a real sweet girl." The older man's voice shifted meaningfully. "I'd hate for any
one to take advantage of her."

"I can understand that, sir," Colt said. "But Hayley strikes me as an intelligent woman. She's not exactly a pushover." That was an un
derstatement. He could still see the determination in her eyes when she'd thrown the ultimatum in his face at the house.

"Hayley's as green as they come," her fa
ther shot back grimly. "And I don't want her getting burned in this little decorating business she's started."

"Restoration," Colt corrected. "She's doing restoration."

"Whatever. It's strictly small change, but it keeps her occupied."

For a brief moment, Colt felt a flare of an
ger. Hayley might be a little on the flaky side, but there was no doubt she would throw herself completely and passionately into her work.

"I don't think you have anything to worry about, Mr. Haslett."

Henry laughed a full, deep sound that rang with self-satisfaction. ''I'm glad to hear that, son. You have a good reputation, but a father gets into the habit of looking after his only chick. "

"That must be a hard habit to change," Colt commented, not that Haslett seemed to be trying.

"Yeah," Henry agreed. "Listen, son. It's nice touching base with you. We need to work together again sometime."

Colt hung up the phone a moment later, nagged by the impression that Haslett had just appointed him baby sitter. Making enemies was never a good idea in business, but kissing up wasn't his style either.

Haslett's phone call hadn't changed his intentions toward Hayley one bit. Colt still wanted her, and he planned on winning the contract. But he felt as if Hayley's father had violated her privacy and given him a glimpse of something too personal.

So maybe he
would
let her do the roof. She wasn't a fool, after all, and it didn't need that much work.

*

The unseasonable rain fell in warm sheets, solid and heavy all around the gazebo. Hayley leaned back against the cushioned seat, drawing the cool dampness into her lungs. In
Southern California, water from heaven was a rarity. Later, the hills would turn golden brown and stay that way. But today, the sky opened and drenched the garden of the Palmer House with a soft, warm thunder of rain.

Through the shifting downpour, the house looked almost ghostly. Hayley had arrived first, setting pots beneath a half a dozen leaks. Alone in the house, surrounded by the cur
tains of rain, she had felt isolated but the feeling was somehow pleasant.

She had dashed exultantly through the rain to the gazebo, her small portfolio clutched close to her chest and her full, cotton skirt heavy with the damp.

All around her, roses bloomed, their old-fashioned scents heightened by the steady rain.

Hayley tucked her bare legs beneath the full spill of her skirt and shoved her wildly curling hair off her neck. The air seemed to cling to her skin like a lover, the damp coolness almost a physical caress against arms and neck bared by her camisole top.

With a sigh, she opened the portfolio and took out some of her drawings. She'd come to the gazebo to work and had been seduced into inactivity by her senses.

Footsteps sounded on the paved walk.

Hayley glanced up, an electric tingle startling her out of her concentration.

Through the shifting downpour, Colt mate
rialized. In
a wind-breaker and jeans, he seemed unaffected by the weather. Drops of water glistened on his tanned face as his gaze roved over her.

"Nice day for a walk," she greeted him, feeling impudent and reckless. She'd taken a risk with her ultimatum, challenging him and risking everything she wanted. Being coura
geous enough to do so had left her feeling invincible.

A reluctant smile glimmered in his eyes.

"Nice if you're a fish," he agreed, mounting the gazebo's shallow stone steps. As he unzipped his light jacket, his glance fell on the photographs and sketches on the seat next to her.

Tossing his jacket over a railing, he squatted down in front of the bench and shifted the drawings to examine her work.

"This is a good idea," he commented after a moment. "I wouldn't have thought to use black and white photos to create line drawings. But it gives you a great idea of tone."

"Thanks," Hayley said, squelching down an unseemly satisfaction at his praise. "This way I can tryout different color schemes for the exterior paint. I think the complexity of the spindles and trim calls for four to seven different colors, and the drawings let me play with unusual looks. I've never done a house with that many shades and I don't want to screw it up."

"Don't lose faith in yourself now," he teased. "You're the woman who can restore this house single-handed. Remember?"

Hayley felt her chin come up and knew there was a militant gleam in her eye.

"I've come back to the negotiating table with a counter offer," Colt said, rocking back on his heels as he crouched before the gazebo seat. "I'll concede you the roof repairs with two conditions."

Triumph flared to life in Hayley and she felt a smile curling her lips. "If it'll make it easier for you to concede,
I'll consider your conditions."

Colt smiled appreciatively, the twinkle in his eye deepening. "It'll definitely make me feel better. First off, I want your promise that you'll be very careful on the roof-
-"

Hayley sat back in disgust and cast her gaze to the ceiling
of the gazebo. "I am fairly intelligent, Colt."

"No question about that," he agreed. "But I'm used to looking out for the people I work with. It's habit by now. Can you just humor me on this?"

She sighed. "Okay, you have my promise to be careful, but it's still ridiculous."

"Good." Colt straightened and scooped her drawings off t
he seat. "There's one other condition." He settled onto the bench next to her. "I want my crew to help with the painting."

"What?" Hayley shifted on the seat, his nearness almost as startling as his suggestion.

He held up a hand to hold off her protest.

"You can direct the show, pick the colors, and all that. You're obviously a professional, but I want my men to have the experience of help
ing with the actual work."

With him sitting so close, the scent of his aftershave, faint and tangy, drifted to her. Hayley struggled not to look at him, knowing how easily she could drown in his laughing eyes. Instead, she focused on his hands, dark and strong against the sketches he still held.

"Let me get this straight. You want me to conduct on-the-job training for my competitor's workers?" she asked dryly.

"Yeah," he laughed. "Pretty clever, huh?"

"Positively devious," she replied, though without any heat in her tone. She had to admit though that the plan had benefits for her as well. The painstaking work of preparing the house and actually painting it was a mammoth job. With help from Colt's crew, the work would go faster. She hadn't been looking forward to trying to find painters capable of assisting her small, dedicated painting team.

"So, what do you say?"

"Okay, I'll agree to that, but only if you really let me direct it," she cautioned.

"No problem." Colt leaned back against the seat, resting h
is arm on the gazebo railing behind her.

In the shadowy light, his expression seemed deceptively lazy. He looked very much like a jungle cat considering his prey.

Hayley lifted her eyebrow and considered taking offense. But she could hardly take him to task for the expression he wore. And here with him, in the soft spring rain, she didn't exactly feel like fighting.

It would have been wiser to fight than to do what she wanted with Colt. Every feminine part of her shrieked to respond to the signals he sent. She looked into his face and saw de
sire, a sensuality that went far beyond interest. His presence struck up a clamoring in her chest, an instantaneous urge to respond.

Hayley wasn't inexperienced with men, but she'd never b
efore felt such ambivalent reactions to a man. How could she want to snarl at him and melt into his arms, all at the same time?

She had to get a grip. "I forgot to tell you," she said. "I found something yesterday, when I spent some time in the attic-
-"

"Sounds like fun," he commented, prop
ping a foot on the bench beside her.

"Attics are always fun. It amazes me that people manage to leave so many things be
hind them when they move out of a house. Sometimes, they leave wonderful stuff."