Challenge Accepted - A Contemporary Romance (6 page)

"Did you countermand my orders to my crew?" Her words carne out crisply, cutting through the haze of warmth, the sizzle of en
ergy building up between them.

Colt's eyes narrowed, a considering expres
sion replacing his smile. ''I'm not sure what you mean,” he responded slowly.

"Did you or did you not give my men different orders from the ones I left this morning?"

"Are you upset about the compressor?" A mixture of disbelief and disgust gave the question its thrust.

"No," she snapped. ''I'm furious that you waltzed in here and challenged my authority with my own crew after you specifically agreed that I would direct the paint work."

"I did not challenge your authority," Colt replied, exasperation edging his tone. "All I did was offer a better compressor for the job."

"You did more than offer. You commanded.

Then, instead of my crew setting up the scaffolding, you had them work on one of your jobs. And you did it deliberately," Hayley stabbed the air with an indignant finger, "because Skip told you that my compressor is more than adequate."

"That compressor can't put out more than 2,500 psi. Mine holds pressure up to 3,500 psi
--"

Hayley interrupted him. "Which is too much. If you use more, you force water into the wood." She gulped in a breath, willing herself not to cry in her fury and disappoint
ment.

"And I only asked your guys to help out a few minutes to level the porte-cochere."

"It just doesn't occur to you that I know what I'm doing, does it?" she challenged. "From the very beginning, you've dismissed me as an airhead with nothing more than big dreams."

"I never thought you were an airhead," Colt denied vehemently. "And I didn't have the guys get my compressor to run some kind of power play on you." He shoved a frustrated hand through his hair. "Did it ever occur to you that I might have been trying to
help?"

"I don't need your kind of help." Her voice shook as she
fought a trembling weakness inside of her. Why wouldn't he understand? "You gave my crew orders that directly contradicted mine. And you knew it because Skip told you so."

Colt made a disgusted sound. "Hayley, Skip stutters every time he talks to me. The only thing I heard him say was something about your compressor being 'okay'. I thought the idiot was afraid he'd mess my compressor up."

"If you'd listen to us 'idiots' sometimes," she retorted, furiously, "you might actually get the picture."

"Oh, I'm getting the picture okay," he shot back, his ne
ck reddening. "And what I'm seeing is a woman who's so hung up on her independence and so insecure in her own abilities that she sees threats where they don't exist. "

Hayley jerked back as if she'd been slapped.

"How dare you," she breathed, her voice stunned. "You don't have any idea what threats I've had to conquer, how long and hard I've fought to get where I am."

"Maybe I don't," said Colt, his voice flat now. "But I'm damned tired of being cast as the villain. It's time you learned that no one can steal authority and respect from you. If you lose it, you do that on your own."

He half-turned and then swung back to face her. "And one more thing. I've taken it upon myself to report our progress to Mrs. Latham. I suppose that's taking your authority, too."

"You went to the president of the Preserva
tion Society without even telling me?" she demanded incredulously.

"Yes," replied Colt. "I picked up the phone and reported everything factually. Pretty damn subversive of me, wasn't it?"

She watched in angry disbelief as Colt turned and strode down the stairs.

CHAPTER SIX

Colt parked the Suburban at the curb in front of Palmer House and killed the purring engine. He stared into the dark night, his mind overloaded with frustration and self-reproach.

No way in hell was he going to sleep at this point, so he might as well check the day's progress. He'd intended to come by the house after his confrontation with Hayley, but it had taken all of the afternoon and most of the evening for him to calm down.

Colt got out of the Suburban, taking his flashlight but not turning it on, as he walked up the long cracked sidewalk. Palmer House stood silent and ghostlike in the moonlight, its gardens alive with night insects and the whispering breeze. Dodging the overgrown shrubs and rose bushes that encroached the walk, Colt paused by the gazebo.

Images of Hayley flooded his mind; the memory of her in his arms seduced him with the power of fantasy. If he let himself, he could remember the taste of her, the sweet scent of her skin. Colt turned, rolling his shoulders in an attempt to release the sudden tightness.

He couldn't seem to do a damn thing right--certainly not with Hayley. She had the attraction of a siren, her eyes mischievous and beckoning. Yet whenever he followed the prompting of his own powerful response, she danced away like a vision, maddening and ever-desirable.

Colt stopped in the shadow of a tall oak, studying the house, its gables and curlicues fanciful in the moonlight. From the crested rooftop to the wide, wrap-around veranda, it seemed like something out of a fantasy.

A sudden movement caught his eye. Colt frowned into the night, his gaze caught by the flurry of motion on the veranda.

Across the moon-drenched yard, he could see someone dancing. The woman twirled gracefully, her body half-hidden by shadows as she turned and swayed.

A nameless emotion stole the breath from Colt's lungs. As her steps carried her into a patch of light, Hayley was silhouetted against the pale backdrop of the house.

She cl
early thought herself alone, her supple, beautiful movement in harmony with a music only she heard. Colt stirred in the shadows, pulled toward her, yet hesitant to break the spell.

Her arms lifted as she arched her body, the tantalizing outline both erotic and innocent.

Sleek and slender, she spun, the unruly straight on her shoulders swaying with her movement.

Colt walked toward her as she twirled, her soft, low humming barely audible. Just as he reached the bottom of the veranda steps, she stopped, laughing to herself as she clutched the balustrade for support.

His faltering step sounded clearly in the night. Hayley swung around, her face startled and wary.

"Colt! What are you doing here?"

"Just checking on the day's progress. Not on you."

He climbed the steps, desire jumbled with a desperate ache in his chest. He stopped in front of her, unwillingly vulnerable and grate
ful that the darkness hid his expression.

"Hayley, what are
you
doing here so late?"

"I worked hard today . . ." she trailed off.

"So I was just-uh-dancing off a little tension. Sometimes I need to."

Colt smiled. "Don't you start. You've given me enough grief for one day."

An awkward silence settled between them, broken only by the distant yowl of a wandering cat. Colt tossed his flashlight from hand to hand, unsure of how to address the unfinished business from the morning.

"So you dance here often?" He injected a light note into his voice, still stirred by the sight of her.

Hayley chuckled, no self-consciousness apparent in her face. "Not always here. Sometimes I dance in the gazebo. I'm working up the nerve to dance in the tower."

"Please." He clutched h
is chest in a gesture only half mocking. "Spare me the heart attack. I think we should make a rule that you only go on flat roofs."

"A rule?" She cocked her head to look at him. "On the basis of one tiny problem?"

Colt snorted. "Watching over you is enough to give a guy nightmares."

"I never asked you to watch over me." Her voice sounded strained.

Colt searched for words to shift the mood.

Arguing with Hayley wasn't his most attractive option at this point.

''I'm sorry I stepped on your toes with the crew," he finally offered. "I truly never intended to upset you."

Hayley's head dipped as she bent to stare at the floor. "Apology accepted." She glanced up, her chin raised. "As long as it doesn't happen again."

He lifted both hands in a gesture of agreement. "Never, ever, will I assume the authority to speak to the paint crew without consulting you first."

"Thank you." Her voice was wry.

Leaning back against the corner balustrade that faced her, Colt studied Hayley in the dim light. "Tell me," he asked, "why is being independent so important to you?"

She held his gaze for a moment before looking away with a deep sigh. "You must be in the mood for a long story."

"I think it's a story I need to know," he said.

She looked at him wistfully. "I guess you have to know my background to really under
stand." She paused. "My mother died when I was six. I'm an only child and my father happens to be a very wealthy man."

Colt looked at her sympathetically. "Losing your mother so young mu
st have been terrible."

She glanced at him, a sad smile lighting her face. "It's something we have in common. Los
ing a parent at a young age."

"There's a big difference between eighteen and six," he commented, sympathy piercing his heart for a frightened little girl without a mother.

"There is," Hayley agreed, "but loss is painful at any age."

"Particularly when you're an only child of a busy father," Colt put in. That one phone call from Henry Haslett had left an indelible impression. How well did the man really know his daughter?

Hayley laughed, the sound hollow. "My father was never too busy to direct my life. He hired a nanny, but he managed to supervise her, and me, very closely. Everything was mapped out-my education, my upbringing, my hobbies-and my future. I was actually a debutante." She flashed him a brilliant smile.

"He'd even come up with a selection of suit
able husbands. Men with fast-paced careers who had proper, socially prominent families."

"How thoughtful of him," Colt said. "That way you didn't have to bother finding one yourself." Had she ever wanted to marry one of those stuffed shirts?

"I didn't have to bother doing much at all. I was just supposed to follow the rules and smile a lot."

"You must have given him hell," Colt ven
tured, unable to see Hayley meekly submitting to being forced into a frothy debutante's dress. Heck, had he ever even seen her in a dress?

Hayley shook her head sadly. "I wasn't re
bellious at all. How could I be? My father loved me. Everything he did was for my benefit. He told me over and over that I was all he had, that we had to stick together."

Colt frowned. "There's a limit to how much a parent can expect."

"Is there?" She scooted off the railing and drifted across the veranda to lean against the wall. "I guess my father never heard that."

"But you figured it out," said Colt. "You're here, doing what you want instead of being somebody's society wife."

Another sigh slipped out of her, a whisper of relief. "Yes, I finally rebelled. I can safely say that my life now is nothing like my father planned.

"It's amazing, though. You think that freedom will feel so ... free. But some ties are hard to break. I'm here, doing what I want, and I know my father is hurt and upset." Hayley walked over, leaned next to him and stared out at the dark garden. "I couldn't even explain it to him. One day he went on a business trip, and I just moved out. It was selfish of me, but I couldn't look him in the face and explain. He wouldn't have accepted my going."

"So you just left?"

Hayley heard the faint note of censure in his question. "Yes, I just left. I called a week later and gave my address to the house
keeper."

"You love your dad." It was a statement of fact. Colt's eyes held hers as if he were daring her to deny it.

"Yes, but he suffocates me. I can't breathe around him. He doesn't hear me, doesn't really
know
me." Hayley smiled at him wryly. ''I'm not sure he'd like me if he did know me.

"Yes, he would," Colt disagreed flatly.

She glanced at him, conscious of his nearness, the solid warmth of his body. He seemed so strong, so sure of himself.

"Tell me something." He broke the silence. "Have you ever been married?" Colt's eyes darkened when he turned to look at her.

Hayley hesitated, distracted from his question by the smoldering expression on his face, the tension that seemed to hum through his body. She swallowed. “No. I got engaged, but I didn't go through with it. That was partly why I left home."

An uncontrollable impulse to lose herself to him, to surrender to his
touch, nearly over-whelmed her.

He seemed so close
....

Somewhere in the shrubbery, night crea
tures scuffled, their scurrying making crackling sounds in the brush.

"Do you ever see him?"

"See who?" Hayley's mouth felt dry, her brain sluggish.

"Your former fiancé," Colt said sardonically.

"Sometimes." Hayley looked down. "We're still friends."

"You're friends with everyone, aren't you?" His murmur tugged her attention back up to his face.

"I like being friendly." The inanity slipped out as her gaze locked with his.

''I've noticed." Colt reached out, his hand brushing back her hair. "But I don't want to be just your friend."

Hayley's breath caught in her throat as he drew nearer. His lips settled on hers, seducing her with his heat. She leaned into him, her body taking over as if knowing she was too confused to handle the decision.

Colt drew her into his arms. His kiss was direct and open, no pretense, no holding back. Just as he lived, he kissed her without apology-and with strength and passion.

The night closed them in, dark and alive, sheltering and drenched with the scents of the garden. She remembered the smell of him, the masculine fragrance of his skin.

Her arms slid around his waist as she opened to his plundering. Yet she wasn't afraid. He felt so right, the heat of his body wrapped around her.

Colt's lips trailed down her neck, his hand tunneling beneath her hair. The callused skin of his fingers brushed against her sensitive neck. Hayley murmured something in her throat, her hands clutching his shoulders for support.

Without thought, her hands traveled up to circle his neck, brushing through the coarse texture of the hair at his nape. She squirmed against him, needing him closer. He seemed to understand, coming back to her mouth for a deep, erotic kiss.

Energy crackled between them, a mindless submerging of touch. Hayley felt alight with need, drawn to the honesty of his passion, the hunger in him that went deeper than desire.

He cupped her breast, his touch potent through the thin silk of her bra. His lips brushed hers as his thumb brushed the tight kernel of her nipple. Hayley moaned and arched into his hand.

Aflame with his touch, her fingers laced through his thick hair, holding him for the fierceness of her kiss. She met him with longing of her own, a passionate fury. This was no maidenly embrace, submissive and receptive. She tantalized him with her lips, nipping, drawing him in.

Colt groaned, his hand tightening around her breast. With one powerful move, he scooted her up onto the balustrade, his free hand steadying her at the small of her back. The thin knit of her shirt conducted the heat of his touch, but she longed for bare skin, the sweep of his hand over her naked body.

Around them, night sounds echoed faintly, the rustle of wind through the shrubbery. The scent of orange blossoms trailed the breeze, sweet, intense and heady.

He wedged himself between her open legs, the hardness of his erection firm against the apex of her thighs. Hayley moaned, wiggling closer, her breath coming in short pants as her head fell back. Colt lifted her shirt, bend
ing with a rough growl to smooth the tender upper slope of her breast.

Her clothes felt confining, abrasive against her inflamed skin. Her whole body was alight with desire, pulsating and aching. She arched as he bent to suckle her breast through the lace of her bra. Her fingers tugged his shirt free, sliding beneath to coast over his warm, taut skin.

Colt trailed more kisses along her neck as he unhooked her bra, freeing her to his touch. Leaning down, he drew her nipple into his mouth, the hot wetness of his tongue making her cry out, sending her spiraling into a vortex of need. Hayley writhed, imprisoned between his hand at her back and the sweet heaven of his mouth on her breast.

His mouth was ravenous, teasing her tender
ness with an instinct that inflamed the ache in her body.