Stormy Challenge (4 page)

She felt his almost stoic resistance to the torment of her tongue and sought to overcome it. Her body twisted against; him, and her nails gently raked the side of his tanned cheek. She imagined herself in roles she'd never played: a femme fatale, a seductress, a siren.

The urgency in her grew, unchained now by any nagging, feminine fears. She was safe with this man. She could manage him. He was willing to let her set the pace . . .

"Give a woman a little taste of power ..." Court groaned hoarsely under her soft assault, and Leya felt the reckless laughter bubble up inside herself.

"I didn't notice you giving it to me," she husked. "I thought I was taking it!" She left off the intimate duel she had initiated with his tongue and went in search of new territory to conquer. She found it in the vulnerable tip of his ear lobe. Delicately, she closed her teeth on it and was rewarded by the shudder she felt in his hard, massive frame.

"Ummm," he growled softly, his hands moving on her back as he tightened his hold slightly. "For someone who's been busy refusing my invitations to bed, you're certainly turning into a little temptress all of a sudden!"

"That's because I've finally figured you out," Leya whispered exultantly, her breath coming quickly between her parted lips as she ran her hands over the front of his shirt and played with a button or two.

"And what's the big secret?" he challenged, eyes gleaming in the darkness.

"You're not nearly so wicked as you'd have me believe," she informed him, leaning her head back and

smiling at him with lazy invitation. "You said it, yourself. You're wearing the clothes of a gentleman tonight, and deep down you're going to behave like one."

"Ah," Court exclaimed as if seeing the light. "You're feeling quite safe with me now, is that it? None of the fears you almost admitted to earlier?"

"None."

"Not even a little nagging fear that you might just possibly be off in your judgment of me?" he persisted easily.

"Nope." Leya laughed very softly, her eyes glowing.

"Who am I to argue with a woman's reasoning and logic?" he murmured, lowering his head to nuzzle the cord of her throat.

"Who, indeed?" Leya quipped, wrapping her arms around his neck again and holding him close.

She plunged in where she had left off, glorying in each new response she was able to elicit from him. But with each shudder and groan and husky exclamation she drew forth from Court, there was an equally intense reaction in her own body.

The moment came when his large, powerful hand floated possessively upward to cup her breast, and instead of pushing it away as she had once thought to do, Leya made no protest. She was far too caught up in her own needs now. The wish to draw forth his male desires had unwittingly fed her own. She was aware of the touch of his fingers as they sought the nipple beneath the silky material of her dress, but her reaction was to arch against his hand, not push it aside.

"Oh!" she mouthed, feeling the tip of her breast harden. A shudder tore through her, and she shut her eyes against the dizzying weakness that assailed her frame. The thin lace of her bra offered no protection and through the two layers of fabric, Court's fingers stirred the other nipple to life with a coaxing, seductive pattern that sent ripples of pleasure along Leya's nerves.

Her soft moans were muffled against the side of his neck as Court kissed and then nipped the exposed portion of her shoulder. She felt the touch of his teeth and dug her nails into the fabric of his jacket.

And she never quite knew when the moment came that Court actually reversed the seductive assault, making her the one under attack. One moment, Leya felt herself marvelously, supremely in command of the situation, reveling in her power; the next, she was helplessly responding to the increasing urgency in his kiss and in his hands.

She was only dimly aware that Court had suddenly captured her shaking, questing fingers as they searched for a way beneath his shirt, holding her palm to his mouth and turning his lips into it for a second before smiling beguilingly, sensuously down into her passion-filled eyes.

"I think it's time we went upstairs, darling," he whispered huskily. "This is much too public a place for what comes next!"

"Next?" she repeated, feeling idiotic, but unable to think clearly.

"I'm going to make love to you, my sweet Leya, and I want the privacy of my own bed in which to do it!"

Somehow, he got her to her feet, absorbing the weight of her as she leaned heavily against him. With his arm supporting her around her waist, Court walked her wordlessly toward the stairs. When she turned her head to look up at him helplessly, he merely smiled with promise and undisguised desire.

Leya felt the stairs disappearing one by one beneath her feet, and a small voice in the most distant corner of her mind began yelling faintly that time was running out. Soon she would be on the landing and then in the hall outside his room . . .

How had it come to this? Leya shook her head slightly, partly in an attempt to clear it and partly in an attempt to understand what had gone wrong. She hadn't intended to go to his room tonight, she remembered that much very distinctly. No, she had kissed him because it had seemed eminently safe to kiss him. He had been restrained, gentlemanly. He had let her control the embrace, contenting himself with teasing, tantalizing caresses, which were unthreatening.

Court brought them to a halt outside his room, inserting his key into the lock, one arm still firmly around Leya.
Unthreatening,
she reminded herself grimly, as she raised her lashes to meet his eyes. The realization of what had happened hit her fully just as Court swung open the door and started to propel her gently into the room.

"No!" she breathed wryly, refusing to budge. "It's not going to be that easy, Court Gannon!"

"You mean," he soothed, swiveling to face her as she stood planted on the threshold, "it isn't going to be that easy for you to back out of it after having come this far."

"I didn't get this far on my own!" she flung back, her self-control returning in a fierce rush as the full precariousness of her situation hit her.

"No," he agreed, his mouth quirking upward. "You dragged me right along with you."

"Don't blame me for any wrong ideas you've gotten!" she declared regally, crossing her arms in front of herself and glaring at him. "All I started were a few kisses in the sitting room downstairs ..."

"Don't you think it's time you finished what you started?" he interrupted, stepping close and curling his hand around the nape of her neck.

"There seems to be some question here of just who was seducing whom!" she stormed, feeling abused.

"Yes, but I was hoping you wouldn't realize it until tomorrow morning," he complained sadly.

"You admit you planned everything that happened? Letting me think you were going to behave like a gentleman and then allowing me to ... to ..." Words failed her.

"To seduce yourself and me, too? Well, yes. It seemed a simple enough plan." He shrugged.

Leya stared at him, thoroughly amused and thoroughly annoyed by the rueful expression on Court's hard features. She bit her lip and then shook her head in exasperation and sudden affection.

"Oh, Court, you idiot," she murmured softly. "I can't possibly go to bed with a man I've only known two days! After this vacation is over, we'll both be going our separate ways. I couldn't bear a casual little affair like that, don't you see? If that's really all you want or need, it would be best if we part friends tonight..." Her voice trailed off beneath his glittering gaze. His mouth twisted in self-mockery.

"Do you really believe that?" he whispered, the fingers behind her neck tightening.

"Do you really believe all I'm after with you is a vacation fling?" He gave her the slightest of shakes.

"But, Court, what else can there be?" she exclaimed unhappily.

"As much as we want there to be, Leya," he said simply. "And speaking for myself, I want a great deal!"

"Oh, Court!"

"When you look at me like that," he muttered, "I have to believe you want there to be a great deal between us, too!"

Leya sucked in her breath, her eyes shining brighter than the gem at her throat. In the face of the emotions flaring between them, she could find nothing intelligible to say.

It was too soon to hope and too late not to do exactly that. In desperation, she resorted to a bit of poor humor.

"Court, this is all so sudden," she whispered on a gurgle of laughter.

A slow smile crossed his hard face, reaching his eyes, and he tugged her close against him, letting her bury her heated face in his jacket. For a long moment, he held her that way, saying nothing at all, and she was content.

Eventually he released her, setting her a foot away and retaining a firm clasp on her shoulders while he gazed perceptively down into her questioning face.

"But no more games, Leya. We're both too old for that sort of thing!" he said tersely, and she winced at the forcefulness in him. He meant it.

"Men seem to think anything that doesn't end in bed is a game!" she accused, making the same point, she realized, for the second time that evening.

"It is," he avowed at once.

"That's not true, Court!"

"It is for us," he said gently.

"I won't be rushed," she stated proudly, lifting her chin in automatic defiance.

"But that's exactly what I want to do," he retorted, his fingers digging almost painfully into her shoulders. "Rush you off your feet and into bed where I can make very, very sure of you."

She stepped back, out from underneath his hands, and eyed him with a mixture of speculation and longing. "You," she declared on a muffled groan, "need a good lesson in the evils of possessiveness!"

"I can't help the way I am." He refused to look apologetic. Instead, his tortoiseshell eyes seemed to be eating her.

She hesitated, feeling the undeniable pull on her senses and the equally undeniable instinct to flee while she still could. She knew she was in danger of falling in love with this man she had known so short a time, and she wanted desperately to believe he might be falling in love with her. But she must control the situation until they both were sure. With Court Gannon, she must play it safe, very, very safe ...

Summoning a smile, she faced him with an astonishing amount of composure, under the circumstances. "Goodnight, Court. I had a very"—she paused and the smile broadened—"informative evening. Shall I see you in the morning?"

For a moment, the line of his mouth hardened, and she wondered if she was going to be allowed to escape after all. Then, he inclined his head almost formally.

"I'll pick you up for breakfast."

"Thank you. Now, as I'm here, anyway, I may as well take my brother's contract,"

she continued with a determined lightness. It was difficult trying to dispel the physical tension he was purposely building between them, but Leya was not without a strong will of her own.

"It's over there on the table." He watched her walk across the room and pick up the papers, a thoughtful look creasing her brow as she scanned them once more.

"Oh, hell," Leya muttered in surrender. "Have you got a pen? I might as well sign these and put my brother out of his misery!"

Wordlessly, he handed her the pen and watched intently as she nipped the pages over to the one requiring signatures. Without giving herself time to think, Leya slashed her name onto the page with a casual dash that, in a feminine way, was not unlike the equally bold scrawl on the opposite side of the paper. She glanced at the man's name once more as she tossed down the pen.

"C. Tremayne," she repeated, straightening the document and folding it into thirds.

"I warn you, Court Gannon," she said with half a smile, "if that man ruins my brother's future, I'll come after you with a skinning knife!"

"You won't have far to look," he promised, a curious brightness in his eyes. "I intend to be somewhere in your vicinity!"

"You're very certain of him?" she asked quietly, the wry humor fading from her voice as she met his gaze.

"He'll deal honorably with your brother," Court stated grimly.

"Do you know anything else about him? I mean, besides his business ability?" Leya asked curiously.

"What do you want to know?" Court returned noncommittally.

Leya tapped the folded contract against her palm and considered that, eyes twinkling. "Well, is he married?"

"No. Would it matter?"

"I guess not. Merely curious."

"You know what curiosity did to the cat."

"Are you implying I shouldn't probe too deeply into C. Tremayne's personal life?"

Leya grinned impishly.

"He's a man," Court tossed back with deceptive casualness, retrieving the pen.

"Ah-ha! Meaning he's a womanizer?" Leya charged brightly, enjoying the new game, especially since Court seemed rather reluctant to play. "A heavy drinker? Lots of silly macho?"

"You have got it in for the poor guy, haven't you?" Court grumbled, slanting her a disgusted look.

She sighed regretfully. "I can see I'm not going to get a lot of juicy gossip out of you! Why do men always stick together?"

"Because we have so few defenses against the female of the species. Don't worry, Leya. Tremayne will take care of Brandon Security Systems and teach your brother what he needs to know." There was a mild pause as if something had only recently occurred to Court. "You don't seem overly concerned about what Tremayne's failure to honor the spirit of the contract would do to your share of the inheritance."

"I'm not," she said carelessly, truthfully. "I have no interest in Brandon Security. I don't even know why Dad left me a portion of the shares. He knew I had all I wanted in my bookshop."

"Totally self-sufficient?" There was an amused mockery in the question.

"Completely," she confirmed, lifting one brow in a faintly queuing glance. It was the truth. She had built the shop into a successful enterprise, and she had done it on her own.

"Your father probably left you an interest in the firm so that you could act as a guardian angel for your brother in precisely such a situation as this one. He must have known Keith was not yet fully capable of handling the business," Court suggested placatingly, as if making a faint attempt to atone for his remark about self-sufficiency.