Stormy Challenge

  She followed him toward the kitchen, her eyes roving curiously over the dinner preparations. Two very thick steaks waited on a grill and a variety of lettuces had been torn into a glass bowl. A pile of scrubbed mushrooms waited in a frying pan.

  “You really have nothing to fear tonight,” he told her, deftly removing the cork and reaching for two long-stemmed glasses.

  “No?”

  “No. But I think you know that or you wouldn’t have come. Admit you had to trust me a little in order to risk accepting the invitation this evening!” he challenged.

  “Oh, I think you’re busy regrouping your forces, trying to plan your strategy. I figure I’m safe enough until you decide how you’re going to make your next move!” she told him with a deliberately teasing smile as she accepted the wine.

  He caught the smile and his eyes returned it. “You’re such a stubborn little thing,” he sighed. “What am I going to have to do to make you stop fighting me?”

  “Stop seeing me as a challenge,” she retorted instantly. “Who knows what might happen if you simply saw me as a woman without any connection to Keith Brandon and Brandon Security.”

  Court quietly helped himself to a hot pepper from the snack plate. He learned back in the tan chair, relaxing visibly as if having gotten her this far he could afford to do so. He was wearing a khaki cotton shirt and close-fitting slacks. The masculine essence of him struck at her senses as it always did, making her fingers tingle to touch him.

  “How can I ever make you believe I want you for purely personal reasons?” he asked a little grimly.

  “I’ve never doubted your reasons were personal,” she got out with a blitheness she was far from feeling.

  He groaned and set down his wineglass with a small clatter. “I think we’d better find a more neutral topic.” He got to his feet and reached for her hand. “Come here, Leya.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “The bedroom,” he told her with relish.

  “The hell we are!”

  “The other bedroom,” he clarified, relenting. “You showed me something of yourself today and I mean to return the favor.”

  Curious, she allowed herself to be guided toward the second bedroom of the condominium. He threw open the door with an expectant glance down at her face.

  “You asked me once what I did when I wasn’t working. Well, this is part of what I do.”

  “A ham radio?” Leya walked forward and surveyed the sleek transceiver and related equipment arranged on a long table.

  “I got into it when I was a kid and I’ve never managed to kick the habit,” he confessed, watching her closely.

  “I’ve always wondered what people talk about on these things,” she said, turning to him with a quick smile. “I mean when they’re not using them in emergency situations.”

  “I’m afraid the conversations tend to be fairly similar. The weather, radio equipment, and things like that. After all, the important thing is making the contact. I’ve talked to people in Japan and Eastern Europe. There’s something fascinating about communicating with other hams so far away.”

  “Fascinating? Or challenging?”

  “Leya, my sweet, if you’re not awfully careful I’m going to withhold your steak tonight and feed you hamburger, instead!”

  “I’ll behave!” she promised instantly, laughing up at him as she lifted the stack of QSL cards and started flipping through them. “What are these?”

  “Cards from people I’ve talked to documenting the contact. When I get the card, I enter each communication in that logbook over there.”

  “Well, I must admit, I prefer the idea of you industriously bent over your radio in the evenings to the picture of you industriously bent over a blonde!” she teased lightly, setting down the stack of cards.

  “Meaning you wouldn’t be jealous of the ham radio?” he inquired interestedly.

  “If you’re trying to make me admit I’d be jealous over the blondes…”

  “No,” he said quickly, brushing aside the statement. “I’m serious about the radio.”

  She frowned, not understanding. “Why on earth would anyone be jealous over a radio?”

  “You’d be surprised,” he said dryly.

  “You spend a lot of time talking to blondes over the radio?” she taunted.

  “Of course not. But I have been known to spend a lot of time on the equipment itself. Sometimes when I get started I can’t walk away from it for hours. I’ve found that women aren’t always so understanding about that kind of, er, involvement.”

  Leya laughed with sudden comprehension. “Sounds like me in my jewelry shop. Once I get going, I often can’t quit until the current project is finished.”

  “Somehow,” he said softly, “I had a feeling you’d understand.”

  Their eyes met in a curiously charged moment of mutual perception and strange recognition. Leya felt the tension around them and had to force herself to break it before it grew to dangerous proportions.

  “I’m getting hungry,” she said lightly, moving toward the door.

  He stepped back to let her pass. “What a coincidence. So am I.” He turned on his heel. “Let’s get those steaks ready.”

  As if those few moments in the “ham shack” had initiated a truce both wanted to maintain, the conversation during dinner slipped back into the easy camaraderie that had existed in Oregon. In its own way, Leya realized belatedly, it was every bit as seductive as Court’s outright lovemaking.

  “How are you finding things at Brandon Security?” she asked politely, helping to clear the table and stack dishes in the sink. Neither suggested being so rash as to actually wash the plates and utensils.

  “Challenging,” Court retorted dryly, grinning at her as he carried in the last of the dishes from the dining-room table.

  “I think I’m going to learn to hate that word,” Leya complained, wiping her hands on a towel.

  “Join the crowd,” he invited succinctly.

  “Seriously, Court, are things very bad?”

  “You mean with the company or with me?”

  “Court!”

  “Okay,” he said placatingly, his eyes laughing at her. “No, things aren’t that disastrous, but there’s going to be a hell of a lot of work involved during the next two years. Your father hadn’t kept the manufacturing line updated.”

  “I thought he had started pouring a lot of money into that. There certainly wasn’t much left when he died except the business.”

  “He’d made a start but a lot more needs to be done. And the research and development end of things has also gone downhill. It’s a competitive market, security devices; a viable company has to consider research as important as manufacturing and marketing. The sales staff looks fairly decent, and your brother’s commitment is total. Given that, things will work out, but it will take some basic reorganization and some rough priority setting.”

  “And the hope that the crime situation stays sufficiently unpleasant in the United States to produce a strong consumer demand for Brandon’s products,” Leya remarked wryly.

  “Unfortunately, there doesn’t appear to be any danger of a lessening in demand. One of the first things I’m going to do when I move into your house is harden it.”

  “Who says you’re going to be moving in!” Leya exclaimed, whirling to confront him. “And what do you mean by hardening it?”

  “Sorry, slip of the tongue,” he apologized meekly while Leya glared at him suspiciously. “As for hardening it, I meant make it more secure. The locks on your doors and windows would be child’s play to someone seriously interested in entering illegally.”

  “You mean as you did that day you were waiting for me when I came out of the bathroom?” she reminded him irritably as they ambled into the living room and settled with equal lethargy back into their chairs.

  “I didn’t consider that a case of illegal entry,” he murmured coolly, the gold in his eyes shimmering with memory. “I was coming to pick you up for a da
te, as I recall.”

  “This conversation is turning unsubtle. I can always tell when your patience is wearing thin, Court. You start losing your subtle approach,” Leya declared, frowning into the fire, her arms resting along the curving back of the chair.

  “That’s a pity,” he drawled, watching her profile. “I meant tonight to be very subtle, indeed. Why don’t you come over here and let me show you?”

  She turned her head at the wistful tone in his words and met his eyes.

  “Show me what, Court?” she breathed, feeling the sensual tug of unseen golden chains.

  “How subtle I can be,” he replied softly, eyes warming with a heat that communicated itself to her. He didn’t move, but it was as if he were reaching out to her, drawing on the ends of the chains. “Remember how it was in Oregon, honey? No force, no demands except the ones you, yourself, create. You have my word. I won’t even come and get you. I’ll let you do everything on your own.”

  Nine

  Unable to deny the restlessness his words and eyes elicited, Leya got to her feet, resolutely crossing to the fire. She didn’t hear him get to his feet behind her, but she knew he was there, only inches away. He could have put his hands around her waist and drawn her back against him, but he didn’t.

  “Do you know how badly I want to make love to you, Leya?” he asked in a voice that had turned faintly raspy with desire.

  She felt the flutter along her spine and stood very still, her eyes focused on the flames in front of her. “I thought you wanted the words first, Court. I thought you wanted to know how much I trust you,” she said quite distinctly, knowing that if he put out his hand she would tremble beneath the touch. He probably knew it, too. Every time he touched her, she seemed to have less and less resistance, Leya thought dazedly.

  “Can’t you give me the words, Leya?” he begged a little thickly, lowering his head to drop the tiniest of shivering kisses on the back of her neck.

  Leya flinched, as she had known she would, but she couldn’t bring herself to step away from the implicit danger.

  “And hand you your victory on a silver platter?” she asked, sensing his arousal and the control he was exerting over himself. It touched a chord of excitement deep in her body, emboldened her in some strange fashion.

  “It’s not a question of victory or challenge,” he whispered, once again touching his lips to her nape. She knew he must have sensed her inner tremor. “When you realize that, you’ll realize you’re only hurting both of us by being so stubborn.”

  His hands went to her waist, settling there lightly, with no compulsion. Slowly, she turned within the circle of the embrace and met his eyes with a searching gaze.

  “Am I hurting you, Court?”

  “You’re driving me crazy!” he gritted before taking her lips in the most feather-light of kisses. “And, yes, it hurts!”

  Of their own accord, Leya’s arms wrapped themselves around his neck, her body urging a closer contact with this man who could inflame her senses so easily. It would be safe tonight, she told herself silently. He wouldn’t dare risk forcing her beyond the limits she wanted to set. He wouldn’t want to jeopardize the future victory. Would he?

  But he was leading her on again, his mouth persuasive, coaxing, cajoling, but not demanding. As she had the night at the inn, Leya felt herself responding to the safe lovemaking he seemed to promise.

  Her body inclined toward his and she felt his hands slide down the length of her spine, seeking the intimate feel of her. He stood braced, his feet slightly apart and gently urged her hips against his lower body, inviting her into his warmth.

  She groaned against his mouth and parted her lips, luring him into the sensual investigation he sought.

  “Leya!”

  Her name was a husky whisper as she moved against him and his hands tightened perceptibly. She moved her head, seeking the tanned column of his throat and felt him tremble as she scorched kisses down to the opening of his khaki shirt.

  She loved this, she realized dimly. She loved the feel of him, she loved his response…

  “You really are intending to drive me crazy, aren’t you?” he growled, his fingers digging erotically into the curve of her derriére.

  “And if I am?” she taunted, alive with the scent and feel of him.

  “I’ll just have to endure the punishment, won’t I?” he mocked gently.

  He moved, taking a step backward and sinking into the sofa, pulling her into a gentle sprawl on top of him.

  She met his eyes, saw the deep male need there and responded to it. Slowly, she bent her head and kissed him, drawing out the teasing, provocative caress until she felt him shudder beneath her.

  His hands held her more tightly against him, his legs stretched out so that she lay between them. Her own inner urgency grew as she began to explore the warm skin that disappeared beneath the collar of his shirt, and she was so engrossed with undoing the first button she encountered that she was hardly aware of it when his hands slid under the material of her yellow blouse.

  Then, quite suddenly, his fingers were circling her breasts, seeking the sensitized nipples, and she knew he had undone the clasp of her bra. The electric shock of his touch brought her temporarily back to reality.

  “Court, I don’t—”

  “Hush, Leya,” he breathed, his fingers sliding under the small, full weight of her breasts while his thumbs probed the tips. “This is the way it was meant to be between us. We’ve both known that from the beginning.”

  “Court, I won’t let you push me into bed!” she cried softly, almost beseechingly.

  “Are you sure about that?” he half-smiled, some of his natural arrogance seeping through to alarm her.

  “Some victory that would be!” she taunted desperately, knowing the precariousness of her situation now.

  “What makes you think you’d be unwilling?” he charged roughly, eyes glittering as he raked her features. His fingers moved again on her breasts, and when she trembled in response, satisfaction flared in his gaze.

  “You might succeed in forcing a response,” she conceded, knowing it was useless to protest that fact. “But that wouldn’t give you the victory you’d have if I were to admit I trusted you again, would it? I think you like your challenges completely conquered, Court Tremayne, not just partially!”

  Something dangerous flickered through him, communicating itself to her body, and she suddenly sensed the deep masculine instinct that wanted to have done with the taunts and defiance.

  “For a woman who’s intent on not offering me a challenge, you seem very good at throwing down the gauntlet,” he finally rasped warningly. “What would you do if I chose to pick it up?”

  His hands closed like steel bands around her waist, holding her immobile.

  “What are you talking about?” she demanded, feeling the prickle of fear.

  “What if I decided not to wait for the words and simply took what was offered? And it was offered, Leya,” he reminded her with a touch of savagery. “Two nights ago you were more than willing! Perhaps I should have carried matters a little further. Another few minutes and you might have been willing to say anything I wanted you to say!”

  “Well, I certainly didn’t have to worry about that happening, did I?” she flung back, incensed. “You made it very clear that the only way you want me is the way most flattering to your ego! You were in a rage last night when you drove me home. I think you would have cheerfully thrown me out the door if you hadn’t felt somehow obliged to take me back home!”

  “Did that bother you, sweetheart?” he breathed, some of the impatience in him fading. “Did it hurt your ego to know I could call a halt, get dressed, and take you home?”

  “I don’t know what dazzling conclusion you think you’ve reached about my behavior,” she began furiously, not liking the direction the conversation was taking.

  “Did you think last night was easy on me?” he soothed, reaching up to toy with her dark braid as he smiled with affectionate
amusement. “Don’t you know how hard it was to take you home last night? Don’t you know how I spent the remainder of the night staring at the ceiling of my room and thinking about how good you had felt in my arms? About the softness of your breasts and the way your nipples flower under my fingers like buds bursting into bloom? Don’t you think I was in misery remembering the invitation in your eyes, the feel of your legs alongside mine?”

  “Court!” she squeaked, turning several deepening shades of red at his totally unexpected verbal lovemaking. His eyes poured gold over her.

  “Oh, I suffered last night, if that’s what’s worrying you,” he assured her softly. “I wanted very badly to slip golden chains around you and listen to you make the sweet sounds of love.”

  “But you didn’t want me badly enough to take me on my terms. You wanted a full surrender first!” she retorted accusingly.

  “Maybe,” he husked, cupping her face between rough palms and pulling her head down to his. “Maybe I do want to feel more certain of you. Is that so very strange?”

  “Feeling certain of someone is not the same thing as…as demanding a complete surrender!”

  “In our case,” he said quite steadily as he dragged her mouth down onto his, “I think it might be!”

  He swamped her now with the force of his passion, unleashing all the uncompromising desire he had been holding in check. She felt the rising need in him and wanted to cry out. But her lips were captive to his.

  He shifted his weight with a strong movement that reversed their positions on the sofa. In an instant he was covering her, letting her know the full weight of him as he began undoing the buttons of the yellow blouse.

  “Court, no!”

  “What’s the matter, Leya?” he murmured into her throat as his hands once more claimed her breasts. “You have no need to fight me this time. I won’t demand a confession of undying love and trust from you tonight!”

  Pushing aside the fabric of the blouse, he bent his head to curl his tongue around the peak of her breast. Leya shuddered, her hands clenching in the thickness of his hair.

  “Please! I don’t want us to…”