Stormy Challenge (20 page)

"Is it still the 'challenge' thing, Court? Do you still have to take me to bed to prove something to yourself? There's nothing left to win! I removed the prize when I gave the shares to my brother. The game is over."

"The game isn't over until you admit you belong to me!" he gritted, his hand tightening vengefully around his glass as his temper clearly frayed. "And you do belong to me, Leya Brandon. I've seen it in those silver-green eyes since the first night I took you in my arms on the dance floor! The problem all along has been to get you to admit it!"

"You're so damn sure of yourself!" she snapped in sudden fury.

"I'm staking my hope of future peace of mind on the fact that you're going to belong to me, yes!"

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? It would satisfy that monstrous ego of yours to have me admit that!"

"It would certainly go a long way toward soothing it," he agreed bleakly, obviously making an effort to rein in his impatience. There were grimly etched lines around his mouth, and the determination in him was palpable.

You could tell just by looking at the man that he never gave up once he'd accepted a challenge, Leya thought miserably. She should have known giving away the stock wouldn't solve everything. No, she decided, something had changed.

He'd decided he wanted her and he was going to have her. But at least he wanted her now for herself, not as a way to buy himself into Brandon Security!

"If you thought I was prepared to throw myself into your bed the moment you showed any interest in me after I'd given away the stock, you were on the wrong track," she told him bitterly. But at least she was no longer a challenge directly connected with Brandon Security!

"For a couple of basically intelligent people, we're having a lot of trouble lately with words, aren't we?" he shot back.

"What do you suggest?"

"I suggest," he told her with sudden gentleness, his eyes gleaming, "that you let me make everything much easier for you."

"How?" she began suspiciously. "I'm not going to go to bed with you in an attempt to 'communicate'!"

"I've known all along that part of the problem is your pride," he said soothingly.

"I've known it because you're a lot like me. Given the same set of circumstances, I'd have had a few problems along that line myself."

Leya felt like a pet rabbit being stroked by a wolf. "Very generous of you," she told him dryly.

"But I think you were trying to accomplish something important today by giving your stock to Keith. I think you were asking me to show you that my interest in you extends beyond the business. And I'm quite prepared to do that."

"You're going to be understanding about my pride problem?" she mocked warily.

"Definitely." He smiled, eyes crinkling beguilingly. "I've got a way to get around all the words."

"Ah! You're going to try and get me into bed without them after all!" she nodded wisely.

"It may come to that, but I'm going to try something else first."

Leya licked her lower lip with a short, quick stab of her tongue as she considered him cautiously. "Now what are you up to, Court Tremayne?"

"Intrigued, are you?" he chuckled, half-turning in his chair to dig into a coat pocket.

"That gives me a decided advantage, you realize."

He removed a small jeweler's box from his coat and swiveled back around to face her. The green velvet box rested on the palm of his hand as he held it out to her.

"A ring?" she asked disbelievingly, her untrusting eyes going from the proffered gift to his glittering gaze,

"No, not a ring. A ring is easy to slip on and off. In our case this will represent a more binding commitment, I think." He made no move to force the gift into her hand, merely holding it out to her with a waiting quality in his expression.

The atmosphere grew very still and dangerous. Leya couldn't take her eyes off the small green box, in spite of the sensation of menace. He was right. She was intrigued now. Not a ring? Of course not. That would have been too much to hope for. Court wasn't asking her to marry him.

"Come on, Leya," he coaxed on a note of amusement. "Take a risk."

She frowned and reached out to pluck the box from his hand. Her imagination was working overtime, she chided herself. There was no danger here.

"Open it," he prodded gently.

Surprised at the degree of boldness it took, Leya snapped open the green velvet lid and gave a small exclamation at the beautifully worked emerald earrings inside. Her knowledgeable eye admired the delicate craftsmanship and the quality of the stones before she had a chance to really think about it.

"They're . . . they're lovely, Court," she finally managed, a trifle breathlessly. "But I can't accept a gift like this. We're not... that is, I mean, we aren't. . ." She stumbled to a halt, staring at the earrings as if mesmerized.

"Leya, I once asked you how I would know when you'd forgiven me for what happened in Oregon. If you wear those earrings, I'll have my answer."

Leya glanced uncertainly up from the contents of the box. "But, Court, they're for pierced ears. I can't wear them," she hedged, feeling quite flustered.

"You can if you want to badly enough," he pointed out, the corner of his mouth lifting faintly.

"I... I suppose I could reset them onto a clip," she began, thoroughly unnerved. "I mean, assuming I do want us to start over . . . which I do, Court, you must know that!" she ended in a sudden burst of honesty.

"I'm not talking about starting over, honey," he said, voice deepening. "I'm talking about making a commitment. If you want me as the man in your life, the man you trust and want, you'll wear those earrings as they were meant to be worn."

She met his eyes in sudden understanding. "That's supposed to be the easy

'nonverbal' way out of my, er, situation?" she gasped, shocked.

He sucked in his breath, eyes gleaming as he reached out to cover one of her hands with his own. "Leya, I've known from the start that I had nothing with which to attract and hold you except myself. You don't need financial security, you're not consumed by loneliness, you're not a naturally clinging vine. You don't need or want any of the things the women I've known usually want. Like a fool I tried to forge a physical bond between us, hoping that would chain you to me. The night you told me you could give me everything but your trust I realized that chain would never be sufficient, either."

"Court, I ..." she floundered, not knowing what to say. Was he trying to tell her he loved her or only desired her? Whichever it was, there was no doubt but that he still wanted her surrender!

"I know you feel cornered," he went on deliberately, his fingertips stroking the back of her wrist in lazy circles. "But so do I. My instincts tell me to grab you and take you to bed. My intellect tells me that would probably ruin everything. I don't know how to break the impasse unless you'll tell me for certain that you can trust me and that someday you might be able to love me. I want a commitment from you, Leya, so that I can know for sure you're willing to put the past behind us."

"What sort of commitment are you going to offer in return, Court?" she whispered, knowing she was trembling.

"Anything you want, Leya," he told her evenly. "Name it."

His eyes drilled into her, waiting for her response. She tensed, her hand trembled under his. He feit it and closed his own fingers more tightly around hers.

"Honey, I'm not asking for an immediate answer. Think about it," he urged. Then his mouth relaxed slightly. "And think about how much easier it will be to show me how you feel rather than having to say the words!"

"Should I be reading 'surrender' for the word 'commitment'?" she asked pointedly.

He hesitated and Leya nodded grimly.

"I thought so. You're still thinking in those terms, aren't you, Court?"

He shut his eyes and then opened them to gaze fully into her accusing stare. "I need to know you're mine, Leya. I need to know your commitment to me is total. Perhaps that is asking for a surrender."

"Perhaps!"

"All right, then, it is asking for a surrender. But I've already said you can ask anything of me in return!"

"You want me that badly?" she whispered.

"I want you that badly."

And then he was calmly getting to his feet, shaking off the mood that had settled around the little cocktail table. "Ready for dinner?"

"Court, listen to me. About these earrings . . ."

"They're yours, Leya. Do with them what you want, but if you decide to wear them I'm going to take it as an act of... surrender. The end of hostilities." He smiled gently, taking her arm and leading her toward the dining room. "That's enough on that subject. Come have dinner with me and let me tell you about my hard day!"

"Court, this is ridiculous! I will not let you do this to me!"

"Feed you? But your brother assures me the steaks here are fantastic and I have a hunger for some blood-red meat!"

"I'm surprised you don't ruin your own appetite with comments like that!"

But she wound up having dinner with him, as she had known she would from the beginning of the evening. Actually, she reflected at one point as she chewed rare steak, it wasn't an unpleasant meal. Court talked only of casual things, making no mention of what lay between them like live ammunition. And, as she had been before, Leya was gradually absorbed back under the spell of the companionship that sprang up between them on occasions when they were not discussing their own relationship.

"About next Saturday," he said at one point, helping himself to the rest of her baked potato, which she showed signs of leaving. "I was thinking that a drive into the wine country might be nice."

"Over to Napa Valley? Well, I suppose . . ."

"I know you've probably done it a thousand times, living so close and all, but I haven't ever done the winery tour," he said persuasively.

"All right," she said, discovering she didn't want to argue. "We'll go."

He left her on her doorstep after dinner, his goodnight kiss a restrained, gentlemanly caress that astonished Leya. She stood at the window and watched him drive off into the night, conscious of the green velvet box burning a hole in her jacket pocket.

When the taillights had disappeared, she dropped the curtain into place and headed morosely toward the kitchen.

Why was it, she thought sadly as she checked the back door and turned off lights, that of all the men she had met, it was Court Tremayne who had the power to make her feel this way? Jangled, uncertain, filled with longing.

Snagging an unfinished novel from the coffee table, she climbed the stairs to her bedroom. She set the deceptively innocent green box on the nightstand and crawled under the covers a few minutes later.

But it was impossible to concentrate on the novel. Her gaze kept straying to the green box, and twice she picked it up to gaze at the emerald earrings inside. They truly were lovely things, she thought with a sigh. If she were to accept, what would she ask of Court in return? What did a man mean when he said "anything"?

When she finally struggled awake the next morning after a fitful night, the green box was the first thing she saw as she opened her eyes. It stood on the nightstand where she had left it, taunting and teasing and daring her. It was certainly a reflection of the man who had given it to her, she thought with a groan, pushing back the quilt.

And the fact that she was even considering getting her ears pierced told her a great deal about her present state of mind, Leya decided grimly.

Because it was a perfectly ridiculous thing to do! What could it possibly prove? She had to be in love to even consider such a thing!

But perhaps, just as she'd needed some proof that Court's interest in her extended beyond Brandon Security, he needed a symbolic commitment from her.

The thought made her catch her breath. Was Court really so unsure of her? He always seemed so confident, so much in control. Yet here he was asking her to do something as ridiculous as getting her ears pierced just to seal their relationship.

The little box continued to haunt her. Court's request was crazy, yet hadn't she behaved just as crazily when she'd grandly turned over her shares in Brandon to her brother?

Only a woman in love would take such a situation seriously, Leya told herself wryly several times a day. Only a woman in love . . .

She
was
in love. Why go on denying it to herself? She was not a coward, either. She could admit the truth, she decided staunchly. And the next move, silly as it was, was definitely up to her! She would have to take the risk of making a commitment or face the much graver risk of losing Court.

By Saturday morning, she had resigned herself to that fact, knew it with a sureness that defied argument. She had been in love since the weekend in Oregon.

And she knew that, compared to her feelings for Alex Harlow, this sensation was unique.

As she stepped out of a warm shower and rubbed herself briskly with the red towel, Leya. acknowledged that there was no comparison between her feelings for Court and what she had experienced for a boy like Alex. Court was a man and he touched her elemental femininity in a way Alex never could have done. It was easy to take revenge on Alex. It had become impossible to exact it from Court.

Yet he was sure that she had done exactly that by denying him her trust, Leya reflected.as she slowly dressed in jeans and a bright red top. But who had she been punishing with her refusal to say she trusted him?

Could it be that the punishment had been self-inflicted? She had been more angry at herself than him that morning when she had discovered the deception. Angry at her failure to see through the scheme; angry at her apparent stupidity.

She had told Court the truth when she said she hadn't plotted revenge. Instead she had kept telling herself she didn't trust him because she had wanted to keep the reminder of her lack of intelligence firmly fixed in front of her. She hadn't wanted to admit another man had made a fool of her.

He had created a weakness in her that she didn't relish acknowledging, even to herself. That night on the terrace when he'd backed up her revenge against Alex, she'd found herself wanting to abandon her defenses against Court. She'd been on the verge of accepting his offer of a truce when her brother had appeared on the scene and reminded her of the weakness in herself.