“Court—!” Leya began wrathfully, a growing conviction that she was being manipulated eating into her bones.
“Get dressed, Leya, or I’ll help you,” he ordered calmly.
“The only thing you’ll do is get out of my bedroom! Now!”
“Darling,” he murmured in a tone of weary patience, “I’m trying very hard to tame my shrew with kindness and a degree of gentleness but if she doesn’t learn the limits of how far she can push me that way, I’ll be forced to try another technique. The choice is up to her. Which is it to be?”
“You’re insufferable!”
“You’re intoxicating. Even when you’re scowling at me,” he retorted smoothly. “Fifteen minutes? I’ll wait for you downstairs.”
Leya stared at his broad back as he sauntered out of the room. Never in her entire life had a man ever told her she was intoxicating.
She deliberately stretched the fifteen minutes to twenty but didn’t quite have the nerve to push it any farther. It wasn’t that she was the least bit afraid of Court Tremayne, Leya reassured herself, it was just that he was a great deal larger than she was and he was currently blocking the only exits out of the house. And she had been intending to go to the party anyway.
With any luck, she told herself in renewed spirit as she descended the stairs a few minutes past the deadline, she would find some opportunity at the party to repay Court for his ill-treatment. At the very least, she would make certain she had another ride home. Keith would be there and he could be relied upon to provide transportation. Court Tremayne might be escorting her to the event but she didn’t intend to allow him to bring her home!
The subject of her thoughts lifted his streaked brown head as she came toward him, tossing aside a magazine on gemstones as he got to his feet. He was smiling with that curious, proprietary smile of a man who thinks he has only to put out his hand and the prize will be his.
“More of your own hand-crafted jewelry?” he asked, his eyes going to the unusual chains at her neck, which nestled in the hollow of a high-standing oriental collar. The dress was a boldly marked sheath of red and gold.
She nodded curtly, stepping lightly aside to collect her shawl as his fingers reached out to touch the necklace. The small evasion served its purpose, but when she glanced at him again she could have sworn she surprised a strange degree of hurt in the tortoiseshell eyes. It was gone in an instant as his hand dropped to his side.
“You can’t avoid it forever, you know,” he cautioned softly as he took her arm and started toward the door. He slanted a glance down at her profile, his eyes lingering on the dark braid. “Sooner or later you’ll have to forgive me. Why not make it now? Tonight?”
“Think how much easier that would be for you,” she scoffed sweetly. “No need to exert yourself at all!”
He grinned wryly. “I knew you’d understand.”
“Sorry, Court, you’re not getting off that easily,” she muttered waspishly.
“What are your terms?” he demanded cheerfully, opening the car door for her.
“I’m still drafting them.”
“Let’s hope I don’t entirely run out of patience before you decide how I’m supposed to make up for my misdeeds,” he observed politely.
It was only as she walked into the party on his arm that Leya finally found something to take her mind temporarily off the matter of her entanglement with Court Tremayne.
She would have preferred almost any other diversion. Across the room, she met the sophisticated and cynical blue eyes of the one other man in her life who had succeeded in making a fool of Leya Brandon.
Alex Harlow lifted his glass in the faintest of salutes.
Five
“Who is he?”
Ten minutes into the flurry of welcome and introductions, Court managed to growl the question into Leya’s ear. Any hope that he hadn’t sensed her almost imperceptible stiffening as they had come through the door died.
“Who?” she tried, stalling uncertainly for time, although she wasn’t quite sure why. The drink in her hand was cold, and Court was standing so close she could feel the heat of him. The two sensations seemed to feed her fever-pitched light-headedness. Once again, she wished desperately she wasn’t so susceptible to the tactile quality of life.
He scolded her with his glance. “That guy with the light brown hair on the other side of the room, wearing a black turtleneck. You can’t miss him, Leya,” he added derisively. “He’s the one trying to eat you alive with his eyes. The one person you haven’t smiled at yet. Who the hell is he?”
“Why do you care?” she countered, sipping at her drink and smiling over the rim of the glass at their hostess. Sleek, charming, and blonde, Susan Adams had made no secret her fascination with Court from the moment she had greeted him. She was flicking speculative glances his way as she circulated among her guests.
“It’s always nice to know the name of the guy you might have to pound to a pulp later!”
Leya flinched in astonishment, covering the reaction quickly with a less than humorous smile. “I can certainly understand your interest in getting a person’s correct name. I’ve got some strong feelings on the matter myself!”
“Leya!” he snapped out, and she knew he had just run dry of patience. He took a sip of the Scotch in his glass and waited, golden eyes pinning her. The tension in him was a lazy, coiled cat waiting to leap.
Leya quickly decided the best approach was to brazen out the situation.
“You wouldn’t want to pound him, Court. You’ll probably like the man. The two of you have a great deal in common!” The flashing silver in her green eyes hardened, and cool mockery edged her curving lips.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” There was unmistakable anger in him now.
“A year ago I was on the point of considering marriage to him,” Leya said carelessly, taking another sip from her drink. What did she care if Court knew the truth? He knew so much about her already, she thought grimly. “I thought we were in love, you see,” she added confidingly, her tones laced with heavy self-mockery.
“And?” he prompted harshly through set teeth.
“And—?” Leya snapped her fingers with assumed nonchalance. “Presto! He made a fool of me.” The silver in her eyes gave them a dangerous gleam.
“How?” Court grated. “Don’t make me drag it out of you sentence by sentence, damn it!”
Her eyes widened. “I don’t see why I should let you drag it out of me at all.”
“Because whatever happened is still affecting you. You look as tense and brittle as glass. I can’t figure out if you want to go over to him and throw yourself into his arms or strangle him!”
“Does it matter?” she purred, not quite looking at him but aware of his braced tension as if it were a palpable thing. It made her feel even more keyed up.
“It matters! And stop drinking that stuff as if it were soda pop,” he ordered in a short-tempered rasp.
“My, you are in a domineering mood this evening,” she noted with biting amusement. Deliberately, she took another sip.
“I’m in a mood to whale the daylights out of you, Leya, so you might want to exercise a bit of caution.”
“I was wrong back in Oregon when I accused you of having a one-track mind,” she murmured smoothly, beginning to enjoy herself for some unknown reason. “I’ll have to admit you’ve got at least two tracks when it comes to dealing with women: sex and brutality. Have you had a lot of luck with the combined approach in the past?”
“I’ve never had to try combining them,” he drawled in a deadly cool tone. “But for you I’ll make an exception. Tell me who he is, Leya, or I’ll start with the brutality first.”
“My brother will break your neck!”
“Your brother hasn’t even arrived yet. Besides, he’s got enough sense to stay out of a situation like this!”
Leya considered him, her neat head tipped to one side, her eyes bright and daring. “His name is Alex Harlow. Want to meet him?”
/>
“Not particularly.” Court faced her coolly. “Finish the story.”
“There’s not much to tell.” She shrugged. “He used me as a cover for his relationship with a friend of mine. A married friend. I discovered what was going on the day she announced her divorce to marry Alex. End of story.”
“Not quite,” he disagreed dryly, “Did he wind up marrying your presumably ex-friend?”
“Oh, yes. As soon as her divorce was final. I’m sure you’ll understand when I tell you I haven’t seen much of either of them socially since!”
“Is his wife here tonight?”
“I haven’t seen her,” Leya muttered, downing another swallow of her drink.
“Then”—Court put out a hand and forcibly removed her glass—“putting the facts together we are forced to the conclusion that he’s on the make this evening. You’re not to get near him, is that clear?” The brown-and-gold eyes confronted her with absolute command.
Leya lifted one eyebrow in response. “Jealous, Court?” she teased. “Or just worried that you don’t have as much control as you would like over the ‘silent partner’ in Brandon Security?” the challenge hung in the air between them, goading and provoking.
He set her half-empty glass down on the table behind him and straightened slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. “Would you like me to admit to the jealousy, little Leya?” he drawled.
“Yes,” she retorted unhesitatingly, lips curved in near-laughter. “Yes, I think that might be fun!”
“I have to assume from that statement that you’ve never felt the full weight of a man’s jealousy,” he stated very softly.
Leya pretended to consider that and then shook her head decisively. “No, I can think of a few occasions when I’ve been privileged to witness what’s been labeled jealousy. Frankly it appeared to be a rather crude form of pouting. Like little boys who don’t get their own way and go off in a corner to sulk. Would you sulk if I went over and spoke to Alex?” she asked with a strange brightness.
“No, Leya, I won’t sulk,” he said in a hard voice.
“Ah, well.” She pretended to sigh. “It was only an outside chance. Still, it might have been fun.”
“You’re wrong on that point.” Court looked as if he were going to pursue the subject and then broke off, glancing over her shoulder. “There’s your brother. He just walked in the door.”
Leya didn’t look around. “A gorgeous blonde on his arm?”
“Well, she’s definitely blonde. I guess you could say she’s gorgeous, that is if one didn’t mind a certain lack of intelligence around the eyes. Why?” Court glanced down at her wry expression.
“Since when has a man minded a certain lack of intelligence in his dates? Could I have my drink back, please?” she added with undue politeness, green eyes on the glass behind him.
“No. You’ve had enough.”
“I haven’t even finished my first drink, for heaven’s sake!” she muttered furiously.
“Maybe in a little while you can have another. Provided you don’t down it like water.”
“You certainly are out to ruin my evening, aren’t you?” she groaned.
“Chalk it up to my naturally perverse nature. You never answered my question about the blonde your brother came in with. Don’t you like her?”
Leya did bother to glance around briefly at the question, her green eyes moving swiftly over the lovely young woman standing beside her good-looking, dark-headed brother.
“Never saw her before in my life,” she admitted freely. “So I really can’t say if I’ll like her or not.”
“How did you know she was blonde?” Court demanded curiously.
“That’s all my brother’s been dating for the past year. Blondes. Beautiful and, for the most part, empty-headed blondes.” Leya frowned, slanting Court an upward glance. “Are you going to encourage or discourage that tendency in him during the next two years?”
“Your brother’s contracting with me to teach him about business, not about women,” Court murmured politely. “There’s not much I could do about it, anyway. It’s a taste a man either outgrows or he doesn’t.”
“Really? And have you outgrown your taste for gorgeous blondes?” Leya tossed back with an ease she didn’t feel. Susan Adams was still sending interested glances in Court’s direction.
“Yes, in point of fact I have,” he growled, meeting her eyes very directly.
“How long did the taste persist before you saw the light?” she taunted.
“Until quite recently,” he confessed airily.
“You mean my brother could go on another ten years dating those creatures?”
“Unless he gets lucky before that.” Court grinned suddenly. “And finds himself a wasp-tongued shrew with hair the color of a jungle cat. Don’t begrudge him the blondes in the meantime, though. They’re the ones who will make him appreciate the shrew when he finds her! Come on,” he went on firmly, taking her arm, “we’d better go over and say hello. Keith’s seen us.”
Effortlessly, Court pushed a way through the crowd toward the other couple, dragging Leya along in his wake like a toy. She did manage to snag a glass from a passing tray, however, and had it secured in the hand farthest away from her escort by the time they reached Keith and his blonde. Her brother’s green eyes met hers as she approached on Court’s arm. His eyes lacked the silver tinge of her own, but the dark brown of his hair was similar. And the basic underlying intelligence, she had always thought, was pure Brandon. That opinion remained in place in spite of his recent decision to sign the contract with Court Tremayne.
“Hi, Leya,” Keith greeted her affectionately. “Glad you could make it tonight. Sorry you cut your vacation short, though. Good evening, Court, taking good care of my sister?” The vivid green of his eyes absorbed the protective way Leya’s arm was tucked under Court’s and the abnormal brightness in his sister’s eyes.
“You can trust me to look after her,” Court said easily, smiling at the blonde. “Who are you in charge of tonight?”
“This is Angie.” Keith grinned cheerfully. Angie didn’t appear to be blessed with a last name but she didn’t seem to mind as the introductions were made. Her beautifully made-up blue eyes were full of a sultry invitation and the sexy red pout of her mouth was glistening with too much lip gloss.
“I’m glad to see you and Court hitting it off so well, Leya,” Keith remarked with a poorly concealed smile.
“Did you have a few doubts?” Leya charged sweetly, lifting her glass for a swallow.
“Where the hell did you get that?” Court interrupted before her brother could respond. He reached for the glass, but Leya managed to neatly sidestep.
“If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll find the ladies’ room. Don’t go away, Court, I’ll be right back!” With a quick turn on her heel that swirled the red-and-gold skirt around her ankles, Leya swept off into the crowd, glass clutched tightly in her hand. She could feel Court’s eyes on her for a moment but knew he wasn’t following. When the prickling sensation at the back of her neck ceased, she veered from the direction in which she had been going and headed for the terrace instead.
There was no one else outside to share the cold night air and the view of Santa Rosa’s lights, so Leya sipped her drink in peace, her arms folded against the chill. And she thought about the same thing she had been thinking about all day: Court Tremayne. The only break came when her mind went briefly, angrily to the presence of Alex Harlow. But upset as she was at seeing Alex’s cynical, handsome face again, there was no denying that Court somehow loomed the larger of the two in her mind tonight.
“Hello, Leya.” Alex’s voice came from the shadows behind her. Well, hadn’t she been half-expecting it? Wasn’t that the real reason she’d come out here alone for a few minutes? To see if he’d follow? She knew what that look in his eyes had meant when she’d first seen it from across the room. Court was right. Alex Harlow was on the make tonight.
“Good evening, Alex.” Her v
oice was amazingly calm as she turned and leaned against the rail. He walked toward her, the black turtleneck and dark slacks helping him blend into the darkness around him. The heavy-lidded blue eyes found hers and held them as he advanced. There was a time, she reflected, when that look could have made her heart beat faster.
“You’re looking lovely tonight,” he said quietly, halting a couple of steps away. He said it the way he’d always said it, in a soft, seductive drawl that made it clear he knew when a woman had dressed for him. But she hadn’t dressed for him tonight, Leya thought in silent amusement. She’d dressed for Court. The admission went almost unnoticed in the increasing excitement of the moment.
“Thank you,” she replied demurely. “And where is your wife?”
“Haven’t you heard?” Alex asked quietly. “We’ve split up.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, since the two of you went to such an effort to get together.” If he caught the thread of sarcasm in her words, Alex didn’t acknowledge it.
“Everyone makes mistakes, Leya.” There was a slight pause. “I tried calling you earlier this week. There was no answer.”
“I’ve been away for a few days,” she replied, her arms stretched out on either side of her, resting on the cold metal railing as she lounged backward. The drink was clasped in the fingers of her right hand, half-empty.
“With him?”
“Him?” she questioned, eyes gleaming up at Alex’s sardonically curved mouth.
“That man you came with tonight. From what I could see he appears to think he owns you.”
“Does he?” she smiled.
“Don’t be sarcastic, honey,” Alex advised almost gently. “It isn’t like you.”
Leya’s smile broadened. “Oh, I don’t know about that. There are some who say I’m a natural shrew.”
“Then they don’t know you, do they?” he countered, stretching out his hand to stroke the side of her jaw with caressing fingers.
“Perhaps it’s you who doesn’t know me,” she suggested, resisting the urge to pull her head away from his touch. God! Was it only a year ago she would have been thrilled?
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