“Leya! What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be on vacation!”
Cynthia Dalton, the young black woman Leya had hired to help out part time, straightened from the box of new books she had been unpacking and smiled in welcoming surprise. She was an attractive person with an even more attractive personality and a liking for the book business.
Her close-cropped hair was cut with a touch of sophistication that emphasized the intelligent brown eyes and high cheekbones. This morning she wore the gold-hoop pierced earrings Leya had made for her as a birthday present earlier in the year and a stylishly casual pantsuit.
“I got back early from Oregon,” Leya explained, not wanting to go into details. “But don’t worry, I still want you to finish working full time this week. It will give us a chance to do some planning for that expansion into the shopping mall.”
This job was important to Cynthia, who was working part time and taking college classes in business administration at night. Leya knew she had been happy to get in the extra hours at the bookstore when her boss had announced her sudden vacation plans.
“Couldn’t stay away, hmmm?” Cynthia teased. “Well, don’t worry. No major disasters around here. I thought I’d change the science fiction display today and finish unpacking this new shipment of romances. You know how many of our regulars will be pouring into the shop today looking for them.”
Leya nodded, idly circling around behind the counter and picking up the latest copy of Publisher’s Weekly. She flipped through it absently, glancing at the announcements of new books.
“Been busy?”
“The usual daily crush. Nothing out of the ordinary. A lot of kids in the afternoons after school but they seem pretty well behaved. They’re going wild over that new war game we put in the front window display.”
Leya looked up and grinned in spite of herself. “We should declare a business holiday in honor of our brilliant decision to include war games and space-movie paraphernalia in our regular inventory. Do you realize that we’ve attracted a whole new crowd of customers? The people into that stuff are as much a breed of addict as the folks into mysteries, westerns, and romances! Bless their little hearts!”
Cynthia nodded in satisfaction, switching on the automatic drip coffeemaker on the little stand behind the counter. “There are worse habits in this world than books and games. We’re doing humankind a favor the way I look at it!”
“And we’re not doing too badly ourselves, either,” Leya murmured, glancing thoughtfully around the well-organized shop. Unlike her home, the place was neatly arranged with easily identifiable categories. Mystery buffs knew exactly where to head the moment they arrived, as did the World War II history types and the science fiction fans.
The shop concentrated on paperbacks and, thanks in part to a good location, had been an immediate success almost from the start. The addition of the exciting and sophisticated space and war-games section had given it another boost.
The morning wore on, with Leya deliberately refusing to think about the previous evening. She buried herself in plans for the new branch of Brandon Books, going over sketches, estimating order quantities, and discussing hours of operation with Cynthia.
She was involved with a shelving plan, working at the back of the shop while Cynthia handled the customer traffic, when a shadow fell on the paper in front of her. She looked up to find Court standing beside the small table on which she was sketching. She started, not having heard him enter the shop.
“Hello, Leya,” he said softly, but there was a cool wariness in the tortoiseshell eyes, instead of the masculine assurance that had always been there in the past.
“Hello, Court,” she said carefully, wishing he wouldn’t tower over her in such a fashion. He was dressed in a lightweight business suit, a single slash of color in his tie relieving the overall darkness of the outfit. Leya got to her feet in an automatic attempt to counteract the overwhelming sensation his presence provided.
“The woman at the counter said you were sitting back here,” he told her by way of explanation. “I came to see if you will have lunch with me.”
“Why?” The question came out stark and cold.
“Why do you think?” he retorted, a trace of impatience in his words now. “We have to talk.”
“There’s nothing to talk about, Court,” Leya said wearily.
“The hell there isn’t! Leya, you can’t act as if nothing happened between us!”
“Will you please keep your voice down? I don’t want the customers to hear you!”
“Then have lunch with me!”
“Or else you’ll make a scene?” she mocked, her hands doubling into fists at her sides, her eyes defiant.
He ran a hand through his hair in clear exasperation. “I didn’t come here to start a fight. I came to ask you to lunch. Please?”
She sensed the effort that had gone into the tacked-on plea and tilted her head slightly to one side, considering him. “Haven’t you had enough from me, Court? I’m sorry if I couldn’t satisfy your male ego completely, but…”
“Stop talking like that. Look, I want to get things back on a normal footing, Leya, for all our sakes.”
“All? You’re worried about my brother’s reaction to our little, er, misunderstanding?” she asked tightly. “You’re afraid I’ll turn him against you and make your plans for Brandon Security more difficult to execute?”
“No!” he exploded and then obviously took a grip on himself. “Will you come with me, Leya?”
She met his eyes, saw the willpower he was using to keep from losing his patience, and realized there was something satisfying in that. He was making an effort, perhaps his first real effort to treat her as someone besides a woman he was arrogantly confident he could have.
“Sure, Court, I’ll have lunch with you,” she told him with sudden breeziness and smiled as he looked taken aback. “Just let me tell Cynthia where I’m going.” Suddenly, she felt like the confident one.
He followed her down the aisles of books, his eyes roving over the shop’s interior with undisguised curiosity.
“Cynthia, this is Court Tremayne. He works with my brother at Brandon Security.”
Cynthia smiled warmly, and Court nodded politely, his eyes softening as he shook hands.
“You two are running quite a large operation here,” he observed, glancing around again. “When Keith explained about the book business, I assumed it would be a much smaller affair.”
“Bookstores have to be fairly large to be profitable,” Cynthia explained, when Leya showed no signs of responding to the implied question. “The new one we’re opening out in the mall is even bigger.”
“Who will manage that branch?”
“I will.” Cynthia smiled, slanting a curious glance at a silent Leya. “I’ll have finished school by then and can work full time.”
“Court is taking me to lunch, Cynthia. I’ll be back in an hour, okay?”
“No problem. I brought a sandwich, as usual. Have a good time.” Her dark eyes followed Court and Leya out of the shop, a speculative smile on her lips.
“There’s a sandwich shop on the corner,” Leya began briskly as they stepped out onto the sidewalk. She started off without waiting for his nod of agreement, only to find her wrist lightly caught and held.
“I have a better idea,” he said softly as she came to a stop and looked up at him inquiringly. “There’s a nicer, more private place at the other end of the mall. I tried it once with your brother. We’ll go there.”
Leya hesitated knowing that for “private” she could read “intimate.”
“All right, you’re buying,” she finally agreed flippantly.
Retaining his grip on her hand, Court started off in the other direction, his long strides forcing Leya to hurry.
“What is it you wanted to talk to me about, Court?”
“I’m impressed with the bookstore, Leya. You should be proud of having beaten the odds.”
“What odds?” sh
e frowned, disconcerted at the note of honest admiration in his voice.
“The odds against small-business success,” he smiled, glancing down at her as they reached the restaurant. “You must have a real flair for the free-enterprise system.”
“Is that why you came by today? To see if I really do know anything about business? To find out how much of a threat I might be to Brandon Security with my shares of stock?” she asked sweetly as they were shown to their table.
He shut his eyes, drew a long breath. “No. I meant what I said with no hidden meanings. I am impressed. A simple compliment from one businessperson to another. Take it or leave it.”
She eyed him as she picked up the tasseled menu. He was serious. Abruptly, Leya knew she was willing to help him with the truce.
“Okay, Court, I’ll take it the way you say you mean it,” she said calmly.
“Thanks,” he muttered dryly, watching her smile as if he didn’t quite trust it. “A glass of wine?”
“Fine.”
They gave their orders and then the intimacy of the small booth closed in around them. Leya felt again the tension that never seemed absent when they were together, regardless of the circumstances.
“Now what did you really want to talk about, Court?” she finally asked softly, swirling the chilled chablis in her glass.
“You know very well what the subject is,” he stated quietly, holding her eyes steadily. “We have to figure out where we’re going from here.”
“That’s simple enough. Back to work. We both still have half a day left.”
“Leya!”
“Okay, okay,” she apologized, her fingers moving restlessly on the stem of the glass. “Suppose you tell me what you want from me. I was willing, too willing, to give much too much last night. If you’ve come to demand even more of me—”
“But I am, Leya,” he interrupted tersely. “I want a lot more. Can’t you understand that?”
“You don’t let up, do you, Court?”
“Honey, listen to me! I’m not going to give up on what we had together in Oregon!”
“It’s gone, Court.”
“That’s a lie! When I take you in my arms—”
“Please! Don’t talk like that! You’re embarrassing me!” she gritted, flushing furiously. “This is a public restaurant!”
“I’m sorry, but you’re making this so damn difficult,” he muttered, swallowing a gulp of wine. The gold and brown of his eyes flowed over her intently, aggressively. “Can’t you see what you’re doing with this stupid plan of revenge? You’re stringing me out on a rope that has no apparent end. If you picked a finite sport of punishment, something we could get over and done with, I could deal with it. But this business of telling me you no longer trust me…”
“What am I supposed to do? Tell you I’m willing to let bygones be bygones? Forget what happened and pretend I have no reason not to trust you?” she hissed wretchedly.
“Yes!”
“How?” she blazed.
“You could if you loved me,” he whispered in a deep, dark growl, his eyes heating.
Leya froze, appalled. No! she wanted to scream at him. No! I don’t love you. How could I possibly love you? But the words wouldn’t come. They were blocked in her throat as she realized she didn’t have the strength to say them.
“You ask too much, Court,” she whispered stonily.
“Do I? More than you could have given if you had never learned about my deception? More than we would have had together if we were still in Oregon?”
“We’ll never know, will we?” she countered tightly.
“Yes, damn it! We will know! I’ll find a way if it kills me!”
“Why are you so upset about this?” she asked belligerently. “I’ll give you my word not to interfere with Brandon Security. What’s the matter? Don’t you trust me, either?”
“How many times do I have to tell you this has nothing to do with Keith’s business? This is strictly between us. Leya, give me a chance, damn it. Don’t insist on throwing away everything we could have together just because you’re angry at me. That’s juvenile!”
“So now I’m being childish?” she retorted, arching one eyebrow quellingly. “You’re not pleading your case very eloquently, Court. No woman likes to be told she’s behaving in a juvenile fashion!”
“Even if it’s the truth?” he shot back.
“Especially not then! But it’s not the truth, is it? If I were really behaving like a foolish child, I would let you talk me into forgetting everything that happened. I’d let you give me a pair of rose-colored glasses. It’s the adult in me that learns from mistakes, Court. It’s the adult side of my nature that warns me to be so cautious about trusting strangers!”
“But you’re implicitly demanding that I somehow prove myself before you’ll agree to give me another chance! How does a man do that? There aren’t any dragons out there waiting to be defeated in your name! There’s nothing I can give you that would convince you you’ve misjudged me. Tell me what the hell I’m supposed to do!”
Leya blinked at the grimness of his tone, uncertain how to deal with him in this mood. He was angry, impatient, frustrated, and intent on changing her mind about him. She felt as if she were holding a powder keg.
“Trust is a fragile thing, Court,” she began carefully. “It would take time—”
“How much time?” he interrupted at once, pouncing on the words.
“More time than you would probably be willing to spend on the project!”
“Tell me!”
“I don’t know,” she groaned, wondering how they had ever gotten into a bargaining situation like this. “I suppose we would have to get to know each other all over again…”
“No,” he declared flatly. “But you could give me another chance,” he countered at once, spearing a radish in his salad as if it were threatening to attack him.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded warily.
“Exactly what it sounds like!”
“Court!”
“Have dinner with me tomorrow night at my place,” he commanded intently, his eyes half pleading, half demanding. “Spend some time with me. Let me show you I’m still the man you were falling in love with in Oregon.”
“Who said I was falling in love with you?” she demanded fiercely.
“The man you might have fallen in love with if I hadn’t turned out to be such an unreliable bastard,” he corrected wryly, holding up his fork placatingly. “Please, Leya?”
She hesitated. “Do you promise not to try and seduce me?” she muttered broodingly.
“No,” he admitted at once, looking contrite.
“Then forget it!”
He sucked in his breath. “Leya, have dinner with me and I’ll promise not to force you into bed or anything else you don’t want. That’s as much a promise as I can give. Not that you need it,” he went on in obvious irritation. “You can always use your ultimate weapon if things start getting too involved!”
“My lack of trust would be enough to stop you in another situation like last night?” Leya narrowed her eyes skeptically. He might have halted his lovemaking last night out of sheer annoyance at her unwillingness to grant him a complete victory, but that was certainly no guarantee he would do it again!
“You’ve known from the beginning I would never force myself on you,” he told her with cold pride. “I didn’t in Oregon when I probably should have and I won’t do it here. At least give me that much of your trust!”
Leya stared at him, uneasily remembering that he was right. He could have pushed her into bed that night at the inn when she’d signed the contract. The electricity had been flowing heavily between them, and it wouldn’t have taken much for him to overcome her defenses. That was nothing less than the truth, she acknowledged with painful honesty.
“All right, Court. I’ll come to dinner at your apartment.”
The corners of his mouth lifted in unexpected wry humor, and the familiar charm
warmed his eyes. “The first step is always the hardest, sweetheart,” he consoled her gently. “But I’ll see you won’t regret it.”
Cynthia glanced up an hour later when Leya walked back into the shop, her dark eyes full of questions.
“Don’t ask, Cynthia,” Leya advised dryly. “I’m not sure I understand myself.”
“He, uh, wouldn’t by any chance be the reason you cut the Oregon vacation short, would he?” her friend asked perceptively.
“He is,” she admitted grimly.
“I like him, Leya.”
“I did too. For a while.”
Cynthia was a good friend to know when not to press an issue like this one. Both women went back to their work without further discussion of the matter.
She hadn’t really committed herself to anything, Leya assured herself the next day as she slipped a bottle of wine into a carrying bag and slid into the front seat of her car.
She was wearing a pair of straight-legged jeans with the cuffs rolled up to adjust the length. The dark sable braid lay across the breast of her cheerful yellow blouse, and a bright gold medallion glittered at the hollow of her throat.
No, there was no commitment involved in simply accepting Court’s dinner invitation. And she wanted so much to be with him, she thought self-deprecatingly. She was willing to accept his patently false assurances because it gave her an excuse to agree to the date.
But she would make certain he abided by his own promises, Leya told herself staunchly as she parked the car in front of Court’s rented condominium. She would not let him lure her here and then seduce her! If he truly wanted a genuine relationship, he could darn well work at it!
“Don’t look at me as if I were Dracula inviting you into his castle!” were Court’s first words when he opened the door to her that evening.
“Sorry,” she murmured wryly, stepping inside and thrusting the wine toward him. “Do I look a tad cautious?”
“You look as if you’re expecting me to close the door behind you and lock it,” he grumbled, taking the wine and running a quick, appreciative eye over the label. “This looks terrific. Come on and I’ll pour you a glass. Maybe it will relax you.”
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