Challenge Accepted - A Contemporary Romance

by Rose, Carol

  He couldn't seem to do a damn thing right--certainly not with Hayley. She had the attraction of a siren, her eyes mischievous and beckoning. Yet whenever he followed the prompting of his own powerful response, she danced away like a vision, maddening and ever-desirable.

  Colt stopped in the shadow of a tall oak, studying the house, its gables and curlicues fanciful in the moonlight. From the crested rooftop to the wide, wrap-around veranda, it seemed like something out of a fantasy.

  A sudden movement caught his eye. Colt frowned into the night, his gaze caught by the flurry of motion on the veranda.

  Across the moon-drenched yard, he could see someone dancing. The woman twirled gracefully, her body half-hidden by shadows as she turned and swayed.

  A nameless emotion stole the breath from Colt's lungs. As her steps carried her into a patch of light, Hayley was silhouetted against the pale backdrop of the house.

  She clearly thought herself alone, her supple, beautiful movement in harmony with a music only she heard. Colt stirred in the shadows, pulled toward her, yet hesitant to break the spell.

  Her arms lifted as she arched her body, the tantalizing outline both erotic and innocent.

  Sleek and slender, she spun, the unruly straight on her shoulders swaying with her movement.

  Colt walked toward her as she twirled, her soft, low humming barely audible. Just as he reached the bottom of the veranda steps, she stopped, laughing to herself as she clutched the balustrade for support.

  His faltering step sounded clearly in the night. Hayley swung around, her face startled and wary.

  "Colt! What are you doing here?"

  "Just checking on the day's progress. Not on you."

  He climbed the steps, desire jumbled with a desperate ache in his chest. He stopped in front of her, unwillingly vulnerable and grateful that the darkness hid his expression.

  "Hayley, what are you doing here so late?"

  "I worked hard today . . ." she trailed off.

  "So I was just-uh-dancing off a little tension. Sometimes I need to."

  Colt smiled. "Don't you start. You've given me enough grief for one day."

  An awkward silence settled between them, broken only by the distant yowl of a wandering cat. Colt tossed his flashlight from hand to hand, unsure of how to address the unfinished business from the morning.

  "So you dance here often?" He injected a light note into his voice, still stirred by the sight of her.

  Hayley chuckled, no self-consciousness apparent in her face. "Not always here. Sometimes I dance in the gazebo. I'm working up the nerve to dance in the tower."

  "Please." He clutched his chest in a gesture only half mocking. "Spare me the heart attack. I think we should make a rule that you only go on flat roofs."

  "A rule?" She cocked her head to look at him. "On the basis of one tiny problem?"

  Colt snorted. "Watching over you is enough to give a guy nightmares."

  "I never asked you to watch over me." Her voice sounded strained.

  Colt searched for words to shift the mood.

  Arguing with Hayley wasn't his most attractive option at this point.

  ''I'm sorry I stepped on your toes with the crew," he finally offered. "I truly never intended to upset you."

  Hayley's head dipped as she bent to stare at the floor. "Apology accepted." She glanced up, her chin raised. "As long as it doesn't happen again."

  He lifted both hands in a gesture of agreement. "Never, ever, will I assume the authority to speak to the paint crew without consulting you first."

  "Thank you." Her voice was wry.

  Leaning back against the corner balustrade that faced her, Colt studied Hayley in the dim light. "Tell me," he asked, "why is being independent so important to you?"

  She held his gaze for a moment before looking away with a deep sigh. "You must be in the mood for a long story."

  "I think it's a story I need to know," he said.

  She looked at him wistfully. "I guess you have to know my background to really understand." She paused. "My mother died when I was six. I'm an only child and my father happens to be a very wealthy man."

  Colt looked at her sympathetically. "Losing your mother so young must have been terrible."

  She glanced at him, a sad smile lighting her face. "It's something we have in common. Losing a parent at a young age."

  "There's a big difference between eighteen and six," he commented, sympathy piercing his heart for a frightened little girl without a mother.

  "There is," Hayley agreed, "but loss is painful at any age."

  "Particularly when you're an only child of a busy father," Colt put in. That one phone call from Henry Haslett had left an indelible impression. How well did the man really know his daughter?

  Hayley laughed, the sound hollow. "My father was never too busy to direct my life. He hired a nanny, but he managed to supervise her, and me, very closely. Everything was mapped out-my education, my upbringing, my hobbies-and my future. I was actually a debutante." She flashed him a brilliant smile.

  "He'd even come up with a selection of suitable husbands. Men with fast-paced careers who had proper, socially prominent families."

  "How thoughtful of him," Colt said. "That way you didn't have to bother finding one yourself." Had she ever wanted to marry one of those stuffed shirts?

  "I didn't have to bother doing much at all. I was just supposed to follow the rules and smile a lot."

  "You must have given him hell," Colt ventured, unable to see Hayley meekly submitting to being forced into a frothy debutante's dress. Heck, had he ever even seen her in a dress?

  Hayley shook her head sadly. "I wasn't rebellious at all. How could I be? My father loved me. Everything he did was for my benefit. He told me over and over that I was all he had, that we had to stick together."

  Colt frowned. "There's a limit to how much a parent can expect."

  "Is there?" She scooted off the railing and drifted across the veranda to lean against the wall. "I guess my father never heard that."

  "But you figured it out," said Colt. "You're here, doing what you want instead of being somebody's society wife."

  Another sigh slipped out of her, a whisper of relief. "Yes, I finally rebelled. I can safely say that my life now is nothing like my father planned.

  "It's amazing, though. You think that freedom will feel so ... free. But some ties are hard to break. I'm here, doing what I want, and I know my father is hurt and upset." Hayley walked over, leaned next to him and stared out at the dark garden. "I couldn't even explain it to him. One day he went on a business trip, and I just moved out. It was selfish of me, but I couldn't look him in the face and explain. He wouldn't have accepted my going."

  "So you just left?"

  Hayley heard the faint note of censure in his question. "Yes, I just left. I called a week later and gave my address to the housekeeper."

  "You love your dad." It was a statement of fact. Colt's eyes held hers as if he were daring her to deny it.

  "Yes, but he suffocates me. I can't breathe around him. He doesn't hear me, doesn't really know me." Hayley smiled at him wryly. ''I'm not sure he'd like me if he did know me.

  "Yes, he would," Colt disagreed flatly.

  She glanced at him, conscious of his nearness, the solid warmth of his body. He seemed so strong, so sure of himself.

  "Tell me something." He broke the silence. "Have you ever been married?" Colt's eyes darkened when he turned to look at her.

  Hayley hesitated, distracted from his question by the smoldering expression on his face, the tension that seemed to hum through his body. She swallowed. “No. I got engaged, but I didn't go through with it. That was partly why I left home."

  An uncontrollable impulse to lose herself to him, to surrender to his touch, nearly over-whelmed her.

  He seemed so close....

  Somewhere in the shrubbery, night creatures scuffled, their scurrying making crackling sounds in the brush.

  "Do you ever see h
im?"

  "See who?" Hayley's mouth felt dry, her brain sluggish.

  "Your former fiancé," Colt said sardonically.

  "Sometimes." Hayley looked down. "We're still friends."

  "You're friends with everyone, aren't you?" His murmur tugged her attention back up to his face.

  "I like being friendly." The inanity slipped out as her gaze locked with his.

  ''I've noticed." Colt reached out, his hand brushing back her hair. "But I don't want to be just your friend."

  Hayley's breath caught in her throat as he drew nearer. His lips settled on hers, seducing her with his heat. She leaned into him, her body taking over as if knowing she was too confused to handle the decision.

  Colt drew her into his arms. His kiss was direct and open, no pretense, no holding back. Just as he lived, he kissed her without apology-and with strength and passion.

  The night closed them in, dark and alive, sheltering and drenched with the scents of the garden. She remembered the smell of him, the masculine fragrance of his skin.

  Her arms slid around his waist as she opened to his plundering. Yet she wasn't afraid. He felt so right, the heat of his body wrapped around her.

  Colt's lips trailed down her neck, his hand tunneling beneath her hair. The callused skin of his fingers brushed against her sensitive neck. Hayley murmured something in her throat, her hands clutching his shoulders for support.

  Without thought, her hands traveled up to circle his neck, brushing through the coarse texture of the hair at his nape. She squirmed against him, needing him closer. He seemed to understand, coming back to her mouth for a deep, erotic kiss.

  Energy crackled between them, a mindless submerging of touch. Hayley felt alight with need, drawn to the honesty of his passion, the hunger in him that went deeper than desire.

  He cupped her breast, his touch potent through the thin silk of her bra. His lips brushed hers as his thumb brushed the tight kernel of her nipple. Hayley moaned and arched into his hand.

  Aflame with his touch, her fingers laced through his thick hair, holding him for the fierceness of her kiss. She met him with longing of her own, a passionate fury. This was no maidenly embrace, submissive and receptive. She tantalized him with her lips, nipping, drawing him in.

  Colt groaned, his hand tightening around her breast. With one powerful move, he scooted her up onto the balustrade, his free hand steadying her at the small of her back. The thin knit of her shirt conducted the heat of his touch, but she longed for bare skin, the sweep of his hand over her naked body.

  Around them, night sounds echoed faintly, the rustle of wind through the shrubbery. The scent of orange blossoms trailed the breeze, sweet, intense and heady.

  He wedged himself between her open legs, the hardness of his erection firm against the apex of her thighs. Hayley moaned, wiggling closer, her breath coming in short pants as her head fell back. Colt lifted her shirt, bending with a rough growl to smooth the tender upper slope of her breast.

  Her clothes felt confining, abrasive against her inflamed skin. Her whole body was alight with desire, pulsating and aching. She arched as he bent to suckle her breast through the lace of her bra. Her fingers tugged his shirt free, sliding beneath to coast over his warm, taut skin.

  Colt trailed more kisses along her neck as he unhooked her bra, freeing her to his touch. Leaning down, he drew her nipple into his mouth, the hot wetness of his tongue making her cry out, sending her spiraling into a vortex of need. Hayley writhed, imprisoned between his hand at her back and the sweet heaven of his mouth on her breast.

  His mouth was ravenous, teasing her tenderness with an instinct that inflamed the ache in her body.

  She tugged at his belt, mindlessly seeking the relief of his possession, longing to encompass him.

  Out of the darkness, something small and furry shot past them, bounding off the balustrade like an acrobat. Startled, Hayley pulled back. A second furry body followed the first as ear-splitting yowls filled the air.

  Colt's arm came around to steady her as they both swiveled to look at the hissing, spitting felines. In the darkness, the cats circled, attacked, and tumbled on the veranda. Then in a streak of gray, one bolted past, chased by the other.

  Dazed at being jerked out of the depths of passion, Hayley slid off the porch rail and reached a hand to steady herself against a nearby post. She tugged her shirt down.

  Seeming to sense her withdrawal, Colt made no effort to touch her. He leaned against the rail, his gaze on the section of garden the cats had disappeared into.

  "Should I apologize for getting carried away?" His voice sounded deep and rough.

  Hayley turned her head to stare at him.

  Apologize? He was sorry for getting "carried away?” It sounded so polite, not at all like the Colt she knew.

  She cleared her throat, struggling still with the fire raging inside of her. It was best, she knew, that they’d been interrupted.

  It would be far better for everyone concerned if they both ignored the hunger that roared between them.

  “Are you okay?”

  Hayley hesitated before answering. Why did men always ask that? Did he think she was so lost in lust for him that she’d shrivel up and die without his touch?

  I’m fine.” She moved away, scuffing a toe against the porch floor.

  “Well, it’s really late,” he mentioned awkwardly. “Guess I’d better check the work upstairs. That’s why I stopped by.”

  There really wasn’t anything to say to that, so she kept silent.

  “Anyway,” he continued, “you shouldn’t be here alone at night. It’s not safe.”

  Hayley drew in a long, indignant breath. “Excuse me? I would say perfectly safe--until you got here.”

  She thought he flushed, but the darkness made it impossible to tell. Her accusation wasn’t completely fair, she knew. Their passionate encounter had been mutually desired. But if he wanted to “apologize” as if he’d somehow fallen down on the job, she’d let him.

  It was perverse of her to be angry. She should be glad they hadn't continued. She didn't need Colt in her life, messing up her emotions and getting in the way of her goals.

  *

  She wanted the Palmer House project over and done with more than she had ever wanted anything.

  If only she hadn't decided to take on the upstairs bathroom. Should've left it to Colt, she thought irritably. The ladder braced inside the tub swayed beneath her. She mentally cursed the fool who'd installed the fiberglass tub. An older model would have been higher off the floor, which would have made taking the measurements of the bathroom much easier.

  Maybe if she leaned just right, poised on one leg, the other lifted for balance, she could hold the tape measure steady.

  Hayley positioned herself, pinning the thin metal band of the tape measure with one outstretched finger. Sixty-three inches, she made a mental note, glancing the length of it to double check.

  She must have made some small movement, shifting a little beyond her point of equilibrium. Beneath her, the ladder migrated. Hayley felt the sway, the precarious tilt, and floundered in mid-air to right herself.

  "Aaiiiieeee" A shriek escaped her as Hayley teetered.

  The foot she'd lifted as she leaned came crashing down when she fe1t the ladder skid to the left. There was a thud as her tennis shoe came in contact with the little sink, and then the awful sound of metal cracking.

  Miraculously, the ladder righted itself as Hayley clung to the upper rungs. It took a few seconds for the sound of rushing water to break through her consciousness and a second more before she realized she was being showered from the knees down.

  Looking down, she saw with dismay that her near-fall had totally dislodged the sink, knocking it to the side and disconnecting the water pipes. Water was rapidly rising.

  Stumbling down the ladder, Hayley grasped the water turn-off knob near the wall. Water sprayed the bathroom, soaking through her jeans and splattering her face as she wrestled with the kno
b.

  "What the-!" Colt stood in the doorway. "I heard you yell." He came into the small room, shouldering her aside to reach for the turn-off knob himself.

  Hayley backed up and watched as he struggled to budge the corroded knob.

  "Damn thing's stuck."

  Water puddled on the floor, creeping toward the open door. Colt reached around the ladder and wrapped a powerful hand around the cracked pipe, managing to lessen the flow. "I'll hold this. Run and get me a wrench from the kitchen." Water sprayed out in fans between his fingers, the pressure increased by his grip.

  Colt sank to the floor as Hayley spun on her heel and ran out of the bathroom.

  When she had time, she planned to berate herself for causing this fiasco. Severe water damage to the lower rooms, and the wood floors ... she shuddered to think of the consequences if they didn't get the water off fast.

  It seemed to take forever to find the wrenches amidst the jumble of tools in the kitchen. Hayley finally found the pipe wrench and tore through the hall, taking the stairs two at a time.

  She reached the bathroom, gasping for her breath, and stopped in the doorway. There on the floor, wedged down under the ladder by the fiberglass tub, and stuck behind the tilted sink, sat a thoroughly wet Colt.

  Water gleamed in his dark hair and spattered his face in droplets. His pants were drenched from sitting in a puddle and his cotton T-shirt was made nearly transparent by the damp. It clung to the muscled wall of his chest.

  Laughter and lust warred inside her as Colt sat on the floor, gripping the pipe.

  "Did you plan to actually let me use one of those?" he asked. "Or are they just for show?"

  Hayley leaped forward, stifling the giggle that bubbled up. "Sorry. Should I hold that so you can turn the knob?"

  "Yeah." He let go of the pipe just as she bent down.

  Jerking back, she still couldn't avoid the spray. She sputtered, dodging the water so she could see where to place her hands. "Don't you think we need to call the plumber?"

  "You want to sit here and hold this pipe while I go out to the meter and cut off the water?" He bent over the turn-off knob, his muscles bunched as he tried to coax it closed.