Challenge Accepted - A Contemporary Romance (10 page)

He bent, running the chilly drink can along the outside of her leg. Hayley drew in her breath in a lingering hiss. As she grasped his hand and pulled it away, her gaze locked with his.

"Did you come over here just to disturb my well-earned rest?" She popped the tab on the soft drink and took a swallow.

Colt squatted beside her. "I actually came here to tempt you into playing hooky."

Hayley considered him suspiciously as she took another drink. "What did you have in mind?" She shouldn't even ask, she knew. Such questions always led a woman astray.

He reached out, trailing one finger down her bare arm. "I thought we'd go take a look at the Wright-Moore House at the end of the block. It doesn't appear to need much work. I thought we might want to consider it for our next house in the project, partner."

Partner.
The word reverberated in the air between them. His steady gaze seemed to say that nothing had changed between them. He wanted her in his business and in his bed.

"The Wright-Moore House? That's the one with the oni
on dome and the elfin-eared dormers?"

"Yeah." His smile tugged at her. "I under
stand it's still fully furnished. The last occupant was a widow lady who moved out a few months ago." Colt held up a set of keys. "I made friends with the caretaker. Shall we go explore another era?"

The devil must have used that tone with Eve. "I, uh, well ... why not?" she said, aware that she hadn't put up much of a fight, but unable to care.

They walked down the block, passing by the dilapidated relics of a hundred years before. Together, they would bring the whole block back to life, Hayley suddenly knew. Despite her fears, the caution she'd adopted to protect herself, she knew something felt very right between them. She had to take the leap.

They went through the gate in the iron fence, the hinges creaking as it swung shut. Hayley paused on the wide walkway, taking in the decaying but handsome ornamentation. Ahead of her, Colt mounted the steps to the deeply shadowed veranda. He unlocked the wide front door and held it open as she passed through.

Time travel must feel like this, she thought.

The interior of the house looked as if it had been untouched for a century. A still, silent air pervaded the rooms. It looked almost as if it had been
frozen in time. The entry hall with its eggshell-pale walls and the crowded parlor stuffed with knickknacks, tables, and pillows-it all seemed like something out of a Victorian dream. The vibrancy of pattern on pattern was muted by the deep colors of green, gold, and wine.

Hayley walked in to the room further, her senses springing to life. Colt seemed to feel it, too, although he only waited by the door, his gaze on her as she moved from one thing to another.

A faint mustiness was proof that no one lived here anymore. The rooms looked as clean and dust-free as a museum, no small feat in a place crammed full of bibelots and bric-a-brac.

"They must have a jewel of a caretaker," she murmured in a hushed voice.

"He is," Colt agreed absently. "The old guy has been the handyman here for forty years. He hasn't left us much to do."

"Will he be here today? I'd like to meet him." She swung around to face Colt.

He shook his head. "I asked, but apparently he goes to visit his mother in San Diego every Wednesday without fail."

"I'll stop by and meet him some other time," Hayley said, distracted suddenly by a glimpse of the dining room.

Together, they wandered through the house, Hayley exclaiming at the tripartite walls, ornate parquet flooring, and
trompe l'oeil
wallpaper. Here and there, Colt pointed out things that needed work, a toll taken by the natural deterioration of time.

She paused on the main staircase, running her fingers lightly over the newel-post lamp, aware of Colt standing behind her. "This place is magic."

"Wait till you see the upstairs," he promised.

They reached the top landing and Colt steered her to the left. A massive bedroom faced the front of the house, its walls a dark, rich wine color. Tall Gothic windows were swathed in a sheer fabric that caught and fil
tered the light. A huge, raised bed filled a special offset, its dark wood lovingly carved.

Across the room sat a burgundy fainting couch, its brocade upholstery trimmed with fringed pillows. A chill skittered over Hayley's skin, a ripple of sensation that had nothing to do with the room's comfortable tempera
ture.

The place felt, well, erotic with its opulent fabrics and colors that both charged and lulled the senses.

She wandered into the bower, overwhelmed and suddenly very aware of the man behind her. It had been days since he'd held her, long hours filled with remembering the crush of his skin against hers.

A table sat nearby, cluttered with figurines and china. Hayley brushed her hands over a tiny Buddha, its cool surface a contrast to the warmth of her body.

“Hayley.”

As she glanced at him over her shoulder, the somber note in his voice caught her at
tention.

"I need to apologize." He leaned back against the wall near her. "Initially, it didn't seem to matter that I had worked with your father."

She turned to face him then, surprised that he would bring up the subject.

"When I got to know you better and real
ized that my connection to your father would matter to you," he hesitated, "well, by then you were becoming important to me. I didn't want to risk your walking away. And there's something else."

His straightforward admission stunned and disarmed her. She clutched at the last vestiges of her own doubt, so used to resisting her own pull toward him.

"I really want this partnership with you. But I have to be truthful. I'm not that great at managing my business and my finances are a mess. I don't have a lot of stability to offer." A faint smile crept into his eyes. "So now you know. I wouldn't blame you if you decided to back out of the partnership completely. You have a real shot at this contract. You don't need me or Granger Construction to handle this. "

A riot of emotion surged in her, a sensation of power, a crazy urge to comfort him. Hayley reached out, drawing him away from the wall. She didn't need him to help her with the project, but a deeper craving ran through her like a sweet lure.

It
didn't matter that the partnership could end up being more a liability than an asset. Good grief, after two years of robbing Peter to pay Paul, she was used to liabilities.

What mattered most was the look in his eyes, the hunger, the trust. He wasn't making a play for her sympathy. He just wanted her.
In
that moment, she couldn't doubt it any more than she could doubt the coming of night.

Colt wanted her with a desire that had noth
ing to do with her father's money, had nothing to do with anything but the fire that leapt between them, the connection that couldn't be denied.

His arms closed around her as she lifted her mouth for his kiss. Every part of her body longed for him and cried out. He was refuge, safety, and life. Colt held her fiercely, their kiss a raging of souls.

He lifted her in his arms and strode across to the fainting couch. Lowering her onto the burgundy cushions, he paused only to rip off his shirt before joining her there. Hayley rose up to him, sliding her hands into his hair as he kissed her deeply.

Her shirt and shorts ended up on the pea
cock-patterned rug, followed by his jeans. He surged over her, his bare shoulders gleaming golden in the dusky light. Hayley drew him down, rejoicing in their joining, her heart singing with each ripple of pleasure, each brush of his hands on her skin.

He tasted of longing, a silky sensation that lingered on her tongue. The stroke of his skin, bare against hers, sent a singing buzz to her ears. She gasped as he bent to kiss her breast, his mouth wet and welcome.

Writhing beneath him, Hayley felt the slick fabric of the fainting couch against her back, felt the heaven of his weight, the glory of his body over her own. He thrust into her and she heard her cry of pleasure as if from far away.

Nothing equaled it, the surge of his entry, the tantalizing tug and draw of his body in hers. She lay beneath him, her body soft and open, taut and hungry, welcoming him with her murmurs and the quivering of her flesh.

The room around them seemed to spin. Hayley gasped in the mellow old air, drew Colt's breath into her lungs, merged with him at every level. He held himself above her, muttering sweet words of pleasure against her skin, each a promise and a fulfillment until she felt him tighten and willed him to come with her....

Later, she lay on the narrow couch, cradling his sated, slumped body in her arms as a chill shivered through her.

He was wrong about her not needing him.

She did need him. Somehow, it had happened despite her vigilance. She'd fallen in love, fallen so hard that nothing else mattered more than him. Not the business. Not even her independence.

She loved him and all she could do was hang on for the ride.

*

Colt slammed the door as he started the Suburban. Damn, damn, damn. It was just his luck to have a major financial crisis when the bankers in Southern California had decided to minimize their risks.

Things would loosen up, Jacobs had assured him. In six to nine months, they might be able to help him.

Only Granger Construction needed the money now, and this was the sixth bank to turn him down.

He drove out of the parking lot, trying not to think of how he was going to tell Hayley that he hadn't gotten the loan for the busi
ness.

Damn it, he had to find a way to make it work. He couldn't let her down now, not after all the work they'd put in to the restoration.

Hell, he should have known better than to extend his resources this far. In addition to the Victorian Oaks contract, he had three other projects underway. While that should have meant money coming in, the largest of those contracts had been with a company which just filed for bankruptcy. He might see his money at some point, but not in the near future.

The killer was that he'd bought some equip
ment for that job, machinery that he'd thought would pay off. Now the notes on the equipment hung around his neck like an anvil.

He reminded himself that he'd weathered money crises before. This one couldn't be any worse.

Colt pulled up in front of the office and got out. The hazy California sunshine seemed as tentative as he felt. Swinging back the glass door, he crossed the office to Jill's desk where she was talking on the phone.

"I don't know for sure when he'll be-
- Oh, wait a minute, Mr. Haslett. Here he is now." Jill held out the receiver, her shrug disclaiming any knowledge of why Hayley's father would be calling Colt again.

"Mr. Haslett?"

"Afternoon, Colt. Did you get the delivery from the courier?" Henry Haslett sounded as energetic as a man half his age.

"Delivery from a courier?" Colt lifted his brows in questi
on as he looked at Jill. She immediately pounced on a heavy legal envelope and thrust it into his hands. "Yes, sir. There is something here, but I haven't had a chance to look at it."

"Fine, fine. No problem." Haslett sounded pleased with himself. "Think the proposition over, Colt. Even solid businessmen get into a bind now and then."

"I beg your pardon? I don't understand," said Colt slowly.

Henry laughed. "You will. Just look that contract over carefully."

"But, sir-"

"Listen, son. You've done a damn good job of running that place all by yourself since your father died. He'd be pleased to see how you've expanded it. But everyone needs a helping hand once in a while. Don't be too proud to see that."

"Mr. Haslett-"

"I've got to run. Got a bunch of people here waiting. Don't give me your answer too quickly. I know you're the independent type and I respect that. Just think it over and give Hayley a kiss from me." The line went dead.

Colt hung up the phone, feeling like he'd been thrown into a mine field.

"What was that all about?" Jill sat back in her chair.

"I don't know for sure, but Haslett seems to have gotten wind of our little financial crisis." Colt looked down at the manila envelope in his hands.

"Little crisis?" Jill snorted. "I've never heard being on the verge of bankruptcy re
ferred to that way."

"We're not filing for bankruptcy," he said abruptly, as he went into his office.

Colt sank into his desk chair, still holding the envelope. Somehow he knew whatever was inside would only up the ante. Henry Haslett played for keeps. Colt respected the older man enough to recognize that.

He opened the envelope and tipped the contents onto his desk.

Five minutes later, after wading through the legalese, Colt leaned back in his chair. It should have been simple, the answer to his dilemma. But letting Henry buy into Granger Construction for half-ownership brought more than a needed injection of cash.