Stormy Challenge by Stephanie James, Jayne Ann Krentz

difference represented an essential aspect of her character, and she was far too intelligent not to be aware of it. She had long since accepted her leisurely approach to life, seeing no point in overexerting herself in nonessential areas. The house was clean, but on its best days it remained—at least to an impartial observer— mildly disorganized. That didn't bother Leya in the slightest.
    She knew herself to be smart enough to set her own priorities in life, and perfect housekeeping simply wasn't one of them.
    But where, she asked herself thoughtfully as she viewed her highly eclectic decor, did Courtland Gannon Tremayne fit into her list of priorities? She shook her head, her eyes roving idly over the excellent nineteenth-century end tables and the twentieth-century batik wall hangings. Why was she tacitly admitting to herself that, even though she had every reason to mistrust him, her instinctive reaction to Court was to believe he would honorably uphold his end of the contract? Her teeth clenched for an instant. When she thought of how close she had come to letting him seduce her!
    There was no doubt about it, she acknowledged sadly, her pride had been the chief casualty in their small war. It had been a long time since a man had so completely played her for a fool. She closed her lashes against the memory of Court's kisses and her own mindless response.
    But it wasn't only the passion she remembered, it was the humor they had shared and the conversation and the walks on the beach. It all added up to a very dangerous package, and if she had half the brains she credited herself with, she would tell Keith everything and demand they unite to fire the man!
    Well, she decided as she slowly got to her feet and made her way into the cozy bedroom with its huge brass bed, she would have a small breather in which to think about what she wanted to do.

    * * *
Leya was still running through her reactions to Court the next afternoon as she turned off the shower and reached for one of the huge, brilliant red towels that decorated the cheerful red-and-white bathroom. Most of the day, she had been unable to think of much else besides the man, and the fact annoyed her. Perhaps the party this evening would take her mind off the puzzle he presented.
    The towel wrapped around her torso and tucked in just above her breast, she pulled a brush through the unbound deep-brown hair until it fell in a rich mass down her back. She would rebraid it when she had dressed. Maybe she would twine through her hair the beaded metal ribbon she had completed last week, she thought, opening the door of the warm, steamy bath and stepping into her bedroom.
    A scream rose in her throat even as she recognized the large male figure standing by the window. She barely stifled it, her hand going to her mouth in classic shock.
    Immediate fear was replaced at once by unadulterated outrage.
    "Court! What the hell do you think you're doing in my bedroom! How dare you?"
    She clutched automatically at the fastening of the towel but her mind was churning with too much anger to be overly cautious at that point.
    He turned, gold-misted eyes sweeping the length of her figure encased only in the towel and coming to rest on the flaming silver-green gaze. Something stirred in his expression. Something primitive and masculine and dangerous. But he smiled. And that smile made Leya more wary than anything else he might have done.
    "I came to take you to the party," he said simply, not moving.
    "The party," she repeated stupidly. "But . . ."
    "I know we had a date for dinner, but I'm agreeable to a change of plans.
    Fortunately, your brother filled me in on the change, though. Otherwise there might have been a most unfortunate misunderstanding between us." Still he didn't move, watching her with his hands clasped casually behind his back. Leya had the impression he did that to keep from reaching for her throat.
    "I never said I would go out with you this evening," she started