fingers tightened on the receiver. "You'll have to excuse me, Keith. Your idol has just arrived to take me to breakfast," she whispered slowly.
"Fine," Keith sang out in cheerful satisfaction. "Give Court my best, will you? Tell him I'm looking forward to working with him!"
"I'll do that," Leya promised and set the receiver back in its cradle very gently, then got up to answer the door.
Three
He must have known she was aware of the deception the moment she opened the door, Leya thought in cool fury. She saw the darkening of Court's eyes as he took in the set, distant expression on her face. He was every bit as smart as she was. No, that was unfair, she thought sardonically, he had just proven himself smarter. Yes, this man would know at once that he had been found out. But she wouldn't take even the smallest risk that he hadn't yet guessed.
"Good morning, Mr. Tremayne," she managed in a tight, hard voice she almost didn't recognize as her own. Her hand on the door trembled with the full force of her anger, and it took all her inner control to keep from raking the side of his face with her nails.
"Good morning, Leya," he returned quietly with such coolness that she found herself digging her naiis into her palm. "I take it you couldn't resist calling your brother to tell him the good news?" he added dryly. He watched her with a hard, grim look that suggested he knew exactly what she was thinking.
She tilted her chin in chilling disdain, taking in the dark slacks that hugged his narrow hips and the maroon sweater with an open-collared cream shirt underneath. So cool, so calm, so very much the winner in their unfair skirmish. A skirmish she hadn't even guessed she was fighting.
"Congratulations," she murmured flatly. "I can only apologize that the victory was so easy for you. It must be depressing to not even get a run for your money out of your opponent. Or perhaps you prefer the easy wins?"
He reached out with one large hand and jerked the door a couple of inches, just enough to pull it free of her death grip. Automatically, she stepped back a pace as he advanced into the small room, filling it with his massiveness. He closed the door behind him with disciplined care.
"The contract," he told her bleakly, "was not the important thing between us. I wanted it out of the way."
The corner of Leya's mouth turned down in self-disgust as she faced him, the long sable braid falling across the front of her yellow sweater. She had put on boldly yellow, brightly casual earrings to go with the sweater, and their strong color was a warm note against the darkness of her sleek hair.
"I see," she flung back tersely. "For you, a victory over a woman has to be asserted in bed, is that it?" Her scorn ricocheted around the room, returning to strike again and again, but it seemed to do little damage to his tough, male hide. "For the record, when would you have told me the truth?"
"When I had you safely in bed," he admitted with such readiness that it was all she could do to keep from throwing something at him.
"You're despicable!"
"I'm practical. Done my way, things would have been a whole lot easier than they're going to be now."
"You mean you would have been more satisfied with yourself if you'd managed to seduce me as well as get my name on that contract!" she blazed. "God! What kind of man are you? To think that last night I actually thought you had something of the gentleman in you! I can't believe I've been so incredibly stupid!" She turned away, crossing her arms tightly below her breasts and walked stiffly to stand in front of the mirror over the dressing table. How could she have been such a fool? This was worse, far worse than last time . . .
He moved to stand behind her, not touching her fiercely hunched shoulders. The gold-and-brown eyes met the flaring brilliance of her silver-green gaze in the mirror.
"That's the hard part, isn't it, Leya?" he prodded knowingly. "The knowledge that you were tricked."
"Being played for
Learning to Kill: Stories