She sighed, surreptitiously looking around for more ammunition. "Darned right, that's what I think. What else?"
"How about that I think you have a meaningful career that helps other people, that you have an education in something more valuable than in catching a rich husband. Maybe I even think you have useful things to do with your life so you don't have to waste it hanging around with women who spend ninety-three percent of the money they raise on self-indulgent so-called charity parties and then pretend they're doing something helpful to the world."
Courtney's anger collapsed around her like a house of cards in a hurricane. Could he really be saying that she didn't belong in the Symphony Society because she deserved better, not because she deserved worse?
"Oh." She paused, trying to get her legs back under her. "So you don't think I'm--"
"Most of those women are doing the best they can. They got shortchanged into thinking they couldn't do anything really important when they were growing up, and they never broke those chains. You, on the other hand, are smart and powerful, and you know how to make things happen."
"Oh." She barely managed to close her mouth before she started to drool or something. Tyler thought she was smart and powerful. Wow.
The arrival of the first course cut that part of the conversation short.
* * * *
Oysters, Courtney decided, were definitely nasty. Not nasty like bad. Nasty like sex.
Watching Tyler doctor his up with horseradish and then swallow each one whole was a sensuous experience. Eating one herself was practically unnerving.
The main course was a sensual overload. A crew of four waiters carried a huge and flaming platter of some sort of beef. The elegant china, sterling silver flatware and serving pieces, and the presentation of meat, cute little asparagus stalks, and tiny carrots were almost too beautiful to touch. The explosion on her taste buds was even more potent.
Dessert--a mousse au chocolat, accompanied by another bottle of wine--not because they'd finished the others but just to provide the perfect taste sensation, proved to be the ultimate.
"I'm glad I'm not rich," she admitted. "If I ate like this every day, I'd have to widen my doors at the office."
Tyler only laughed as he signaled for two glasses of cognac and waved away the cigars a beautiful woman in a supershort skirt offered. "I don't think so, Courtney. You respect yourself too much to let your appetite ruin you."
She wasn't sure that was true. Because her appetites craved Tyler as the perfect ending to an evening that had started badly and then turned so wonderful.
"Do we have to drink these?" She gestured at the large glass snifters the waiter put on the table, the amber fluid glowing almost magically in the candlelight.
Tyler shook his head. "I can think of a hundred things I'd rather do."
Chapter 9
Behind the wheel of his Mercedes, Tyler resisted the urge to speed.
He'd barely been able to control himself in the restaurant. The expression on Courtney's face as she'd discovered the delights of oysters, well-cooked and presented foods, fine wine, and rich chocolate desserts had kept him turgid, scarcely able to taste the really excellent work that Andre DuPoison, the Maison's chef, had put into their meals.
And now, finally, Courtney was coming home with him. Back to his bed. Back where she belonged.
Tyler wasn't sure where their relationship was going, but he was certain that they had a relationship, that what was between them had been elevated so far beyond the purely physical bounds he'd established with any other woman that it couldn't even be compared.
Courtney snuggled closer to him, then slid her fingernail down the inseam of his evening suit.
"Careful," he breathed as he barely made it through a yellow light.
"I don't want to be careful. I've been careful all of my life. Cowardly. Afraid to take a chance."
Despite himself, he was intrigued. "Starting a business by yourself is hardly being cowardly."
"Maybe not, but do you know why I chose that profession?"
"Because you like animals?"
"Because I don't like people. Or, more accurately, I was running away from the way people treat others like objects, like steppingstones to achieving their interests, like servants. I've been used all my life and whenever I have to deal with people, I worry that they'll use me as well. I'm just cowardly when it comes to relationships."
He shook his head. Courtney was perceptive when it came to other people and their animals, but she could miss the obvious when it came to herself.
"You've worked wonders with Harvey, but also with me. You made me see things about myself, and how I deal with problems. Clearly you do deal well with people. I mean, look at Mrs. Hale. I've never seen her so happy. She told everyone that Fluffy would starve herself to death."
Her hand froze. "I hadn't realized you knew Mrs. Hale that well."
Damn. In his desire to show Courtney her strength, he'd inadvertently opened a door he wanted to keep firmly barred.
"Mrs. Hale is from an old Philadelphia family."
"Oh, of course. And you all know each other."
He let out the breath he'd been holding. "Pretty much."
She paused. "I'm not usually down on myself, Tyler. Sorry."
He yanked his steering wheel to the right and pulled over, and jammed on the parking brake.
"What--"
He didn't give Courtney a chance to finish her question. Instead, he reached for her, freed himself from his confining seatbelt, and pulled her close to him.
He kissed her slowly, on the eyelids, the tip of her nose, then finally her mouth.
Outside, a winter storm buffeted the car, shaking the vehicle's heavy steel like a child with a rattle. But inside, they were warm, protected, and together.
She pressed lightly on his chest, taking a moment to explore the contours of muscle beneath his starched white shirt.
"Okay, I guess I needed that. But you know what? I need something else even more."
Oh, yeah. And he'd promised her a hundred things. Well, if he couldn't come up with a hundred things to do with beautiful and sexy Courtney Zane, he would think about finding a monastery somewhere. The first hundred wouldn't be a challenge. A thousand--he couldn't hold back the smile. How long would it take to try a thousand different techniques? Certainly he couldn't reach that number in a night. In a week? Almost definitely not. A month? Maybe. But then, some would have to be done over to make sure they were perfected. Like Andre, the chef, he'd have to explore, repeat techniques until they were perfect.
This could take a long time.
There wasn't anything Tyler could imagine that he'd rather be spending his time on.
"How do you think Harvey is doing?"
Tyler hadn't thought anything could break his mood, but Courtney had proved him wrong--again. "He's been alone for hours. We'd better get home and find out."
"I was hoping we'd be getting home soon." She shivered slightly. Despite the car heater's valiant efforts, the cold outside was seeping in. Since he'd been forced to leave their coats at the symphony event, Courtney wore only that thin sheath of a dress.
He shrugged out of his evening jacket, passed it to her, and then restarted his car. "We'll be able to get warm in a few minutes."
She slipped into his jacket, refastened her seatbelt as he pulled out into traffic, then reached one of her small hands across the seat and grasped his engorged manhood. "I'm sure we can figure something out to keep us both very warm."
* * * *
Before she'd met Tyler, Courtney hadn't been the kind of woman who would grab a man's arousal and savor his hardness as if it were a hot-fudge sundae she couldn't wait to eat. But being with Tyler was changing her, turning her into someone different.
Not completely different, though, she realized. This new person was still Courtney, but Courtney in color instead of black and white: Courtney in three dimensions, rather than merely two. When her fling with Tyler inevitably e
nded, she knew she'd be a richer person for it--if she survived at all. But thinking like that was borrowing trouble. Because she and Tyler had barely begun.
She squeezed Tyler's manhood once more as he pulled into the converted carriage house that served as his garage and turned off the engine.
"Can you believe it? It's snowing again. I can go in and get you a wrap if you want," he offered. "Or we can just brave the cold."
"I don't want to wait." She wasn't just talking about the walk into his house, either.
"Me neither."
He was around to open her door before she figured out which buttons to push to get it open on her own.
His hand on her arm was confident, supporting her as she stepped out into the bitterly cold air of late December in Pennsylvania.
She was glad of his support when her ridiculously heeled pump hit a slick patch of ice and her legs went one way while her body went the other. She would have asked what crazy fool came up with the design for women's shoes but by the time she caught her breath, Tyler had swept her into his strong arms and was making short work of the hundred yards that separated his carriage house from his home. Once held next to his chest, she felt like the air had been sucked from her lungs and couldn't ask about anything, couldn't talk, could only inhale his nearness.
Two nights ago, making love with Tyler had been a momentary thing, the product of desire, of her impulsive decision to explore the attraction and to discover if lovemaking really could be the kind of miracle that magazines and romance novels insisted that it was.
Tonight, things were more complicated. Her feelings toward Tyler had grown. Her desire had grown from a small curious thing to a raging fire of need. But desire was only part of it. Spending time with Tyler, Barton, and Harvey had made her realize that a different kind of family was possible--something better than the dysfunctional mess she'd grown up in.
Almost certainly that kind of family wouldn't be possible for her and Tyler. But if she gave up before she even tried, she'd never know. And she intended to give it every opportunity in the world. If things didn't work out and her heart was broken, so what? Would that be so much worse than if she ignored her feelings, refused to take the risk, and simply walked away? She didn't see how it could be.
* * * *
Tyler carried Courtney into the mudroom and set her down slowly. Her near-fall had startled him, made him realize how fragile she could be.
She shrugged out of his jacket and offered it to him; he hung it over a hook on the wall and turned all of his attention to her.
She looked beautiful.
Her form-fitting dress hugged her curves and was cut low enough in front to expose a tantalizing promise of cleavage and make him wonder how she could possibly be wearing anything underneath it.
She'd pinned her long dark hair up in some sort of arrangement that looked sophisticated and elegant. He admired the look--but it wasn't what he wanted now.
Slowly, he reached for the pins that held it in place and removed them, one by one, tossing them onto the small table where he kept his gloves.
"Hey. I spent a lot of time getting my hair up."
"Good thing it won't take as long to get it down," he growled. "Because I don't know how long I can wait."
She moved toward him, pressing her lips to his, her thigh against his groin.
His body caught fire as he kissed her, then ran his hands through her long dark hair, hair which splashed down her back like a midnight waterfall.
For an instant, the pure sensory overload of Courtney's kiss, the soft yielding of her breasts against his chest, the touch of her body against his own left him dizzy, disoriented.
A nudge on his hip brought him back to the present. "What the--"
He and Courtney both looked down.
Harvey held his leash in his mouth, his tail a blur of motion, his quick-stepped dance a clear sign of desperation.
"Hold that thought," he whispered in Courtney's ear. He tried to make his words a promise because he had to let her go. He snapped the leash onto Harvey's collar. "We'll be back in a minute. Come on, buddy," he told Harvey. "We'll go out and take care of business. You were a good boy for waiting so patiently for us. And you're one hell of a pet psychologist," he told Courtney. "Before you got here, he didn't ask politely. We would have heard him as soon as we got within half a mile of the place."
"Take your time. But be prepared. I might just have a little surprise waiting for you."
Tyler barely held back a grin. She had to mean she'd be in his bed, naked. It wouldn't be a surprise, but it would be a fabulous treat. "Call me gone, then."
Harvey trotted along with him as he opened the door, snapped on the glistening holiday lights that decorated the exterior of his home, and stepped out into a wonderland of snow.
As a child, Tyler had loved the winter--tobogganing down local hills, playing hockey on the frozen rivers near his parents' home, skiing in the nearby Poconos. But when his father had died, Tyler had left those pleasures behind him and devoted himself to work--to making the money that would let him reclaim the family prestige his mother craved and that his father had squandered.
He didn't regret his decision to pursue business and money, although gradually his motivation had changed. He no longer worried or even cared about social position. What mattered to him was that he was directly responsible for hundreds of workers having good jobs, for a resurgence in industry in what had been a hard-hit part of the industrial belt of America.
But as Harvey charged into a snowdrift, exploding it around him like a cannonball, Tyler realized that he'd sacrificed a lot to achieve his goals. He was in his mid-thirties. By his age, most men had wives, families. Tyler had an adopted and neurotic dog, a non-adopted but clearly neurotic mother, and a shopaholic sister. And he had Courtney. Courtney wasn't family, but she was special and he intended to explore the attraction that drew him to her like a bear to blueberries.
"Let's take care of business," he told Harvey. "You're a great guy but we wouldn't want to keep Courtney waiting."
The temperature had dropped into the low twenties, but Harvey didn't seem to mind. To his surprise, Tyler didn't really notice it, either although he was stripped to his shirtsleeves. That brief kiss he'd shared with Courtney had left a residual warmth far stronger than any winter winds.
Harvey sniffed at a tree, lifted his leg, and left his calling card.
"Good start," Tyler encouraged.
A tickle warned him that he was being watched. Probably Courtney looking out a window, he assured himself. If it had been anything threatening, Harvey would have alerted.
When the snowball caught him in the back of the neck, he was completely surprised.
"I told you to be ready for a surprise." Courtney, in hastily donned jacket, jeans and sneakers, threw another snowball but he wasn't caught unprepared this time. He snagged the ball from the air and tossed it back.
Courtney dodged. "You'll have to do better than that. Give it your best shot."
He'd been brought up to treat women carefully, but Courtney was right. He'd thrown that snowball like a girl. He'd thought he was being polite, but in fact he'd been condescending. He needed to treat Courtney as an equal if he wasn't going to drive her away.
He bent down and scooped up a double handful of fluffy snow and compacted it.
Courtney was quicker than he--or had already prepared a bunch of snowballs because she got off two more shots before he was ready with his first snowball. The first one she threw, he dodged. The other hit him square on the chest when Harvey decided to yank on his leash just as Courtney unwound.
"No fair double-teaming." He laughed as he brushed the snow off his shirt, then let loose with his carefully prepared weapon.
It exploded over Courtney's down jacket, hitting hard enough that it rocked her back on her heels.
She shook her head. "I'll get you for that, Atwood."
Had he hit her too hard? "Are you all right?"
"I can't
breathe. What did you do? Why were you so rough with me?"
Guilt surged over him and he stepped closer to her--and ran into another two snowballs.
"Sucker."
He ducked one of her missiles and caught the other, but that was a mistake. The loosely packed snow exploded in his hand, ricocheting flakes all over his body.
"You have to pack them tighter," he said.
"Yeah? If I want them thrown back at me, maybe."
He hadn't thought that she could have planned that. He'd known Courtney Zane was smart. He hadn't suspected she could outsmart him.
"Okay, you're asking for it."
"Big threats, Atwood. Think you can follow through?"
"You have no idea how completely I can follow through."
"Oooh. Now I'm scared."
She tossed another snowball. She seemed to have an endless supply.
One thing Tyler had learned in running a business. There was a time to make threats or promises. But sooner or later, it became time to deliver. In this particular snowball battle, delivery time had arrived, in spades.
He ignored the missiles Courtney lobbed his way while he built himself a small arsenal of his own. Five snowballs, each compacted tightly, each perfectly round. With that kind of weaponry, Horatio could have defended his bridge forever.
Courtney edged closer, her arms loaded with a small mountain of snow. Her long hair, loose now, hung around her like a cape. Her cheeks glowed a healthy pink and her smile glistened in the reflected white light of electric icicles draped from his home.
"You really don't want to get that close," he warned.
"You don't know what I want."
"Don't say you weren't warned." He leaned over to pick up the first of his weapons. His hands expected the chill of hardened snow but found instead warmth.
Harvey looked up at him with a look that proclaimed innocence. The shattered remains of his five beautiful snowballs proved otherwise.
"Traitor. Saboteur."
"Good boy, Harvey." Courtney shoved her pile of snow into his face.
He grasped her before she could spin away, spilled her toward the soft blanket of snow that covered his grounds.
CEO's S.O.S. Page 11
