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Blackmailed Into Bed
Heidi Betts
Businessman Chase Ramsey's audacious terms should have offended her, but Elena Sanchez had no choice.To save her family's business, she'd have to become Chase's mistress. Chase had waited years to avenge what Elena had done to him. Now she'd have to play by his rules.But the ebony-haired beauty soon had him craving her like a starving man. Had his indecent proposal backfired?
Blackmailed Into Bed
Heidi Betts
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To my wonderful readers, who are—without question—
the greatest in the world. So many of you, so sweet and
supportive. Thank you for your letters and e-mails and
kind words of encouragement when I see you in person.
You remind me on a daily basis of why I love my job
so much, and keep me going on those long, dreary days
when the words won’t seem to come.
This one’s for you!
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Epilogue
Coming Next Month
One
Elena Sanchez looked up and down the long hallway, her heels clicking on the expensively tiled floor as she moved. There was no one behind the desk where she assumed a receptionist would normally sit, but then, it was lunch time. Even she had sneaked away from the office to come over here.
She glanced at the doors as she passed, searching for the one she needed, for the name of the man she had to see, whether she wanted to or not. And she really didn’t want to. If her father wasn’t desperate—if she wasn’t desperate on her father’s behalf—she probably would have gone the rest of her life without bumping into Chase Ramsey.
She certainly wouldn’t have made a point of tracking him down.
When she saw his name printed in black block letters on the gold door plate at the end of the hall, her stomach jumped and she had the sudden urge to turn and run. But she’d made up her mind to do this, so she would.
Raising a hand, she knocked, and then wiped her damp palms on the sides of her red linen, knee-length skirt so he wouldn’t realize how nervous she was if he shook her hand.
She heard mumbling from the other side, perhaps even a curse, followed by a grumbled, “Come in.”
Twisting the knob, she pushed the dark wooden door open and stepped inside.
His office was huge, encompassing three large plate glass windows that overlooked downtown Austin. An oriental rug and two dark green overstuffed leather armchairs filled the space in front of his wide cherrywood desk.
Behind that desk, Chase Ramsey sat scribbling notes while he held the phone to his ear and carried on a somewhat heated conversation with whoever was on the other end of the line. He didn’t bother looking up, even though she knew he must have heard her enter.
Not presumptuous enough to take a seat until invited, Elena stayed where she was, standing just inside the office door, clenching and unclenching her fingers around the strap of her purse that hung at her side.
He was as handsome as she remembered. Darn it. But in a darker, much more mature way—she hadn’t seen him since they were teenagers.
His hair was as black as midnight, cut short, with just a hint of curl that fell over his forehead. And from what she could see above the desk, he filled his dark gray, expensive, tailored suit to perfection. Broad shoulders, expansive chest, tanned hands that looked strong enough to lift a small building.
Or stroke across a woman’s thigh.
Oh, Lord. Where had that come from? She clutched the strap of her handbag more tightly and fought the urge to fan her face. Butterflies were flying in rapid formation through her stomach, making her weak in the knees.
So he had big hands. Big, dark, impressive hands. The fact that she’d noticed—and was apparently quite distracted by them—meant nothing. Except perhaps that it had been awhile since she’d had any decent, attractive male company. Even longer since a man had been near her thighs—with his hands or anything else.
She heard a click and blinked, raising her gaze back to the man behind the desk. While she’d been fantasizing about long, masculine fingers sliding beneath the hem of her skirt, Chase Ramsey had apparently finished his conversation and was now staring at her with an impatient, annoyed glint in his sharp blue eyes.
“Can I help you with something?” he asked.
Taking a deep breath and steeling her nerves, she stepped forward to stand between the two guest chairs angled in front of his desk.
“Yes, actually,” she said, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear before resting her palm on the high back of one of the chairs. “My name is Elena Sanchez, and I’d like to talk to you about your interest in Sanchez Restaurant Supply Company.”
She knew the exact moment he recognized her. Not just the name of her father’s company as one he was in the process of taking over, but recognized her. Her name and possibly her features, if he remembered anything about her from all those years ago.
His eyes turned hard and dark, his mouth tightening to a thin, flat line. He dropped the pen in his right hand on top of the papers he’d been working on and leaned back in his chair, resting his elbows on the padded arms and steepling his fingers in front of him as he rocked back and forth, back and forth.
Inwardly, she cringed. Judging by his reaction to her presence, his memory was as impressive as his physical attributes.
And his disdain was justified, she knew. Two decades ago, she’d been a spoiled, high-strung teenager, and had treated a lot of people badly, Chase included.
Not that her youth could be used as an excuse. Everyone makes mistakes when they’re kids, and sometimes those mistakes have to be paid for or made right.
This, Elena decided, was her punishment for having had a lousy attitude as an adolescent—coming face-to-face with Chase Ramsey again, and essentially having to grovel in an attempt to help her father save the family business.
It might not be easy, but she would step up and take her lumps like the mature adult she’d grown into.
A phone rang out in the hallway, but Chase ignored it. He just kept rocking in his high-priced leather desk chair, staring at her as though he could see straight through to her soul.
And maybe he could. She felt exposed down to the bone. She might as well have been standing in the middle of his office stark naked, instead of in one of her most professional dress suits.
The red linen skirt and matching jacket over a low-cut white blouse always made her feel powerful and in control. She’d worn it purposely this morning, knowing she would be facing the lion in his den.
But now she realized her choice of clothing made absolutely no difference. She could have been wearing a suit of armor and would be no less nervous about standing in front of Chase Ramsey, waiting for him to strip a few layers of skin off her hide or order her out of his office without even letting her explain her reason for being there.
Instead, he lifted one black eyebrow and sat forward again, the corners of his mouth twisting in the grim mockery of a smile.
“Elena Sanchez,” he murmured coldly, pushing slowly to his feet and moving around his desk. “Now, there’s a name I never thought I’d hear again. Can’t say I ever expected you to saunter into my office, either.”
He paused directly in front of her, with fewer than three feet of space between them. The air was thick and tense, and Elena found her lungs straining for breath with him standing in such close proximity.
Leaning back against the edge of the desk, he crossed his arms over his chest and pierced her with that glacial blue glare.
“I take it you’re here to beg me not to buy out your daddy’s business,” he said, his tone only a notch above patronizing. “Sorry, sweetheart, but I didn’t build Ramsey Corporation into a multimillion dollar company by falling for long lashes and a nice pair of legs.”
He let his gaze travel blatantly down her body, past her breasts, her waist, her hips, until they caught and held on the expanse of leg left visible below the hem of her skirt, which fell just above her knees.
“No matter how shapely they might be,” he added before dragging his eyes reluctantly back to her face.
It was her turn to raise a brow. She dropped her purse on the seat of one of the guest chairs and took a more defensive stance.
“I’m not here to beg you for anything. I came to speak with you about a business issue that’s important to my family. And whether or not you find my eyelashes and legs attractive is completely inconsequential. We’re both adults; we should be able to sit down and talk in a calm, professional manner without you ogling me like a parolee on his first visit to a strip club after twenty years in solitary confinement.”
The muscles in Chase’s cheeks twitched, and it took all of his willpower to keep from letting that twitch spread into a full-blown grin.
It had been almost twenty years since he’d seen or spoken to Elena Sanchez. Frankly, he’d never given a damn if he ever saw or spoke to her again. She was one of those painful memories from childhood that still oozed and bled if he let down his guard long enough to peel back the curtain between present and past.
Thankfully, he didn’t do that very often. He hadn’t thought about Elena in years. Not even, surprisingly, when he’d begun the process of buying out her father’s restaurant supply company. To Chase, it was just another smart business move; the kind that had transformed him from a modest rancher’s son to a millionaire and CEO of his own self-named corporation at the age of thirty-five.
Kicking away from the desk, he smoothed a hand over his tie and once again rounded his desk.
“By all means,” he told her, waving toward one of the chairs on either side of her body, which she was holding nearly as still and rigid as a statue, “have a seat and we’ll talk. Like adults. About business.”
For a moment she didn’t move, almost as though she expected his offer to be some sort of trap. Then her muscles began to relax and she took a sideways step to her left, perching on the edge of the chair that didn’t hold her little red handbag.
Knees together, spine straight, she held her folded hands on her lap, looking every inch the debutante she’d been raised to be.
The image wasn’t a pleasant one for Chase. It reminded him too sharply of the girl she’d been at fourteen. The same girl who’d bruised his heart and trampled all over it with the sharp little heels of her open-toed shoes.
Pushing aside those old hurts and the feelings they evoked, he met her eyes and tried to regard her just as he would any other business associate.
“All right,” he said, leaning his forearms on the top of his desk, “I’m listening. What is it you need to speak with me about?”
“You’re trying to buy out my father’s—my family’s—company, Sanchez Restaurant Supply,” she said.
“I’m going to buy out your father’s company,” he corrected.
To her credit, his comment didn’t upset her or cause her to back down.
“I’m here to ask you to reconsider your decision,” she continued without flinching. “Or at the very least, to give my father a bit more time to come up with the money and resources necessary to save SRS.”
“Does he think he can do that?” Chase asked, always interested in any new information that might help him get the upper hand or finalize a deal. “Come up with the financial backing, I mean.”
“Yes.”
She glanced away for just a split second, telling him she wasn’t as confident as she was pretending to be.
“He thinks, given enough time, that he could get the company up and running successfully again. And I’m here to ask you to give him the time he needs because I’m worried about what will become of him if he loses SRS.”
Her green eyes, surrounded by full black lashes that matched her long, flowing black hair, met his, wordlessly begging for his understanding and compassion.
Something warm began to unfurl low in his belly, but he clamped his jaw on his fist, and bit down on it. He’d been roped in by her soft eyes and sultry features before, and gotten kicked in the teeth for his trouble. He wouldn’t let her lull him again.
“The company is his life,” Elena went on. “He built it from the ground up, when he had nothing. It’s the cornerstone of our family. After my mother died, he let things slide—he knows that—but he’s trying now to set things right and get SRS back to where it belongs.”
It was a pretty story, one no doubt designed to pull at his heartstrings. Little did she know he didn’t have any heartstrings.
“What does that have to do with me?” he asked bluntly.
Those green eyes flashed for a brief moment before she seemed to remember he held her life and future—or at the very least, her father’s—in his hands.
“You want to buy Sanchez Restaurant Supply and break it into pieces, selling it off to the highest bidder. I realize it would make a tidy profit for you, but I’m asking you to consider the blood, sweat and tears that went into building SRS. Consider the emotional impact losing the company will have on a good man and his family.”
“Emotions have no place in business. Buying out SRS is a sound financial decision, and you’re right—I stand to make a tidy sum on the deal. I can’t worry about how the previous owner is going to feel about the takeover or what he did to put the company at risk to begin with.”
Chase waited for that hint of fire to burn in her eyes once again, but it never came. Instead, she inclined her head once, slowly, before making one last, desperate pitch.
“I thought that’s what you would say. I even understand your position. But will a few more weeks really hurt you? There have to be other companies out there that can net you just as much profit. Can’t you give my father just a few more weeks, maybe a month, to see if there’s something he can do to save the business? If he can’t, all you’ve lost is a little time.” She paused for a beat, looking him straight in the eye and lifting both brows. “Unless there’s some personal reason you would be averse to helping me or my family.”
She put just enough emphasis on the remark to let him know she remembered that night twenty years ago as well as he did, although he doubted her reaction was anything close to his own. He felt a spiral of shame and embarrassment begin low in his gut and he tamped it down, refusing to be controlled by memories…childhood ones, at that.
Elena Sanchez hadn’t changed a bit since he’d last seen her. Oh, she’d grown into a beautiful, breathtaking woman, but then, she’d been a pretty girl.
Where it really counted, though, she was exactly the same. She still expected her feminine wiles and her family’s wealth and reputation to get her whatever she desired.
Sanchez Restaurant Supply was apparently in enough trouble for her to feel compelled to try to help her father, instead of her usual attitude of letting daddy solve her problems. It was obvious she expected Chase to see the situation from her perspective and be mesmerized enough by the bit of skin she was flashing below the hem of her skirt and between the vee of her blouse to give her what she wanted.
Too bad for her that Chase Ramsey was not a man to be led around by the nose…or any other part of his anatomy.
“I told you,” he said, with very little warmth to his words,
“even if I had feelings about your family one way or the other, I wouldn’t let them interfere with a business decision.”
“Well, then,” she said shortly, getting to her feet and retrieving her purse from the seat of the other chair, “I guess I’m wasting my time and yours. Thank you for seeing me. I’ll let you get back to your work.”
He watched the rigid set of her shoulders and the sensual sway of her hips as she walked away, having the uncontrollable urge to call her back.
Why should he want to keep her with him a few minutes longer, when up until today his fondest wish had been never to lay eyes on her again?
His brain was in chaos, struggling to process the conflicting feelings, while at the same time, he was kicking himself for still finding her even moderately attractive. He was like a man with split personalities: a part of him wanted to help her and part of him wanted to punish her.
“Wait,” he called out, just as her long, red-tipped fingers curled around the knob of his office door.
Slowly, with obvious reluctance, she turned to face him.
“I’ve got a proposition for you,” he told her, pushing away from his desk and moving closer, stopping before his actions could be considered intimidating.
“I happen to be in need of a female companion. A beautiful woman to accompany me on business trips and to related dinners and events.”
He straightened his tie and smoothed the lines of his jacket. His statement was at least half true. He might not need a companion, but it certainly would be convenient to have one at his disposal. He just couldn’t figure out why he felt compelled to offer the position to this particular woman.
But it didn’t keep him from pressing forward, even though she had yet to respond.
“If you agree to be available to me whenever I need you, I’ll agree to give your father the same amount of time to do what he can to save SRS. A day, a week, a month—it’s entirely up to you.”
Her lips twitched, as though she was about to speak, but before she could utter a word, he held up a hand to stop her. “You should know, before making a decision, that there will be sex involved. I’ll expect you to share my bed, if that’s something I require.”
Elena’s eyes widened and she barely stopped herself from reaching out to slap him. What kind of woman did he think she was?
“Aren’t there women you can hire for that sort of thing?” she snapped. “I’m not a prostitute.”
“I never said you were. I’m simply telling you what it is that I need, and what you can do to help your father save his business.”
“So you’re asking me to be your mistress. Where you want me to be, when you want me to be there—a living doll you can take out of its box to look pretty and satisfy your physical needs, then put back when you’re finished.”
He shrugged and stuffed his hands into the front pockets of his slacks, causing the sides of his suit jacket to bunch.
“That’s not exactly how I would have put it, but yes. I need a mistress and you need to buy time for your father to save his company. That’s the deal, take it or leave it.”
“You bastard,” she muttered with a breathless laugh that was anything but amused.
“Quite possibly,” he said. “But you’re the one who came to me. And you should consider yourself lucky I’m making you any sort of offer at all. I could have just as easily given you a firm no and sent you on your way.”
She wished she could argue, but knew he was absolutely right. Coming here had been a long shot, and the fact that he was suggesting any compromise at all was a blessing.
The question was: did she have a choice?
If she turned him down, she would have to go home and watch her father lose the business he loved, the company that essentially defined her family and made their name so well-known across Texas and the surrounding states.
But becoming Chase Ramsey’s mistress…Sleeping with a virtual stranger was a difficult concept to swallow, but she was pretty sure this particular near stranger hated her with every fiber of his being. It was probably the driving force behind his proposition, since she couldn’t picture him sitting across from any other woman who came to his office to discuss business and announcing that he would give her more time if she agreed to go to bed with him.
She took a deep breath, letting the fresh oxygen fill her lungs and pump through her bloodstream. Her fingertips turned numb from the death grip she had on her handbag.
“Can I have some time to think it over?” she asked, making sure to keep her voice strong and steady. “Or do you need an answer right this minute?”
Instead of responding, he pulled his hands from his pockets and returned to his desk. Still standing, he grabbed a sheet of memo paper and a pen, then leaned over to scribble a quick note. Marching back in her direction, he handed it to her.
When she glanced down, she found a date, time and the name of the local airport. Below that, he’d added the gate number for a flight to Las Vegas.
“I’ll give you until Thursday. If you show up, I’ll take it to mean you agree to my terms, and your father will get the chance to try to save his company. If not—” He tipped his head and raised a brow. “I’ll continue with my plans to buy out SRS.”
She heard the underlying threat loud and clear, and left his office with the butterflies in her stomach flapping even harder than when she’d arrived.
Two
When Elena arrived home later that evening, she was both physically and emotionally exhausted. After her fateful meeting with Chase Ramsey, she’d gone back to her office and tried, to no avail, to focus on the appointments and paperwork involved in her job as a social worker. Thankfully, she didn’t have any home visits to make and could go over her notes again later, when she was feeling more herself and less…distracted, drained, overwhelmed.
All day she had heard only four words playing over and over in her head. Chase’s deep, seductive voice saying, I need a mistress.
I need a mistress…
I need a mistress…
I need a mistress…
And what bothered her most, what sent her mind careening into confusing, dangerous territory, was that every time those words rumbled through her brain, vivid images were quick to follow.
She could picture him stripped of that expensive suit, all tanned skin and rippling, corded muscles. Hovering over her as she lay stretched across satin sheets, naked and panting for his touch.
He was an attractive man—a handsome, virile, mouthwatering man—and she was a flesh and blood woman. No one could blame her for entertaining a fantasy or two about him, especially after he’d invited her to share his bed not five hours before.
What frightened her was that, instead of being outraged as she was initially, she was now seriously considering it.
Dropping her briefcase at the base of the coatrack just inside the front door, she kicked off her shoes and gave a sigh of relief as she wiggled her toes in freedom. She didn’t usually wear such high heels to work, but the red sling-backs went best with her favorite power outfit, and she’d needed all the self-confidence she could muster to make her way to Ramsey Corporation to face Chase Ramsey himself.
In her stocking feet, she padded across the highly waxed parquet floor of the wide foyer, pausing for a moment to flip through the pile of mail on the table at the base of the steps.
She’d lived in this house in Gabriel’s Crossing all her life, but lately had begun to feel uncomfortable and out of place. Maybe because it wasn’t so much a house as a mansion, looking like something out of Gone with the Wind. There were giant Ionic columns out front; a wide, curved staircase directly across from the front door leading to the second-story; and balconies at the back overlooking several acres of beautiful Texas landscape.
Her father had had it built when Sanchez Restaurant Supply first began to turn a decent profit, and Elena had long suspected the ostentatious design was in part the home her parents had always dreamed of living in, and part proof to anyone who doubted that a first-generation Mexican-American could not only do well for himself and his family, but do extremely well.
And until a few years ago, she’d loved it here. As a teenager, she’d considered it another status symbol to impress her friends, and she’d taken every opportunity to have sleepovers or pool parties.
Now, though, without her mother to fill the house with her own brand of love and laughter, the house felt somewhat empty and much too large.
It was time, Elena knew, to start thinking about moving out. She should have done so years ago, but first her mother had been sick, and then her father had needed her.
Her sister, Alandra, had stuck around for the same reason.
Pulling out the letters and magazines with her name on them, Elena started up the stairs and headed for her room. All she wanted was to climb out of her clothes and sink into a nice hot bubble bath. She would light a few candles, turn on some soft classical music, and maybe even pour a glass of wine to sip while she floated away and did her best to forget Chase’s troubling proposition.
Halfway down the hall, Elena knew it might be awhile before she could be alone with her exhaustion and jumbled thoughts. Her sister’s choice of music—loud, blaring rock and roll—vibrated through her closed bedroom door, and Elena could hear Alandra’s voice singing along.
She was about to pad by, sneak into her own room a few doors down and attempt to block out the thrumming beat of drums and a bass guitar, when Alandra’s door opened and she stepped out in nothing more than a pale pink chemise-style slip and black stockings.
Both women jumped slightly in surprise, then Alandra threw her arms wide and rolled her eyes in relief.
“Oh, Elena,” she called over the volume of the music, which was even louder with the door open, “I’m so glad you’re home. I was about to go downstairs and ask Connie what she thinks of my outfit, but I value your opinion more.”
She waved a hand, inviting Elena in, as she moved across the lushly carpeted floor and turned off the stereo. The sudden silence was almost deafening, but Elena appreciated the gesture; her sister knew how much the loud music bothered her. At a lower volume, it was almost tolerable.
“I’ve got a dinner in an hour. We’re trying to raise money for a battered women’s shelter. I’m not in charge this time, thank heavens, but I still want to look good.”
While Elena perched on the end of her sister’s canopied princess bed, Alandra went to the closet and pulled out two dresses on padded hangers.
“Which of these do you like best?” she asked, holding one and then the other in front of her tall, slim body.
Alandra Sanchez was, quite simply, gorgeous. Olive skin, as clear and smooth as a baby’s bottom, and an hourglass figure were her shining glories. But she’d also been blessed with a pair of traffic-stopping dark brown, almond-shape eyes.
Elena’s only consolation to being the less attractive sister was that everyone said they looked so much alike, she knew she wasn’t exactly an ugly duckling herself.
It also helped that Alandra was as beautiful on the inside as she was on the outside. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for someone, and the more they needed, the more she was willing to give. Personally, financially, it didn’t matter.
She attended four or five fund-raising dinners a week, just like the one she was getting ready for now, and just as many lunches. She belonged to every “good cause” organization in the state, a few across the country, and a few more internationally: battered women and kids, underprivileged children, life-saving medical research, save the whales, save the wild mustangs, save shelter cats and dogs from euthanasia.
Alandra’s greatest talent was in convincing others to give both time and money to her many worthy causes. Just being around her seemed to make everyone else care more—and sometimes feel the slightest bit guilty for not feeling so before she cornered them.
One side of Elena’s mouth curved with pride. Her little sister could charm the scales off a snake and have the naked reptile thanking her afterward.
“This one?” Alandra asked, breaking into Elena’s thoughts and holding up a sleek black tube dress for her perusal. Then she switched hands and held up one in pale pink with black trim, reminiscent of the Jackie O era.
In the black one, Alandra would be a knockout. Men would be drooling and falling at her feet. In the pink one, she’d still get more than her fair share of male attention, but those men would at least stand a chance of paying attention to the dinner speakers and getting interested in the cause.
“The pink one,” Elena said. “Definitely.”
Alandra nodded and stuck the black sheath back in the closet. “That’s what I thought, but I needed a second opinion. I’ll save the black one for next week when I need to raise funds for the no-kill animal shelter.”
She grinned, telling Elena she was well aware of the devastating effect she would have in the other dress.
With a sigh, Elena pushed to her feet, planning to head to her own room while her sister finished getting dressed.
“Elena, wait.”
She turned to find Alandra with her arms in the air, her head only half peeking through the neck of the pink and black dress. The tops of her thighs were visible, showing old-fashioned stockings held up by a sexy black garter belt.
Her sister gave a little shimmy and the dress slipped the rest of the way down. She sauntered over, turned her back to Elena, and held up the long fall of her straight black hair.
“Zip me up, and then we’ll talk about what’s bothering you.”
Elena pulled the zipper up. “Nothing’s bothering me. I’m just tired.”
Alandra shook her head. “Uh-uh. That might work on Pop, but it won’t work on me. I’m your sister; I can read you like a book.”
She spun around and dragged Elena back to the bed, taking a minute to slip her feet into high-heeled black pumps before crossing her legs and perching beside her.
“All right, spill,” Alandra said, sounding entirely too chipper for the headache that was beginning to throb at Elena’s temples.
“Did you do it?” she asked, lowering her voice a fraction. “Did you talk to Chase Ramsey?”
From the moment she’d first thought of going to the CEO of the Ramsey Corporation for help in saving her father’s business, Elena had confided her plan to her sister. They had been best friends and confidantes since childhood, and shared just about everything with each other. Elena trusted Alandra not only to keep her secrets, but to act as a sounding board to let her know if her ideas were logical or bordering on insane.
And while Alandra had agreed that speaking with Chase Ramsey was a good idea, neither of them had breathed a word of their intentions to Victor Sanchez. Their father was a proud man and wouldn’t appreciate anyone—least of all his daughters—interfering in his business or coming to his rescue.
They would only tell him, they decided, if things worked out to their benefit. Otherwise, he need never know what Elena had done.
Elena nodded, her mind flashing back to every tense, intense minute of her meeting with Chase.
Alandra’s eyes glittered with interest. “And how did it go? Is he going to help us?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
Elena met her sister’s gaze and murmured in a voice lacking all emotion, “On whether I sleep with him.”
Her sister’s screech of outrage was comforting, but Elena quickly hushed her for fear their conversation would be overheard. She didn’t think Pop was home yet, but Connie, their longtime housekeeper, could often be found in the hallways dusting or doing other chores.
Once Alandra had calmed down, Elena filled her in on the details of her face-to-face with Chase Ramsey, recounting every word and facial expression from the time she entered his office.
“And then he told me that he’d give Pop extra time to try to save SRS if I agreed to be his mistress. He wants me to meet him at the airport for a trip to Vegas if I’m willing to go through with it.”
From her jacket pocket she pulled the slip of paper Chase had given her, and handed it to her sister. Alandra studied the scrawl before refolding the note and giving it back.
“What are you going to do?” she asked.
“I don’t know.” Elena released a pent-up breath and shook her head, still racked with indecision.
“Do you want me to do it?”
Elena gave a bark of laughter, then caught the flat look in her sister’s eyes.
“Are you serious?” she asked. “You’d do that for me?”
Alandra shrugged. “For you, for Pop, for the family business. It wouldn’t be that much of a hardship. You did say he was cute, right?”
She hadn’t, and “cute” wasn’t even close to the word she would use to describe Chase Ramsey’s strong features, fathomless blue eyes and attractive physique.
“It’s not like I have that much going on in the boudoir these days, anyway,” Alandra continued with a small eye roll when Elena didn’t respond. “And if this guy just wants to get laid, then he probably won’t care which sister he’s with.”
Elena laughed again, this time in amusement. She threw her arms around Alandra and hugged her tight. “Oh, Alandra, I love you.”
“I love you, too. And I’m more than willing to take this bullet for you, if you want me to.”
Elena could just imagine that. The only problem was that when she pictured her sister in bed with Chase instead of herself, she felt a stab of inexplicable jealousy.
How could that be? How could she be jealous of her own sister, who was willing to sleep with a complete stranger just to save Elena and the family business? And how could she suddenly feel territorial about a man who had made her such a disrespectful offer? Primarily, she suspected, as an act of revenge for what she’d done to him as a teenager.
“No,” she said, drawing a deep, cleansing breath. “I’m the one who came up with the idea of going to him in the first place. And I’m the one with a past relationship with him.”
“All right,” Alandra acquiesced, “then how do you feel about Ramsey’s offer?”
Her stomach jumped at the question, followed by a peculiar, almost traitorous warmth that spread through her breasts and between her legs.
Lord, could she actually be attracted to Chase? On more than simply the detached level of a woman catching a glimpse of a good-looking man.
Could the attraction go deeper? Could she actually be considering saying yes to his proposition? To becoming his mistress?
A skittering of nerves joined the heat flowing through her bloodstream. She’d never been a man’s mistress before, never been in a relationship based solely on sex. She’d dated a good number of men, and even slept with a few of them, but those relationships had always moved slowly and been based on other things, like friendship, mutual attraction, similar occupational interests.
Chase had no interest in getting to know her, and she doubted they had a single thing in common other than her father’s company. He wanted her for two reasons only—to look good on his arm at business gatherings and to satisfy him in bed.
And darned if that idea wasn’t becoming more appealing by the minute.
Squeezing Alandra’s fingers, she felt tears prickle at the back of her eyes as she met her sister’s gaze. “Is it terrible that I’m thinking of going through with it? And not entirely to help out Pop?”
Alandra gave a soft chuckle, pushing a strand of hair back from Elena’s face and tucking it behind her ear. “Of course not. You’re allowed to think a guy is hot and want to roll around with him for a while, with or without ulterior motives. I’d be more worried if you thought Chase Ramsey was a dog, but were still willing to sacrifice yourself and your body for SRS. The important question, I think, is how you’ll feel about yourself afterward. Can you chalk it up to one of life’s many adventures while remaining emotionally detached, or are you going to feel guilty or ashamed when it’s all over?”
Her sister was right, but Elena knew she wasn’t going to make a decision tonight. She had a couple of days before Chase left for Las Vegas, and she was going to take every one of them to make up her mind.
Chase wished he could say he was unconcerned and uninterested in whether Elena Sanchez showed up today. But in truth, he’d gotten to the airport an hour earlier than he normally would, just in case.
He’d positioned himself in one of the chairs facing the main area of the airport so he could see everyone who passed by and watch for her.
Just in case.
He’d dug out his laptop and was trying to work, making sure he had a clear view over the top of the monitor.
Just in case.
Part of him hoped she wouldn’t take him up on his offer. It had been a totally spontaneous, reckless suggestion, and he still wasn’t sure why he’d made it.
Maybe because he’d always wanted the chance to knock her down a few pegs. Maybe because it had been obvious that day in his office that she wasn’t quite the high and mighty princess she’d been in high school, with a father wealthy enough to buy and sell Chase’s own modest, hard working family and every acre of land they possessed.
Or maybe because, despite his better judgment and the gut instincts that screamed for him to back away, keep his distance and not get sucked in again by her sparkling emerald eyes, he wanted her on a purely primal, carnal level.
He’d spent the last few days kicking himself for letting his libido run rampant and make decisions for him. He wasn’t a randy youth anymore, and was more than capable of ignoring and overriding his lust.
Unfortunately, all that had seemed to fly out the window after one glimpse of her long black hair, olive skin and full, kissable lips. The shape of her breasts and flared hips in that tight red suit hadn’t hurt, either.
Just the memory of her slim figure and musky perfume caused his body to stir. He shifted restlessly on the uncomfortable airport seat and tried to focus once again on the spreadsheet on the monitor in front of him.
A second later, something tall and green entered his peripheral vision. He glanced up to find Elena standing before him, and his heart skipped a beat. In surprise and sexual longing, he was sure. Not for any other reason.
Reaching out with one hand, he slowly lowered the lid of the laptop and set the computer aside, then took a minute to soak up her appearance.
She wore forest green dress pants and a blouse that matched her eyes, with a narrow slit down the front and brightly colored sequins and beads on either side as decoration. Her hair was pulled up at the sides and held in place with matching copper combs. Dangling earrings made of copper, gold and silver circles glittered at her ears. And on her feet were a pair of tan heels that looked somewhat out of place for travel and added to her height a couple of inches that she didn’t need to showcase her other more-than-adequate attributes. In her hand, she held the straps of a matching handbag and at her feet was a somewhat lumpy, overstuffed carry-on bag.
Making a concerted effort not to swallow past the lump of longing in his throat, he offered a small smile and patted the seat of the empty chair to his left.
“You came. I have to say, I’m surprised.”
“You didn’t give me much choice. It was either this or watch my father lose his business, with no chance of at least trying to rescue it from certain doom.”
Although her little speech was dramatic and heartfelt, he refused to feel so much as a niggling of guilt. She was a big girl, capable of making her own decisions.
It was true that he’d backed her into a corner with his unusual bargain, but it was also true that anyone else would have been sent from his office with a firm and absolute no. He didn’t negotiate outside of the boardroom, and even there it often wasn’t necessary since he did his homework and knew how to get exactly what he wanted with a minimum of fuss and muss.
“Well, consider your sacrifice a worthwhile one.” Retrieving his cell phone from one of the outside pockets of his soft leather expandable briefcase, he flipped open the top and hit the speed dial number for his office.
“Nancy,” he said when his personal assistant picked up on the other end. “Do me a favor and put a hold on everything pertaining to the Sanchez Restaurant Supply takeover. I want to give the deal a bit more thought before we go any further. Thanks,” he said after her affirmative response, and hung up.
“There you go,” he told Elena, shifting to face her more fully and drape his arm along the back of her chair.
“Whatever your father thinks he can do to pull his company out of its downward spiral, now he has the time to do it.” Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out two first-class tickets to Las Vegas and held out hers.
She took it and studied her name printed in bold black ink at the top.
“You must have been pretty confident that I’d show up to buy me a ticket.”
He shrugged and cocked his head to one side. “It was a calculated risk. I couldn’t very well have you show up and not have a ticket for you, now could I? But I did make sure it was transferable, so if you hadn’t shown, I could have used it for another trip later.”
For the first time since she’d arrived, a ghost of a smile started to steal across her face. She raised green eyes to his, a twinkle of amusement playing behind her long, dark lashes.
“You’re a very cocky man,” she told him, her voice haughty but with a hint of warmth that hadn’t been there earlier or in their previous meeting. “Are you ever not completely sure of yourself?”
Only when Elena Sanchez is in the room, he thought sourly. She was the only person who still had the ability to make him feel gawky and gangly and sixteen years old.
He would work that out of his system this week, though. Or die trying.
But aloud, for her benefit, he said, “Nope. It’s been a long time since junior high,” he added pointedly.
He knew his comment had hit home when her lips turned down in a frown and she glanced away.
“Yes,” she said simply. “It has.”
Several beats passed in uncomfortable silence before Chase let out a huff of breath and decided he probably shouldn’t have needled the woman he hoped to seduce shortly after touching down in Las Vegas.
He didn’t fool himself into believing her agreement to sleep with him was a done deal. Yes, she was here, which he assumed meant she had every intention of sharing his bed. But if she changed her mind at the last minute or got cold feet, he wasn’t going to force her. He’d never forced any woman, and he wasn’t going to start with Elena Sanchez.
Of course, she didn’t know that. As far as she was concerned, flying to Las Vegas constituted her first act as his mistress, and he planned to go with that for as long as he could, hoping everything worked out just as he’d been fantasizing since she’d walked into—and out of—his office.
“Relax, Elena.” He touched her arm with his free hand and rubbed the bare flesh with the side of his thumb. “We have the whole week to get to know each other better. And I promise not to jump your bones until after we’ve checked into the hotel.”
Three
The short flight to Nevada was comfortable in first class, and quite uneventful. Chase kept his word, barely touching her the entire time and keeping their conversation to benign, unimportant topics.
But that didn’t keep the nerves from skittering up and down her spine. In fact, the closer they got to the hotel, the worse her anxiety became.
He’d said he wouldn’t “jump her” until after they arrived at the hotel. Did that mean the minute they hit the lobby? Would he accost her in the elevator, or as soon as they were inside the room?
She knew she was being irrational. In all the time she’d spent with Chase so far, she hadn’t seen him do anything the least bit impulsive. For some reason, she simply couldn’t picture him being so overcome with lust that he’d corner her in the hallway or participate in some passionate public display of affection. He was entirely too somber, too controlled.
Not that any of that kept her mind from wandering down a dozen confusing, carnal alleyways. Her body felt like a tightly strung bow, waiting for the moment he would touch her, kiss her, demand she fulfill their bargain between the sheets.
And she cursed herself for the anticipation building like a tornado at her center. For wanting him to do just that when she should be despising him for forcing her into an unacceptable situation.
A spacious black town car met them at the airport and took them directly to their hotel. The Wynn was one of the luxury hotels directly on The Strip, with marble floors, chandeliers and lots of gold and dark, polished wood. There was a casino off to the side, but it was obvious this particular establishment was meant for wealthier visitors to the city, rather than those who might come in for a weekend of fun and debauchery.
Little did the owners of the hotel know that their rich patrons could be just as interested in debauchery as those with limited funds; they were simply better at hiding their true intentions.
A bellman dressed in a maroon uniform trimmed with gold accompanied Chase and Elena to their suite. He opened the door, ushered them inside, then transferred their luggage from the wheeled cart to the bedroom.
The suite was made up of a large sitting area, a kitchenette, bathroom, and through a wide double doorway, the bedroom and a second, more private bath.
Elena had grown up with money and stayed in her fair share of luxury hotels, but even she found the opulence of this particular suite to be somewhat overwhelming.
A king-size bed filled the center of the bedroom, surrounded by ornately carved dressers and a wall of mirrors that hid the long closet space. The bathroom had a shower stall and a separate, deep Jacuzzi, both big enough, she thought, to hold three or four people.
She was standing in the doorway, admiring the almost spa-quality equipment, when Chase came up behind her and whispered in her ear.
“We have more than an hour before we need to be downstairs for dinner. Would you like to take a nap, or unpack, or…something else?”
Although he wasn’t touching her at all, his voice poured over her like warm honey, his hinted suggestion sending off fireworks low in her belly. Her breathing grew choppy and she had to blink several times to stave off the sudden bout of lightheadedness that assailed her.
She wasn’t ready. Not yet. She knew the moment would come when she couldn’t put it off any longer, but for now he’d given her other options, and she grabbed at them like a drowning victim reaching for a life raft.
“I think we should unpack,” she said a bit too loudly and a bit too brightly, spinning on her heel and slipping past him before he could protest or—worse—try to stop her.
Not waiting for a reply, she hurried to where their bags had been left and hoisted her suitcase onto the mattress. There was a luggage rack off to the side, but she decided that if the bed was covered with clothes and such, it couldn’t be used for…other things.
Without a word, Chase joined her and they unpacked in silence, filling the drawers and closets, and cluttering the counter around the bathroom sinks.
When they were finished, Chase suggested they start getting ready for dinner and politely left her alone to change. She hurried with her hair and makeup, and shrugged into one of the half dozen cocktail dresses she’d brought along, knowing Chase would need time in the bedroom and bathroom to get ready himself.
Stepping into the sitting area, she found Chase standing at the bank of tall windows, staring out at the bright lights and bustling activity that made up the heart of Sin City. Though the thick, lush carpeting absorbed the sound of her footsteps, he seemed to sense her presence and turned as she rounded the end of the floral-patterned sofa.
His eyes softened when he saw her, and a gentle smile curved his lips as he skimmed her appearance, from the upswept knot of hair that left her neck and shoulders visible, to the strapless royal blue dress with its lace overlay that hugged her every curve and left her legs seductively bare. She shifted slightly and toyed with the sapphire pendant at her throat, uncomfortable with his thorough perusal.
He strode forward, taking his time and keeping his gaze firmly locked with her own.
“Nice,” he murmured as he passed, careful to leave just enough space between their bodies that her skin prickled in awareness, but they never actually touched.
“I won’t be long,” he added before disappearing into the bedroom and closing the connecting door behind him.
Dinner, Elena was relieved to admit, passed much more enjoyably and with a lot less stress than expected. Chase had introduced her to his business associates by name, with no further explanation, rather than referring to her as his girlfriend or mistress or some other label she’d been concerned he might use. And though she’d made small talk with the other women at the table, she mostly remained silent and allowed Chase to conduct his business.
He even asked her to dance at one point, and held her close while the orchestra played a slow, romantic song. After a couple glasses of wine and the lulling atmosphere seeping into her bones, she let herself lean against the strong wall of his chest and absorb the heat of his fingers where they rested at the small of her back.
She hadn’t forgotten their agreement or her reason for being here—both to help her father and become Chase’s lover—but since the outcome of her decision was inevitable, she started to relax and live for the moment rather than obsess over what might come next.
They said goodnight to the others and made their way through the lobby to the bank of elevators, their footsteps slow, her arm wrapped around his and their hips brushing.
“You were great tonight,” Chase said as they stepped into the empty elevator car. “Finklestein and Rogers loved you. And I think their wives were glad to have another woman at the table. My unattached state usually causes them to spend the entire meal going through a list of single young ladies they think might suit me.”
Elena offered a small smile, but didn’t reply.
“Bringing you along was definitely one of my better ideas.”
When the elevator stopped at their floor, he led her to the suite, opened the door with his keycard and waved her inside ahead of him.
They’d left a lamp on at the far side of the room, so the suite was bathed in pale yellow light. The closed curtains kept the neon sparkle of The Strip from intruding.
“Would you like something to drink?”
Elena turned to find Chase standing near the entrance to the kitchenette, but shook her head. “I already had too much wine with dinner. Any more and I’ll probably pass out and sleep for a week.”
“We can’t have that,” he replied, his voice a low rumble.
Moving closer, he stroked the pads of his fingers down her bare arm, raising goose bumps all along her skin. His gaze held hers and she swallowed hard to keep from shivering.
When he reached her wrist, he unhooked her gold and diamond watch, setting it aside on the kitchenette counter. From the next wrist, he loosened her dangle bracelet, then slipped the rings off her fingers, adding them to the growing pile. Next came her earrings and necklace, until she stood free of accessories.
“Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?”
To her great embarrassment, the only reply she could manage when she opened her mouth was a strangled sort of sound. Chase grinned, his blue eyes turning storm gray and twinkling devilishly.
His hands lifted to her hair and slowly, one by one, he removed the pins holding the long locks in place. When he was finished, he drove his fingers into the twisted strands and combed them down to hang to her waist. A second later, she felt him tugging at the zipper of her dress, and then the fabric slipped from her body.
She didn’t fight it, didn’t grab for the garment before it hit the floor. She simply stood there and let him strip her down to her bra and panties, garter belt, stockings and high heeled shoes.
He took a small step back, just a millimeter to allow him to look his fill. “Lovely.”
“They were my sister’s idea.” The words popped out without conscious thought and she was rewarded for her senseless muttering by his warm, lopsided smile.
“What was?”
“The garter and stockings. She told me they were sexier than pantyhose, and that you’d appreciate the difference.”
His grin widened and turned even more wicked, his gaze locked on the lace edging at the tops of her thighs and the thin straps holding them up. “Your sister was right. Remind me to send her a thank-you note when we get back. And maybe a box of chocolates or some flowers.”
Elena nodded absently, her insides going both weak and hot at the same time.
With one hand on her hip, the other trailing up and down the length of her arm, Chase leaned in and blew on the shell of her ear.
“Tell me, Elena,” he whispered, sending shockwaves through her system, “will you come to bed with me? Now? Tonight?”
Her eyes drifted closed, the lids too heavy to keep open. Her blood felt like syrup slogging slowly through her veins.
If she’d known he was going to have this effect on her, she probably wouldn’t have come. He was too handsome, too charming and obviously had too much power over her. The power to make her weak in the knees and cloud her senses. The power to make her not only willing to sleep with a man she barely knew, but be on the verge of begging for his touch.
He had to know she was putty in his hands, had to know she was his for the taking. And yet he’d asked permission to make love to her, and was still waiting for her answer.
As much as she’d agonized over her decision to come here with him, the decision to go through with sharing his bed was easy. She wanted him, and regardless of his reasons for wanting her, there was only one response she could give.
Her lashes fluttered, and she opened her eyes to see him watching her closely, his expression intense and strained.
“Yes,” she said finally.
She felt the tension seep from his body, saw the lines in his face vanish. Then, before she could form another thought, he scooped her into his arms, his long strides eating up the distance to the bedroom.
Once inside, he laid her gently on the made bed, then stepped back to divest himself of clothing. Raising up on her elbows, she watched him kick off his shoes, undo his cuff links, shed his jacket, tie, shirt and slacks. He came back to her in all his naked glory, so magnificent he made her mouth go dry.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, he opened a drawer in the nightstand and removed a box of condoms, setting them on one of the pillows in easy reach. And then he turned his attention back to her, undivided, focused. The need swirling in her belly began to build and spread outward.
He traced the line of pale flesh above the scalloped cup of her black bra, never taking his eyes from hers. Leaning in, he used his teeth to nibble and bite at her bottom lip. She opened to him, wanting more, wanting everything. And he gave it to her, covering her mouth, molding their bodies together, kissing her until she was limp and gasping for air.
When they parted, Chase grabbed her by the waist and dragged her more to the center of the bed. Then he sat back and lifted her leg until the sole of her satin pump rested flat against his bare chest.
He reached past her bent knee, letting his callused palms run up and down her thigh. His fingers caught one of the garter fasteners and deftly released it. The strap, once pulled taut, snapped back, stinging the delicate flesh of her abdomen. She gave a gasp of surprise and Chase chuckled, covering the spot with his thumb and rubbing gently.
“Sorry. I’m not used to garter belts. I’ll be more careful next time.”
Proving he was as good as his word, he reached around to the second clip and carefully unhooked it from the stocking.
When he began to roll the silky material down, Elena almost wished he’d snapped her again. The tiny, biting pain had to be better than the slow agony he was creating now, the heaving, writhing lust monster coming to life in her belly and between her legs. It had fangs and claws and was tearing at her insides, making her shiver and moan.
And she could tell by the simmering, possessive look in his eyes that he knew exactly what he was doing to her.
“Patience,” he murmured, slipping off her shoe and the rumpled stocking, and pressing a kiss to the inside of her bare ankle.
She made a sound deep in her throat, a cross between annoyance and a whimper. Which only seemed to amuse him all the more.
He switched to her other leg, following the same process, causing perspiration to break out along her upper lip, inside her elbows, behind her knees. When he finished, he took hold of her panties and the garter belt in both fists and slid them over her hips, down the length of her legs, and off, tossing them to the floor. Next, he reached behind her and deftly undid her bra, pitching the strapless garment in the same direction as her other lingerie.
“Now, that’s what I’m talking about,” Chase said, sitting back to admire his handiwork.
She fought the urge to hide her nudity with her hands or reach for a corner of the bedspread, reminding herself that she’d chosen this.
And Chase Ramsey wasn’t exactly the first man to see her naked. He was merely the first in a while—as well as the most handsome and masterful.
She couldn’t remember another man ever making her want him with just one look, ever making her mouth water or her body vibrate so strongly with unleashed desire.
If he was doing this to get back at her for what she’d done to him in high school, then more power to him. She felt like throwing out her arms and screaming, “Take me. Use me. Make me pay.” His form of revenge was her idea of pure ecstasy.
He moved to cover her body with his own, taking her mouth in a slow, bone-melting kiss. His broad chest, with its sprinkling of dark, springy hair, flattened her breasts and rubbed against her nipples. His erection, hard and hot, nudged her stomach.
Digging her nails into his slick shoulders and back, she tipped her hips, trying to get closer, urging him to slip inside, where she needed him most.
But his exercise in torture wasn’t over yet. He finished with her mouth, trailing his lips along her chin, down the column of her throat, across her collarbone and the swell of her right breast.
His tongue swept across the beaded peak and she groaned, arching upward. He continued to lick, nip, suckle and drive all sensible thought from her head.
She dug her fingers into his hair, trying to tug him away even as her back bowed into his magician’s touch. A whimper slipped past her lips, and she fully expected to expire on the spot. If she survived long enough to regain the use of her limbs and brain cells, she fully intended to exact a bit of her own sweet revenge.
He lifted his head and a cocky, satisfied grin spread across his face. But the smoldering heat in his eyes belied the lighter lift of his lips.
“I want to do more,” he said in a tight, gravelly voice, holding her gaze. “I want to kiss you from head to toe. Taste every inch of your skin, then come back for seconds.”
He crawled up a few inches until their eyes and mouths and naughty parts aligned. Threading one hand through the hair at her temple, he reached past her and grabbed the box of condoms, struggling to open it one-handed.
“I want to,” he repeated, “but I can’t. I don’t have that much self-control.”
When he had a single square packet free, he tore the end off with his teeth and spat the plastic aside. It took him less than a second to sheath himself and settle more fully between her legs, which she had wrapped loosely around his hips.
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