Читать книгу Blackmailed Into His Arms - Маргарет Майо - Страница 11

Elena awoke the next morning to a gentle clinking and the heavenly smell of scrambled eggs and fresh-brewed coffee. She rolled to her back, inhaling deeply and stretching her arms high above her head before forcing her eyes open.

The room was still dark, the bed so soft and warm and comfortable, she never wanted to leave it. But the scent of breakfast and sounds of someone moving around in the other room drove her to throw back the covers and sit up.

It took her a moment to realize she was stark naked, the cream-colored satin sheets soft against her bare skin. And then she remembered the events of last evening, a bright flush heating her from her toes to her hairline. She couldn’t decide if she was embarrassed or sorry Chase wasn’t still in bed beside her so they could once again do everything they’d done last night—and more.

Padding across the soft plush carpet, she found a robe and nightie set in one of the dresser drawers and put them on, then took a few minutes to brush her teeth and wash her face before moving to the open doorway between the bedroom and sitting room.

Chase was already dressed in a charcoal-gray suit, white shirt, and seafoam tie, his black hair neatly combed and styled. He sat at the round mahogany table arranged in front of the wide open windows, sipping hot coffee and reading the morning paper.

Running her fingers through her still sleep-tousled hair, she cleared her throat and started forward.

He lifted his head when he noticed her approach and gave her a small smile. “Morning. Did you sleep well?”

She nodded, taking the seat across from him and reaching for the coffee carafe to pour herself a cup.

“I didn’t know what you’d like for breakfast, so I ordered a little of everything,” he told her, reaching for the room service cart a few inches away and removing the silver lids from several platters.

There were pancakes, scrambled eggs, crisp bacon and sausage links and a wide array of fresh, seasonal fruit. It looked delicious, and she wasted no time filling her plate. She added cream and sugar to her coffee and poured a bit of syrup over her pancakes before digging in.

A second later, she lifted her head and glanced at Chase. “Aren’t you eating?” she asked.

He shook his head and lifted his cup to his lips. “Coffee’s all I need in the morning.”

Having him watch her eat what amounted to a truckload of food while he merely sipped his black coffee made her feel like a glutton. Not that it would stop her, she thought, popping a bite of honeydew melon in her mouth.

After she swallowed, she waved her fork at him, distracting him once again from the business section of the Las Vegas Review-Journal.

“It’s not healthy to skip breakfast, you know,” she told him, breaking a slice of bacon into smaller pieces and nibbling them one at a time. “It’s the most important meal of the day.”

One side of his mouth lifted indulgently before he returned his attention to the paper without a word.

She ate in silence awhile longer, enjoying the sunny view out the bank of tall windows, but not her current company. Finally, she put down her fork and grabbed a second plate, filling it with small portions of the same items on her own.

“Here,” she said, pushing the paper aside with a rattle and placing the plate in front of him. “You’re driving me crazy. You have to eat something.”

He stared at her for a long minute, brows knit in a frown. “I don’t need anything to eat.”

He started to open his paper again and straighten the page she’d wrinkled. With a sigh, she half-stood and took the paper from his hands. Before he could grab it back, she returned to her seat and leaned far enough away that he couldn’t reach her unless he got up and came around the table.

“How about if I read the paper to you while you eat?” she offered brightly.

His frown turned into a full-blown scowl. “Elena,” he murmured, lacing her name with dire warning. “I didn’t bring you along to mother me or tell me what to do. I’m thirty-five years old and already set in my ways. I have a routine and I like to stick to it. Now give me back my paper.”

She tipped her head. “Indulge me. Please? You’ve got a busy day ahead of you, and we expended quite a bit of energy last night. You need to keep your strength up or you’ll be of absolutely no use to me in bed tonight.”

She felt her cheeks heat at her own audacity, but forced herself not to squirm under his intense regard. He studied her for several long seconds while her insides turned to jelly.

And then he let out a bark of laughter and picked up his fork.

“Fine,” he said. “You read, I’ll eat. And don’t worry,” he added with a pointed, just-shy-of-boiling glance, “I’ll have plenty of energy for anything you might have in mind tonight.”

Opening the paper to hide any more bright color that might suffuse her face, she swallowed hard and began reading where she thought he’d left off. The information was boring enough to counteract the caffeine already coursing through her bloodstream, but she didn’t stop until she’d reached the last page. She even recapped the comics for him one by one.

When she was finished, she folded the paper and set it aside, delighted to see that he’d cleaned his plate and even poured himself a small glass of orange juice.

“I’ve changed my mind,” he said. “From now on, I’m going to have a huge, four-course breakfast … and I’ll leave the reading of the morning paper to you. Aloud, and in that amazingly sultry voice of yours.”

Sultry? She’d never thought of her voice as sultry before. A little low and raspy at times, but never sultry.

“You have a touch of your father’s accent, did you know that? Like a hint of Mexico just beneath the Texas twang.”

Considering his own Texas drawl was as thick, if not thicker, than her own, she didn’t think he had much room to talk. But still, the compliment—and she did take it as a compliment—washed over her, warming her from the inside out.

“Maybe you could read to me again tonight,” he continued. “In bed. Something sexy and a little naughty.”

Nerves jangled in her stomach, unexpected desire skating down her spine like an Olympic hopeful going for the gold.

“Do you have any sexy or naughty reading material?” she asked, surprised when the words came out strong and surprisingly sensual. For the first time, she heard the sultriness he’d spoken of, as well as an unspoken, almost unintentional invitation.

And from the look in his eyes, she knew he heard it, too.

“Not here,” he said, his voice tight and graveled with lust. “But I’ll find something by this evening even if I have to buy up every book and magazine publisher on the West Coast.”

He held her gaze and it was all she could do not to wiggle in her seat, both from nerves and a growing sense of longing. How he could have such an effect on her after such a short amount of time, she didn’t know. But it was there, strong and powerful and alive.

“Unfortunately,” he went on, dragging his gaze away from her to check his watch, his voice returning to normal, “I have to get going or I’ll be late for my first meeting.”

Pushing his chair away from the table, he stood and dug out his billfold. “I’ll be busy pretty much all day, so I’m afraid you’ll have to find something to keep yourself occupied. Here, take these.” He handed her a gold card and a stack of crisp bills in large denominations. “Go shopping, do lunch, have fun. I’ll see you back here around four. We have another business dinner I’ll want you to be ready for, all right?”

She took the cash and credit card, even though she didn’t like it. Being handed money to “keep herself occupied” made her feel cheap, entirely too much like a paid companion. But then, she supposed that was just part of the job when one agreed to become a man’s mistress.

Throwing back the last swallows of his coffee, he crossed the room for his briefcase, then headed for the door. With his hand on the knob, he tossed an already distracted “See you later” over his shoulder before disappearing into the hall.

The door clicked closed behind him, leaving Elena alone in the sprawling suite. She glanced down at the wad of bills in one hand and the credit card in the other.

Well, that had gone from interesting to disappointing in the blink of an eye, she thought. But this wasn’t a vacation; it was a work week for Chase, and the fulfillment of a business agreement for her.

So she would find something to fill her day like a good mistress, and be back in time to get ready for her next dinner performance.

Where the hell was she?

Chase stood in front of the bedroom bureau, straightening his tie in the mirror for what had to be the fifth or sixth time.

He was showered, dressed and ready for the dinner meeting. The only thing missing was his date.

He glanced at his watch again, even though only a minute had passed since the last time he’d checked, and muttered a colorful oath.

She was almost an hour late. He’d told her to be back in the room by four o’clock, and here it was going on five.

She was probably busy burning up his credit card with dozens of clothes, shoes and expensive trinket purchases. What more could he expect of a spoiled, selfish debutante like Elena Sanchez?

The problem was, she hadn’t acted spoiled or selfish since meeting him at the airport. He hadn’t even seen any signs of the shallow girl she used to be—her bossiness at breakfast that morning notwithstanding.

He’d actually found her strong-arm tactics during that little incident amusing … followed by highly erotic when she’d agreed to use that husky, arousing voice of hers to read to him in bed.

Of course, now he knew the last day and a half was more of a fluke than anything else. He’d given her his gold card and a stack of cash in fairly large bills, and she’d apparently found a way to blow through it all. Enough so that she was still busy shopping.

Which didn’t surprise him in the least. Truth be known, he’d given her such a long lead line to prove—to himself, if no one else—exactly what he knew deep down in his bones. Elena Sanchez hadn’t changed. She was still indulgent, self-involved, too beautiful for her own good, and she put her own comforts and desires above the feelings or well-being of others.

The pointed reminder was worth paying a few thousand dollars to his credit card company.

But if she didn’t get back soon, if she made him late for this very important business dinner, he would not only make her pay the charge bill herself, but he’d put her on the first plane back to Gabriel’s Crossing and have her father’s company bought out and in his portfolio by morning.

He swore again and was just turning his wrist to check his watch for the ten millionth time when he heard the door to the suite click open.

“Finally,” he breathed, following that by another grumbled curse.

“Where the hell have you been?” he charged, turning on his heel and marching into the other room.

He expected to find her grinning from ear to ear, her hands full of boutique bags, her arms piled high with ribboned boxes. She’d probably want to show him everything he’d bought her, maybe model some designer dresses and sexy new lingerie.

He might even be willing to sit through a lingerie fashion show … later, after they got back from dinner and he wasn’t in such a foul mood.

“Sorry,” she apologized, rounding the corner of the kitchenette.

She looked rumpled and windblown, her simple, sleeveless cotton blouse and denim skirt wrinkled, her hair starting to fall out of its now-crooked ponytail. Her face and shoulders rosy from the glaring Las Vegas sun.

As far as he could see, there wasn’t a single bag or box anywhere near her.

He paused in mid-step, momentarily confused.

Maybe she was having everything delivered. But just to be sure, he walked the rest of the way across the room and glanced toward the door.

Nothing.

She didn’t look overly happy or bubbly or excited, either, the way most women would after what amounted to a carte blanche shopping spree.

“You’re late,” he pointed out, uncomfortable with the knowledge that she’d knocked him off his guard, managed to sidetrack him from his focus on her whereabouts and their dinner schedule.

“I said I was sorry,” she told him, not the least intimidated by his accusatory tone or thunderous expression. “But I won’t take long to get ready, I promise.”

Pulling the ponytail holder from her hair, she started for the bedroom, already unbuttoning her blouse. “I’ll only be twenty minutes.”

She left the connecting doors open and he could hear her moving around. Shedding clothes. Opening dresser drawers and closet doors. Stepping into the bathroom, out, then in again. The bathroom door closed and he heard the shower turn on.

Regardless of what she said, he fully expected her to take at least an hour to change and do her hair and makeup. He didn’t know any woman who wouldn’t.

A quick glance at his watch showed that if she took an hour—an hour, and not one minute more—they could still make it down to the hotel restaurant on time. Barely, but they would make it.

Strolling into the bedroom, he moved to the dresser where he’d abandoned his cufflinks when he’d heard her come in, trying not to imagine Elena’s wet, soapy, naked body in the generous shower stall. A space large enough to fit two comfortably … in any number of creative positions.

Clearing his throat, he turned his attention back to attaching the gold and diamond studs at his wrists. Just because he was annoyed at her tardiness didn’t mean he didn’t still want her. If they weren’t already running late, he’d leave a trail of clothing behind on the walk to the bathroom and join her for a long, enjoyable steam—among other things.

Afraid that he would give in to temptation if he stayed this close to her for much longer, he turned. As it was, he ran the risk of spending the rest of the evening trying to hide an embarrassing arousal.

But before he went a step, his gaze caught on two items on the dresser top. His credit card and the pile of cash he’d handed Elena earlier.

Ignoring the card, he picked up the bills and counted them out. Only twenty-odd dollars missing, from the hundreds he’d given her.

Well, that wasn’t so surprising, he decided. She’d probably charged just about everything all day. The cash could have been used solely for tips or some such.

In the bathroom, the water shut off and he quickly replaced the cash beside the card. He didn’t want her to know he’d fanned through it. And since he would probably have supplied her with the same again tomorrow, he might as well leave them where she’d put them.

But just out of curiosity …

He quickly glanced at the phone number on the back of the credit card, memorizing it, then slipping quietly from the room before she emerged from the bathroom. Closing the door silently behind him, he crossed to the phone on the desk in the far corner.

It took a few minutes to get through to an operator and verify his identity, then a second more to make his request and wait for the answer. Had there been any charges on his account today, and if so, how much did it total?

He thanked the woman on the other end of the line and returned the handset to its cradle, a deep frown marring his brow and tugging his mouth down at the sides.

Zero. Zero charges. His balance was the same as it had been before, and the last purchase was one he’d made himself.

Now he was even more confused than before. She’d been gone all day, on his dime, presumably shopping, yet hadn’t spent more than thirty dollars.

He didn’t know any woman who could shop all day and only spend thirty bucks.

So if she hadn’t been shopping, where had she been and what had she been up to?

Before he could devise a list of possibilities, the bedroom door opened and she stepped out, looking like every man’s fantasy come to life. Her hair was swept up into an artful twist. Her long black gown glittered with silver in the lamplight. A slit ran from her ankles to very high on her thigh, and the front was cut low, fastening around her neck with a single strap, leaving the front of her neck, shoulders and back bare.

She wore minimal jewelry—a couple of rings, a pair of silver string earrings and a small charm on a thin silver necklace that matched the bracelet on her wrist—and three-inch spike heels that caused his blood to thicken and slog through his veins.

“Twenty minutes, as promised,” she said, making a small pirouette where she stood.

The gown showed off her womanly shape as though she were naked, and he suddenly wanted to keep her inside the room with him rather than take her out, so no one else could see her.

“What do you think?”

He thought way too many things, none of them suitable for delicate ears or pre-dinner conversation. After dinner, though … that was a whole different story.

“Good. Good. You look good.” His tongue felt like an old gym sock in his mouth, and even though he knew he wasn’t making much sense, he was content to be able to form words at all. The synapse in his brain was barely firing, cells washing away to join all the others in his body south of the equator.

To buy a few much-needed moments to recover his senses, he cleared his throat and checked his watch. She was right; she’d only taken a little over twenty minutes to get ready, from the time she’d disappeared into the bedroom … twenty-five counting the time he’d wasted standing there feeling speechless and steamrolled.

“Okay. Well, then …” He tugged at his cuffs, straightened his tie and somehow managed to step forward, offering his arm. “Are we ready to go?”

She nodded, meeting him halfway. He noticed the shawl in her other hand and took it from her, draping the long-fringed lace around her shoulders.

“You look amazing,” he said, perhaps belatedly.

“Thank you.”

He pulled open the door, holding it until she’d passed into the hall, then hooked her arm around his elbow again and guided her to the elevator. Their reflection shimmered back at them in the polished golden doors, and he couldn’t help noticing how good she looked standing beside him. Tall, glamorous, gorgeous.

He’d known she was beautiful when he’d suggested this arrangement—a man would have to be blind not to, and even then, any man worth his salt would have a pretty good idea of her charms just from her voice and the way she handled herself.

He’d also known she would make a good impression on his associates. She was funny and charismatic and knew when to put in a few words or hold her tongue while business was being discussed. And there was no arguing she was easy on the eyes.

What he hadn’t counted on was the force of his attraction to her.

Beautiful women were nothing new to Chase Ramsey. He was wealthy, a self-made multimillionaire, which happened to be an attribute that a lot of women apparently found irresistible.

And he’d enjoyed his fair share of them. Some might say he used them, asking them out only when he needed a date for one event or another, and then taking them to bed—a place they were always more than willing to go.

But the way he saw it, any using was mutual. They wanted to be with him because he had money, wanted to be seen with him because of his power and prestige.

And most of them, whether they were blatant about it or not, harbored hopes of finagling a wedding ring out of him and snagging themselves a rich husband.

Elena, however, was in an entirely different category.

She didn’t seem impressed by his wealth at all. Yes, her family had money of their own, but so did the families of a lot of women he dated. That never kept them from wheedling for or accepting expensive gifts. Permission to use his credit card for the day would have had most of them squealing like a litter of hungry piglets.

She didn’t take forever in the bathroom or fuss obsessively over her appearance, and once she was ready, she was ready. She carried herself with confidence and seemed comfortable with whatever she was wearing instead of fidgeting with every little thing.

It was that confidence, her silent assurance, that turned him on almost as much as her shapely body and passionate nature.

Aside from that, he also found her simply fascinating. She never did what he expected, never reacted to things quite the way he thought she would.

And she hadn’t charged a single damn thing to his credit card, which he had to admit was driving him positively crazy. He wanted to know where she’d been all day, what she’d been up to.

He needed to know.

“So,” he murmured as the elevator doors whooshed open and they stepped inside the plush compartment. “What did you do today?”