Читать книгу Blackmailed Into His Arms - Маргарет Майо - Страница 17

Elena inhaled deeply and stretched, her toes curling into the soft Egyptian cotton sheets, her arms reaching over her head until her fingers bumped the mahogany headboard.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept so well. Of course, she and Chase had worn themselves out pretty well before finally drifting off sometime after midnight.

At the sound of movement in the room, she opened her eyes and sat up, clutching the covers to her chest. Chase wasn’t beside her in the gigantic four poster bed, but already up and dressed. With a tray in his hands, he crossed the carpeted floor in bare feet, well-worn jeans and a casual white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows.

The tray held a plate piled high with what looked like French toast and scrambled eggs, two glasses of orange juice and a tall, narrow vase with a single bright purple tulip in full bloom.

“Good morning,” he said, his low drawl dripping down her spine like warm honey.

“Good morning,” she returned as he rounded the bed and crawled onto the mattress from his side, setting the tray carefully between them. It looked and smelled delicious.

“What time is it?” she asked, turning her head toward the clock on the bedside table.

Before she could see for herself, he said, “A little after nine.”

“Nine?” Shock and fear rolled through her as she realized she was late for work. She was never late for work.

She threw back the covers, ready to jump out of bed and dress as quickly as possible. If she hurried, maybe she could get to the office before her boss realized she was late, even if it meant showing up in the same outfit two days in a row.

She would rather put up with gossip about her personal life than gain the reputation of shirking her duties. And if she called Alandra from her cell phone on the way, she might even be able to get her sister to meet her there with a change of clothes.

“Relax,” Chase told her, reaching out to grab her wrist before she’d leapt completely off the mattress. “I phoned your sister and asked her to call you in sick from work.”

For a moment, Elena wasn’t sure she understood what he was telling her. Then, as it began to sink in, she raised a curious brow.

“Although, if you’d like to leave the covers off and eat in the buff,” he added with a devilish wink, “I’m all for it.”

She looked down and saw that she was, indeed, naked, the sheet tossed off to her ankles. With a gasp, she grabbed the sheet and yanked it back up to her chin.

He chuckled at the blush that filled her cheeks. “Do you really think there’s any part of you I haven’t already seen?” he asked, and then added, “And explored quite thoroughly?”

It was true. He was a very thorough man.

“I don’t make a habit of sitting around, eating breakfast in the nude,” she replied primly, turning her nose up just a little.

Which only earned her another deep laugh.

“And what do you mean you asked my sister to call me in sick to work?” she demanded, pretending to be more annoyed than she really was.

In all honestly, she was relieved. Yes, it was highhanded of him, but then, this was Chase. Chase was nothing if not forceful and commanding.

He shrugged one broad shoulder. “I kept you up pretty late last night, so I figured you’d appreciate a morning to sleep in. I also thought we could spend the day together, since I called and let my secretary know I wouldn’t be in, either.”

Now, that surprised her. She didn’t think Chase Ramsey ever took a day off work, or would know what to do with himself if he did.

Since it seemed like a moot point now, she gave up on worrying about her job and reached for a fork and the plate of French toast.

“What did you have in mind?” she asked.

“Hey, that’s for both of us,” he complained when she dug in.

“I’ll let you have whatever I can’t finish,” she shot back with a wicked tip to her lips.

He snorted, but let her go. Then he said, “We can do anything you like. Sit by the pool sipping umbrella drinks, or on the back patio doing the same. We can even pack a picnic lunch and go over to my brother’s to see if he’ll let us take a couple of his horses out for a few hours.”

For a man who professed to need her only as his mistress, he seemed awfully accommodating all of a sudden. A picnic lunch? Sipping umbrella drinks by the pool?

She took a bite of French toast and chewed slowly, then washed it down with a sip of juice.

As much as she enjoyed horseback riding, the thought of staying here and spending the day only with Chase held much more appeal. After all, she didn’t know how much longer they would have together before he decided he didn’t need a mistress anymore … or at least didn’t need her as his mistress.

“A dip in the pool sounds like fun,” she said slowly. “I don’t have a suit, though.”

“That’s all right.” He reached out and snagged a slice of French toast from the plate she was holding and lifted it directly to his mouth. “You don’t need one.”

“You expect me to swim naked?” she asked, somewhat startled.

“Why not?” He took another bite, chewing thoughtfully. “I’ll be naked, too, and even if you did wear a suit, I’d have you out of it in no time, anyway.”

She paused with the fork almost to her mouth, her throat closing suddenly as a jolt of arousal flushed through her system. Lowering her hand, she replaced the fork on the plate and set it all aside. Chase didn’t miss a beat in picking it up himself and digging in.

“What do you say?” he asked, mouth half-full of food. “Do you still want to swim?”

The vision of frolicking in the water with him, making love with him there, flashed through her head, and the muscles in her body went lax. She swallowed hard, licked her dry lips and barely managed a breathless, “Okay.”

Hours later, Elena was glad she hadn’t had to go to work that day. She wasn’t sure she’d have the energy to even go in tomorrow.

Chase was stretched out on a lounge chair a few feet from the pool, eyes closed, chest rising and falling with his breathing. She was draped along his side, her head on his shoulder, her palm resting on the flat of his abdomen. And they were both entirely, blissfully naked.

Two colorful drinks, complete with the umbrellas he’d promised, sat on a small glass table beside the chair, practically untouched, and soft music played over the sound system that was piped through the entire house.

“I’ve got a party to attend tomorrow night,” he said, startling her out of her drowsy reverie.

Rolling her head back slightly, she realized his eyes were still closed, but he obviously wasn’t asleep as she’d first thought.

“You wanna go with me?”

“Do I have a choice?” she asked, shifting slightly to redistribute her weight along his chest and thigh.

“You always have a choice. We all do,” he replied calmly. Lifting his arm, he thread his fingers through the damp hair at her temple. “But I’m asking you. It’s a business gathering, but you don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I can make it through one black-tie party on my own, I think,” he added with a chuckle.

She felt his laughter vibrate through his body, and nearly sighed at the tender, relaxing sensation he was creating along her scalp.

“I’d like you with me, though, if you’d like to go.”

Swallowing hard, she tried not to let her emotions tense her muscles or hasten her breathing, but her mind was spinning.

Was this a turning point in their relationship? Was he beginning to see her more as a lover, a girlfriend, than simply a mistress by business arrangement?

She didn’t want to get her hopes up, didn’t want to read too much into his one small comment, his one tiny shift in attitude. But her heart swelled with the possibilities.

“I would like to,” she said softly, relieved when her voice came out steady and self-assured.

“Good. I’ll pick you up at eight.”

Then, without warning, he rolled over, twisting her beneath him, catching her just before she fell off the edge of the chaise. She gave a little yelp, her eyes going wide in startlement.

“Wear something slinky and sexy that shows off your great breasts and bottom.”

He pinched her there and she made a sound that was half-gasp, half-laugh.

“You think I have a nice bottom?” she asked when she’d regained her breath.

“Stellar. Classic. Greek statues weep in envy.”

She grinned, letting her head fall back as he nuzzled her throat. His unshaven cheek scratched along her tender flesh, likely leaving a mark that she would later have to explain to her family and co-workers, but she didn’t care. Her back arched in pleasure, her hips bumping into his obvious arousal.

His hands slid higher as his mouth moved to her ear. “And make sure it’s backless. Something that leaves your smooth, gorgeous back bare to the room. Every other woman there will want to scratch your eyes out,” he murmured. “And every man will want you.”

“Including you?” she asked, finally getting into the flow of his building passion. She lifted her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist and licked the line of his jaw.

“Especially me. I’ll be wanting you even before I pick you up.”

He emphasized his point by slipping inside her in one long, steady stroke. Her lungs seized, and for the rest of the afternoon, all the thoughts and concerns jumbling through her mind were pushed aside by the sinful, delicious things Chase did to her.

Ever an agreeable mistress, Elena wore something slinky, sexy and backless that she hoped did an adequate job of highlighting her chest and rear. Chase, she supposed, would be the judge of that.

She couldn’t wait to see his reaction when he caught his first glimpse of her. He would be there any minute, and all she had left to do was slip on her necklace and earrings.

Her gown was red and floor-length, with a slit that ran to mid-thigh. The material was struck through with silver threads so that every bit of it shimmered, especially when she moved. The bodice, cut in a deep vee and tied behind her neck, left her shoulders and back completely bare.

She wore high, red heels with a criss-cross design across the top of her foot. Tiny rhinestones sparkled at the junction where each of the straps crossed.

Her jewelry was surprisingly simple—just a diamond pendant at her neck, matching teardrop earrings and an understated tennis bracelet on her right wrist.

According to Alandra, she looked “hot enough to peel the paint off a ‘57 Mustang.” Whatever that meant. But she’d laughed anyway, and taken it as the compliment she was sure her sister meant it to be.

Grabbing her small red clutch, she left her bedroom and headed downstairs. Her foot had just cleared the last step when the doorbell rang. She moved across the foyer, her high heels clicking on the polished parquet floor, and opened the door.

The sun was beginning to set, but it was still light enough to make out every detail of Chase’s broad, masculine form. And that form was positively mouthwatering in a tuxedo.

His black hair was slicked back instead of being left in its usual, carefree style, making him look sexier and more sophisticated.

She started to lick her lips, then remembered the recently applied lipstick and forced herself to rein in her roving tongue.

“Wow,” he muttered, reading her mind. “You look fabulous.”

“Thank you,” she said, then did a little pirouette in the doorway. “Does my dress meet with your approval? It’s slinky, sexy, shows off my breasts and bottom and is even—” She turned again, flashing the expanse of her back, left completely bare by both the dress and her upswept hair. “—backless.”

“Nice. Very nice,” he drawled. Reaching out, he ran the knuckle of one index finger along her spine, from the small of her back to the nape of her neck.

She shivered, both from his touch and the low, suggestive tone. If she wasn’t careful, they would end up rolling around on the floor of her father’s entryway and miss the party altogether.

Slowly, she turned around to face him, placing her hand on her stomach in an attempt to quell the butterflies swooping and swirling inside.

“Should we go?” she asked.

With a heartfelt sigh, he hung his head and let his arm fall back to his side. “If we must.”

She smiled, following him onto the front stoop and closing the door behind her.

He helped her into the car, then walked around and took a seat on the driver’s side.

It took nearly half an hour to reach the hotel where the fund-raiser was being held. When they arrived, Chase passed his keys to the valet before rounding the hood, opening her door and taking her hand as she stepped out.

With her arm linked at his elbow, they strode through the luxurious hotel’s lobby, took the elevator to the fourth floor and crossed to the entrance of the decorated, already packed ballroom. For a minute, they stood at the open double doors, taking in their surroundings.

Just before Chase took a step to lead her inside, Elena tipped her head and glanced up to meet his gaze.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” she said in as innocent a tone as she could muster. Then she stood up on tiptoe and leaned close to his ear to whisper, “I’m not wearing panties.”

I’m not wearing panties.

I’m not wearing panties.

I’m not wearing panties.

The ballroom was crowded with people, most of whom he knew, many of whom he’d done business with. A hundred voices mingled together, raising the volume to near headache level.

And still, all he heard was those four words Elena had whispered in his ear a split second before they’d stepped into the party.

Stepped. Yeah, right. He’d been so stunned by her erotic admission that he’d been frozen in place. Riveted to the spot, his entire body hot and flaring like a lit match tip with unleashed passion. She’d had to practically drag him the rest of the way into the room. He couldn’t have taken a single step on his own if his life depended on it.

And, frankly, he hadn’t wanted to. The last thing he’d wanted to do at that point was mingle with business acquaintances and make small talk all night. He’d have rather written a sizeable check to tonight’s charity—whatever the heck it was, anyway—and dragged Elena off to the nearest bed. His, hers, one of the hotel’s … he honestly didn’t care.

But even though she’d prodded him to do the right thing and go through with his plans for the evening, he heard nothing but her voice echoing in his brain.

I’m not wearing panties.

His gaze slipped—not for the first time—to her rear end, which swayed beneath the slithery, shimmery material of her gown when she moved.

If she hadn’t told him she was naked beneath, would he have figured it out on his own?

Maybe. Lord knows he’s spent his fair share of time staring at her derriere.

Then again, probably not. It wasn’t like he was an expert on women’s underwear or panty-lines.

But now that he knew … man, now that he knew, he couldn’t seem to concentrate on anything else.

People kept coming up to him, Elena kept pulling him from place to place to chat, and he didn’t think he’d heard a word any of them had said. She’d thoroughly scrambled his brain and sent every ounce of blood in his body just below the equator.

“Can we leave yet?” he whispered in her ear the first chance he got, pressing himself along her back so she would know exactly why he wanted to get out of there.

With a wide smile on her face for everyone else’s benefit, she cocked her head in his direction and said, “We just got here. It would be rude to leave so soon.”

He took the plate she offered, covered with a little bit of everything from the dinner buffet, while she turned back to get something for herself.

Leaning close, he let his breath stir the hair at her nape. “Then let’s find a dark corner somewhere so we can be alone.”

She laughed, the sweet tinkling sound going straight to his gut. His fingers clenched so tightly on the plate in his hand, he was surprised it didn’t shatter.

“I’m not going to sneak off with you in the middle of this event so you can have your wicked way with me.”

Her voice was moderately chastising, but her eyes glimmered with a sensual, teasing light.

“Then you shouldn’t have told me about your underwear,” he growled.

She blinked a couple of times with supreme innocence, then replied with equal innocence, “But I’m not wearing any.”

His teeth snapped together hard enough to crack his molars. “That’s what I mean,” he hissed through tight lips.

With both their plates filled, she sashayed away from the buffet and toward the large round table where they’d been assigned seats with three other couples he recognized, but barely knew. Chase had no choice but to follow. When they reached the table, Elena set her plate at her place, then took his and did the same.

Still with that overly bright smile on her face, she moved close to him and whispered, “That was just an aperitif. A tiny treat to keep you interested until this little soiree is over, when we can go back to your place and do all of the things I know you’re fantasizing about right now.”

He studied her for a minute, nostrils flaring as he breathed heavily through his nose. She had no idea how close she was coming to being thrown over his shoulder and hauled out of there like a sack of grain. It would cause a horrified uproar, and their pictures would probably be in the morning paper, but at this point he honestly didn’t care.

Then she moved even closer, brushing against him from shoulder to thigh as she took her seat from the side closest to him rather than farthest away.

“I promise it will be worth the wait,” she murmured softly before sitting down.

Rather than tempering the desire that thrummed through his veins, her words threw fuel on the fire. But there was something to be said for waiting, wanting, letting arousal build to a near-agonizing level.

And when he finally got her alone, he would hold her to her promise. There were at least sixteen highly evocative images simmering in his brain at this very moment, and he intended to make sure they executed every single one.

He pulled out his own chair and sat down, muttering for her ears only, “It better be.”

She smiled at his attempt to pout and patted his knee.

For the next hour, they picked at their meals, sipped champagne and chatted with the people around them. Chase couldn’t have cared less about what anyone was saying, but he was well-schooled in the art of schmoozing.

After the food and drink and requisite speeches, everyone got up from their seats and once again began to mingle. This was when he could lean in and say, We’re out of here, and drag her off the way he’d been dying to all night.

He put his hand on her elbow, prepared to do exactly that, when a small gaggle of tall, willowy, attractive women sidled up to them, their gazes sweeping over him before settling on Elena.

“Elena?” one in a low-cut lavender gown queried. “Elena Sanchez?”

“Yes?” Elena returned, her eyes warm and welcoming, as they’d been all night. Chase was beginning to think of it as her “polite public demeanor,” the way she interacted with everyone from his business associates, to the chairwoman of tonight’s fund-raiser, to the servers who milled around clearing tables and making sure no one’s glass ever became truly empty.

“I thought it was you,” the other woman practically squealed, taking Elena’s hands in both of her own and giving them a squeeze. “I haven’t seen you in years. Since high school.”

The other three women in the little clique nodded and smiled just as widely. But when Elena didn’t seem to recognize them, the one in lavender clucked her tongue and gave her an admonishing eye roll.

“Tisha Ferguson. We went to school together. Of course, I’m Mrs. Ferguson-McDonald now.” She waved her left hand, making sure everyone in a six-foot radius got a glimpse of the huge diamond weighing down her ring finger. “I married very, very well.”

To keep from scoffing Chase tightened his jaw until the bones nearly cracked. She’d married well. Well, bully for her. So had every other woman present. A person couldn’t spit in this room without hitting a woman who had married very, very well.

“Tisha!” Elena said. “Of course. You look wonderful, I barely recognized you.”

Leaning in, the two women kissed—that double cheek thing Chase had never understood. Then Elena’s glance slid to the other women standing just behind Tisha.

“Leslie. Stephanie. Candy. It’s nice to see you again. How have you been?”

The five of them chatted for a few minutes, with Tisha—the obvious spokesperson for the group—monopolizing most of the conversation. Finally, when there was an opening, Elena turned to him and attempted introductions.

“Do you remember Chase Ramsey?” she asked the four of them. “He went to school with us, too, though he was a year or two ahead of us.”

The three standing back a bit smiled and nodded, but Tisha tipped her head and studied him more closely through narrowed, heavily painted eyes.

“Chase Ramsey. You’re not …” Her glossy pink lips, previously pursed in thought, widened a split second before she broke into a high-pitched, cackling laugh. “Oh, my God! Chase Ramsey. I remember you now. You’re that pathetic farmer’s son who asked Elena to dance at that Christmas party at her parents’ house. You should have seen your face when she turned you down. Oh, it was priceless!”