Blackmailed Into His Arms. Margaret Mayo
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face.
She offered a small smile and leaned into his touch as the same elevator that had taken them down to the lobby a few hours before now took them back up to their floor.
It was amazing how comfortable she felt with him after such a short time, and it worried her. She’d expected their relationship to be cold, businesslike. Intimate, but functional.
Instead, things between them had been warm and friendly. She liked it, and that bothered her most—that she liked it maybe a bit too much.
“I’m a little tired,” she answered.
His hand slid from the lobe of her ear to the nape of her neck, where he gently kneaded the taut muscles with his calloused fingertips.
“You must have had a busy day.”
It wasn’t the first time he’d tried to find out how she’d spent the afternoon. But so far, she’d avoided giving him a straight answer. It wasn’t that her activities were that much of a secret, just that she didn’t feel like sharing.
He’d handed her a wad of cash and a credit card, and basically told her to keep herself occupied while he worked. Well, she had—without spending more than twenty-five or thirty dollars of his money, either. Since she hadn’t let him foot the bill for more than a short cab ride and a salad for lunch, it was no one’s business but her own how she’d stayed busy.
When it became apparent she wasn’t going to answer, he went on.
“When we get back to the room, I’ll help you slip out of these clothes, then turn down the covers and we’ll crawl into bed.”
“Just to sleep?” she teased.
“Just to sleep,” he assured her. And then his lips curved and a devilish glint sparkled in his blue eyes. “Unless you’re interested in something else.”
A slow heat began to unfurl low in her belly. That was another thing she found surprising about this situation … that making love with him didn’t feel like a chore she had to subject herself to in order to help her father save his company. She liked being with him, and was already looking forward to spending the night in his arms. Just the thought made warmth pour through her system and put her nerve endings on red alert.
“What did you have in mind?” she asked as the elevator doors opened and they stepped into the hallway, any drowsiness quickly morphing into arousal and anticipation.
“Oh, I don’t know,” he drawled, his arm twined with hers as they strolled slowly toward their suite. “We didn’t have dessert with dinner so maybe we should order something sweet from room service.”
They stopped in front of their door and he fitted the key card into the lock, waiting for the light to flash green.
“Strawberries and champagne?” he suggested, holding the door open for her. “I could nibble juice from your chin and trickle champagne into your navel. Or hot fudge sundaes. I understand chocolate sauce tastes even better licked off a beautiful woman’s naked flesh.”
If she hadn’t been turned on before, the mental images he was creating certainly aroused her. She shivered as she thought of his tongue scraping along her skin, of chocolate and ice cream mixing with passion in her mouth as he kissed her after cleaning them from her body.
“So what will it be?” he asked when she was halfway across the room. “Dessert or straight to bed?”
His voice sounded farther away than she’d expected, and she turned to find him leaning against the wall, just a few steps past the closed and locked door. His arms were crossed over his chest, one leg cocked over the other at the ankle.
One glimpse of him standing there, looking so casually relaxed yet so intensely masculine, and she knew there was no way she’d be sleeping tonight. At least not anytime soon.
But that didn’t mean she couldn’t have a little fun with him first.
“I’d like to go straight to bed,” she said, feigning a yawn that a few minutes ago would have been real. Reaching up to remove the pins from her hair, she watched the air of confidence seep from his expression, the cockiness disappear from the firm set of his stance. His reaction amused her, but she didn’t tease him for long.
Shaking her head and letting the long strands of her hair fall to the middle of her back, she added, “With the strawberries, champagne and a hot fudge sundae. With nuts on top, please.”
She turned on her heel and sashayed toward the bedroom, but not before she saw the wide, positively predatory grin that spread across his face. It wouldn’t have surprised her if he’d pushed away from the wall and sprung on her like some sleek jungle beast. A part of her even wished he’d do just that.
They would fall to the floor right where she was standing in a tangle of limbs, his heavy frame pinning her down. Clothes would be torn off, tossed away or left in tatters. Mouths and hands would be everywhere. They would come together fast, hot, frantically, the carpet leaving them scraped and raw.
And it would all be worth it.
She almost whimpered at the very idea, moist heat pooling between her legs, making her weak in the knees. She bit her lip, wondering what she might do to make it happen.
But in the end, she couldn’t think of anything that felt right. She wasn’t used to seducing handsome men, let alone devising a plan to get one to attack her.
So she settled for simply lifting her hands to the back of her neck and unhooking the single strap of her dress. The two pieces of material fell, an arm across her breasts the only thing keeping her from being completely bare.
“You will bring everything into the bedroom when it gets here, won’t you?” she asked as seductively as she could manage. Then, without waiting for an answer, she stepped into the other room and closed the door behind her.
Her heart was beating a mile a minute. She’d never done anything like that before—taunted a man, tried to work him into a lather and lure him into bed.
And now she would have to deliver. At the speed of light, she raced around the room, undressing. She kicked her shoes off so they each flew in different directions. Her dress fell to the floor and she opened the closet door to kick it inside. It was no way to treat an obscenely expensive designer gown, but at the moment she couldn’t care less.
Hopping from foot to foot, she made her way to the bathroom while working to undo her garter belt and roll off her black stockings. She left them in a ball on the floor, along with her matching black panties.
Naked, she stood at the sink, in front of the huge wall-to-wall mirror, and quickly brushed her teeth, washed her face, ran a comb through her hair. She reapplied a dab of perfume behind each ear and at the pulse points of her wrists, then hurried back to the bed.
Sweeping back the covers, she leaped onto the ivory satin sheets, plumped a couple pillows behind her back and tried to adopt a sexy, alluring pose. Marilyn Monroe, Jane Russell, Anna Nicole Smith … she thought of every pinup girl she could remember and tried to channel their spirits.
She pulled the sheet up to her waist, then over her breasts, then threw it off again. Bent her legs to the left, then the right. Threw an arm over her head, then scooted down and laid spread-eagle across the bed like the smorgasbord she hoped he would use her as.
When she heard the rattle of the doorknob, she startled, swallowed a panicked squeak and froze in the best position she could come up with at the last minute. She let the muscles in her face go lax and half-closed her eyes, hoping he wouldn’t notice she was a nervous wreck. She wanted him to think she’d just been lounging on the bed, waiting for him to serve her.
The bedroom door opened and he strolled in, dragging a room service cart behind him. This time it held a bowl of strawberries, a magnum of champagne on ice, two glasses and a very large, decadent, already melting ice cream sundae.
Normally, her stomach would have rumbled at such delicious-looking fare. But