Blackmailed Into His Arms. Margaret Mayo
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Her breathing was shallow and even, and her long, midnight hair fell over his arm like an expensive silk scarf.
She was probably sleeping. After everything he’d put her through this evening, he wouldn’t blame her if she slept straight through the rest of their time in Vegas.
And he sort of hoped she was, because after what he’d seen earlier that day, and all the old memories that had been assaulting him ever since, he couldn’t seem to stop himself from saying, “I saw you this afternoon.”
He felt her inhale sharply in startlement, then shift closer, her chin rubbing absently against the top of his chest.
“Hmm?”
He held his breath, waiting to see if she would wake up or slip back into unconsciousness, and didn’t know which he wished for more.
She continued to wiggle around, making it hard for him to remember that they’d already made love twice that night. And then she lifted her head, blinking like an owl as she struggled toward wakefulness.
“I’m sorry,” she said, covering a yawn with her hand. “What did you say?”
In for a penny, in for a pound, he thought.
“I saw you this afternoon,” he repeated, careful to keep his tone flat, indifferent. “In the school yard.”
A beat passed while he watched emotions play over her face. Shock, guilt, uncertainty. It only lasted a second, though, before her features settled back to their usual calm.
“I thought you were in meetings all day,” she said by way of response. Pulling the covers up to her neck, she settled more comfortably, still snug at his side.
“I was supposed to be. But I wanted to see where you went.”
“Why?”
She didn’t sound angry or annoyed, simply curious. Which allowed him to admit the truth without feeling self-conscious.
“You didn’t use my money or charge anything to my credit card yesterday.” He shrugged. “I wanted to know what you were doing with your time in Sin City without spending a dime.”
“I spent a dime,” she corrected. “Quite a few of them. It just happened to be my money instead of yours.”
She slid around, straightening her leg to rest between both of his and splaying herself more fully across his chest. Propping her chin on top of her hands, she met his gaze and said, “Although, I did use some of your cash for a cab and a bit of lunch yesterday. Hope you don’t mind.”
A flicker of annoyance flashed through his system. She was being purposely obtuse.
“I don’t care about the money. I wouldn’t have given it to you if I did. I want to know what you were doing at a school for deaf children, when most women with an unlimited line of someone else’s credit would have cleared out every boutique in a ten-mile radius.”
One corner of her mouth twisted up in a mocking grin. “What kind of girl do you take me for?”
“A spoiled, self-absorbed debutante,” he replied, not even needing to think about it. Pain flickered across her eyes, but he wouldn’t let himself be moved by the reaction.
With a sigh, she pushed away from him and sat up, taking the satin sheet with her.
“You’re right. That’s exactly what I was. Maybe I still am, I don’t know.”
He watched her cross her legs and fold the sheet more fully around her body, moving just far enough on the wide, firm mattress that they were no longer touching. Using his forearms, he pushed himself into a sitting position, stuffing an extra pillow behind his back so he could recline against the headboard.
“You’re a social worker. You know sign language. And you somehow managed to find probably the only special-needs school within the city limits on your first day in town. None of those are things I ever would have expected from the girl I knew in junior high.”
“Well, to be honest, I’ve known about the school for years. A friend of mine used to teach there, and even though she doesn’t live in Nevada anymore, I still like to drop by and spend time with the kids whenever I’m in the area.”
She clutched the sheet tighter against her breasts and readjusted her legs. The fire engine-red polish on her toenails peeked out briefly before disappearing again.
“And a lot has happened since we were teenagers. A lot has changed.”
Enough to turn a cruel, selfish brat into a kind, selfless woman? He wasn’t sure he believed such a drastic shift in personality was possible.
“I know this is almost twenty years too late,” she said softly, “but I’m sorry for the way I treated you at that Christmas party when we were kids. You’re right—I was spoiled and selfish and every other nasty word you can think of. My parents had money and were important in the community, and I thought that made me rich and important, too.” Her usually bright eyes darkened, and for a moment, she wouldn’t meet his gaze. “But it only made me a bitch.”
Since that was exactly what he’d always thought of her, he didn’t bother trying to correct her or make her feel better. It was only slightly gratifying to hear her admit the same.
“What I said to you that night … it was cruel and unnecessary and unforgivable. And even though I know it can’t make up for the pain and humiliation I caused you, I am sorry.”
Chase gritted his teeth, his hands fisting unconsciously at his sides. Moisture played along her lashes, adding sincerity to her already heartfelt words. But he’d be damned if he’d let a few tears and a long overdue apology convince him that she’d turned over a new leaf and no longer possessed any of those negative, stuck-up teenage traits.
“So what happened to bring about this remarkable transformation?” he asked, his voice sounding acerbic even to his own ears.
Her answer, when it came, was short and without embellishment—and immediately made him feel like a first-class heel.
“My mother died.”
Lips thinning, he muttered a curse. “I’m sorry.”
“Thank you,” she murmured quietly. The long curtain of her hair hid her face as she turned her gaze to her lap, toying with a corner of the sheet.
“She was sick for quite a while, and that sort of experience changes a person. One minute, I was a carefree prima donna, and the next my whole world was falling apart. That’s when I realized the whole world didn’t revolve around my wants and needs, and that there are more important things in life than money or social status.”
He wasn’t sure he agreed with that sentiment. He’d spent his entire adult life working to make money and build his social status in an attempt to prove to the Elenas of the world that he wasn’t just a poor rancher’s son. He was an industrious businessman, who—in recent years, at least—had become one of the wealthiest men in Texas.
It was no small coincidence that the Ramsey Corporation happened to be the company poised to overtake Sanchez Restaurant Supply. Chase had been keeping an eye on Elena’s family for years, not only so he would know when he’d surpassed them financially, but in hopes that just such an opportunity would present itself.
He wanted nothing more than to thumb his nose at them—at Elena—and show them all what he’d become. Not just a stinking rich tycoon in his own right, but a man to be respected and admired.
Which didn’t explain why he was suddenly feeling pangs of guilt over his plans for revenge against this woman.
So she’d suffered a loss. Didn’t everyone at some point in their lives?
So he found her irresistible in bed. What red-blooded American male wouldn’t?
It didn’t make her a saint, and it didn’t make him a bad guy.
“The things