Blackmailed Into His Arms. Margaret Mayo
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said, pointing as he went around the room. “My father, Isaac; my brother, Mitch; his wife, Emma; and their daughter, Amelia. Everyone, this is Elena Sanchez.”
They all smiled and said hello, and she felt her anxiety begin to ease as Chase pulled out a chair and waited for her to take a seat, then sat down beside her.
Pot roast, mashed potatoes, green beans and sliced peaches were passed around the table, the room filling once again with noise as everyone started speaking at the same time. Voices and laughter mixing, conversations overlapping and turning on a dime.
Instead of being overwhelmed, Elena found the exuberant atmosphere comforting. It reminded her of some of her own family’s gatherings, back before her mother died. She, Alandra and their father still ate meals together as often as possible, but they tended to be quieter, more subdued affairs these days.
Although she didn’t take a large part in the interaction, she responded whenever questions were directed at her and found herself laughing several times at one thing or another. And as if the meal itself wasn’t delicious enough, Theresa brought out a fresh-from-the-oven pecan pie that nearly made Elena weep.
With everyone stuffed, and little Amelia’s eyes drooping, things began to quiet down. Elena helped Theresa clear the table and fill the dishwasher while Emma took the toddler upstairs to sleep and the men moved from the dining room to the living room. A few minutes later, they heard the front door open and then close, and Theresa rolled her eyes.
“Isaac thinks I don’t know about those filthy cigars he likes to sneak after dinner. Like I can’t smell them on him for hours afterward.”
She reached into a cupboard and removed three short-stemmed wineglasses to go with the bottle of chardonnay she’d already set on the counter. Holding the three glasses upside down in one hand and the neck of the bottle in the other, she nudged the kitchen door with her hip and led the way through the house to the sitting room.
“He takes the boys outside with him so he can claim they needed to talk. I won’t say anything tonight, though, since it will give us girls a chance to chat, too.”
Emma came back downstairs then, to curl up in one corner of the overstuffed sofa. She smiled and thanked Theresa when the older woman passed her a half-full glass of wine.
Elena took a seat on the other end of the sofa, not quite at ease enough to put her feet up. But then, she was a guest here, not a daughter-in-law.
Theresa handed her a glass, too, then sat back in a matching armchair to sip from her own.
“So,” Theresa murmured casually, “tell us how you came to be dating my son.”
“So what’s up with the raven-haired beauty?” Mitch asked, sipping at the three fingers of scotch he’d poured before their father had dragged them outside so he could sneak a few puffs from his cigar before their mother discovered him.
Chase took a sip from his own glass before responding. “Nothing’s up. She’s a friend, that’s all.”
“Mm-hmm.” Keeping his gaze on the barn and paddock several yards from the house, his brother said, “You haven’t brought a woman home to meet Mom and Dad since we were in high school.”
“She seems like a nice girl,” Isaac put in from farther down the porch railing. “I like her.”
Chase elected not to respond to that. Mitch was right about him not bringing a girl home to meet his parents since they were both teenagers, but he didn’t want to give anyone ideas.
He couldn’t even say for sure why he’d brought Elena along tonight. It wasn’t to meet his parents—not to see how she acted around them or what they thought of her.
He’d just … wanted company. He hadn’t wanted to show up for yet another family dinner by himself, feeling a bit like an outsider now that his brother was married and so obviously happy with his wife and daughter. Ever since Mitch and Emma had gotten together, his parents—or at least his mother—had focused on seeing him settled down.
She wasn’t single-minded about it, thank goodness. Only the occasional question about his personal life or remark about his finding a “good woman” to let him know he was still on her radar.
He’d known that even before asking Elena to accompany him tonight. So why the hell had he gone through with it, anyway?
Because it was part of their agreement. She would go with him to meetings and dinners whenever he needed her, and he’d needed someone with him tonight.
That’s all there was to it, nothing more. The fact that his mother and father—and even his brother, apparently—were reading more into it was none of his concern.
Not that he hadn’t noticed how well she fit in with the rowdy bunch he called family. She hadn’t been overwhelmed by them, as he’d feared. Instead, she’d seemed to enjoy the boisterous camaraderie and had handled the many switches in conversation with ease.
Then again, what did he expect? Ever since he’d started spending time with her again, there wasn’t a situation he could think of where she’d been uncomfortable or out of place.
Perhaps he’d been testing her, tossing her into the middle of one of his family’s dinner gatherings to see if there was anything that caught her off guard. Or maybe he’d simply wanted her with him, wanted to share a part of his life with her that he hadn’t before.
Of course, it didn’t make him too happy to think that might be the case. If it was, he was in trouble. She was supposed to be his mistress … and only that because he wanted to exact a bit of revenge on her for the way she’d treated him in junior high.
A man didn’t usually bring his mistress home to meet his parents. And a man bent on revenge certainly didn’t look for ways to incorporate the subject of his vengeance more firmly into his life.
He threw back the last of his scotch at the same time his father stubbed out his cigar.
“She’s just a friend,” Chase repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument. Heading for the front door, he stopped with his hand on the knob to turn back and fix his brother with a warning glare. “Leave it alone.”
As interrogations went, Elena supposed the one with Chase’s mother and sister-in-law wasn’t so bad. It had started with, “So, tell me how you came to be dating my son,” but hadn’t gone much farther than that.
Elena had explained that she wasn’t dating Chase, that they were really just friends and business acquaintances. And Theresa Ramsey was savvy enough to realize her son wasn’t a topic Elena cared to discuss, so she’d quickly moved into less personal, less dangerous territory.
They’d talked about Chase’s and her trip to Vegas, but only in the vaguest of terms. About Chase’s company, Ramsey Corporation, and how he’d built it from the ground up all on his own. About Elena’s family—but again, only in the vaguest of terms—since Elena didn’t particularly want to remind Theresa of the Christmas party they had attended where she had been so rude and cruel to Chase. And finally, about how Emma and Mitch had met—as children—and then ended up falling in love and getting married so many years later.
It was a lovely story, one that brought tears to Elena’s eyes. For a moment, it almost made her believe true love existed and that fate could take a hand in a person’s life, even if things had gotten off to a rocky start.
But what was she thinking? That some unseen force would reach down and bring her and Chase together?
Who was she trying to kid? Even if he found her physically irresistible … even if their current relationship lasted much longer than originally intended … she didn’t think he would ever be able to get past what she’d done to him all those years ago.
She didn’t blame him, but she did wish things could be different.
If only she hadn’t been such a spoiled, arrogant brat as a teenager.
If only they