Blackmailed Into His Arms. Margaret Mayo

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      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 СКАЧАТЬ