Blackmailed Into His Arms. Margaret Mayo
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Название: Blackmailed Into His Arms
Автор: Margaret Mayo
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Контркультура
Серия: Mills & Boon By Request
isbn: 9781408922637
isbn:
“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!”
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