Blackmailed Into His Arms. Margaret Mayo

never came. Instead, she inclined her head once, slowly, before making one last, desperate pitch.

      “I thought that’s what you would say. I even understand your position. But will a few more weeks really hurt you? There have to be other companies out there that can net you just as much profit. Can’t you give my father just a few more weeks, maybe a month, to see if there’s something he can do to save the business? If he can’t, all you’ve lost is a little time.” She paused for a beat, looking him straight in the eye and lifting both brows. “Unless there’s some personal reason you would be averse to helping me or my family.”

      She put just enough emphasis on the remark to let him know she remembered that night twenty years ago as well as he did, although he doubted her reaction was anything close to his own. He felt a spiral of shame and embarrassment begin low in his gut and he tamped it down, refusing to be controlled by memories … childhood ones, at that.

      Elena Sanchez hadn’t changed a bit since he’d last seen her. Oh, she’d grown into a beautiful, breathtaking woman, but then, she’d been a pretty girl.

      Where it really counted, though, she was exactly the same. She still expected her feminine wiles and her family’s wealth and reputation to get her whatever she desired.

      Sanchez Restaurant Supply was apparently in enough trouble for her to feel compelled to try to help her father, instead of her usual attitude of letting daddy solve her problems. It was obvious she expected Chase to see the situation from her perspective and be mesmerized enough by the bit of skin she was flashing below the hem of her skirt and between the vee of her blouse to give her what she wanted.

      Too bad for her that Chase Ramsey was not a man to be led around by the nose … or any other part of his anatomy.

      “I told you,” he said, with very little warmth to his words, “even if I had feelings about your family one way or the other, I wouldn’t let them interfere with a business decision.”

      “Well, then,” she said shortly, getting to her feet and retrieving her purse from the seat of the other chair, “I guess I’m wasting my time and yours. Thank you for seeing me. I’ll let you get back to your work.”

      He watched the rigid set of her shoulders and the sensual sway of her hips as she walked away, having the uncontrollable urge to call her back.

      Why should he want to keep her with him a few minutes longer, when up until today his fondest wish had been never to lay eyes on her again?

      His brain was in chaos, struggling to process the conflicting feelings, while at the same time, he was kicking himself for still finding her even moderately attractive. He was like a man with split personalities: a part of him wanted to help her and part of him wanted to punish her.

      “Wait,” he called out, just as her long, red-tipped fingers curled around the knob of his office door.

      Slowly, with obvious reluctance, she turned to face him.

      “I’ve got a proposition for you,” he told her, pushing away from his desk and moving closer, stopping before his actions could be considered intimidating.

      “I happen to be in need of a female companion. A beautiful woman to accompany me on business trips and to related dinners and events.”

      He straightened his tie and smoothed the lines of his jacket. His statement was at least half true. He might not need a companion, but it certainly would be convenient to have one at his disposal. He just couldn’t figure out why he felt compelled to offer the position to this particular woman.

      But it didn’t keep him from pressing forward, even though she had yet to respond.

      “If you agree to be available to me whenever I need you, I’ll agree to give your father the same amount of time to do what he can to save SRS. A day, a week, a month—it’s entirely up to you.”

      Her lips twitched, as though she was about to speak, but before she could utter a word, he held up a hand to stop her. “You should know, before making a decision, that there will be sex involved. I’ll expect you to share my bed, if that’s something I require.”

      Elena’s eyes widened and she barely stopped herself from reaching out to slap him. What kind of woman did he think she was?

      “Aren’t there women you can hire for that sort of thing?” she snapped. “I’m not a prostitute.”

      “I never said you were. I’m simply telling you what it is that I need, and what you can do to help your father save his business.”

      “So you’re asking me to be your mistress. Where you want me to be, when you want me to be there—a living doll you can take out of its box to look pretty and satisfy your physical needs, then put back when you’re finished.”

      He shrugged and stuffed his hands into the front pockets of his slacks, causing the sides of his suit jacket to bunch.

      “That’s not exactly how I would have put it, but yes. I need a mistress and you need to buy time for your father to save his company. That’s the deal, take it or leave it.”

      “You bastard,” she muttered with a breathless laugh that was anything but amused.

      “Quite possibly,” he said. “But you’re the one who came to me. And you should consider yourself lucky I’m making you any sort of offer at all. I could have just as easily given you a firm no and sent you on your way.”

      She wished she could argue, but knew he was absolutely right. Coming here had been a long shot, and the fact that he was suggesting any compromise at all was a blessing.

      The question was: did she have a choice?

      If she turned him down, she would have to go home and watch her father lose the business he loved, the company that essentially defined her family and made their name so well-known across Texas and the surrounding states.

      But becoming Chase Ramsey’s mistress … Sleeping with a virtual stranger was a difficult concept to swallow, but she was pretty sure this particular near stranger hated her with every fiber of his being. It was probably the driving force behind his proposition, since she couldn’t picture him sitting across from any other woman who came to his office to discuss business and announcing that he would give her more time if she agreed to go to bed with him.

      She took a deep breath, letting the fresh oxygen fill her lungs and pump through her bloodstream. Her fingertips turned numb from the death grip she had on her handbag.

      “Can I have some time to think it over?” she asked, making sure to keep her voice strong and steady. “Or do you need an answer right this minute?”

      Instead of responding, he pulled his hands from his pockets and returned to his desk. Still standing, he grabbed a sheet of memo paper and a pen, then leaned over to scribble a quick note. Marching back in her direction, he handed it to her.

      When she glanced down, she found a date, time and the name of the local airport. Below that, he’d added the gate number for a flight to Las Vegas.

      “I’ll give you until Thursday. If you show up, I’ll take it to mean you agree to my terms, and your father will get the chance to try to save his company. If not—” He tipped his head and raised a brow. “I’ll continue with my plans to buy out SRS.”

      She heard the underlying threat loud and clear, and left his office with the butterflies in her stomach flapping even harder than when she’d arrived.

      Two

      When Elena arrived home later that evening, she was both physically and emotionally exhausted. After her fateful meeting with Chase Ramsey, she’d gone back to her office and tried, to no avail, to focus on the appointments and paperwork involved in her job as a social worker. Thankfully, she didn’t have any home visits to make and could go over her notes again later, when she was feeling more herself and less … distracted, drained, overwhelmed.

      All day she had heard only