Blackmailed Into Bed. Heidi Betts

my father lose his business, with no chance of at least trying to rescue it from certain doom.”

      Although her little speech was dramatic and heartfelt, he refused to feel so much as a niggling of guilt. She was a big girl, capable of making her own decisions.

      It was true that he’d backed her into a corner with his unusual bargain, but it was also true that anyone else would have been sent from his office with a firm and absolute no. He didn’t negotiate outside of the boardroom, and even there it often wasn’t necessary since he did his homework and knew how to get exactly what he wanted with a minimum of fuss and muss.

      “Well, consider your sacrifice a worthwhile one.” Retrieving his cell phone from one of the outside pockets of his soft leather expandable briefcase, he flipped open the top and hit the speed dial number for his office.

      “Nancy,” he said when his personal assistant picked up on the other end. “Do me a favor and put a hold on everything pertaining to the Sanchez Restaurant Supply takeover. I want to give the deal a bit more thought before we go any further. Thanks,” he said after her affirmative response, and hung up.

      “There you go,” he told Elena, shifting to face her more fully and drape his arm along the back of her chair.

      “Whatever your father thinks he can do to pull his company out of its downward spiral, now he has the time to do it.” Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out two first-class tickets to Las Vegas and held out hers.

      She took it and studied her name printed in bold black ink at the top.

      “You must have been pretty confident that I’d show up to buy me a ticket.”

      He shrugged and cocked his head to one side. “It was a calculated risk. I couldn’t very well have you show up and not have a ticket for you, now could I? But I did make sure it was transferable, so if you hadn’t shown, I could have used it for another trip later.”

      For the first time since she’d arrived, a ghost of a smile started to steal across her face. She raised green eyes to his, a twinkle of amusement playing behind her long, dark lashes.

      “You’re a very cocky man,” she told him, her voice haughty but with a hint of warmth that hadn’t been there earlier or in their previous meeting. “Are you ever not completely sure of yourself?”

      Only when Elena Sanchez is in the room, he thought sourly. She was the only person who still had the ability to make him feel gawky and gangly and sixteen years old.

      He would work that out of his system this week, though. Or die trying.

      But aloud, for her benefit, he said, “Nope. It’s been a long time since junior high,” he added pointedly.

      He knew his comment had hit home when her lips turned down in a frown and she glanced away.

      “Yes,” she said simply. “It has.”

      Several beats passed in uncomfortable silence before Chase let out a huff of breath and decided he probably shouldn’t have needled the woman he hoped to seduce shortly after touching down in Las Vegas.

      He didn’t fool himself into believing her agreement to sleep with him was a done deal. Yes, she was here, which he assumed meant she had every intention of sharing his bed. But if she changed her mind at the last minute or got cold feet, he wasn’t going to force her. He’d never forced any woman, and he wasn’t going to start with Elena Sanchez.

      Of course, she didn’t know that. As far as she was concerned, flying to Las Vegas constituted her first act as his mistress, and he planned to go with that for as long as he could, hoping everything worked out just as he’d been fantasizing since she’d walked into—and out of—his office.

      “Relax, Elena.” He touched her arm with his free hand and rubbed the bare flesh with the side of his thumb. “We have the whole week to get to know each other better. And I promise not to jump your bones until after we’ve checked into the hotel.”

      Three

      The short flight to Nevada was comfortable in first class, and quite uneventful. Chase kept his word, barely touching her the entire time and keeping their conversation to benign, unimportant topics.

      But that didn’t keep the nerves from skittering up and down her spine. In fact, the closer they got to the hotel, the worse her anxiety became.

      He’d said he wouldn’t “jump her” until after they arrived at the hotel. Did that mean the minute they hit the lobby? Would he accost her in the elevator, or as soon as they were inside the room?

      She knew she was being irrational. In all the time she’d spent with Chase so far, she hadn’t seen him do anything the least bit impulsive. For some reason, she simply couldn’t picture him being so overcome with lust that he’d corner her in the hallway or participate in some passionate public display of affection. He was entirely too somber, too controlled.

      Not that any of that kept her mind from wandering down a dozen confusing, carnal alleyways. Her body felt like a tightly strung bow, waiting for the moment he would touch her, kiss her, demand she fulfill their bargain between the sheets.

      And she cursed herself for the anticipation building like a tornado at her center. For wanting him to do just that when she should be despising him for forcing her into an unacceptable situation.

      A spacious black town car met them at the airport and took them directly to their hotel. The Wynn was one of the luxury hotels directly on The Strip, with marble floors, chandeliers and lots of gold and dark, polished wood. There was a casino off to the side, but it was obvious this particular establishment was meant for wealthier visitors to the city, rather than those who might come in for a weekend of fun and debauchery.

      Little did the owners of the hotel know that their rich patrons could be just as interested in debauchery as those with limited funds; they were simply better at hiding their true intentions.

      A bellman dressed in a maroon uniform trimmed with gold accompanied Chase and Elena to their suite. He opened the door, ushered them inside, then transferred their luggage from the wheeled cart to the bedroom.

      The suite was made up of a large sitting area, a kitchenette, bathroom, and through a wide double doorway, the bedroom and a second, more private bath.

      Elena had grown up with money and stayed in her fair share of luxury hotels, but even she found the opulence of this particular suite to be somewhat overwhelming.

      A king-size bed filled the center of the bedroom, surrounded by ornately carved dressers and a wall of mirrors that hid the long closet space. The bathroom had a shower stall and a separate, deep Jacuzzi, both big enough, she thought, to hold three or four people.

      She was standing in the doorway, admiring the almost spa-quality equipment, when Chase came up behind her and whispered in her ear.

      “We have more than an hour before we need to be downstairs for dinner. Would you like to take a nap, or unpack, or…something else?”

      Although he wasn’t touching her at all, his voice poured over her like warm honey, his hinted suggestion sending off fireworks low in her belly. Her breathing grew choppy and she had to blink several times to stave off the sudden bout of lightheadedness that assailed her.

      She wasn’t ready. Not yet. She knew the moment would come when she couldn’t put it off any longer, but for now he’d given her other options, and she grabbed at them like a drowning victim reaching for a life raft.

      “I think we should unpack,” she said a bit too loudly and a bit too brightly, spinning on her heel and slipping past him before he could protest or—worse—try to stop her.

      Not waiting for a reply, she hurried to where their bags had been left and hoisted her suitcase onto the mattress. There was a luggage rack off to the side, but she decided that if the bed was covered with clothes and such, it couldn’t be used for…other things.

      Without a word, Chase joined her and they