Claimed: The Pregnant Heiress. Day Leclaire

enough. How did you get here?”

      “With my father,” she reluctantly admitted.

      “You live with him?”

      “Yes, but—”

      “His estate is a few miles south of here, isn’t it?”

      She eyed Chase sharply. “How do you know that?”

      “I get paid to know things like that.” He cupped her elbow. “Come with me.”

      After collecting her wrap from the cloakroom, he drew her toward the wide-flung doors exiting onto the portico. A stunning view of beach and sea spread like a carpet beneath the bluff on which the Vista del Mar Beach and Tennis Club perched. A setting crescent moon dipped toward the Pacific Ocean, gilding the waves in silver.

      He escorted her around the building toward the valet stand. “Where are we going?” she asked.

      “You need tea, toast and quiet. That’s what I plan to provide.”

      “What I need is to go home,” she insisted gently.

      And yet, somehow she found herself ensconced in the cherry-red Ferrari Fiorano Chase had rented. With the windows open, the chilly air helped clear her head. The instant he hit the freeway, he headed north, instead of south.

      “Where are we going?” she asked, though at this point she wasn’t sure she cared anymore.

      “To get you something to eat.”

      Emma surrendered to the inevitable. She had a feeling that when it came to Chase there wasn’t another option. Five minutes later he pulled in to a circular drive protected by an electronic gate and lined with palm trees. The instant he killed the engine, he helped her out of the car and escorted her to the front door of the beachfront condo.

      “Is this yours?” she asked, impressed.

      “Sorry to disappoint you, but it’s a rental.”

      She wandered deeper into the condo. “This is gorgeous.”

      “I didn’t bring you here so you could tour the place.” He ushered her into the main living area, a huge room banked with floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the ocean. Stripping off his tux jacket, he slung it across the back of a chair. “Sit and relax. Tea and toast coming up.”

      As much as she wanted to insist that Chase take her home, she didn’t have the energy. She sank onto the couch and leaned against soft, thick cushions that molded themselves around her like a pair of warm arms. Despite all her attempts to remain alert, her eyes drifted closed. It wasn’t until she heard the rattle of glassware that she opened her eyes again.

      She glanced around, disoriented. “Did I fall asleep?”

      “Just for a minute.” He set a cup and saucer on a table at her elbow, followed by a plate with several slices of lightly buttered toast, cut into manageable bite-sized pieces. Pale greenish tea steamed gently from the clear glass cup. “Whoever stocks this place is big on herbal teas. This one’s chamomile and peppermint. According to the package, it’s guaranteed to relax and soothe.”

      “Thank you. Just what I wanted.” Before she could take so much as a sip of tea her BlackBerry rang. She pulled it out of her purse and checked the caller ID. “Excuse me. I should take this. It’s my dad.”

      The conversation was brief. But then, when it came to her father that was often the case. “Where are you?” he asked without preamble.

      “With Chase Larson.” She spared him a brief glance. “He offered to give me a ride home.”

      “Thought you were going with Kathleen.”

      “I changed my mind.”

      “Fine. Saw her here and I didn’t see you, so I wondered.”

      She smiled, softening. “Thanks for worrying, Dad.”

      “Of course I worry,” he retorted brusquely. “You’re my little girl, even if you are all grown up. Good night, sweetheart. Don’t stay out too late.”

      “‘Night, Dad.” She disconnected the call and dropped the BlackBerry on the table beside her tea and toast. She caught Chase’s undisguised amusement and lifted an eyebrow. “What?”

      He reached in his pocket and pulled out his BlackBerry. It was identical to her own. “I use the same ringtone, too,” he said. “Great minds.”

      “I guess we’ll have to be careful not to get them mixed up.” She buried her nose in the delicate cup, inhaling the mild aroma. Then she forced herself to look at Chase. “Why are you doing this? I mean, why am I here? Why are you feeding me tea and toast instead of taking me home?”

      He allowed his expression to say it all. “You know why.”

      She shook her head. “There’s no point, Chase. You might be here long enough to put Rafe’s deal together, but then that’ll be the end of it. We live on opposite sides of the country. We want different things in life.”

      “How do you know that?”

      She sighed and reached for a square of toast, nibbling on it. “Because I’ve met men like you before.”

      His eyes narrowed, the grayish-blue as turbulent as a stormy sea. “Men like me,” he repeated softly, a disturbing tension rippling through his voice. “Would you care to explain what you mean by that?”

      She took her time, finishing the slice of toast and washing it down with a sip of tea. She wanted to moan in pleasure, but didn’t dare. Not when the gaze he turned on her still contained a whisper of desire mingled with a hint of intimidation. “Driven men. Men who put business ahead of everything else in their life. Men who live large and take whatever they want.”

      Amusement replaced his tension and, to her alarm, the whisper of desire became a shout. “What’s wrong with taking what I want, especially if it gives you as much pleasure as it gives me?”

      “Nothing. It makes—made—for an incredible night. But that’s over now. I’ve returned to my life. You’ve returned to yours.”

      “And yet, here we are together again.” He joined her on the couch, sitting far too close. “As long as I’m here, why not enjoy another incredible night or two?”

      How did she answer that, explain the conflict over wanting a man so closely connected to Rafe Cameron? How did she explain she didn’t want another incredible night? That getting over the first incredible night had been next to impossible? That if they spent another night together she might lose the final vestige of protection standing between her heart and her common sense?

      She couldn’t afford to fall for a man like Chase. She’d watched what living with a man like him—her father, to be exact—had done to her mother. It had destroyed her. Emma had taken the lesson to heart. What she and Chase experienced in November had been a lit match. Taking the next step might turn the affair into a dangerous wildfire, one that could consume and destroy instead of pleasure and warm.

      She smiled, fighting to keep the moment light and easygoing. “Thanks so much for taking care of me, but it’s time for me to go home. It’s long past my bedtime.”

      “No problem.”

      Before she could guess his intention, he stood and swung her into his arms. “What are you doing?” she demanded in alarm.

      “Since it’s long past your bedtime, I’ll see to it you turn in. Now.” He carried her down a hallway and into a huge bedroom with views as spectacular as the living area. He released her so she dropped the few feet to the mattress. She bounced once before falling backward into the welcome embrace of the down-filled comforter. “And I’m turning in with you.”

      Two

      She lay on the silk duvet in glorious disarray, outrage