The Tycoon's Temptation. Renee Roszel

direction, grimly wishing she could break into his thoughts. Read his conniving mind. “First door on your left.”

      He nodded, flicked a tiny cell phone from his inside jacket pocket and handed it to her. “I’m still hungry.” He fished out a leather wallet and produced a platinum charge card, tossing it on the countertop. “Order a pizza. I hear Chicago is world famous for it.” He returned the wallet to an inside jacket pocket, lifted the milk glass and turned away.

      He’d nearly reached the door before she could lift her gaze from the phone he’d placed in her hand. “Er—what toppings do you want?”

      “Your choice.” He shifted to look at her. “Order whatever you think a vulture would appreciate. Only keep in mind, you’ll be eating it, too.” His gaze held hers for an instant longer, then he was gone.

      She frowned after him. Had that parting shot been pure sarcasm or was he actually buying her supper? Had he noticed the bareness of the refrigerator after all, or was he merely concerned with filling his own belly?

      Elaine was bewildered, and she didn’t like the feeling. Were these seemingly kind acts as cunning as he implied, or were they the result of the burdensome thoughtfulness ingrained in him by his parents?

      She looked down at the charge card and picked it up, fingering it. Considering the fact that she’d made no secret of her dislike, he was being amazingly trusting, leaving her alone with his platinum charge card! Perplexed, she clutched it, shaking her head. The man was a disturbing mix of all-business aloofness and open-handed gallantry.

      Taking no chances this time, she hopped off the stool, tiptoed to the kitchen door and peered down the long, empty hall. He really was gone. She slumped against the wall and stared at the phone in one hand and the plastic charge card in the other. “Okay, Elaine,” she muttered, “So he’s a gallant, blackmailing bastard!”