Blackmailed Into His Arms: Blackmailed into Bed / The Billionaire's Blackmail Bargain / Blackmailed For Her Baby

In her stocking feet, she padded across the highly waxed parquet floor of the wide foyer, pausing for a moment to flip through the pile of mail on the table at the base of the steps.

She’d lived in this house in Gabriel’s Crossing all her life, but lately had begun to feel uncomfortable and out of place. Maybe because it wasn’t so much a house as a mansion, looking like something out of Gone with the Wind. There were giant Ionic columns out front; a wide, curved staircase directly across from the front door leading to the second-story; and balconies at the back overlooking several acres of beautiful Texas landscape.

Her father had had it built when Sanchez Restaurant Supply first began to turn a decent profit, and Elena had long suspected the ostentatious design was in part the home her parents had always dreamed of living in, and part proof to anyone who doubted that a first-generation Mexican-American could not only do well for himself and his family, but do extremely well.

And until a few years ago, she’d loved it here. As a teenager, she’d considered it another status symbol to impress her friends, and she’d taken every opportunity to have sleepovers or pool parties.

Now, though, without her mother to fill the house with her own brand of love and laughter, the house felt somewhat empty and much too large.

It was time, Elena knew, to start thinking about moving out. She should have done so years ago, but first her mother had been sick, and then her father had needed her.

Her sister, Alandra, had stuck around for the same reason.

Pulling out the letters and magazines with her name on them, Elena started up the stairs and headed for her room. All she wanted was to climb out of her clothes and sink into a nice hot bubble bath. She would light a few candles, turn on some soft classical music, and maybe even pour a glass of wine to sip while she floated away and did her best to forget Chase’s troubling proposition.

Halfway down the hall, Elena knew it might be awhile before she could be alone with her exhaustion and jumbled thoughts. Her sister’s choice of music—loud, blaring rock and roll—vibrated through her closed bedroom door, and Elena could hear Alandra’s voice singing along.

She was about to pad by, sneak into her own room a few doors down and attempt to block out the thrumming beat of drums and a bass guitar, when Alandra’s door opened and she stepped out in nothing more than a pale pink chemise-style slip and black stockings.

Both women jumped slightly in surprise, then Alandra threw her arms wide and rolled her eyes in relief.

“Oh, Elena,” she called over the volume of the music, which was even louder with the door open, “I’m so glad you’re home. I was about to go downstairs and ask Connie what she thinks of my outfit, but I value your opinion more.”

She waved a hand, inviting Elena in, as she moved across the lushly carpeted floor and turned off the stereo. The sudden silence was almost deafening, but Elena appreciated the gesture; her sister knew how much the loud music bothered her. At a lower volume, it was almost tolerable.

“I’ve got a dinner in an hour. We’re trying to raise money for a battered women’s shelter. I’m not in charge this time, thank heavens, but I still want to look good.”

While Elena perched on the end of her sister’s canopied princess bed, Alandra went to the closet and pulled out two dresses on padded hangers.

“Which of these do you like best?” she asked, holding one and then the other in front of her tall, slim body.

Alandra Sanchez was, quite simply, gorgeous. Olive skin, as clear and smooth as a baby’s bottom, and an hourglass figure were her shining glories. But she’d also been blessed with a pair of traffic-stopping dark brown, almond-shape eyes.

Elena’s only consolation to being the less attractive sister was that everyone said they looked so much alike, she knew she wasn’t exactly an ugly duckling herself.

It also helped that Alandra was as beautiful on the inside as she was on the outside. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for someone, and the more they needed, the more she was willing to give. Personally, financially, it didn’t matter.

She attended four or five fund-raising dinners a week, just like the one she was getting ready for now, and just as many lunches. She belonged to every “good cause” organization in the state, a few across the country, and a few more internationally: battered women and kids, underprivileged children, life-saving medical research, save the whales, save the wild mustangs, save shelter cats and dogs from euthanasia.

Alandra’s greatest talent was in convincing others to give both time and money to her many worthy causes. Just being around her seemed to make everyone else care more—and sometimes feel the slightest bit guilty for not feeling so before she cornered them.

One side of Elena’s mouth curved with pride. Her little sister could charm the scales off a snake and have the naked reptile thanking her afterward.

“This one?” Alandra asked, breaking into Elena’s thoughts and holding up a sleek black tube dress for her perusal. Then she switched hands and held up one in pale pink with black trim, reminiscent of the Jackie O era.

In the black one, Alandra would be a knockout. Men would be drooling and falling at her feet. In the pink one, she’d still get more than her fair share of male attention, but those men would at least stand a chance of paying attention to the dinner speakers and getting interested in the cause.

“The pink one,” Elena said. “Definitely.”

Alandra nodded and stuck the black sheath back in the closet. “That’s what I thought, but I needed a second opinion. I’ll save the black one for next week when I need to raise funds for the no-kill animal shelter.”

She grinned, telling Elena she was well aware of the devastating effect she would have in the other dress.

With a sigh, Elena pushed to her feet, planning to head to her own room while her sister finished getting dressed.

“Elena, wait.”

She turned to find Alandra with her arms in the air, her head only half peeking through the neck of the pink and black dress. The tops of her thighs were visible, showing old-fashioned stockings held up by a sexy black garter belt.

Her sister gave a little shimmy and the dress slipped the rest of the way down. She sauntered over, turned her back to Elena, and held up the long fall of her straight black hair.

“Zip me up, and then we’ll talk about what’s bothering you.”

Elena pulled the zipper up. “Nothing’s bothering me. I’m just tired.”

Alandra shook her head. “Uh-uh. That might work on Pop, but it won’t work on me. I’m your sister; I can read you like a book.”

She spun around and dragged Elena back to the bed, taking a minute to slip her feet into high-heeled black pumps before crossing her legs and perching beside her.

“All right, spill,” Alandra said, sounding entirely too chipper for the headache that was beginning to throb at Elena’s temples.

“Did you do it?” she asked, lowering her voice a fraction. “Did you talk to Chase Ramsey?”

From the moment she’d first thought of going to the CEO of the Ramsey Corporation for help in saving her father’s business, Elena had confided her plan to her sister. They had been best friends and confidantes since childhood, and shared just about everything with each other. Elena trusted Alandra not only to keep her secrets, but to act as a sounding board to let her know if her ideas were logical or bordering on insane.

And while Alandra had agreed that speaking with Chase Ramsey was a good idea, neither of them had breathed a word of their intentions to Victor Sanchez. Their father was a proud man and wouldn’t appreciate anyone—least of all his daughters—interfering in his business or coming to his rescue.

They would only tell him, they decided, if things worked out to their benefit. Otherwise, he need never know what Elena had done.

Elena nodded, her mind flashing back to every tense, intense minute of her meeting with Chase.

Alandra’s eyes glittered with interest. “And how did it go? Is he going to help us?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

Elena met her sister’s gaze and murmured in a voice lacking all emotion, “On whether I sleep with him.”

Her sister’s screech of outrage was comforting, but Elena quickly hushed her for fear their conversation would be overheard. She didn’t think Pop was home yet, but Connie, their longtime housekeeper, could often be found in the hallways dusting or doing other chores.

Once Alandra had calmed down, Elena filled her in on the details of her face-to-face with Chase Ramsey, recounting every word and facial expression from the time she entered his office.

“And then he told me that he’d give Pop extra time to try to save SRS if I agreed to be his mistress. He wants me to meet him at the airport for a trip to Vegas if I’m willing to go through with it.”

From her jacket pocket she pulled the slip of paper Chase had given her, and handed it to her sister. Alandra studied the scrawl before refolding the note and giving it back.

“What are you going to do?” she asked.

“I don’t know.” Elena released a pent-up breath and shook her head, still racked with indecision.

“Do you want me to do it?”

Elena gave a bark of laughter, then caught the flat look in her sister’s eyes.

“Are you serious?” she asked. “You’d do that for me?”

Alandra shrugged. “For you, for Pop, for the family business. It wouldn’t be that much of a hardship. You did say he was cute, right?”

She hadn’t, and “cute” wasn’t even close to the word she would use to describe Chase Ramsey’s strong features, fathomless blue eyes and attractive physique.

“It’s not like I have that much going on in the boudoir these days, anyway,” Alandra continued with a small eye roll when Elena didn’t respond. “And if this guy just wants to get laid, then he probably won’t care which sister he’s with.”

Elena laughed again, this time in amusement. She threw her arms around Alandra and hugged her tight. “Oh, Alandra, I love you.”

“I love you, too. And I’m more than willing to take this bullet for you, if you want me to.”

Elena could just imagine that. The only problem was that when she pictured her sister in bed with Chase instead of herself, she felt a stab of inexplicable jealousy.

How could that be? How could she be jealous of her own sister, who was willing to sleep with a complete stranger just to save Elena and the family business? And how could she suddenly feel territorial about a man who had made her such a disrespectful offer? Primarily, she suspected, as an act of revenge for what she’d done to him as a teenager.

“No,” she said, drawing a deep, cleansing breath. “I’m the one who came up with the idea of going to him in the first place. And I’m the one with a past relationship with him.”

“All right,” Alandra acquiesced, “then how do you feel about Ramsey’s offer?”

Her stomach jumped at the question, followed by a peculiar, almost traitorous warmth that spread through her breasts and between her legs.

Lord, could she actually be attracted to Chase? On more than simply the detached level of a woman catching a glimpse of a good-looking man.

Could the attraction go deeper? Could she actually be considering saying yes to his proposition? To becoming his mistress?

A skittering of nerves joined the heat flowing through her bloodstream. She’d never been a man’s mistress before, never been in a relationship based solely on sex. She’d dated a good number of men, and even slept with a few of them, but those relationships had always moved slowly and been based on other things, like friendship, mutual attraction, similar occupational interests.

Chase had no interest in getting to know her, and she doubted they had a single thing in common other than her father’s company. He wanted her for two reasons only—to look good on his arm at business gatherings and to satisfy him in bed.

And darned if that idea wasn’t becoming more appealing by the minute.

Squeezing Alandra’s fingers, she felt tears prickle at the back of her eyes as she met her sister’s gaze. “Is it terrible that I’m thinking of going through with it? And not entirely to help out Pop?”

Alandra gave a soft chuckle, pushing a strand of hair back from Elena’s face and tucking it behind her ear. “Of course not. You’re allowed to think a guy is hot and want to roll around with him for a while, with or without ulterior motives. I’d be more worried if you thought Chase Ramsey was a dog, but were still willing to sacrifice yourself and your body for SRS. The important question, I think, is how you’ll feel about yourself afterward. Can you chalk it up to one of life’s many adventures while remaining emotionally detached, or are you going to feel guilty or ashamed when it’s all over?”

Her sister was right, but Elena knew she wasn’t going to make a decision tonight. She had a couple of days before Chase left for Las Vegas, and she was going to take every one of them to make up her mind.

* * *

Chase wished he could say he was unconcerned and uninterested in whether Elena Sanchez showed up today. But in truth, he’d gotten to the airport an hour earlier than he normally would, just in case.

He’d positioned himself in one of the chairs facing the main area of the airport so he could see everyone who passed by and watch for her.

Just in case.

He’d dug out his laptop and was trying to work, making sure he had a clear view over the top of the monitor.

Just in case.

Part of him hoped she wouldn’t take him up on his offer. It had been a totally spontaneous, reckless suggestion, and he still wasn’t sure why he’d made it.

Maybe because he’d always wanted the chance to knock her down a few pegs. Maybe because it had been obvious that day in his office that she wasn’t quite the high and mighty princess she’d been in high school, with a father wealthy enough to buy and sell Chase’s own modest, hard working family and every acre of land they possessed.

Or maybe because, despite his better judgment and the gut instincts that screamed for him to back away, keep his distance and not get sucked in again by her sparkling emerald eyes, he wanted her on a purely primal, carnal level.

He’d spent the last few days kicking himself for letting his libido run rampant and make decisions for him. He wasn’t a randy youth anymore, and was more than capable of ignoring and overriding his lust.

Unfortunately, all that had seemed to fly out the window after one glimpse of her long black hair, olive skin and full, kissable lips. The shape of her breasts and flared hips in that tight red suit hadn’t hurt, either.

Just the memory of her slim figure and musky perfume caused his body to stir. He shifted restlessly on the uncomfortable airport seat and tried to focus once again on the spreadsheet on the monitor in front of him.

A second later, something tall and green entered his peripheral vision. He glanced up to find Elena standing before him, and his heart skipped a beat. In surprise and sexual longing, he was sure. Not for any other reason.

Reaching out with one hand, he slowly lowered the lid of the laptop and set the computer aside, then took a minute to soak up her appearance.

She wore forest green dress pants and a blouse that matched her eyes, with a narrow slit down the front and brightly colored sequins and beads on either side as decoration. Her hair was pulled up at the sides and held in place with matching copper combs. Dangling earrings made of copper, gold and silver circles glittered at her ears. And on her feet were a pair of tan heels that looked somewhat out of place for travel and added to her height a couple of inches that she didn’t need to showcase her other more-than-adequate attributes. In her hand, she held the straps of a matching handbag and at her feet was a somewhat lumpy, overstuffed carry-on bag.

Making a concerted effort not to swallow past the lump of longing in his throat, he offered a small smile and patted the seat of the empty chair to his left.

“You came. I have to say, I’m surprised.”

“You didn’t give me much choice. It was either this or watch 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.