Blackmailed Into Bed

by Heidi Betts

  Running his hands through his hair, he blew out a harsh breath. “When you first walked into my office, I wanted to hate you, Elena. I relished the opportunity to punish you for how you made me feel twenty years ago in front of your friends.”

  “I’m sorry about that,” she told him solemnly. “I’ve already tried to apologize—”

  He shook his head, waving off her words. “I know. It doesn’t matter. See that’s the thing—I thought it did. For twenty years, I couldn’t get the night of that Christmas party out of my head, and when you came to me with the request to help save your father’s business, I reveled in the possibility of finally getting back at you.”

  She opened her mouth to speak again, but he cut her off.

  “Then there was last night. I treated you with less than a hundred percent respect at dinner, pushing you, trying to put what was between us back on an even keel. What I considered an even keel, anyway,” he added with a shrug. “You didn’t appreciate my behavior and walked out—which is exactly what you should have done, and no less than I deserved. And after you called, told me our deal was off, I thought I’d feel better. I expected this weight to lift from my chest and my world to right itself again. Instead, I couldn’t sleep. I could barely breathe.”

  Reaching down, he caught her hands, folding them within his own and giving her fingers a squeeze. “I could smell you in the room, hear your voice whispering in my ear. And despite everything I’d told myself, everything I thought I felt, thought I believed, thought I wanted, I suddenly realized what an idiot I’ve been. Because what I really wanted was for you to be right there beside me, in my arms. That’s what I want. Now and forever.”

  Elena blinked, almost feeling the need to clean her ears and ask him to repeat what he’d just said. Her insides were quaking. She was moved and yet extremely wary.

  Last night, he’d treated her as nothing more than his paid companion—albeit paid with a favor to her father rather than money. Now, he seemed to want more, he seemed to be saying he cared for her.

  But how could she be sure? How could she know that he wouldn’t change his mind the next time they ran into Tisha Ferguson-McDonald or someone just like her?

  Her brain was telling her to be careful, to proceed with caution and maybe even make him suffer a little bit, make him earn her forgiveness.

  Her heart was telling her to throw her arms around him, hug him tight and never let go.

  She decided to opt for a reaction somewhere in between.

  Ignoring the flutter of nerves in her belly, she steeled her voice and asked, “What are you saying, Chase?”

  His hands tightened on hers as he readjusted his hold, linking their fingers together. He yanked her a step closer, staring down at her with the most intense, sincere expression she’d ever seen on his face.

  “I’m saying I love you. I think I have since junior high. Even after you turned me down at your family’s Christmas party, I don’t think I could have been so hurt and angry for so long if you hadn’t meant more to me than I cared to admit.”

  Hearing the words I love you on his lips made her pulse pound and her whole body flush warm with affection. She loved him, too. Her feelings hadn’t blossomed quite as early on as he claimed his had, but she’d certainly admitted to them sooner.

  “But what about what happened the other night with Tisha Ferguson-McDonald? I didn’t have anything to do with what she said, Chase, I swear I didn’t. And I don’t share her opinions or her views. She’s an arrogant, ignorant snob.”

  Her blood was running hot now with remembered fury and indignation. But instead of turning cold and shutting down the way she would have expected—the way she’d seen him respond before—he chuckled. Lifting their locked hands, he pressed the back of his index finger to her lips to postpone the rest of her Tisha-is-the-devil tirade.

  “I told you,” he said slowly, his tone low and lulling, “it doesn’t matter. Yeah, it pissed me off and brought up a hornet’s nest of ugly memories I didn’t want to deal with and had been hoping were behind me. But it also helped me to realize—a little late in the game, I know,” he said, his cheekbones turning pink for a split second as he glanced away sheepishly, then returned his gaze to hers, “that you’re nothing like her. Nothing like the women who were with her. Maybe you were at one time, trying to fit in, just as you told me back in Las Vegas. But we all try to fit in when we’re kids—even more so as teenagers—and we all do stupid, insensitive things, usually on and off throughout our lives.”

  He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth. “I can forgive you for what you did when you were fourteen, if you can forgive me for what I did last night. I thought that by pushing you away, I could regain control of my emotions, relegate you to the status of a business arrangement where you belonged. I didn’t understand at the time that you were so much more than that.”

  His voice lowered, seeping into her pores like warm honey.

  “That you had gotten under my skin and into my heart. I had to almost lose you before my head cleared and I came to my senses.”

  Letting her arms fall limply to her sides, he cupped her face and tilted her chin up a fraction. Elena hoped her eyes weren’t bright with tears and that her lips weren’t quivering with the elation getting ready to spill over from her rapidly swelling heart.

  “Tell me I’m not too late, Elena.” He whispered the request, his breath dusting her cheeks and fluttering the hair at her temples. “Tell me you feel the same, and that I haven’t completely screwed things up with my thick skull and obstinate nature.”

  For a moment, all she could do was blink. If she closed her eyes, she thought she might faint from such pure, undiluted joy. It all sounded so wonderful, so promising, like everything she’d ever wanted and more.

  But she was afraid of getting her heart broken. Of opening herself up to him again, only to be hurt again—and possibly be hurt much worse the second time around.

  “What about what Tisha said? What if we run into her—or someone like her—and she acts the way she did the other night? Are you going to hold that against me? Are we going to have to go through this every time someone says something you don’t like?”

  His lips thinned for a brief moment, but he answered easily enough. “I can’t promise I’ll be happy about it, or that it won’t put me in a bad mood for a couple of days. But I won’t take my frustrations out on you; I’ll only ask that you put up with me and listen to my complaints until I get over it. I know who I am, though, and I don’t need anyone’s approval or reassurance.”

  He ran his fingers through her hair, tucking a few strands behind one ear. “It might have taken me twenty years to figure that out, but I know it now and I’m not going to forget. All I’m asking is for you to give me a chance to prove that. I do love you, Elena. I want you to stay with me. Not as my mistress, but as my wife and partner for the rest of our lives.”

  A beat passed while Chase studied her face, his eyes blazing like chips of blue ice.

  “What do you say, sweetheart? Am I worth the risk?”

  He was. Their relationship might not always be easy, but as long as they loved each other and agreed to talk things out, she believed it could work.

  “You’re a hard man to say no to,” she said softly, blinking back tears and sucking air into lungs that felt as if they hadn’t been filled for years. “And I do love you, so my answer is yes.”

  A grin as bright as the sun spread across his face. His happiness spilled onto her until they were both smiling and laughing.

  He kissed her, as thoroughly as she could ever remember, and she let herself sink into him. With a sigh, she wrapped her arms around his neck and just barely resisted the urge to pick up one foot the way women did in those old black-and-white movies when every cell in their bodies was being seductively devastated by a man’s passionate embrace.

  They pulled apart, panting and quickly heading toward overheated.

  “So is that a yes?” he as
ked. “Will you marry me?”

  “That’s a yes,” she said, unable to keep the smile of contentment from her face. Then she reached out and pinched him in the stomach, hard.

  He yelped, rocking back on his heels and rubbing at the abused area.

  “But I reserve the right to slap you upside the head if you start acting all pouty and rude the way you did the other night.”

  “Agreed,” he said, giving his rumpled shirt a final pat before returning his hands to her waist. “Absolutely agreed. Slap me, kick me, douse me with ice water. But I promise never again to do what I did to you at that restaurant.”

  She cocked her head and arched a brow. “Oh, I don’t know. It wasn’t all bad. I’ll certainly never be able to wash my hands in a public restroom again without having flashbacks.”

  His grin widened. “Why, soon-to-be Mrs. Ramsey, I think you’re a little bit naughty.”

  Tossing her hair over one shoulder, she smiled back at him and pressed the front of her body against the long, solid warmth of his.

  “What can I say?” she returned with all the mischief she could muster. “I’ve had a lot of practice recently. And I learned from the best.”

  Epilogue

  Christmas music played softly in the background while approximately fifty guests, family and friends, drank and laughed and mingled. The elegant ballroom was decorated with golden ornaments, silver snowflakes and garlands of holly strung across the top of every window and doorway. In one corner a giant Douglas fir twinkled with a thousand tiny yellow lights.

  Off to the side, near a long table set with a punch bowl and platters of colorful cookies, Elena stood with her hand clasped in Chase’s. She wore a simple white dress that fell to mid-calf, and carried her bouquet of white roses with a single bright red poinsettia in the center. On her left hand, a princess-cut diamond and brand-new gold band sparkled.

  It was her wedding day, and she’d never been happier. She’d never seen Chase look more handsome or content, either.

  He’d been the one to suggest they get married on Christmas Day, and hold both the ceremony and reception at her father’s house—in the same room as the Christmas party he’d attended all those years ago.

  She’d argued strenuously against it, afraid it would tear open too many wounds, stir up too many old feelings they were just starting to put behind them. But he’d been adamant and she’d finally given in.

  She was still surprised the day had gone off without a hitch—and that Chase hadn’t gotten cold feet at the last minute. But then she felt guilty for even thinking that way.

  Tipping her head to the side, she glanced up at her new husband and smiled when he turned to meet her gaze. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her mouth—something he’d been doing on a regular basis since the minister had said “You may now kiss the bride” only a few hours ago.

  “Merry Christmas, Mrs. Ramsey,” he murmured as he straightened.

  “Merry Christmas, Mr. Ramsey,” she returned.

  He wrapped his arm around her waist and tugged her close to his side. She leaned her head back on his shoulder, watching their friends and relatives enjoying themselves, even though they’d sacrificed their own holiday plans to be with her and Chase on their special day.

  Her father was dancing with Chase’s mother? His brother and sister-in-law were standing close, their arms wrapped around each other in an imitation of slow dancing, but they seemed to Elena to merely be swaying back and forth while they exchanged soft, intimate kisses. Chase’s father was doing a two-step with a few exaggerated bounces to amuse baby Amelia, who giggled and cooed in delight. And Alandra, of course, was moving around the room, dancing with the eligible bachelors who caught her eye.

  Their families got along stupendously, much to Elena’s relief. And thanks to Chase not only offering advice to her father on how to rescue SRS from certain doom, but jumping in with both feet and actually becoming a partner in the business, Sanchez Restaurant Supply was doing almost better than it had in its heyday.

  “We should probably be dancing ourselves,” Chase said above her ear. “People will start to talk if all we do all night is stand here looking stiff and dopey.”

  She chuckled, then twisted around and began to walk backward onto the dance floor. “I suppose you’re right. Christmas carols are an odd choice for a wedding reception, but then, so is a Christmas wedding.”

  When they reached an open area, he pulled her into his arms, holding her tight as they moved to the more energetic beat of “Jingle Bell Rock.”

  “It’s not odd, it’s romantic. And think of it this way—I’ll never forget our anniversary. If I do, you have my permission to divorce me and demand I give you everything I own as alimony.”

  “You’re darn right you better not forget our anniversary,” she told him, poking him none too gently in the chest. “Especially when all of this was your idea.”

  When he didn’t say anything more for several seconds, she asked, “You aren’t sorry, are you? That we had the wedding here, at this time of year? You know, considering.”

  “What? You mean because this is the site of my abject humiliation back when I was a sensitive, impressionable teenager?”

  He looked down at her for a moment, his expression so serious, she was sure they were about to have the first blow-up of their married lives. Then he grinned and relief washed over her.

  “No, I’m not sorry. I wanted to marry you here, on Christmas Day, so that you would know I’ve well and truly put the past behind me. Besides, if it hadn’t been for what you said to me that day, I wouldn’t have spent the next twenty years hating you.”

  She rolled her eyes at that, but he ignored her and continued.

  “And I wouldn’t have blackmailed you into going to bed with me, and we wouldn’t have fallen in love. If anything, I should be thanking you for being a conceited, snobbish little prima donna, trying to impress her friends by stomping on my tender, youthful heart.”

  He said it with such suppressed glee that she almost reached out to smack him on the back of the head. And wouldn’t that be a lovely thing for their guests to witness on their wedding day? Not to mention the photographer, who—while circumspect—seemed to be catching on film everything that happened in the room.

  “I thought you said you forgave me for that,” she pointed out, taking the opportunity to step on his foot “accidentally on purpose” as they made a semi-difficult turn.

  His eyes glittered in the dim lighting, letting her know just what a wicked, dangerous man she’d married.

  “Oh, I do forgive you,” he said. “That doesn’t mean I won’t rub it in for a while, though.”

  She gave a low snort. “Fine. But I’m only going to put up with it for twenty years or so, so you’d better get it out of your system while you’ve got the chance.”

  The corners of his mouth curved and he leaned in until his lips brushed hers. “Sounds fair to me.”

  ISBN: 978-1-5525-4862-2

  BLACKMAILED INTO BED

  Copyright © 2007 by Heidi Betts

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Silhouette Books, 233 Broadway, New York, NY 10279 U.S.A.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

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