Bedded by Blackmail / Millionaire's Secret Seduction: Bedded by Blackmail / Millionaire's Secret Seduction

Instead he found the strength to show some mercy and release her. On their way back to their table, they bumped smack-dab into Mayor Rufus.

Hiding his surprise—he wasn’t prepared for this meeting—Tristan squared his shoulders. “George. I didn’t realize you’d be here.”

They shook hands and the mayor nodded once. “Tristan. Nice to see you.” But the mayor’s tone wasn’t convincing.

Tristan set his jaw. He’d invested not only large amounts of money, but also his heart and soul into his current resort project. This man could seal the deal with a nod on rezoning, and just as easily run a red pen through and obliterate twelve months of Tristan’s working life—geological reports, feasibility studies, copious meetings with architects.

Did Rufus still blame Tristan for his daughter’s death? If he knew the entire story, perhaps Rufus would understand. Although the temptation was there, Tristan couldn’t consciously tarnish Bindy’s memory or scandalize his own family name, though Cade hardly deserved his loyalty.

The mayor turned to Ella. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”

Tristan made the introduction, knowing Rufus would be remembering a time when his daughter had been the woman on Tristan’s arm. “George Rufus, this is Ella Jacob.”

The mayor smiled. “Are you new to town, my dear? I don’t believe I’ve seen you at similar events.”

“Ella works for me,” Tristan said. The mayor would have discovered as much when he arrived for dinner in two weeks’ time.

The mayor nodded as if that made some sense. “Personal assistant?”

“Housekeeper,” Ella admitted.

The mayor’s brow creased before his face lit up. “So you’re the young lady who bakes a caramel apple pie to die for?”

Ella lifted a modest shoulder. “I’ve received a few compliments on that recipe.”

“I’m looking forward to adding to those compli-ments. I presume Tristan told you I invited myself over for dinner?”

She smiled. “I’m planning something extra special.”

“But caramel apple pie for dessert?”

“With your choice of cream or warm brandy custard.”

The mayor chuckled. “I’ll look forward to it.” His smile tightened. “I hope Mr. Barkley is taking good care of you.” He redirected his attention to Tristan.

Tristan inwardly cringed. Ella didn’t know the full implication behind the mayor’s words. But if he decided to take this relationship to the next level, Tristan supposed he’d best tell Ella the whole sordid story. He hadn’t pushed Bindy Rufus toward her untimely death. She’d chosen her own path, which included infidelity with the worst possible partner.

A photographer with rumpled hair and an ill-fitting suit interrupted them. “Mind if I get a shot for the celebrity page?”

Tristan acquiesced and after some minor staging, the flash went off. Seemed he, Ella and the mayor would share the limelight somewhere in tomorrow morning’s print.

The mayor bid them good-night and, back at the table, Ella stifled a yawn.

Tristan studied her face. He should have noticed earlier the shadows under her eyes. “You’re tired.”

“No, I’m not,” she replied too quickly.

She didn’t want to spoil his night. Sweet, but it suited him to leave. Now that he’d made up his mind, he didn’t want to delay moving forward.

He was serious about pursuing the marriage-of-convenience proposition. For Ella it would mean a stable husband with the resources and temperament to treat her well. He in turn would have a wife other men would envy—the veritable girl-next-door with no pretences or ulterior motives. No headaches. No heartache.

Tristan’s good humor dipped as he swept his jacket off the back of his chair.

Ella’s naiveté was all the more reason to keep an eye on Cade tomorrow. His older brother had white-anted him before. No reason to trust him now.

He collected Ella’s purse from the table. “It’s almost eleven,” he said, handing the purse over. “Time to call it a night.”

Her eyes unwittingly flashed with gratitude before she shrugged. “Well, if you’re sure you’re ready.”

Tristan smiled at his beautiful companion. He was more than ready.

During the drive home, Ella was floating.

She’d never attended an event quite like tonight’s. Those people were some of the wealthiest in the state—in the country—but despite having had next to no sleep last night, she hadn’t made a social blunder. The reason was clear. Her companion.

She looked across at Tristan sitting relaxed behind the wheel, his expression intent as the night shadows flickered over his classic profile.

He’d been the perfect escort, making her feel not only beautiful but…special, even when she’d trodden on his foot, not once but twice.

Ella dropped her gaze to her hand holding her knotting stomach. The night wasn’t over yet. More than instinct whispered to her what was in store. Tristan planned to kiss her again. She saw it in his eyes and the tilt of his mouth whenever he smiled at her.

He’d obviously thought more about last night’s embrace and wanted to test those waters again. What else did he have planned? How much was she pre-pared to give? she wondered. What exactly did Tristan want from her?

Possibly a brief interlude with an employee who would be out of his life in two weeks. Fulfillment of a curiosity with no lingering ties. Surely nothing more than that.

As Tristan drove into the garage, Ella tried to divert her thoughts. The dinner she intended to prepare for the mayor seemed a good topic.

“Do you know of anything special other than pie the mayor would like served?”

“Actually he’s a big fan of clam chowder. His wife served it whenever I shared a meal with the family.”

As Tristan shut down the engine, Ella unsnapped her seat belt. “I didn’t realize you two were that close.”

“Not anymore.” He opened his car door. “Some time ago, I dated Belinda Rufus.”

Ella looked hard at him. No mistaking such a unique last name. “The mayor’s daughter?”

He nodded, then got out of the car and rounded the vehicle to escort her inside.

“We’d been seeing each other for three months,” he continued, thumbing on the kitchen lights. “She died in tragic circumstances—a car wreck.”

Ella was taken aback. “I’m sorry, Tristan.”

He nodded then added in a low voice, “The mayor blamed me.”

“Were you driving?”

He shook his head and leaned on the back of a kitchen chair. “I’d invited Bindy to a friend’s wedding. Not far into the reception party, it was clear she’d had far too much champagne. When I suggested we leave, she stumbled out onto the balcony. The fresh air only made her intoxication worse. She must have known I wasn’t impressed, but she wouldn’t stop. I thought she was talking nonsense at first, and then she told me—” His Adam’s apple bobbed, then he cleared his throat and scrubbed his jaw. “She said she’d slept with Cade the week before.”

Ella fell back against the bench. “But why?”

“She seemed to take relish in the fact that Cade was the wealthiest of the Barkley brothers.”

“Oh, Tristan. No wonder…”

“Although she obviously expected me to, I didn’t explode. Instead I had this perverse urge to laugh.” He sneered. “Big brother Cade was at it again.”

She couldn’t imagine feeling so betrayed. Scarpini might be her half brother—if, in fact, that were true—but Tristan had known Cade all his life. They’d grown up in the same house, shared the same parents. How could brothers turn out so differently? She hadn’t known Tristan long, but instinctively she knew he would never act so appallingly.

He shrugged and pushed off the chair. “Perhaps Bindy wanted a duel at dawn. But it only crystallized what I’d been feeling more and more. We weren’t right for each other and that confirmed it.” Deep into his thoughts, he moved toward her. “Bindy stumbled away. A minute later I saw my car speed off. She’d had my keys in her bag. I followed in a friend’s car, but…”

Ella continued for him. “She crashed.”

He blinked then nodded once. “She died instantly.” He took a deep breath and rubbed his forehead. “The mayor blamed me. Said I didn’t take care of his little girl. He thought I’d tried to dump her and had broken her heart.” A corner of his mouth pulled down. “What a joke.”

So that’s what the mayor had meant by that com-ment, I hope Mr. Barkley is taking good care of you. She’d thought his tone, if not his words, had seemed off at the time.

“What did the mayor say when you told him the truth?”

Tristan rolled back one shoulder and lifted his chin. “I didn’t say anything. Bindy was dead. Nothing would come from discrediting her name to her father or anyone else.”

“And Cade? What did he say when you confronted him?”

His jaw flexed. “We didn’t discuss it.”

“Never?”

Tristan’s right hand fisted by his side. “Cade knows what he did. What he always does. He thinks about himself. I have no desire to rehash it.”

“But if Bindy was drunk…” Ella shrugged. “Well, maybe she got confused.”

His smile was a sneer. “She wasn’t confused about Cade’s appendix scar or the ‘cute’ tick at its lower end.”

She guessed scenarios such as this played out in real life more than people would like to admit, and not only among the rich and famous. Money and sex had the potential to warp people. Sometimes destroy them.

“And now you have to face Cade at this get-together,” she said.

“I’ll do it, but only for Josh’s sake. And I’ll behave. Hopefully Cade will, too.”

He looked at her then as if there might be a deeper meaning to his words and she wondered. Surely it wasn’t mistrust of her clouding his eyes.

They weren’t a couple, and even if they were, she would never cheat as Bindy had done. If things weren’t working out between two people who weren’t married it was better to sever the relationship than continue to hurt each other. She’d followed her own advice when she’d called off her relationship with Sean. Apparently he’d never thought her good enough in any case…

Ella pushed away the ghosts from her past. That was all so long ago. Like Tristan, she didn’t enjoy revisiting the less memorable pages of her personal history. And, remarkably, Tristan’s skeletons competed with hers. They’d both been accused of killing a person they cared about.

Tristan moved closer. “Ella…there’s something else I feel we need to discuss.” His gaze probed hers. “It’s about us.”

Her insides tensed as a thread of panic wound through her. Tristan was going to bring up that kiss. But after the emotion of that conversation—his being with another woman and her untimely death—she wasn’t ready to go there, even to discuss it.

Curling some hair behind her ear, she slid her foot back toward her bedroom door. “Do you mind if we talk in the morning?” She gave him a weak smile. “I’m more tired than I realized.”

His earnest expression deepened before he nodded and said, “Of course.”

She slid back her other foot and smiled. “Great. Well…good night. Thank you for tonight.”

He seemed about to say something more, then only nodded again. “My pleasure. Sleep well.”

But Ella didn’t sleep well. Anything but.

After tossing and turning for what seemed like hours, she wandered out to the dark kitchen for a glass of water. With her hand on the refrigerator door, she heard a shuffling noise, then a rustle. Her stomach pitched and she went cold all over. A light was shining down from further in the house, possibly the library. Then she heard stealthy footsteps on the tiles.

When Tristan appeared, she released a tension-filled breath at the same time their eyes connected in the shadows. He stopped dead before a warm smile spread across his face and he moved toward her.

One part of her wanted to retreat to her bedroom—she was dressed in a negligee, without a wrap. But the room was filled with forgiving shadows, and the air surrounding them was suddenly heavy with curiosity.

When he stopped before her, silver moonlight shining in through the window highlighted his broad, bare chest. The masculine scent of his body filled her lungs. How she loved that smell.

“You can’t sleep?” His voice was a deep rumble that resonated through to her bones.

“Not a wink,” she admitted.

“Me, neither.” He slanted his head on a teasing smile. “Maybe we shouldn’t sleep together.”

She looked into his eyes and knew what he was suggesting—the exact opposite. She couldn’t deny that the idea of sleeping together was frighteningly appealing.

As the seconds ticked by, the space separating them seemed to compress and at the same time stretch an agonizingly forbidden mile. Did she want to breach that space? The stillness of his towering frame told her that Tristan only needed her nod.

She quivered inside.

Should she?

Shouldn’t she?

She wet her dry lips. “Tristan?”

“Yes, Ella?”

Her throat convulsed and she swallowed. “You want to kiss me again, don’t you?”

His smile changed. “Yes, I do.” He moved closer until his body heat seemed to meld with hers. “And I think you want me to.”

Quivering again, she stepped away from her safety net and nodded. “Very much.”

Chapter Six

When Tristan drew her close and his mouth covered hers, Ella gave herself over to a tingling tidal wave of pure pleasure. After the anticipation of wondering these past twenty-four hours, Tristan’s kiss tonight was even more than she remembered—better than heaven, as if that should be a surprise.

As the strong band of his arms urged her closer still and he expertly deepened the kiss, she could have passed out from the blistering sensual overload. So many times she’d contemplated enjoying the intimate attentions of this powerfully attractive man. People were naturally drawn to and admired his superior bearing. Why should she be any different? She was only human, even if tonight he felt like a god.

Tristan’s palm spread and pressed low on her back as his other hand cradled and almost imperceptibly turned and kneaded the back of her head. Trembling inside, Ella clung to his chest, reveling in the musky scent of pure male and feel of flesh-and-blood granite. Such a moment should last an eternity, but now that they’d started, Ella wanted more.

More of what she’d glimpsed that day in his bedroom.

When Tristan reluctantly broke the kiss, he scooped her up in his arms and Ella’s breath left her lungs in a soft exclamation of surprise. His heavy-lidded eyes lingered on her lips as he began to move out of the kitchen, toward the stairs…

The stairs that led up to his bedroom.

At a jab of alarm, her eyes must have rounded be-cause he stopped abruptly and blinked twice. “I’m moving too fast,” he said.

There was little doubt what he would expect when they arrived upstairs. And she was certain that’s where he was taking her. In truth, wasn’t a night in each other’s arms what she’d dreamed of experiencing, too? It’d been so long since a man had held her, and this wasn’t just any man. If that was Tristan’s intention—to make love to her without reservation—shouldn’t she grab the opportunity, as well as the memories that would last a lifetime? This wasn’t a case of Tristan merely needing to expend some energy. Regardless of what happened after tonight, right now he truly wanted her as a woman.

And she wanted him, too.

Her tummy fluttered as she looped her arms around his broad neck.

“I’m game,” she murmured, “if you are.”

His eyes widened as if he were almost taken aback by her reply, but then his expression softened. “I’m more than game.” He began to walk again.

“If we’re awake at midnight you can wish me happy birthday.”

“It’s your birthday tomorrow?”

“I’ll be twenty-six.”

He smiled that sexy smile. “Then I guess we have some celebrating to do.”

She crossed her ankles and sucked in a decisive breath. “I could whip up a cake.” She liked chocolate torte, but Black Forest with lots of cherries was his favorite.

Holding her tighter, he mounted the stairs two at a time. “I don’t want you in the kitchen, Ella. I want you in my bed.”

They crossed the threshold into his room. The but-terflies in her stomach went berserk when he flicked on a lamplight and the tawny satin coverlet and ruby-colored cushions of his king-size bed materialized out of the dark. She’d smoothed his sheets hundreds of times and had wondered about stretching out on them just as often. Difficult to believe that tonight her fanta-sies would finally come true.

He set her on her feet and his warm, steady hands slid down the sides of her satiny nightgown.

“This is nice.” His mouth lowered to sample the curve of her neck.

She angled her head, shivering as she gave him better access. Nice? Was he referring to their new situa-tion or her negligee? she wondered.

“I bought it the same day I picked up my evening gown.”

Her voice sounded thick as his teeth slowly danced down her throat, making her flesh tingle and nipples bead tight. When her fingers found his head and flexed longingly in his hair, she felt his smile on her skin.

“Do you always wear this kind of thing to bed?” he asked. “Or were you hoping we’d bump into each other tonight?”

“I usually wear button-up pajamas.”

His raspy jaw grazed as he kissed an adoring line of fire up her throat. “Tonight it’s difficult to imagine you in anything other than French silk.”

Through the haze of building desire, a vague sense of self-consciousness sparked. She wasn’t like the women with whom he usually kept company. She wasn’t at all…refined. “I don’t normally buy silk neg-ligees or spend a lot on perfume or jewelry.”

“Then maybe it’s time someone did for you.”

His sultry admission threw her. But before she could think more on it, he found the bow at her cleavage and tugged the ribbon loose. Then he cupped her shoulders and, with a sculpting movement, dragged down the thin straps of silk.

The negligee slipped into a soft puddle around her feet. She sucked in a breath at a kick of raw, physical need as he brought her close, his long, muscular legs creating a V either side of hers. His rumbling tones resonated through her as his hands massaged her upper arms, drawing her up and toward him. He tasted the slope of her shoulder as if she were a fine delicacy.

“Is this okay?” he murmured against her skin.

Dissolving into him, she sighed on a delicious shiver. “Okay isn’t the word.”

His slightly roughened hands combed down her arms, detouring over her rump to scoop her in and up. Her breath caught.

He was so hard.

He took a seductive, lingering kiss from the corner of her mouth. “You’re perfect.”

If he hadn’t been holding her, Ella would have swayed. And she could barely breathe. Every bubble of oxygen had been consumed by the fire raging inside of her.

He kissed her again—thoroughly this time, until her head spun and limbs floated away. When he left her lips and looked into her eyes, his gaze was hot and purposeful.

“Ella, I want you.”

Her body tensed as trapped air burned in her lungs and stars began to dance in her head. The reality of having Tristan Barkley kissing her, telling her he wanted her, was overwhelming, almost too much to absorb.

His knuckle nudged her chin up and he searched her eyes. “Remember, if I’m going too fast, we can take it slow—as slow as you want to go.”

She tried to even her breathing, to grasp what was happening and accept it. “Tristan…I…I…”

He blinked several times then let out a breath and pressed a kiss to her brow. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say it. It’s too soon.” He smiled as his gaze roamed her face. “Let’s get you dressed.”

Dropping onto his haunches, he found her negligee at her feet. She wanted to pull him back up, tell him he was mistaken and then lock her lips with his again. But she stilled when his hands slid up her legs as he towed the fabric along. Halfway up, when he reached her hips, his progress stopped.

His warm breath lingered on her thighs, high where her legs joined and a hypersensitive spot had picked up on the heat of his mouth and had begun to beat and glow. She was agonizingly aware of how damp her panties were—how desperately, shamelessly, she wanted him to touch her there. If he did, she just might explode.

Like a warm, soft breeze, his mouth brushed her navel and a whimper of longing escaped from her throat.

“I don’t mind you being shy, Ella. But I want you to know you don’t have to be. You’re beautiful.” His mouth brushed again and his hands slid higher to hold her hips. “Just…please, give me a moment,” he groaned, “then, I promise, I’ll let you go.”

He didn’t wait for permission this time. Instead he tasted long, moist kisses that led down from her belly to her panty line. The warm tip of his tongue trailed back and forth just below the elastic as his fingers dug gently in, angling her hips even more toward his skilled mouth.

Tipping back her head, Ella sighed as her hands drifted to his hair. Tristan thought she was beautiful. He’d asked if she wanted to make love. And with every word—every wondrous graze of his lips—she wanted him more and more.

She was about to surrender all when his mouth left her burning flesh. Pushing to his feet, he towed the negligee up with him, replacing the straps over her shoulders.

Ella exhaled as a chunk of her sizzling tension fell away. But she wasn’t ready to let that feeling go. She wanted that scorching, drugging heat to continue. She wanted his mouth on her again, but this time she wanted it everywhere and all at once.

She cupped his stubbled jaw in two hands and willed him to see the depth of the need in her eyes.

“Make love to me,” she whispered.

His brows knitted then his expression changed in a way that made her feel all the more desired. A way that made her simmer then burn. He studied her for a long, super-charged moment.

And took her hand.

He led her to his bed, ripped back the covers then sat on the edge of the mattress she’d covered with fresh, fragrant sheets that morning. Standing before him, she dropped her negligee then he slipped her panties off her hips, down her thighs. When she stepped out of the scrap of silk and stood before him completely naked, she felt at once released, totally free and at the same time incredibly vulnerable.

His warm hands on her waist drew her toward him, twirling her as he brought her down onto the cool sheets so that she lay on her back, partly captured beneath him.

His smile flashed in the shadows. “We’ll toast your birthday with French champagne at midnight.”

A tantalizing thrill rippled through her. “I like the sound of that.”

Two fingers wove up the inside of her thigh. “I like the feel of this.”

He proceeded to show her how much.

He caressed her body from head to toe, and with so fine a skill she wondered whether she would ever descend from the clouds. When she was beyond ready, when her breasts were on fire and her core screamed for sexual release, he found a condom in his side drawer, then, dotting meaningful kisses on her brow, he gently nudged in.

The breach stole her breath away. Yes, it had been a long while, and she hadn’t had many sexual partners, but this…

This sensation was beyond anything she’d ever dreamed.

As her lips parted to take in more air, she opened her eyes and looked up into his dark, appreciative gaze.

“Relax.” His voice was low and husky. “I don’t intend to rush.”

With the deep, steady thrum of his words drifting through her, his knee edged hers out a little farther, then he began to move with such a beguiling, animalistic genius, soon she couldn’t remember a time before this. Before them. Her fingers trailed over the damp rise of his broad back and some insane part of her wanted to hold on—past tonight, into tomorrow and right the way through to next week and next year.