Cinderella After Midnight

“A rich one.”

He didn’t even dignify the cynical interjection with a reply and went on as if he hadn’t heard her, “Do you really think I need to resort to cheap blackmail to get a woman into bed?”

“Some men would find that amusing, whether they needed to or not,” she answered coolly.

With her pride back in place, she wasn’t going to give him an inch. Which was brave of her, considering what she thought he might do to her plan.

“Well, Lady C, believe me, I can find a lot better ways to amuse myself than that,” he told her, his voice rising in his effort to get through to her.

And, damn it, he was going to get through to her! he vowed, not stopping for a second to consider why it was so important.

He gripped her by the shoulders, rounding his hands softly over those warm, smooth knobs of muscle. Then he looked into her eyes as if he could hypnotize her into trusting him. All around them, dancers gyrated or spun, and colored lights swathed the darkness with their dazzling beams.

“Catrina—and will you please damn well let me leave off the Lady!—you have to trust me!”

“Why?” she demanded simply.

“Because—because you have no choice, my lady,” he repeated, now with total confidence. He could see the logic of it in his head like a game of chess. “Either I’m a complete scum who’ll blow your cover to Wainwright because you won’t sleep with me tonight.” The wicked part of him made him add, “By the way, I’m right in that, aren’t I? You won’t sleep with me tonight?”