Day Leclaire - Claimed: The Pregnant Heiress: Claimed: The Pregnant Heiress Rafe & Sarah--The Beginning (Harlequin Desire)

S he was here.

Chase stood in the shadows of the portico just outside the banquet room of the Vista del Mar Beach and Tennis Club. The room glittered and sparkled with both people and jewelry, the people in full cocktail-party mode, the jewelry, too, he supposed. Dead center in the middle of all that glitter and sparkle stood Emma, the woman hed spent a single incredible night romancing, seducingand then losing.

While dance music played in the background, voices rose and fell, determined laughter taking the edge off the rocky undercurrents that flowed around the room. Ostensibly the cocktail party celebrated the impending sale of Worth Industries to Chases stepbrother and closest friend, Rafe Cameron. But old grudges and past secrets stirred restlessly beneath the surface. As his brothers money manager and one of those involved in negotiating the purchase of Worth, tonight marked the start of a rough and treacherous passage.

Chase studied Emma while he sipped a thirty-year-old Laphroaig that his brother had stashed for those not interested in the free-flowing champagne. The single-malt Scotch whiskey went down as smooth as silk. Almost as smooth as Emmas skin. She had a good portion of that skin on display, the pearl-gray silk dress she wore clinging to curves hed do just about anything to uncover once again.

Her dress appeared vaguely Grecian in style, one shoulder bared while the silk draped from the other shoulder across her breasts. It hitched in a clever knot on her hip before flowing to just beneath the knee. Continuing with the Grecian theme, she wore toothpick-heeled sandals with straps that wrapped around narrow ankles and trim calves. With her ice-blond hair swept into an elegant chignon, she looked like a goddess. Like a player.

His eyes narrowed. Which begged the questionwhat the hell was she doing here? Since the guests were all connected in one way or another to either Cameron Enterprises or Worth Industries, she was, too. Either that, or she was the plus one gilded on to a guests invitation.

Maybe hed wander over and find out. And maybe while he was finding out, hed ask her why the hell she disappeared the way she had, leaving him ripping apart all of New York City in a fruitless search for the mysterious Emma With No Last Name. Before he could, Ronald Worth, soon-to-be ex-owner of Worth Industries, joined Emma and placed a proprietary hand on her bare shoulder.

Chase straightened, his mouth settling into a grim line. No way. Surely she wasnt the arm candy of Rafes nemesis. Oh, hell, no. She couldnt possibly be sharing a bed with that sixtysomething-year-old bastard. But based on the way good ol Ron lowered his head and whispered a loving comment in her ear and the affectionate manner in which she leaned into him and kissed his cheek, that was precisely what she was. Son of a

Dont even think about it.

Chase glanced over his shoulder at the sound of Rafes voice, his pale blond hair giving away his location in the darkness. What?

The Princess. I see you staring at her, and Im telling you. Dont even think about it. That one will eat you up and spit you out just for the sheer pleasure of it.

Chase fell silent, a tactic hed learned during those rough, early years when hed gone to live with his father. He turned to face his stepbrother, careful to conceal the anger surging through him. You know her? he asked mildly enough.

Emma Worth, aka Spawn of Satan.