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“Shabby.”
“You’re nothing but a corporate robot,” she accused.
Jesse was stunned that anyone would describe him that way. He’d never set out to be a corporate anything. Hell, he’d gone out of his way to avoid the trap that all Kings eventually landed in. The business world. In fact, the King name had been a pain in his ass for most of his life.
His father, brothers, cousins—all Kings everywhere—seemed to be locked into offices. Didn’t matter to Jesse if those offices were luxurious penthouse suites. He’d never wanted anything to do with that world.
He’d watched his three older brothers slide into the family business concerns as if they’d been molded for the task. Even Justice, on his ranch, was a businessman first and foremost. But Jesse had broken away. Become a professional surfer and damn if he hadn’t loved the life. While his brothers and cousins were wearing suits and running meetings, he was traveling the world, looking for the perfect ride. He did things his way. Lived his life the way he wanted to. He didn’t answer to anyone.
Until his favorite surfboard maker went out of business a few years ago. Jesse had bought up the company because he wanted access to the boards he favored. He’d done the same thing when he’d found the perfect wet suit. And the ideal swim trunks. Pretty soon, he’d actually done what he’d always insisted he wouldn’t. Become a businessman. Not just a drone, either—the head of King Beach, a giant, diversified company that centered around life on the beach. Ironic that the thing he loved had eventually turned him into what he’d never wanted to be.
“Look,” he said quietly, shaking away thoughts that were too troubling to focus on. “We don’t have to be enemies.”
“Oh, yes, we do.”
Damn, she was stubborn. For ten years, he’d been at the top of his sport. He’d won hundreds of competitions, been featured in magazine ads, partied with the most glamorous celebrities and last year had even been named California’s Sexiest Bachelor. He had money, charm and all the women he could possibly want. So why was he torturing himself by standing here listening to Bella Cruz harp at him?
Because she intrigued him. Whether it was her obvious enmity for him, or her sheer hardheadedness, he wasn’t sure. But there was something about Bella that got to him. Felt somehow…familiar.
Jesse pulled in a deep breath, leaned both hands on the counter and looked at her. “It’s just some walls and windows, Ms. Cruz—or can I call you Bella?”
“No, you cannot, and it’s not just walls and windows.” She held out her arms as if physically trying to hug the ratty old building. “This place has a history. The whole town did. Until you showed up, that is.”
She gave him a look that was heat and ice both at the same time. Impressive. She was practically vibrating with banked rage. He’d always found a way around a woman’s temper. Until now.
For months, he’d been trying to worm his way into her good graces. It would have made life easier if she’d agreed to an easy working relationship. She had friends in Morgan Beach. She was successful—in her own, cottage-industry kind of way. And dammit, women liked Jesse King.
“The town’s history is still here,” Jesse told her, “along with buildings that won’t collapse at the first sign of a stiff breeze.”
“Yeah,” she muttered, “you’re a real humanitarian.”
He laughed. “I’m just trying to run a business,” he said and nearly winced at the words. When had he become his brothers? His father?
“No, you’re trying to run my business.”
“Trust me when I say I have zero interest in your company.” Jesse glanced behind her to where one of her custom-designed swimsuits was tacked to the wall.
Jesse’s company catered to men. He knew what a guy was looking for in a wet suit, bathing suit or whatever. He had no idea what women were looking for and wouldn’t expand until he knew. Though his stockholders and managers were after him to expand to women’s gear, Jesse was standing firm against them. He had no idea what to stock for women, yet; he’d rather focus on what he did best. Bella Cruz could have the female share of the market.
“Then why are you here?” she asked, and he heard the toe of her shoe tapping against the floor. “My rent’s not due for another three weeks.”
“So warm. So welcoming,” he said, giving Bella another smile. It bounced off her like bullets off a tank. Woman was determined to hate him. Jesse shoved his hands into the pockets of his khaki slacks and walked off to study the racks.
“I’m very welcoming. To customers,” she said.
“Yeah, the store’s so packed I can hardly walk.”
She huffed out a breath. “Summer’s over. Sales slow down a little.”
“Funny, everyone else says business is great.”
“Worried about your rent?” she asked.
“Should I be?”
“No,” Bella said quickly. “I have a small, but loyal clientele.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You’re impossible,” he thought he heard her mutter. Jesse smiled to himself. Good to know he was getting to her as thoroughly as she was getting to him.
Beyond the plate-glass window, Morgan Beach was going about its day. It was late morning and the surfers were packing it in for the day. He knew all too well that the best rides were just after dawn, before the water was crowded with kids and moms and wannabes with their little belly boards.
People were wandering the tidy sidewalks, sitting at sidewalk cafés and, in general, enjoying the day. While he was standing in a women’s-wear shop talking to a female who practically hissed when she saw him. Jesse stifled a sigh of impatience.
He shifted his gaze to the interior of Bella’s place. Pale, cream-colored walls were dotted with handmade swimsuits tacked up beside framed posters of some of the best beaches in the world. And Jesse should know. He’d surfed most of those beaches. For ten years, he’d hardly been out of the water. He’d snatched up trophies, endorsement deals, nice fat checks and plenty of attention from the surf bunnies who followed the circuit.
Sometimes he really missed that life. Like now, for instance.
“So, since I’m your landlord, why don’t we play nice?”
“You’re only my landlord because Robert Towner’s kids sold you the building after he died. He promised me that they wouldn’t, you know,” she said, regret tingeing her voice. “He promised that I could stay here another five years.”
“But that wasn’t in his will,” Jesse reminded her as he turned around to meet her hard gaze. “His kids decided to sell. Hardly my fault.”
“Of course it was your fault—you offered them a small fortune for the building!”
He smiled. “Good business.”
Bella smothered a sigh. What good would it do? Facts were facts and the fact was, Jesse King was now the owner of her building, despite Robert’s promises.
Robert Towner had been a sweet old man, a surrogate grandfather to Bella. They’d had coffee every morning, dinner at least once a week. She’d seen him far more often than his own children had and she’d hoped to actually buy the building from him one day. Unfortunately, Robert had died in a car accident nearly a year ago. Despite his assurances, he hadn’t made any provisions for Bella in his will.
A month or so after Robert’s death, his children sold the building to Jesse King and Bella had been worried about her future ever since. Robert had always kept the rent low enough so she could afford this great location. But she knew that Jesse King wouldn’t be doing the same.
He was making “improvements” right and left and would soon be raising the rents to pay for them. Which meant that Bella would have to look for another shop to rent. She’d have to leave Main Street and relocate farther inland, losing at least a quarter of her business, since many of her customers were drop-ins off the beach.
Jesse King was going to ruin everything. Just as he had three years ago.
Not that he remembered. The bastard.
Bella really wanted to kick something. Preferably her new landlord. Which was so far out of her character, she blamed that notion on him, too. Jesse King was the kind of man who expected the world to roll over and beg whenever he crooked his finger. The trouble was, it usually did.
He looked over his shoulder at her and grinned. “I really irritate you on a personal level, don’t I? I mean, this is more than me buying up Main Street, isn’t it?”
Yes, it really was. Bella stiffened instinctively. The fact that he didn’t even know why she loathed him was just infuriating. She couldn’t tell him what he’d so obviously and embarrassingly forgotten.
“What do you want, Mr. King?”
He frowned a little. “Bella, we’ve known each other too long to stand on ceremony.”
“We don’t know each other at all,” she corrected. He was going to call her Bella whether she wanted him to or not, it seemed.
“I know you love your shop,” Jesse said, moving back to the counter. And her.
Why did he have to smell so good? And did his eyes really have to be the deep, dark blue of the ocean? Did his smile have to cause dimples in his cheeks? And why had the sun bleached out lightercolored streaks in his dark blond hair? Wasn’t he gorgeous enough?
“You’ve got some nice stuff in here,” he said, looking down into the glass display case at the sunglasses, flip-flops and tote bags. “Good eye for color, too. We’re a lot alike, you and I. My company makes swimwear. So do you.”
She laughed.
He scowled. “What’s so funny?”
“Oh, nothing,” she said, bracing her hands on the glass countertop. “It’s just that my suits are handmade by local women from custom-woven organically sound fabrics and yours are stitched together by children hunched over dirty tables in sweatshops somewhere.”
“I don’t run sweatshops,” he snapped.
“Are you so sure?”
“Yeah, I am. I’m not some Viking here to pillage and burn,” he reminded her.
“Might as well be,” she muttered. “You’ve changed the whole face of downtown in less than a year.”
“Andretail shopping is up 22 percent. I should be shot.”
She simmered like a pot about to boil over. “There’s more to life than profit.”
“Yes, there’s surfing. And there’s great sex.” He grinned again, clearly waiting to see if she’d be affected.
Bella would never let him know just how much that smile and his dimples did affect her. Or the casual mention of great sex. Women came too easily to Jesse King. She’d learned that lesson three years ago, when she’d been a card-carrying member of that adoring throng.
The World Surf competition had been in town and Morgan Beach partied for a week. Bella had been on the pier, watching the waves, when Jesse King had strolled up. He’d smiled then, too. And flirted. And teased. He’d kissed her in the moonlight, then taken her to the small bar at the end of the pier where they’d toasted each other with too many margaritas.
She could admit now that she’d been flattered by his attention. He was gorgeous. Famous. And, she’d thought back then, really a very nice guy underneath all the glamour.
That night, they’d wandered together along the sand, until the crowded pier and beach were far behind them. Then they stood at the ocean’s edge and watched moonlight dance on the waves.
When Jesse kissed her, Bella was swept away by the magic of the moment and the heat and the delirious sensation of being wanted. They’d made love on the sand, with the sea wind rushing over them and the pulsing throb of the ocean whispering in the background.
Bella had seen stars.
Jesse had seen just one of the crowd.
She’d actually gone to see him the following day, in the harsh glare of sunlight. She’d wanted to talk to him about what had happened.
He’d said, “Good to see ya, babe,” and walked right past her. He hadn’t even remembered having sex with her. She was too stunned to even shout at him. She’d simply stared after him as he walked out of her life.
Bella looked at him now, and remembered every minute of their night together and the humiliation of the day after. But even that hadn’t been enough to take away the luscious memory of lying in his arms in the moonlight.
She hated knowing that one night with Jesse had pretty much ruined her for other men. And she really hated knowing that he still didn’t remember her. But then, why would he?
But not her.
At least, not again.
Everyone made mistakes, but only an idiot made the same mistake repeatedly.
Inhaling sharply, Bella told him, “Look, there’s no point in arguing anymore. You’ve already won and I have a business to run. So if you’re not here to tell me you’re evicting me, I really have to get back to work.”
“Evicting you? Why would I do that?”
“You own the building and I’ve done nothing but try to get rid of you for months.”
“Yeah,” he said, “but as you pointed out already, I’ve won that battle. What would be the point of evicting you?”
“Then why are you here?”
“To let you know about the coming rehab.”
“Fine,” Bella said. “Now I know. Thanks a bunch. Goodbye.”
He grinned again and Bella’s stomach pitched wildly.
“You know,” Jesse said, “when a woman doesn’t like me, I’ve just got to find out why.”
“I’ve already told you why.”
“There’s more to it than that,” he said, his gaze fixed on her. “Trust me when I say I will figure it out.”
Chapter Two (#ulink_d8a3047e-fc7c-59ec-8f32-6c24a1dee7be)
Jesse couldn’t figure out why he was still thinking about Bella. Why the scent of her still clung to him. Why one badly dressed woman with magic eyes was haunting him hours later. Clearly, he told himself, he’d been working too hard.
“According to research, women’s beachwear outsells comparable styles for men two to one,” Dave said.
Jesse’s train of thought cut off as he leaned back in his desk chair. The fact that he actually had a desk chair hardly bothered him anymore.
“Dave,” Jesse said, as patiently as he could, “I’ve told you already. I don’t have any interest in catering to women—in the stores at least,” he added with a smile.
“You’re missing out on a gold mine, Mr. King,” the short, balding man said hurriedly. “And if you’ll just give me one more moment of your time, I could show you what I mean.”
Dave Michaels was the head buyer for King Beach and was constantly trying to push Jesse into expansion. But Jesse had a firm policy. He only sold products he knew and used personally. Products he believed in. Growing up as a King, he’d learned early on that success meant loving what you did. Knowing your business better than anyone else.
But he realized that Dave wouldn’t give up until he’d had his chance to make a pitch.
“Fine, let’s hear it.” Jesse stood up, though, hating the feeling of being trapped behind a desk. Even though his desk was a sleek combination of chrome and glass, it always called up memories of his dad behind a mahogany desk the size of an aircraft carrier, waving at his sons, telling them to go and play, that he was too busy to join them.
Irritated at the memory, he turned his back on Dave to wander the perimeter of his office. Absently, he noticed the shelves filled with the trophies he’d won over the years. On the dark blue walls, there were framed photos of him in competitions, seascapes of some of his favorite beaches and assorted shots of his family. His lucky surfboard was propped up in one corner and the windows behind his desk offered a view of Main Street and the ocean beyond.
