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“Uh-oh,” Kevin muttered. “What kind of letter?”
She winced, regretting now what she’d done, but it was way too late to call it back. “Something about the corporations of America ruining small-town life.”
He laughed. “Bella…”
“They probably won’t even run it.”
“Of course they will,” he said. “Then you can expect another visit from Jesse King.” Kevin paused, tipped his head to one side and looked at her. “Or is that what this is all about? You actually want him coming around, don’t you?”
“No, I don’t,” she argued, wishing Kevin were just a little less observant. Could she help it if every time Jesse King walked through her door she felt a zing of something amazing? It wasn’t her fault that her hormones reacted when he was in the room. Heck, every female in America suffered from the same symptoms when it came to Jesse King.
And the very fact that he affected her so much was exactly why she was so bent on making him miserable. She probably should stop antagonizing him, as Kevin said, but she just couldn’t bring herself to.
Bella had fought Jesse’s takeover of Morgan Beach with everything she had. And still, she’d lost. He’d moved in, bought up property and immediately started ruining the only place she’d ever called home.
An only child, Bella had lost her parents at seven, gone into a series of nice, if impersonal foster homes and when she turned eighteen, she was out on her own. She didn’t mind it so much, though the pangs for family never quite left her.
She’d put herself through college by making clothes for the girls who didn’t have to worry about saving every cent. She’d sewn and knitted and crocheted her way to an education. Then she’d taken her first vacation ever, stumbled across Morgan Beach and never left.
She’d been here five years and she loved it. The tiny coastal town was everything she’d always dreamed of in a hometown. Small, friendly and close enough to big retail she could always indulge in a fun shopping trip when she felt the need. Even better, the close-knit feeling of the community fed that lack of family she’d always felt. People here cared about each other.
Now, with Jesse here, her beloved small town felt almost claustrophobic.
“Sell it to somebody else, Bella,” Kevin said laughing. “Every time you say the guy’s name, your eyes go all soft and shiny.”
“They do not.” Did they? Well, that was embarrassing as all get-out.
“Oh, yeah, they do, and I’ll prove it. Look out the window.”
She turned her head to glance out the window onto Main Street and was just in time to see Jesse King walking by. His dark blond, sun-streaked hair was too long. His blue jeans were faded and molded to his long legs and the white long-sleeved shirt he wore only accentuated his tan.
She sighed.
“Gotcha,” Kevin said.
“You’re so evil,” Bella told him, but couldn’t tear her gaze away from the man who was still occupying far too much of her thoughts.
Chapter Three
By the next morning, Bella had convinced herself that Kevin was right. She’d just have to suck it up and talk to Jesse. Tell him just what she thought of a man who could make love to a woman one night and forget her existence the following morning. She’d get everything off her chest and then she’d be fine.
She’d be over him.
Bella paused in front of her shop for a moment, and smiled to herself. Even Jesse King couldn’t quash the thrill she experienced every time she walked into the world she’d built with her own talent.
But even as she enjoyed the sight of her place, once Jesse’s “rehab” was finished, it would lose all its character. The creak in the front door would be “fixed.” The pockmarked walls would be smoothed. The floor would be carpeted, all the gleaming floorboards covered up. Bella’s Beachwear would survive, but it wouldn’t be the same. The man had no more vision when it came to business than he had when it came to women.
It was all about the bottom line to men like Jesse.
A crowd was gathering across the street on the beach and she turned her head to look. As a few dozen people milled around, Bella caught glimpses of what was going on. She noticed the RVs parked on the sand, a bank of cameras, huge lights and electric fans. And in the middle of it all, Jesse King.
In spite of herself, she was curious. Bella hurried across Pacific Coast Highway and stepped up onto the sidewalk. She kept to the fringes of the interested crowd of onlookers and let her gaze slide over the goings-on.
Gorgeous male models, each of them wearing King Beachwear, were positioned around several surfboards, all planted nose down in the sand. Bella had to admit that the guys looked great, but her gaze kept straying to the female models they were using in the background. “Honestly, you’d think he could take a little interest in what the women were wearing.”
“Why am I not surprised you’ve got a comment?”
She whipped her head around and looked up into Jesse’s amused blue eyes. He’d managed to sneak up on her. Darn it.
“Let’s hear it,” he said, one corner of his mouth tipping up as he folded his arms across his chest. He glanced at the photo shoot, saw the photographer bustling around, arranging everything to his satisfaction. “What don’t you like about all this?”
Bella bit down on her bottom lip. It wasn’t any of her business, of course and she really shouldn’t care at all, but then…her gaze went back to the very pretty, very thin women wearing generic swimsuits and she just couldn’t stand it. “If you’re going to all this trouble to shoot a big ad campaign, why not have all of the models look good?”
He frowned at her. “They do.”
“Why do I bother?” she muttered, shaking her head. “Look at the blond girl in the back.”
He did and smiled at the view.
Bella ignored that. “Her suit doesn’t fit right. It’s too tight across her hips—what there are of them—and too big at the bust.”
“She looks fine to me,” Jesse said with a shrug.
Bella pushed a strand of windblown hair out of her eyes, then pointed at a brunette talking to one of the male models. “What about her? That bikini is cut all wrong and the fabric is shiny, for heaven’s sake. What did you do? Go down to the department store and snatch a bunch of suits off the clearance rack?”
Jesse frowned. “The girls look okay to me. Besides, this shoot isn’t about women’s suits. It’s about King Beach. We’re selling guys’ clothes. The girls are just background.”
“Do they have to be poorly fitted background?” she asked.
He sighed a little. “We’ve got a contract. We’re giving the department store—”
“Hah!” she crowed, because she’d been so right about where they’d purchased the women’s suits.
He scowled at her. “The store gets credit in the photo tagline.”
“Fine,” she said, wondering why she even cared about any of this. “Use one or two of them. But if you want this ad to look good, then all the models should be eye-catching.”
One eyebrow lifted. “Meaning…”
She shouldn’t have walked over here, she told herself. Shouldn’t have gotten involved. What did it matter to her, after all, if his magazine ad didn’t look as good as it could? Yet…
Bella’s gaze slid back to the swimsuits the women were wearing and every one of her designer instincts stood up and growled. She simply couldn’t stand it. Besides, Jesse King was so darn sure of himself. So arrogant, she really wanted to…“Meaning, women are the real shoppers of the world, Mr. King. If you had any sense, you’d know that. Those suits your models are wearing are so generic they should be marked one size fits all as long as they’re size 0s. My suits are made to flatter a woman’s figure. All women.”
He grinned, looked her up and down, then stared into her eyes with a direct challenge. “Even you?”
Insulted, Bella lifted her chin and glared at him. She knew she was being manipulated, but at the moment, Bella didn’t even care. He was so convinced that his way was the right way, she wanted to prove him completely wrong. One sure way to do that was to show him exactly what she meant.
“I’ll be right back,” she announced, then left him to walk over to the female models. She spoke to them briefly, got their sizes, then hurried across the street to her shop. It only took a few minutes for Bella to scurry back to the photo shoot, her arms filled with some of her designer suits.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Jesse asked as she herded the women toward one of the RV trailers.
“You’re about to find out,” was all she said as she stepped into the trailer behind the models and firmly closed the door.
Minutes ticked past and Jesse frowned at the RV. He wasn’t sure why he was letting Bella get away with this. He should have just headed her off at the pass, so to speak, and told her he didn’t need her help to sell his sportswear. But damn if he’d been able to do that.
“Jesse, how much longer?”
He turned to look at Tom, the photographer, then shot a quick glance at his own wristwatch. “Give her another few minutes, Tom. As soon as she admits she was wrong to stick her nose in, we’ll get back to the shoot.”
“Fine by me,” Tom told him, shifting a fast look at the cobalt-blue sky above. “But we’ve only got this section of the beach for the morning.”
“You’re right.” Jesse’s permit would end at noon, so there was no point in indulging Bella any further, even to get her to admit that she was wrong. He stalked over to the RV and knocked on the door. “Bella,” he called out, “time’s up. We need to finish the shoot.”
The door to the RV opened and the models came out, smiling and primping. Jesse checked out each and every one of them as they walked past him. Even the skinniest of the models looked as if she had a figure now. The fabrics clung to their bodies and enhanced what few curves they had. It cost him to think it, but Bella had been right.
Tom, the photographer, let loose a low whistle and instantly started staging the women into far more prominent poses for the ad shoot. Jesse watched and shook his head, amazed, really, at the transformation. But where the hell was Bella?
Smiling to himself, he climbed the steps into the RV, stuck his head inside and shouted, “Lose your nerve? C’mon Bella, let’s see you in one of those suits you’re so proud of.”
“Turn around.” The sound of her voice came from right behind him and Jesse couldn’t figure out how she’d gotten past him. But when he turned to look at her, he understood completely.
For months, he’d seen the woman around town, always buried under mountains of fabric. He’d naturally assumed that she had a body she was trying to hide.
He couldn’t have been more wrong.
“Bella?” His gaze moved over her in a quick, thorough glance, then he looked again, giving her a more leisurely going over. The woman had enough curves to make any man sit up and beg.
“Wow,” he said, walking a slow, tight circle around her, “you look…” Familiar was what he wanted to say, but he couldn’t figure out why that would be, so he let it go in favor of, “amazing.”
The bikini she wore was a deep red and clung to her body like a lover’s hands. Her breasts were high and full, her waist was small, her hips rounded and just above her behind, at the small of her back, a tiny tattoo of the sun peeked at him. Her skin was smooth and the color of warm honey. Her long, dark brown hair hung down her back and swayed with her every movement. And her chocolate eyes were watching him with satisfaction.
“Thanks,” she said, fisting her hands at her bare hips. “I believe I’ve made my point.”
He grinned at her. “What point was that?”
“That the right bathing suit makes all the difference.”
“Honey,” he said, “with a body like that, you could wear one of my suits and look amazing.”
She shook her head and he was fascinated with the way her hair danced and swayed. His body felt tight and need was a clamoring beast inside him. It was all he could do to keep his hands to himself, when what he wanted to do was pull her in close, kiss her until she couldn’t talk and then find the closest flat surface, lay her down on it and bury himself inside her.
But judging from the fire flashing in her eyes at the moment, that little fantasy wasn’t going to come true anytime soon.
“You’re incredible,” she said softly.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I only dressed your models—and myself—to prove to you that I was right. That your way of doing things, mass-produced swimwear, isn’t the only way. That my way is better.”
“Not the way to make your fortune, though,” he said, leaning one shoulder against the doorjamb as she gathered up her tentlike blouse and skirt.
“Who says I’m interested in that?” she demanded, whipping her hair out of her eyes long enough to glare at him.
“You’re a businesswoman. Why wouldn’t you want to succeed?”
“Success doesn’t have to be your way.”
“My way’s not bad.” It occurred to him that he was defending his business. The very business he had never intended to start. “Contracting out to manufacturers streamlines the business, allows you to reach more customers and—”
“—And cuts you off from the customers, too,” she added. “You get so big you forget why you started your business in the first place. But that doesn’t matter to a King, does it?” She walked close, poked him in the chest with her index finger and said, “Your whole family—you’re like warlords or something. You swoop in, buy up what you want and never consider any way but yours.”
“Hey, now,” he argued, grabbing her finger and closing his fist around it. Warmth shot through him with the first contact of her skin against his, shattering his thoughts, obliterating whatever it was he’d been about to say.
He remembered feeling like this once before with the touch of a woman’s skin. Remembered the slide of her skin against his, the heat of their joining, the taste of her mouth, the tight fit of his body locked inside hers. And just for a second, Jesse stared at her, refusing to believe that Bella Cruz might be his mystery woman.
“What are you doing?” she asked, trying to tug her hand free of his grasp. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“No way,” he murmured, more to himself than to her. It couldn’t be. Not her. Not the woman who had been a thorn in his side from day one.
“What?” This time she succeeded in pulling free of him and then she took a hasty step or two backward just for good measure. “Look, um, I’ve got to get to my shop. I’ve spent too much time here already and—”
“Just a minute,” he said, moving toward her, letting the RV door swing closed behind him. Inside, the trailer was filled with shadows, sunlight drifting through louvered shades on the windows. The scent of coffee and perfume hung in the air and from outside came the shouts and laughter of the crowd gathered to watch the photo shoot.
Jesse paid no attention to any of it. All he could see was her. Her chocolate eyes watched him warily even as he told himself that the only sure way to know if Bella was actually his mystery woman was to kiss her. To taste her. And damn if she was leaving this trailer until he’d done just that.
“Mr. King,” she said, looking around as if for an exit that wasn’t barred by his tall, broad body, “Jesse, I really do need to get going now.”
“Yeah,” he said, moving closer still until her breath fanned against his chin as she looked up at him. “I know. But there’s just one more thing we have to do first.”
She licked her lips. “What’s that?”
He smiled and dipped his head. “This,” he whispered, then took her mouth with his.
She went stiff as a board for about a split second, then pliant, leaning into him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He pulled her in close, his hands at her waist, his fingertips nearly burning with the heat her skin engendered. Her lips parted under his and his tongue swept into her warmth and he knew.
That taste of her was something he would never forget. Something he’d been dreaming about for three years. He finally had her in his arms again. Finally could hold her, taste her, touch her and as realization flooded him, he broke the kiss abruptly, stared down into her glazed, dark brown eyes and said, “It’s you.”
She staggered a little. “What?”
“You. On the beach. Three years ago.”
She blinked up at him, rubbed her fingertips across her mouth and then drew in a long, shaky breath. “Congratulations,” she said at last. “You finally remembered.”
“You knew?” he demanded. “You remembered and didn’t say anything to me?”
“Why would I?” she asked, gathering up the clothes she’d dropped when he was kissing her. “You think I’m proud of that night?”
“You ought to be,” he told her sharply. “We were great together.”
