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“We have an opportunity to kick ourselves to the next level with a job this exclusive,” Sierra said quietly as she settled back in her chair. “Better yet, you have a chance here to settle up some past debts, get some of that fabled closure. Are you going to let semantics stop you?”
Was she? Belle glanced at Sierra, noting the assured confidence on her friend’s angular face. Sierra wouldn’t push unless she thought it was really important. She might be a relentless nag when it came to the success of Eventfully Yours. But she was a good friend and would never sacrifice Belle to snag a client. Even one as potentially huge as MC Development.
Belle had spent the last six years regretting her screw-up. She should have faced Mitch herself instead of running like a wuss. Hell, she should never have agreed to marriage in the first place. She’d known better. Sex, as incredible as it might have been, was no reason to go off the deep end. But she’d been afraid to push the issue, then after the altar-ditch, too hurt and upset to face his anger.
Ever since, she’d tried to find a guy to replace him, both in her bed and her fantasies. None had stuck, though. Probably because she’d never actually had Mitch. This might be her chance to get over him, once and for all.
She glanced back at the files, the panoramic photo of the resort and its welcoming lakeside forest. She wanted to see it in person. Even more, she wanted to do Mitch, right there on the edge of that lake. Outdoor sex in the woods, like something out of a fairy tale. The orgasm she was imagining was probably mythical, too. But she didn’t care. She wanted to find out.
Despite the nerves clawing at her, she set the file down, slipped her shoes on and grabbed her purse.
“Shopping?” Sierra asked, sliding her feet into her shoes, too.
“We’ll start with lingerie. I heard about this new place called Twisted Knickers. The designs supposedly take provocative to a whole new level.”
FOCUSED ON his conversation, Mitch strode past Diana’s desk with his cell phone glued to his ear. His assistant waved her hand, trying to get his attention, but he held up one finger, then pointed to his office door. He’d talk to her when he was done.
“I don’t want any more excuses,” Mitch ordered his foreman. “The electrical has to be finished by the first of the month.” This damned week had gone downhill fast. There’d been even more building delays, his designer had gone into labor two months early, and now electrical problems. To top it off, he’d talked to three event planners so far and none had come close to sparking his interest. He was wound so tight, he was ready to snap. “The plumbing is already three weeks behind. If we lose any more ground, we won’t open on schedule. If that happens, we’re screwed.”
He listened to his foreman’s justifications with half an ear as, still ignoring Diana’s increasingly frantic gestures, he opened his office door. As always, the view of the lush green woods through the window beckoned him. Maybe he’d go for a run, shake off some of the tension. He’d rather have a long, sweaty roll in the sheets, but he couldn’t afford the distraction. Not when everything was on the line.
One more step into his office and Mitch felt like he’d been hit in the face. Maybe it was sex on the brain, but even the air shifted, turning sultry and suggestive. He breathed in, his lungs filling with a musky floral scent.
Instant turn-on.
Seated as she was in the high-backed leather chair facing the window, all Mitch could see were long, sexy legs ending in strappy black do-me heels. He tried to swallow, but his mouth had gone dirt-dry. Those were wrap-around-the-shoulders-and-ride-’em-wild legs.
Damn. Talk about distraction.
Mitch flipped his phone closed, not sure if he’d said goodbye or even if his foreman was still talking. He stepped further into the office, deliberately closing the door behind him. Two more steps into the room, and he could see around the high leather back of the chair.
Gorgeous. The impact was like getting kicked in the gut by a black belt on steroids. Swift, intense and indefensible. The first time he’d seen Belle, she’d been twenty-one. He’d thought then she couldn’t possibly be more confident in her own sexual power. He’d obviously been wrong, since she was now a master of it. Or was that mistress? And why did that make him crave studded black leather shorts?
Six years had added layers of polish, maturity and assurance to her already powerful sexual charisma. Mitch’s gaze reluctantly left those delicious legs to travel upward. He noted the flirty green skirt, the same shade as her eyes, ending a few inches above her knees. A wide leather belt accented her waist and emphasized her lush breasts in the gossamer soft-white blouse. Mitch let his eyes rest there for just a second, millions of regrets pounding in his head. He wished like hell that once, just once, he’d tasted their bounty.
He was sure if he had, he’d have easily kept her out of his mind. The only reason he’d never found another woman to replace her was that he’d blown the fantasy of sex between them all out of proportion.
He felt her amusement before he even looked at her face. Belle was used to being ogled, so he didn’t waste time on embarrassment. He wondered briefly at giving her that much power this early in the game, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. That there was a game afoot was implicit. The question wasn’t who would win, either. It was how much it would cost him to play.
She arched one platinum brow, amused challenge clear in her eyes and the dimple that played at the corner of her full lips. Her hair was shorter now, angled to emphasize her rounded cheekbones and the sharp line of her jaw.
“Well, well,” Mitch drawled, moving around to lean on his desk while he faced the biggest mistake of his life. “If it isn’t my long-lost bride.”
Chapter 2
“LONG-LOST bride-to-be, if you please,” Belle corrected precisely.
She had to work to keep her smile in place. As much as she’d have preferred to avoid reference to their past, she’d known Mitch, for all his gentlemanly reputation, wouldn’t sidestep the issue. She took a little breath before she lifted her chin. Since she had to deal with it, she’d face it head-on.
Or at least make him think she was dealing with it just long enough to flirt her way off the topic.
“Don’t you look gorgeous,” she commented with a wink. Since he’d made no attempt to hide his visual tour, she let her eyes take their own leisurely stroll, appreciating the view from head to toe.
Damn, he really had gotten better with age. His hair, still that deliciously rich auburn, was a little longer, a little less formal. His face was leaner, his shoulders broader. She was tempted to ask him to turn around so she could decide if his ass was any tighter. But it was awfully hard to beat perfection, so she doubted it.
“The years have definitely treated you well, Mitch.”
Beneath her husky words and confident smile, her insides felt as though they were on a wobbly roller coaster. Despite that, she slid to her feet in one slow, sensual motion. His cinnamon-brown eyes blurred as she stepped forward. Heat flared between them, the same heat that had lured her from interested to obsessive so long ago.
Then, so quickly she wondered if she’d imagined the desire, he blinked and the look switched to simple curiosity. Belle had to fight to keep her smile in place. Damn him, that’s how he’d always twisted her into knots. One second she’d been sure he was hot for her, the next he had total control.
Not this time.
Instead of the expected move, another step closer so she was in body-heat distance of him, Belle shifted her weight. Her hip to one side, she lifted a shoulder and gave a flutter of her lashes.
“Well?” she asked.
Mitch just arched one brow. His shoulders, she noted, were stiff, as though he was preparing himself. For what? she wondered. A handshake, a hug or, even worse, a big sloppy kiss.
She was tempted. But lurking behind that polite curiosity in his eyes was something edgier. Perhaps he was just waiting to verbally rip into her. Instead of intimidating her, that just added to the excitement.
“Well, what?”
Some insane impulse urged Belle to blurt out an apology. To tell him how sorry she was for the pain she must have caused. To confess her immaturity, her lack of consideration. Luckily, nerves trapped the words in her throat.
“Did you miss me?” she asked instead. Getting Mitch to deal with her, to give her the contract and with it the opening to butter him up so he’d help her father, was going to be hard enough. Why throw fuel on the flames? Especially when she was much more interested in starting a whole new fire.
“About as much as I miss the Macarena,” he shot back.
Belle snickered. Then, unable to help herself, she laid her hand on his forearm. “It is good to see you again.”
Eyes narrowed, he glanced down at her hand, then back at her face. With a shrug, he gave a half smile and jerk of his chin. Only an optimist would call it a nod. Belle, being a glass-half-full kind of gal, took heart.
“Why are you here?”
“Right to the point, hmm?” Belle used the seconds it took her to return to her seat to take a deep breath. Control was crucial here. She had to play it just right.
With that in mind, she leaned back against the soft leather and gave Mitch a warm smile.
“I’ve got something you need,” she told him.
“I’ll pass,” he responded instantly. “I tried to get it once before and look how that worked out.”
Belle hid her wince. Whether the pain in her chest was from a singed ego or her bruised heart she didn’t know.
“Maybe you were using the wrong inducement.”
“Obviously,” he said. Apparently resigned to the fact that she wasn’t going to explain her presence until she was good and ready, he moved around his desk to take a seat.
“Oh, please. Let’s be realistic. I was young and hot for you. For what I imagined would be incredible sex between the two of us. I wasn’t looking for marriage, but that was the price you put on yourself.” Talk about role reversal. She might be a jerk for her way of handling the situation, but he was a bigger jerk for being willing to use her lust to advance his career. But if she wasn’t holding any grudges, why should he? “We’d have been much better off if you’d just gone for the kinky affair I was hoping for instead of insisting on milking the free cow.”
“Why buy the cow if you can get the milk for free,” he corrected.
“There you go,” she said with a smile. “Except we were both after something other than milk, weren’t we?”
She’d wanted sex, he’d wanted a foot up the career ladder. Neither one of them came off lily-pure, so she didn’t bother pointing that out. Instead, she leaned down to pull a file out of her black leather portfolio.
“I understand you need an event planner.”
Mitch’s jaw tightened, but he just gave a dismissive shrug. His shirt rippled over arms that looked very intriguing. She’d bet there were some sweet biceps under that pristine cotton. Her teeth itched to take a nibble and see just how hard his muscle was.
“I might have considered a planner for the grand opening, but I’m not overly attached to the concept,” he hedged.
Which meant he wanted one, he just didn’t want it to be her. No problem. She’d change his mind.
“That’s smart,” she said, leaving the file in her lap instead of handing it to him. “Your grand opening should make a statement, of course. But you want that message to integrate with Lakeside’s theme, its purpose.”
“This isn’t Disneyland,” he pointed out, rolling his eyes.
“No, but you would do well to look at the success of theme parks like that. They have a clear message. A purpose that fulfils the guests’ specific needs. Everything they offer, every single thing, supports that purpose.”
“My resort has a purpose. You grew up in the hotel business, you already know this.”
“But you’re not trying to launch a hotel here, are you? You aren’t targeting the average vacationer, honeymoon couple or getaway guest.”
“I’m not?”
Even though he phrased it as a question, his tone was pure let’s-humor-the-airhead. She was used to people taking one look at her blond hair and sexy image and judging her by stereotypes. Since it usually worked to her advantage, Belle didn’t mind. At least, she told herself she didn’t. It wasn’t like Mitch knew her well enough to understand her or anything. So she fell into her typical lure-’em-in-and-close-the-deal mode with a flutter of her lashes.
“Are you? What do you see this resort offering?” she asked off-handedly.
“Offering? What any resort offers, of course. First-class luxury accommodations. Relaxation and pampering. The perfect getaway.”
“I can get luxury and pampering at my father’s hotels for half the price,” she pointed out.
His eyes flashed at the mention of her father. Uh-oh, not a good sign. But instead of commenting, he just pointed out the window.
“Not with this lavish view, prime location or decadent opulence. Lakeside is top of the line. Luxurious suites, each with its own fireplace and bar. Three-hundred-count Egyptian sheets and down comforters, one-of-a-kind artwork and a stunning view from every room. We have the hottest golf course, three four-star restaurants, a ballroom, spa, designer shops.”
Belle pressed her lips together to hide the smile brought on by his fervent recital of his resort’s brochure. He sounded like a momma defending her baby against the crime of mediocrity. Good, that meant he was heavily invested in making Lakeside the biggest success possible.
“Let’s cut to the chase, hmm?” she said once she was sure she could keep the triumph from her tone. “To really make your resort stand out, to make it a certifiable success, you need a hook. If you want the wealthy southern California clientele to flock here like flaming moths you’re going to need to offer something a little more exotic than nice sheets, a golf course and hot stone massages.”
“Moths to a flame,” he corrected.
“Exactly,” she agreed with a wink. “And like those moths, the wealthy and famous will swarm here. With the right incentive, of course.”
“What do you have in mind?” he asked, sounding reluctantly intrigued. His gaze fell to the papers in her lap.
She tapped one red-tipped fingernail on the file and smiled.
“To use that Disney analogy again, I’m talking about a theme park for adults. Wealthy adults. Or better yet, famous wealthy adults. Ones who are looking for a grown-up park to play in.”
Belle leaned forward to put the file on his desk. Mitch’s gaze dropped to her cleavage. From the heat in his eyes, the way they went dark and intense, she figured her Twisted Knickers leather-and-lace demi-bra had just paid off.
“You want to make this resort a standout, you need to cater to the rich and famous. If you want them lining up to get in here, you need to offer them the one thing they want more than anything else. The one thing they’d pay almost any price for.”
Keeping his eyes locked on hers, Mitch used one finger to pull the file toward him. He didn’t flip it open, but sat there with his hand over it as if considering whether it was even worth the effort.
“And that is?” he finally asked.
“Sex, of course.”
MITCH’S JAW dropped. This was a multimillion dollar venture, prime real estate, and he had everything on the line—his money, his company and, even more important, his reputation.
“You’re suggesting I turn my luxury resort into a sex club?”
He didn’t know why the idea surprised him. Everything about Belle made him think of sex. It always had. From her husky voice to her bedroom eyes and on down that gorgeous body to her suckable toes.
But he’d screwed up his career once because he’d been obsessed with her. Blinded by the dream of having it all, he’d tossed aside his own plans to accommodate her and her father’s wishes, and ended up with nothing. It’d taken him three years to rebuild his reputation, another two to regain lost ground. He wasn’t about to screw up again.
“Actually, I doubt you’d be able to pull off the sex club,” she replied with a long look that made it clear she’d love to see him try. “There are some fabulous ones around that make good money, of course, but that’s not quite the niche I had in mind.”
It took physical effort to keep himself from asking her just how familiar she was with these fabulous sex clubs. He managed, just barely, to smother the biting jealousy that clawed at his gut when he imagined her hitting those clubs with another man. Or, given the clubs, other men.
Dammit, six years ago, that ugly green monster had goaded him into proposing marriage instead of taking her up on the wild sexual affair she’d offered. He hated—not just disliked, but viciously rip-the-head-off-whoever-it-was hated—the idea of some other man touching Belle. She was the only woman in the world to inspire him to want to brand her. To make her his and his alone, in every way possible. For a man who considered himself evolved beyond caveman idiocy, it had been a blow to the ego. Not enough of a blow to stun the jealousy monster, though.
To distract himself from the images, and from the memory of her lush, lace-clad breasts, clearly visible when she’d leaned across to hand him the file, Mitch tilted his head in question.
“What exactly are you proposing?”
“Private sex,” she said in the same tone she’d use to share a national secret.
“Huh?” He didn’t get it. The rooms had locks. There were no video cameras around.
“The paparazzi and gossip hounds have declared open season on celebrities. They have no degree of privacy anymore. Not only actors and musicians, but any big name in the industry. Before you relocated here, you were based in New York, right?” At his nod, she continued, “You probably see it, or would if you paid attention, on the east coast. But it’s nothing like the insanity here in southern California.”
“What does that have to do with sex? Or, how did you put it? Private sex?”
Belle arched one brow. “Everything. Haven’t you ever wanted some hot, wild getaway sex at a luxury resort?”
Hell, yeah. He wanted it now, as a matter of fact. Mitch did a quick mental tally of how many bedrooms were complete here at the resort. He could do Belle in fourteen hot, wild ways without using the same room twice. Even more if they went vertical. And that wasn’t even counting the private cottages scattered around the resort grounds.
“Your rich and famous are welcome to come have sex here,” he told her. “We’re an equal-opportunity resort in that regard.”
Her look made him laugh. Like a crack in her perfect image, she went from glossy sex kitten to cute and adorable in the wrinkle of her nose.
“I’m glad to know you have no restrictions on sex,” she responded, her tone husky and blatantly interested. “I hope that applies to your personal life as well as your resort?”
