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“The only restriction I follow is to avoid trouble.” His grin fell away as he remembered that Belle was pure trouble, inside and out.
She tut-tutted. “Safe sex? How boring is that? The only time those two words belong together is in reference to health precautions.”
Images of swings, leather and handcuffs—without the cushy fur lining—flashed through his mind. His body stirred in instant reaction. Damn, maybe he needed to rethink this keeping-Belle-at-a-distance thing? After all, she was here, he was here. They had no commitment beyond the moment, were free to do as they liked. Maybe instead of cursing the past, he should take her up on the offer of pleasure so clear in her eyes.
Fourteen rooms.
Wild sex.
Handcuffs.
And then show her on her way.
“I take it you’d rather have unsafe sex?” he asked with a slow, teasing smile. Mentally watching his caution trampled by lust, Mitch waved good-bye to good sense and gave Belle a look that said just how unsafe he’d like sex to get between them.
Her expression didn’t change, but a faint flush washed over her chest, letting him know she wasn’t unaffected. His mouth watered to taste her there, just above the curve of her breasts. The rational, ambitious voice in his head warned him not to get dragged down by his dick. She was trouble. She’d proved that by almost ruining him when she’d walked out. His dick didn’t give a damn.
“I like sex,” she corrected, “without rules and restrictions.”
“I like the sound of that. Tell me more.”
“What I really want is a chance to show you.”
Rock-hard and ready to sweep his desk clean for a hot, fast preview, Mitch bit back a groan. Principles fought lust. Need smothered angst.
Then Belle stood, took two short steps to his desk and leaned forward. One leg bent, she rested her knee and hip on the desk. Right there on the redwood surface where he’d just fantasized about stripping her bare.
Her scent, something that reminded him of a moonlit garden on a hot summer night, wrapped around him with long, delicate fingers. When she leaned closer, it was all he could do to keep from grabbing her. Better to let her make the move, he told himself. Less liability for going along than for doing the grabbing. He swallowed, his mouth ready to taste her, his tongue craving the feel of hers.
Inches away, she stopped. Mitch frowned. No kiss?
She arched one brow, then tilted her head to indicate the file lying on the desk between them. Of course. He snickered at himself, a mocking reminder that this woman was trouble.
A sardonic smile curving his lips, he took the hint and flipped open the file. Might as well give it a cursory glance so he could refuse her services before they got horizontal.
It didn’t take long for Mitch to take in the file contents. Event outlines, yes. But more than just party ideas, the proposal included a general marketing plan and focus strategy.
A chill ran up his back when Mitch skimmed the vision statement. Either she was a hell of a lot savvier than he gave her credit for or she had an inside track to his company’s information. Because this statement was the twin of his own, with a few tiny exceptions.
Vital exceptions in terms of marketing direction, focus. And, he had to admit, probable success.
Why couldn’t she be just a pretty face and hot body? Her proposal was outstanding. The risk was minimal, the possible benefits innumerable. Damn. Mitch ground his teeth in frustration as the businessman in him overrode the horndog.
“This is a great plan,” he reluctantly admitted. “By focusing on the paparazzi-hounded stars, we can provide the perfect getaway for the rich and famous. We’d amp up the security, spread the word that this is a photo-free zone.” As ideas started to flow, Mitch grabbed a pen. “Special training for the staff, non-disclosure agreements, legal repercussions.”
“Privacy is vital, but it’s just one benefit,” she cautioned. “Don’t lose sight of the bigger picture. Yes, you want to bring in the Hollywood crowd. Once word gets out that you’re offering a safe haven from the voracious press, combined with the buzz about how fab your resort is, I guarantee they’ll be interested. But that’s not going to be enough.”
Mitch barely heard her, he was so focused on getting his flying thoughts on paper. Then Belle slid another folder on top of his notes.
He should have known. She was an event planner, and her initial plan hadn’t mentioned a single party or gala. His eyes narrowed as he read the event outline.
“You do want to turn my resort into a sex club,” he exclaimed in shock.
“Not exactly,” she denied, with a shrug that reminded him that her breasts were less than a foot from his mouth. Luckily her words were enough distraction. Almost.
“I’m suggesting you focus on indulgence of the most decadent kind. Couples’ massages, chocolate baths, midnight champagne dinners by the lake. All romantic enough on their own, but you’ll offer a few extras. I’ve got tons of ideas, and I’ll share them if we go to contract on this. But basically, you’ll have to take your standard resort offering and sex it up. Make it hot and inviting with just a hint of depravity. You do that and I guarantee you’ll reel in the jaded Hollywood crowd.”
“Depravity? Like what? On-call hookers and pole-dancing lessons?”
“There’s nothing depraved about pole-dancing,” she chided. “I do it and it’s great exercise.” She gave him a heavy-lidded look that promised all sorts of pulse-raising benefits. “Someday I’ll show you.”
Did nothing faze her? Mitch had to laugh.
“The difference between a high-class sex club and a luxury resort offering decadent indulgence is vast, Mitch.” Her tone turned serious as all teasing flirtation left her face. “A sex club is cheap, base. It’s all about the pickup, the kink, the instant satisfaction. You’d be offering a safe haven for your guests to indulge themselves in all ways, including their sexual fantasies. Masquerade balls, a menu that includes reputed aphrodisiacs, a lingerie shop in the lobby. Pure luxury in perfect keeping with the rest of your resort’s offerings. Nothing tacky or low-class.”
Decadent indulgence? She was right. That would definitely mesh with the extravagant luxury he’d planned to offer. As far as hooks went, it was certainly fresh. Definitely better than anything his marketing department had come up with.
But it meant focusing his business on sex. And working with Belle. Two things that he’d learned the hard way should never go hand in hand.
Mitch leaned back in his chair, both to show control and because he needed to put some distance between him and Belle’s hypnotic scent. He glanced at the Eventfully Yours contract, then gave her an assessing look through narrowed eyes.
“This plan has potential, I’ll give you that,” he acknowledged. “But I have to ask, what’s to keep me from handing you back this contract, unsigned, and running with the plan on my own?”
“Ethics, of course.” Belle’s look was pure, pitying amusement. “You’re one of the good guys, Mitch. You believe in helping others, not screwing them over.”
He pulled a face. Yeah, she had him there.
“Besides,” she continued as she studied her well-manicured nails, “you can’t pull it off without my contacts. At least, not to the level necessary to be the kind of success you’re looking for. And then there’s the fact that if you do try without me, I’d take the plan to three hotels and resorts within driving distance and offer them the same idea. People are going to try to copy you down the road, but if you lose the exclusivity right out of the gate, you’re guaranteed failure.”
Damn. So she was hell on wheels as a businesswoman. Mitch knew he should be disgruntled, but he only felt an odd sort of admiring pride.
She read the frustration on his face and laughed. With a wicked look, she leaned forward and patted his cheek.
“Don’t worry, you’ll love working with me. I’m…fabulous,” she purred. The innuendo made Mitch want to whimper.
“You realize if I give you this contract, sex between us is out of the question.” He tossed the words out like a drowning man going down for the last time. At least while they worked together, he amended in his head. He wasn’t stupid or delusional. He knew, sooner or later, they’d be doing the nasty. But he planned on calling the shots, and working together would make it much later than his body wanted.
“If that’s the way you want it,” she said agreeably. From the wattage of her smile, she was just as happy he’d issued the ultimatum. Damn her.
Mitch frowned, wondering if he’d miscalculated Belle. She came across as hot and sexy. Her nature, her demeanor and vibe were pure sensuality. Was it all an act? A hot front shielding a cold core? A tool to twist a guy by his dick so she could easily lead him around?
“You’re fine with that,” he clarified.
“Of course,” she said, sliding off his desk. With a quick twitch of her hand, she straightened her skirt and made sure her blouse was tucked into the wide leather belt circling her tiny waist. He clenched his teeth to keep from drooling as she bent over to pick up her bag, and wished like hell he’d refused outright to work with her.
He forced his gaze from her ass to the folder, contents and plans spread over his desk blotter. No, he couldn’t regret considering her for the job. Her take on the resort’s events and focus was the most dynamic he’d ever seen.
He could wish they’d done the dirty on the desk first, though. Mitch stifled a sigh and came around to the front of his desk to escort her out.
Belle turned to give him a wide smile and held out her hand. Seal the deal with a handshake, he supposed.
When he took her delicate palm in his, she dropped their hands so, enfolded, they rested on her hip. Then she closed the distance between them until her breasts were a hair’s-breadth away from his chest. Mitch’s erection returned, granite-hard.
Her gaze locked on his, Belle leaned forward. Up on her tiptoes, she used her breasts against his chest for balance. She wrapped one hand around the back of his neck and gave a gentle tug, pulling his mouth down to meet hers.
Both fascinated and turned on, Mitch let her take the lead. She was the most sexually confident women he’d ever met. Yet beneath it all, he sensed the same sweet vulnerability that had hooked him six years before. The sweetness, he knew, would be his downfall if he wasn’t careful.
Not willing to show her how strong her power was, he held himself still as her lips pressed, soft and lush, against his. His hands itched to pull her close, to press her tight against his body so he could feel her curves surrendering.
Then her tongue, so soft and seductive, traced the line of his mouth. A quick flick to the corners, a soft slide across his lower lip. Blood roared through Mitch’s head, drowning out all caution. When her teeth nipped, just a little, at his lip, he lost it.
His hands dove into her hair, holding her head still as his tongue took hers in a wild dance of pleasure. Slip, slide, intense and delicious, he gave way to the power of their kiss.
More, was all he could think. He had to have more.
He didn’t know if it was that desperately needy thought or the sound of his groan that pulled him back to sanity. Unable to do otherwise, knowing it would likely be his last chance to taste her for God knew how long, Mitch slowly ended the kiss.
With a moan of approval, Belle stepped away. Her eyes, blurry with desire, stared into his as she ran her tongue over her bottom lip and gave a sigh. Then her mouth curved in a smile that screamed satisfaction.
“You’ll give me the contract,” she assured him, her words a husky promise. “And we’ll have incredible sex. And in the end, you’ll be thanking your lucky stars you were smart enough to do both.”
Chapter 3
“I BLEW IT,” Belle insisted, pacing her office. The plush carpet warmed her bare feet as she stomped from one end of the room to the other. “I got so caught up in the sexual game, in wanting to show Mitch what he’d lost by wanting some business deal more than me, I lost sight of why I was there.”
“Chill,” Sierra said, ensconced behind Belle’s desk while working on a seating plan. “You haven’t blown it. Mitch is a by-the-book kind of guy. When he’s ready to reject both of your propositions he’ll have his assistant e-mail you.”
Despite her anxiety, Belle snorted and gave a rueful shake of her head. No patty-cake from Sierra, nope. The brunette shot from the hip, to hell with the fatalities.
“You think he’ll have his tidy little assistant send me a no-thanks-on-the-sex e-mail?”
“Nah,” Sierra said as she frowned at the sketch, then checked her guest list. “He’ll make it all businesslike. You know, something like, ‘I appreciate your time and creative proposal, but have decided it doesn’t suit my needs. As clever and inventive as your suggestions are, I don’t feel that’s the right direction to take at this time. Oh, by the way, I’m not hiring you for the event gig, either.’”
The rejection sounded so realistic, Belle almost rushed to her laptop to see if Sierra was reading it verbatim.
“Did you hear something?” she asked suspiciously.
Sierra just rolled her eyes.
“We’ve been friends since training bras and boarding school, and in all these years, I’ve never seen you turn stupid over any guy but this one,” Sierra pointed out. “Maybe we’d be better off if he does turn the deal down. I don’t think he’s good for you.”
“He tasted good,” Belle muttered. Tasted good, felt good, looked good. Her breath shuddered as she remembered how amazing his kiss had been. She’d only intended to prove a point, tease him a little. He’d been the one with the point, though. Hard and long, pressing into her thigh.
God, she was going crazy with wanting him.
“You’re doing it again,” Sierra reminded.
Belle glanced over at her friend, surprised to see she’d pushed aside her seating chart and was unwrapping a butterscotch candy. Sierra only resorted to sugar, and only in tiny amounts, when she was really stressed. Given the half-dozen unwrapped pieces in front of her, she was definitely worried.
“Doing what again?” Belle asked.
“Getting stupid,” Sierra repeated. “It’s like an automatic shutoff button gets flipped whenever you get near Mitch Carter. Your brain goes into hibernate mode.”
Belle rolled her eyes and dropped into the chair opposite Sierra. “Don’t be silly. I’m just hot for the guy. You’ve seen him, he’s gorgeous. Sexy, smart and fun. That doesn’t make me stupid, that makes me horny.”
“I’ve seen you horny before. You don’t blow business deals over horny,” Sierra said, chomping down on the candy with a loud crunch.
Belle winced at the sound. That had to hurt the teeth. Then her eyes went round as Sierra unwrapped another and popped it into her mouth.
Best friends since they were fourteen, the two women knew each other inside out. Belle had never considered anyone else to go into business with. Guilt trickled down her spine. And now she was stressing her friend into a sugar coma.
“I didn’t blow it,” Belle defended. At least, she didn’t think she did. “I might have gotten a bit carried away, but a little flirting won’t affect the deal. He loved my spiel. He was impressed with our ideas. Whether we get it or we don’t will depend on whether he’s open to the sexual angle or not. For the resort,” she quickly added.
Sierra chewed up another hard candy without replying. She gave Belle a long, considering look, then unwrapped another piece.
The look was a familiar one. She’d worn it when she’d talked Belle into taking a chance on their business. She wore it when she told a client their request was over-the-top crazy. She always wore it when she told Belle her outfit sucked or her ideas were lame. It was her truth-at-all-costs look.
Belle hated that look.
For the good of her own ears and Sierra’s dental bill, Belle reached over and scooped up the remaining candy.
“Belle, you barely knew this guy and you were willing to toss aside your principles and beliefs. For what? A piece of ass.”
“I’m not some dumb tramp,” Belle snapped back. “I might have been distracted during that meeting, but I’ll be damned if I gave away a single principle and I sure as hell didn’t ignore my beliefs.”
Whatever that was supposed to mean, she fumed. God, if she didn’t hate confrontation so much, she’d yell at her friend. Tell her to quit being so negative, so mistrusting. Instead she sucked in a deep, calming breath and reminded herself that this was just Sierra’s way.
“I meant six years ago, when you agreed to marry the guy just so you could get in his pants,” Sierra corrected with a roll of her eyes. “You weren’t interested in happy-ever-after back then. But you gave in despite your better judgment. And look how that turned out.”
Belle winced. She’d rather not think about it. “Please, do you think Mitch would be crazy enough to propose to me again? All he wanted was a leg up the ladder, and he doesn’t need that any longer.”
“You don’t say anything about whether you’d be crazy enough to accept a proposal,” Sierra pointed out.
“I didn’t think I had to state the obvious. I gave up believing in fairy tales or happy-ever-after. I’m hot for the guy, okay? That’s it. I know better than to risk anything other than a little time and some sexy lingerie.”
“I hope so. I really, really hope so,” Sierra said, her words dripping with doubt. “Because your history says otherwise.”
A chime snagged her attention and Sierra glanced at the laptop. She clicked the mouse a couple times and heaved a sigh. Belle’s stomach dropped to her toes at the look on her partner’s face.
“Okay, here’s the deal,” the sleek brunette said in her nononsense tone. “If we get this contract, I need you to make me a promise.”
Belle eyed the computer, her fingers itching to grab it and see what message had prompted Sierra’s ultimatum.
“What’s the promise?” Belle hedged. She wasn’t about to agree to anything crazy, like keeping her hands off Mitch. Yes, she might lose a few brain cells around him. But she was an intelligent woman, she had extras.
Replaying those excuses through her head, Belle heaved a sigh and privately admitted they were bullshit. This job was huge, and not only to Eventfully Yours. If she pulled it off, made friendly—but not that friendly—with Mitch, there was a good chance he’d help her dad.
Belle thought back to the call she’d had that morning from her father’s secretary. Her dad was stressed again, and even though he was supposed to be home recovering from his heart attack, he’d spent the last four days running to the office trying to find some way out of the mess he was in. Between a series of bad investments, the real-estate crash and a sucky economy, Forsham Hotels was sinking fast. A wave of helpless frustration washed over her. She had to do something, anything, to get Mitch to talk to her dad.
