TAWNY WEBER is usually found dreaming up stories in her California home, surrounded by dogs, cats and kids. When she’s not writing hot, spicy stories for Blaze®, she’s testing her latest margarita recipe, shopping for the perfect pair of boots or drooling over Johnny Depp pictures (when her husband isn’t looking, of course). When she’s not doing any of that, she spends her time scrapbooking and playing in the garden. She’d love to hear from readers, so drop by her home on the web, www.TawnyWeber.com.

To the Writers At Play:

Beth, Kath, Janice, Sheila, Anna, Kimmi,

Terri, Stacey, Carla, Betty, Marlene, Lisa, Trish,

Tammy, Heather, Angi, Leslie, Mona,

Anne-Marie, Cheryl and Terry.

Wild, crazy, amazing.

I love you all!

Coming on Strong
Tawny Weber

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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Table of Contents

Cover

About the Author

Title Page

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Copyright

Prologue

“I DON’T THINK I can go through with it,” Belle Forsham said, one hand pressed to her chest. Beneath the beaded silk of her bodice, her heart raced like a terrified rabbit. “I mean, this is crazy, you know? What the hell was I thinking?”

“If I recall, you were thinking that Mitch Carter was the hottest piece of ass you’d ever seen,” Sierra Donovan said absently, her attention focused on getting the fluffy white tulle arranged just so over Belle’s blonde curls.

“I said I thought he’d be the hottest piece of ass,” Belle corrected, frowning at the image in the mirror. It was like watching herself through a Halloween filter. “I haven’t been able to find out how hot he really is, though, have I? Which is why I’d be insane to go through with this, isn’t it? Like, you know, buying a poked pig or something?”

“Pig in a poke?”

“Whatever.”

Sierra just laughed and, with one last fluff of the veil, stepped back to gauge the results. “You look so…virginal.”

Her best friend’s tone said it all. Virginal was the last image Belle had ever aspired toward. Then again, she’d never figured on being a bride, either.

Wild and free, that was Belle’s motto. Or it had been, right up until she’d met Mitch Carter. Then mottos had been nudged aside for her new obsession. Getting Mitch into bed.

Mitch was her daddy’s new VP of development. The man was gorgeous. Rich auburn hair, cinnamon-brown eyes and the tightest butt she’d ever ogled. He exuded an energy that fascinated Belle. Power, definitely, and drive. A kind of intense focus that promised a woman that once she had his attention, he’d give her the most incredible sex of her life.

And Belle wanted his attention. But while she’d practically panted at his feet, he’d barely acknowledged her. For a woman used to men drooling on her buffed and polished toes, he’d been a total challenge. She threw herself at him, he gave her polite acknowledgment. She flirted, he watched. She pursued, he evaded.

Hard to get? Hell, Mitch Carter was damn near impossible.

At least, to get into bed. For some bizarre reason, after about a month of chasing him, he’d turned the tables. To use his own words, he’d started courting her. She smothered a baffled laugh at the idea of it. They’d mostly attended business functions, family events with her father, the occasional romantic dinner.

Unable to pace in the voluminous dress, Belle fidgeted on the stool where she sat. Her fingers fiddled with her late mother’s pearl necklace, so sweetly innocent as it circled with a heavy weight of expectation around her neck. Like the white dress and delicate veil, the pearls really didn’t suit her. Of course, neither did marriage.

Three months of dating. A smoking-hot kiss at the end of the evening. A little touchy-feely to add to the thrill. But never more. God, she’d wanted more. Then he’d scared the hell out of her when, out of the blue, he’d popped the question. Marriage. He wanted to make an honest woman of her…which was just plain weird since he hadn’t tried her dishonest ways first.

She’d been so hot for him, she’d agreed instantly. She’d rushed the wedding plans, pulled out all the stops and organized a ritzy society event in less than three months. Through all the planning, something she’d proven to be amazingly skilled at, she’d had one thought and one thought only.

Hurry it up so she could get to her wedding night.

But now, when faced with the actual nuptials, she wasn’t sure it was the right thing to do.

“Sierra, am I crazy to marry Mitch after only knowing him six months? I mean, is this too fast?”

Her friend opened her mouth, most likely to offer some dumb platitude about bridal jitters. It wasn’t nerves, though. Belle didn’t know what it was, but the lead weight in her stomach made her feel trapped, terrified. She’d much rather feel jittery anxiety instead.

Then Sierra shrugged, her own worry clear.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, chewing off her lipstick as she started to pace the room. Her typical in-your-face honesty and her maid-of-honor duty to keep Belle from freaking out were obviously at odds.

“Does it matter, though? You’ve wanted Mitch since you first saw him and now you’re getting him. Long-term, even. You’ll have killer sex tonight and blow his mind. Happy-ever-after, all that crap—that’ll come with time.”

Crap, indeed. The last thing anyone would call Belle was naive, but compared with the cynical Sierra she was a wide-eyed romantic. Whenever she thought past the honeymoon, let herself focus on anything besides the killer sex she was anticipating, she felt ill. She understood honeymoons. They were all about indulging in decadent sex in as many ways, places and times as possible. But marriage? Oh, God. She pressed her hand to her stomach, hoping she didn’t get sick all over her dress. Was she ready to get married?

Belle stared at her reflection. White satin, seed beads and tulle. It all went perfectly with the pearls. Sweet and innocent. Definitely not her style. Her first choice for a dress had been sexy and edgy, but she’d thought Mitch would like this better.

“I guess that establishes why I’m marrying him,” she said slowly. She loved him. Or, at least, she thought she did. Or, at least, she figured what she felt was probably love. She was fascinated by his kisses and his mind. By the sexual energy that simmered just under the surface. She was willing to make a promise to Mitch and keep it. Add to that the fact that she was agreeing to tie herself to the guy before he’d given her a single orgasm…well, that had to be love.

So, yes, she was ready for marriage.

“But why is he marrying me?” she asked in a whisper.

“Why don’t you find out?” Sierra prompted for, like, the millionth time. “Quit second-guessing yourself and trying to please him and just ask.”

Confront him? Straight up ask for possible rejection? Hell, no. One thing Belle had learned watching her late mother’s bout with cancer was “what you don’t know won’t hurt you until later.” She’d rather take her chances with the unknown.

“I’m just saying, if you want to know why Mitch is marrying you, he’s the guy to ask,” Sierra said, her tone making it obvious she knew she was wasting her breath.

“He’s marrying you because he loves you, of course.”

“What?” Surprised, she and Sierra both spun around to see Belle’s other bridesmaid, Mitch’s sister Lena.

Average height, average features, pale-brown hair cut in an unfortunate bob that did nothing to hide her very high forehead, Lena looked nothing like her brother. Belle had first met her when the woman had flown in from Pennsylvania a week earlier. Where Mitch was dynamic, Lena was tepid. It was hard to believe the two of them were even related.

Belle wanted to like her, but it was a struggle. She’d first suggested Lena join the wedding party in an attempt to make nice with Mitch’s family. But the other woman had a mocking, judgmental air about her that grated on Belle’s nerves. She was trying to ignore it, though. After all, this was her new sister-in-law.

“He must be madly in love with you,” Lena pointed out as she inched into the room. The pale-rose bridesmaid dress that looked so sexy on Sierra made Lena look like a fluffy pink marshmallow. “Why else would he give up on his goals to get married?”

What goals was Mitch giving up? Belle gave Sierra a confused frown, then looked at Lena.

“Well, sure, partnership with your father is a huge incentive since Mitch had only planned on a short-term association with Forsham Hotels. It was the last step in his plan to take his construction company to the next level.” She said all this while gliding an ugly shade of nutmeg lipstick over her thin lips. Then she met Belle’s eyes in the mirror and shrugged. “His own development firm. He was counting on the experience and, you know, connections to help him out. Of course, I don’t have to tell you how ambitious and determined to succeed he is.”

“Partnership?” Belle frowned. What partnership?

“You didn’t know?” Lena’s mouth rounded to match the oops look in her brown eyes. “I’m so sorry. Maybe he was saving the news as a wedding surprise.”

“He’s a vice-president, not a partner,” Sierra said, sounding as confused as Belle. “I thought he didn’t have enough money or land to bring to the table for that kind of a deal.”

“Well, yeah. But Uncle Danny said Mitch was given one of those offers he couldn’t refuse. I guess your daddy’s backing a risky land deal with the agreement that Mitch develop it for him. Aunt Edna said he saw a perfect opportunity and made the most of it.” Lena gave a little who-knows shrug and a wide smile. Neither hid the malice peeking out from her simpering demeanor.

All those family names blurred in Belle’s mind. She’d been so excited to be a part of a large family, for the first time since she was eight to have more than just her and her dad at the Thanksgiving table. But after meeting Mitch’s relatives, she wasn’t so sure. It was like coming up against a very large, very cohesive wall. And she was on the wrong side of it.

Lena babbled more family gossip and inane insights into Mitch’s personality. Belle just stared, her mind numb.

A risky land development? Her father wouldn’t go into a project like that with just anyone. It would require a family commitment. Had he offered to make Mitch family? Or had Mitch offered to marry her in order to get the deal? And what did that make her? The price he had to pay for success? An easy route to the top?

Recognition, denial and sharp pain twisted together in her stomach. She’d wanted to believe he was marrying her because he couldn’t resist, because he was crazy for her. But she’d obviously been wrong.

It all made sense now. His reluctance for intimacy, his emotional distance. Her earlier bridal jitters turned to cramping nausea. He was marrying his way into a business deal.

Lena’s overarched brows drew together above her gleaming eyes. “You look a little green. Are you feeling okay?”

“Of course she’s not,” Sierra snapped. “What are you thinking, coming in here and spewing ugly rumors like that? What kind of person goes around gossiping about her brother on his wedding day?”

“Stepbrother,” Lena corrected with a pout. “My dad married his mom when we were teenagers. And you’re the nasty one. I was just saying that Belle’s lucky that Mitch loves her enough to give up his dreams of his own development firm to work for her father. I wasn’t insinuating anything else.”

Lena wasn’t his real sister? Why hadn’t he told her? Belle didn’t know why, but that was the last straw. She stood, the stool pressing against her full skirt like the bars on a cage. She wanted to run, but where? To Mitch? Hardly.

“The hell you weren’t trying to cause trouble,” Sierra growled at Lena. Their voices seemed to be coming from a long way away, muffled by the buzzing in Belle’s head. “You’re intimating that Belle’s father bought her a groom. Like she or Mitch would be that desperate.”

“Desperate? No. But when you put it that way, the wedding does sound a little fishy, doesn’t it?” Lena gave them a wounded look, then headed for the door. Once there, she glanced over her shoulder. “Of course, I’m sure Belle knows Mitch loves her more than any silly promotion. I mean, who gets married without hearing vows of love? And Mitch never lies, not even for a business deal.”

Sierra’s cuss words hit Lena’s retreating back. The brunette stormed to the door.

“Sierra,” was all Belle said.

“I’m taking her down. That bitch isn’t getting away with ruining your day.”

For just one second, Belle let herself imagine Sierra jumping Lena and pummeling the smirk off her face. For the first time in her life, she considered diving in to help instead of yelling encouragement from the sidelines. Unlike her friend, Belle hated arguments.

Before she could decide whether or not to encourage Sierra to chase the woman’s passive-aggressive ass down, Belle’s father strode through the door. Handsome as ever in his tux, he winked at Sierra, then gave his only child a doting smile.

“You’re a beautiful bride, sweetheart. Mitch is a lucky man.”

Lucky? Really. It sounded like Mitch and her dad were the lucky ones. After all, they’d made the deal between them. She felt like the booby prize. She sucked in a shuddering breath, trying to calm the nausea rolling through her system. It would be so easy to just go through with this. She wasn’t stupid. She’d known Mitch didn’t love her. She wasn’t sure she loved him, although she’d been willing to convince herself she did. But, like this stupid school-girl wedding dress, she’d been trying to give him whatever he wanted. And he couldn’t even give her the truth?

Tears stung her eyes as she mentally kissed happy-ever-after, and all that crap, goodbye. Which didn’t suck nearly as much as being cheated out of her wedding night.

Belle swallowed hard and looked into the face of the only man she’d ever felt safe loving. “Daddy? Did you offer to make Mitch your partner?”

Oblivious as usual to his daughter’s emotional state, Franklin Forsham shrugged and patted her shoulder. “Not to worry, sweetie. I won’t work him too hard.”

Belle’s gaze met Sierra’s. Sympathetic tears washed away the anger in her friend’s vivid blue eyes.

Numb now, Belle looked past her father’s broad shoulders through the open door to the archway leading to the chapel. She could see the swags of orchids and pink roses, hear the soft tones of the harp. Her storybook wedding awaited.

She couldn’t do it. She wasn’t a negotiating point or a piece of property to be acquired in a business deal.

“I can’t go through with the wedding,” she declared, gathering the slick folds of her white satin skirt in her fist. “I won’t sell myself. I might be willing to change, to compromise, but I draw the line at being lied to and cheated.”

“What are you talking about?” Franklin’s face turned white, then red. Hands clenched, he looked like he wanted to hit someone. “Mitch cheated on you?”

Scared of the anger on her father’s face, of the pain pouring through her, Belle just shrugged. Cheated on her, cheated her, what was the difference? Emotion choked her, heated tears washed down her cheeks. Unable to hold back her sobs, she threw herself into her father’s arms.

This was the last time she’d ever let a man, or the promise of hot sex, mean a damned thing to her.

Chapter 1

Six years later

“I FOUND a replacement for Gloria, Mr. Carter. Everyone says this is the best event planner on the west coast.”

Unspoken was the understanding that Mitch would accept nothing less than the best. Which was difficult, considering his luxury resort was six weeks from opening to the public and had been beset by one problem after another. The most recent was the loss of the woman he’d contracted to handle all the resort events.

“Call me Mitch,” he absently told his new assistant. He motioned to the vacant seat opposite his desk, but she shook her head, preferring to stand.

She’d been here a couple of weeks, but Diana was still jumpy and nervous. He knew he was demanding of his employees and it definitely made it easier to demand if they were on a first-name basis, so she’d better get over her timidity soon. They were almost at the end of his Mr. Nice Guy two-week break-in period.

He took the papers she handed him and in one glance was thrown back in time. Shocked, Mitch stared at the glossy dossier. The black-and-white photo didn’t do justice to Belle Forsham’s fairy-like beauty. It didn’t capture the gleam of her tousled blond curls, or the wicked tilt of her sea-green eyes. The shadows accented her sharp features, the light reflecting off her smile.

The best? Yeah, she was. Good enough to make a man stupid. He glared at that smile, irritated with his body’s reaction. Belle Forsham was pure trouble. He knew she was, and still he got hard remembering the taste of her lips. He tried to dull his body’s reaction by visualizing himself standing, alone, at the altar.

Yeah, the anger definitely dimmed his desire.

“Mr. Carter?” Diana interrupted his pathetic obsessing. “Do you want me to contact Eventfully Yours? They’re perfect for the job given the scope of the resort’s needs and what you are looking for in an event planner.”

“I’d rather not work with this particular company,” he said, making it sound like he’d put some thought into the decision. In reality, no thought was required. Despite how often she showed up in his dreams, usually nude, Belle was at the bottom of the list of women he wanted to see. And she was definitely the last one he’d consider depending on for any aspect of his success.

After all, who knew better just how undependable she was? He tossed the file on the pile on his desk, the banner on her dossier catching his eye. He sneered. Society’s Planning Princess, indeed.

“But…I don’t understand. Everyone says they’re the best. They’ve worked for a dozen A-list actors, some of the top musicians in the country and any number of politicians. They’ve arranged club openings, publisher parties, award-ceremony after-parties.”

“They’re not what I’m looking for,” he snapped.

Diana’s face fell, making her look like a sad chipmunk. Obviously sticking with her own version of the dress-for-success theory, she wore a tidy suit, stockings and ugly shoes. The overall image was serious efficiency, which was supported by the fact that she did a damned good job. Mitch wouldn’t have hired her otherwise. He just wished she’d loosen up. He glanced down at his own jeans and workboots and gave a mental shrug. So she didn’t have to loosen up to his level, but a little less formality wouldn’t hurt.

“Let’s look at the other event planners,” Mitch instructed. “Sometimes a reputation is based on perception, rather than how good the firm actually is. I need more than gloss to make this work. If Lakeside is going to succeed, I’m going to need clever, resourceful and intuitive.”

He pushed away from his overloaded desk and strode to the wide bank of windows that looked out to the lake. Almost completed, this resort was the culmination of all his dreams. Ten acres of verdant hills, lush gardens and what he secretly referred to as the enchanted forest, Lakeside was going to be the brightest jewel in his development crown and his first venture into hotels. So far he’d launched a half-dozen business parks, a mall and a couple of small restaurants. All of which he’d turned for a sweet profit.

But this resort was more than ambitious. For a guy who’d started out swinging a hammer, it was a huge coup. To kick this venture off here, in Southern California, was ballsy, given that he’d torched his bridges with the top hotelier on the west coast six years ago.

“I need a creative wizard with killer contacts. Someone who gets what our clientele will want, who can make the resort a posh getaway for the wealthy. If I’m going to turn this into the most talked-about hot spot of the rich and famous, I’m going to need someone who kicks ass.”

Diana’s mouth worked for a second, then after an obvious internal struggle, she thrust out her chin and pointed to the abandoned dossier on his desk.

“But that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, Mitch. Belle Forsham is all of that. Her events are the most talked-about, the most outside-the-box successes of the last two years. She seems to know everyone, do everything. She…” Diana stopped, wrinkled her nose and took a deep breath before continuing. “She kicks ass.”

Amazed she’d finally used his given name, Mitch gave a snort of laughter at the uptight way she said ass. Amusement faded as he glanced again at the photo of his ex-fiancée.

When had she gone into event planning? And how the hell had she stuck with it long enough to be such a success? He had to admit, though, she had the intelligence and creativity to make it happen, although she’d always tried to hide the brains behind a flirty flutter of her lashes. She was definitely a social butterfly. He recalled the guest list for their aborted wedding. It had read like the who’s who of People magazine.

It was the memory of that damned wedding, the humiliation of standing alone in front of all those gawking and snickering witnesses, that cinched it. Mitch ground his teeth, long-simmering anger burning in his gut. Belle might have great ideas, be clever and well-connected. But when the chips were down, she couldn’t be counted on.

“She’s a flake,” he finally said.

“She’s the best.” Diana held up a sheaf of papers, all recommending Eventfully Yours. “Everything I’ve heard, all the research I did says that Belle Forsham is the It Girl of events. She’s the hottest thing on the west coast.”

Ambition fought with ego. The good of his company versus the biggest humiliation of his past. His need to see Belle again, to see if she was still that intriguing combination of sexy and sweet, battled with his desire to keep the door to that part of his history nailed shut.

Mitch looked over the resort grounds again, the gentle beauty of the sun-gilded lake beckoning him. Reminding him to do his best. A lot was riding on this deal. He’d sunk all his available resources into making this resort the most luxurious, the most welcoming. None of that would matter without guests with big enough wallets to indulge themselves.

He’d screwed himself into a corner once because of Belle Forsham. Or because of his desire to screw her, to be exact. He’d never wanted a woman the way he’d wanted Belle. But she’d been his boss’s only child and off-limits. His old-fashioned upbringing and his worry that he’d be disrespecting Franklin if he had wild monkey sex with the guy’s daughter had inspired him to the dumbest proposal of his life. Well, that and his idiotic belief that he’d fallen in love with her.

He’d handled it all wrong. He could see that now, but that didn’t change the fact that she’d dumped him at the altar, and because of her he’d lost both his job and the respect of his mentor. Which bothered him almost as much as never having the wild Belle-against-the-wall sex he’d wanted so badly.

And he was supposed to welcome her back in his life? Was he willing to make a deal with the sexiest little devil he’d ever known in order to ensure his success?

He thought of his team. They were just as invested in the resort as he was. Because Mitch had little experience in the resort business, he’d brought in two managers—one to oversee the hotel, the other to run the three restaurants. He was the money man, the one with the vision, but he needed each of them on board to handle the hundred-plus employees and make sure the day to day of the operation ran smoothly while he made his vision a reality.

He glanced at the family picture behind his desk. He knew his family took great pride in his accomplishments, just as they had huge expectations for his success. Expectations that included supporting his grandmother and providing jobs for four of his cousins in his company. Those expectations were both a source of pride and a noose around his neck. He had to succeed.

The resort already had enough problems. On top of the usual construction glitches and startup issues, they’d been having a run of bad luck. Losing his event coordinator was just the last in a long string of unexplained setbacks. Could he afford to blow off the perfect planner out of pride?

Damn. He sighed and pushed the file on the desk toward Diana.

“Check her availability.”

“THERE’S ONLY one man who’ll satisfy you. Quit stalling and go for it, already.”

Belle Forsham stopped pacing across the lush amethyst carpet of her office to roll her eyes at her best friend and business partner. The office was a quirky combination of trendy accessories, sexy textures and practical lines. Much like Belle herself.

“It’s not like chasing some guy down for hot sex, Sierra. This is serious. We’re talking business here. My father’s business. Or should I say, the end of my father’s business.”

“Exactly. You want to save Forsham Hotels, you need to get help.” Sierra flipped open the pink bakery box she’d brought in for their morning meeting and, after a careful perusal, chose a carrot-cheesecake muffin.

Not even looking at the other offerings, Belle automatically went for the fanciest muffin. Rich, chocolaty and decadent, just the way she liked it. Except she was so stressed, she put it down after one bite. Why waste the indulgence?

“I don’t need help,” she lied.

“Yes, you do. It’s not like you and I can plan an event that will save your dad’s butt,” Sierra shot back, referring to their company, Eventfully Yours, as she licked cream-cheese icing from her thumb.

They were the elite event planners on the west coast, catering to the rich and famous from southern California up to Monterey. Combining Sierra’s fearless attitude and Belle’s knack for creative entertainment, the two women had hit the Hollywood scene hard and strong four years back. Eventfully Yours had grown from organizing themed play dates for sitcom divas’ Pomeranians to arranging intimate soirees for A-list actors and five hundred of their closest friends.

“You know, now that I think about it, I really shouldn’t be going behind my father’s back,” Belle stalled, sitting on the edge of her inlaid rosewood desk. “He’d be the first to say his heart attack is no reason to treat him like an invalid. If he wanted to make a deal to save the hotels, he’d do it himself.”

Used to Belle’s habit of squirreling out of anything that made her uncomfortable, Sierra just stared. It was that uncompromising, see-all-the-way-into-her-soul look that Belle hated. Whenever Sierra narrowed her blue eyes and shot her that look, Belle felt like a total wuss.

“Don’t you think if my dad wanted to deal with Mitch Carter, he’d approach him himself?” she asked, playing her last excuse.

“Right. Your dad, upstanding guy that he is, is gonna go begging help from the man he fired from a dream VP position and partnership in one of the primo hotel conglomerates in the U.S. The same guy his daughter ditched at the altar.”

“Exactly,” Belle exclaimed, jumping up from her perch on the desk to throw her arms in the air. “Given our sucky history, why would you think Mitch wants anything to do with me?”

Sierra arched a brow, then gave a little shrug. Taking her time, she dusted the crumbs off her fingers, shifted in the plush chair and curled her long legs under her. Raising one brow, she tapped a manicured nail on her bare ankle.

“This is the guy who refused to have sex with you before marriage. I figure he has some twisted belief in things like honor.”

Sierra rolled her eyes at her own words. Always the cynic, she didn’t understand the concept of selfless honor. Of course, neither did Belle. But it sure sounded sweet.

“This would also be the same guy who, despite having the perfect opportunity to make your daddy’s life a living hell when you ruined their deal, simply shook hands and walked away.”

Walked away and left her daddy holding a piece of investment property that, because of zoning and development legalities, was now taking his business down the toilet. But considering what Belle had done, that wasn’t really Mitch’s fault. Was it?

“So he’s freaking hero material,” she muttered. “So what?”

Belle slid off her heels so she could pace faster. Nothing slowed down a good pace like four-inch Manolos. The way her luck was running, she’d stumble and break the heel. And she needed to move around and try to shake off the nasty feeling that had settled over her when she’d been reminded of how badly she’d treated Mitch. That he’d broken her heart was no excuse. She knew that now. But knowing it and being willing to do something about it were definitely two different things.

“Exactly,” Sierra agreed. “He’s hero material. Which means he’s hard-wired to ride to the rescue. Even after all that crap went down, Mitch never badmouthed you or your father. If he knew how bad things are now, maybe he’d offer some advice. Or best case? He’ll step in, checkbook at the ready, and save the company.”

Belle grimaced.

Mitch definitely lived by his own code. Over the last six years he’d developed a reputation as the man with the magic touch. Mr. Money, a real-estate developer with an eye for success, he was known in the industry as a fair man who played by his own rules, uncompromising, intense and dynamic. People appreciated his generous willingness to share his success, but behind the scenes, there were whispers of ruthless payback to anyone who crossed him.

Which didn’t bode well for Belle, since she was the one seen as most deserving of Mitch’s revenge. Mutual acquaintances still joked that she’d better watch her back. She knew better, though. She’d never mattered enough to him to merit that much attention.

“He won’t deal with me,” she assured Sierra, playing her trump card.

“You don’t know that.” The way Sierra said it, as though she had some naughty little secret, made Belle nervous.

“Yes, I do.” Belle took a deep breath and, with the air of one confessing a mortal sin, dropped her voice to a loud whisper. “I never told you, but I tried to see Mitch. Two years ago. Remember when I had that car wreck?”

Eyes huge with curiosity, Sierra nodded.

“I was shook up and had some weird idea that being hit in a head-on accident on a one-way street was a sign that I should make amends for all my wicked ways.” She met her friend’s snort of laughter with a glare. “I figured ditching Mitch topped my wicked list, so I sucked up my courage and went to apologize.”

“No way,” Sierra breathed. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“There was nothing to tell. He was supposedly out of the country.”

“Supposedly?”

“Well, I went back a couple weeks later and his assistant said he was out with the flu.”

“So?”

“So isn’t it obvious? He was avoiding me.”

“He left the country and got the flu to avoid you?”

Belle rolled her eyes. “No, that was just BS. He was probably there in his office telling his assistant to make something up so he didn’t have to see me.”

Sierra’s expression clearly said “you’ve got to be kidding.”

“Don’t give me that look. It could be true.”

“Only if the roles were reversed. You’re the one afraid of confrontation, Belle. Not Mitch. If he were in the office, I’m sure he’d have taken five minutes to personally tell you to kiss his ass.”

“And you want me to go chasing the guy for favors?” Belle ignored the confrontation issue. It was true, after all. “We both know he doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

Sierra hummed, then slid off the chair and crossed to the leather bag she’d tossed on the credenza. She pulled out a file folder with what looked like a printout of an e-mail clipped to it.

Waving the file at Belle, she arched a brow and asked, “Wanna bet?”

“Spill,” Belle demanded, making a grab for the folder. Sierra whipped it out of reach with a laugh.

“You really need to have more faith in your impact on people.”

“According to you, people are only out for what they can get,” Belle shot back.

“Exactly. So while Mitch might happily punish you when it’s convenient, the tune changes when he needs something.”

“And he needs us?”

“No. He needs you. This gig is right up your alley,” Sierra claimed. Which meant it was totally social. Sierra handled the big corporate and studio events, the types of things that required juggling numbers, working with specific images or ground rules. In other words, the more traditional events that relied heavily on organization. Belle’s specialty was the over-the-top hedonistic fantasies. And since she’d indulged in so many fantasies about Mitch Carter, the idea of having another shot at sharing a few with him sent her pulse racing.

“Spill,” she demanded. She tried to ignore the excitement dancing in her stomach, making her edgy and impatient. This was crazy. Mitch hated her. He had to. But maybe, just maybe, this was her shot at making amends. At fixing the past and helping her father. And maybe, just maybe…at finally getting into his pants.

She’d blown it before, stumbling over that silly marriage idea. But she was older and much more experienced now. This time she’d be smarter. If she and Mitch did find common ground, all she wanted was sex. That, and help for her dad.

She took the file from Sierra with a smile of anticipation. Belle read the e-mail. Then she read it again. The excitement curdled in her stomach.

“A resort grand opening? That’s more your gig than mine,” Belle said, trying to ignore the disappointment that settled over her like an itchy wool blanket.

“That’s what they say they want. But check out the details I found.”

Knowing her friend’s instincts were usually spot-on, Belle opened the file. It just took a glance, a quick flip through the papers and plans for her to see the perfect hook to turn his lush resort into the hottest, most exclusive getaway on the west coast.

Mitch’s background was in development. And he was damned good at it. But he was thinking too traditionally for this resort. It wasn’t a run-of-the-mill hotel and shouldn’t be treated that way. Given the remote beauty of the location, yet its easy access to L.A., it could be the nice luxury vacation place he had outlined. Or it could be the chicest spot for decadence in southern California. Indulgent weekends, clandestine trysts, decadent fantasies. All there, for a price. All guaranteed to be unique, elite and, best of all, private.

Her blood heated, ideas flashing like strobe lights through her mind. Excitement buzzed, but she tried to tamp it down. There was nothing worse than getting all stirred up, only to be left flat. It was like foreplay with no orgasm. Amusing once or twice, but ultimately a rip-off.

“This e-mail isn’t from Mitch himself,” she pointed out. “And his assistant isn’t offering us the position, she’s only checking availability.”

“So? Since when have we waited for an engraved invitation to charm our way into a job?”

Good point. The two women had spent their first year in business clubbing and hitting every social event they could wiggle or charm their way into on the off chance of finding clients. Once at a fashion show someone had mentioned a director’s wife with a penchant for poodles and Motown. The next day Belle contacted the director and suggested he throw his wife a surprise party, with the musical dog theme. Such ball-siness paid off both in contacts and jobs as they’d built Eventfully Yours.

But this was different. Mitch probably hated her. Then again, why would he be willing to work with her if he was holding a grudge? Belle sighed, not sure if her reasoning was sound or pure bullshit.

“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?”

“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.”

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