by Tawny Weber
“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 fulfills 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 offhandedly.
“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 mama 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 put the file in front of him, 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 c
ursing 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 goodbye 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, nondisclosure 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, he
r 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 hairbreadth 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 woman 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.