by Tawny Weber
For the first time in memory, Mitch watched Belle’s expressive face close up. Like a door slamming, it simply went blank and unwelcoming. Then, so fast he wondered if he’d imagined it, she gave a roll of her eyes and flashed her sassy smile.
“The past is over, Mitch. I promise, I’m not bringing any old baggage to the table.” She leaned forward, and for the first time since she’d waltzed out of his office two days earlier, touched him. A whisper-soft brush of her fingertips over the back of his hand. Gentle, teasing, easy. Heat flared, instant and hot, in his belly. “Any desire I have to chase you around is definitely fresh and new, not a leftover itch.”
“You don’t own sneakers, remember?” he snapped, equal parts irritated that she’d so easily closed the door to their past before he could find out why she’d really run off and relieved not to have to admit to his own part in their failed history. “So we’ll just keep chasing off our list of things to do.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“Like I said, given our history, I think it’s wise to keep the sexual temptation to a minimum.” He’d rehearsed and rehashed his next words multiple times since he’d decided to work with her, but Mitch still had trouble voicing them. “I’ve also written up the contracts event by event, rather than the job as a whole.”
“Care to clarify that?” He’d had no idea her husky voice could turn to ice.
“I have everything riding on the success of this resort. That success will depend greatly on how well the events are handled. I have to depend on these events happening. As amazing as your proposal is, I can’t afford to tie myself up for more than one event at a time given the circumstances of our last...association.”
If he’d reached across the table and slapped her, she couldn’t have looked more shocked. Mitch felt like a first-class bastard. Belle’s luscious mouth parted as if to challenge him, her eyes sparkling with fury. Then, as if a switch had flipped, she sucked in her bottom lip and gave a jerky little shrug.
“No way. I’m sorry, but these mini-events are back to back, each one leading up to the grand opening. Eventfully Yours won’t take the job without at least the pre- and grand opening events contracted.” Her tone was pure business, her eyes shuttered.
The fairness of her words, spoken in that even, businesslike tone, made Mitch realize he was the one letting the past get in the way.
“That’s fine,” he agreed. “We’ll contract for the five smaller events and the grand opening.”
“Great. Unless there are any more grudges you’re harboring, I’d say we’re good to go.”
“No grudges.” At least, none he’d admit. “Like I said, just being prudent.”
She rolled her eyes again, but the gesture didn’t hide the hurt lurking in the sea-green depths. Mitch frowned, irritated that the sight made him feel like a jerk.
“Then we have a deal,” she said, her tone making it clear she was glad to close the history book. Mitch was surprised, since most women were only too happy to discuss the past in all its gory details. “I’ll be at the resort a week from Monday. Given the distance from L.A. and how much work is involved, I’ll require a room on-site, of course. A suite would be best as I’ll set up office there.”
Belle opened a file, made and initialed a few adjustments on the contract to reflect his changes. With a flourish, she signed her name, then slid the papers back in the folder.
She handed it to him with a wink. Apparently she’d regained her good humor.
“I think I’ll put you in one of the cottages,” he returned. “Unlike the suites, they’re already furnished and should suit you perfectly.”
“How far are these cottages from your on-site office?”
“You can call me anytime you have questions,” he assured her. And the distance would make him think twice about dropping in to visit.
Her brow creased, her eyes rounded. “You’re starting to make me think you’re harboring more issues, Mitch. Are you planning to avoid me the entire time I’m working with you?”
Not Belle, per se. Just sex with her. Mitch winced. There was no way he wouldn’t sound like a pompous ass, but he had to make things clear.
“Please don’t take this the wrong way, Belle. But I’m not going to sleep with you. We’re doing business together, and business and pleasure just don’t mix.”
“Hmm, interesting. Too bad you didn’t think that six years ago when you tried to mix your business with my daddy’s and in the process ruined my pleasure.”
He frowned, but before he could respond, she gave a quick shake of her head and a brittle, dismissive little laugh. “Now that does sound like I’m the one harboring some of those issues you’re worried about. Let’s start fresh, okay? I’m not the same person I was before and I’m betting you aren’t, either.”
He opened his mouth to retort, but closed it again. All of a sudden, he wanted to clear the air, to ask her the reasons behind her bridal dash. But to do so meant acknowledging emotions he’d locked away. Admitting mistakes he regretted. And worse, bridging the chasm of mistrust that the past kept firmly between them. As long as it was there, he knew they’d never have a shot at intimacy.
He slid his hand into his pocket and fingered the wedding napkin. Between his talisman and that chasm, he’d be safe from screwing up. He couldn’t afford to lose again.
“I’ve changed a lot in six years” was all he said.
“So have I,” she assured him as she laid one warm, smooth hand over his. Energy, mostly sexual but with a subtle layer of something else Mitch couldn’t define, shot through his body at her touch. The most platonic connection, and he was hard, hot and horny. It boggled the mind to think what his response would be if they had full-body contact. Chasm and talisman, he reminded himself.
“I hope you’re not upset,” he said, telling himself it was guilt and not lust making him want to pull her onto his lap. “You’re a gorgeous, sexy woman. You don’t need to be chasing a guy.”
“Who said I’d chase you?” she asked, her tone light and amused.
Mitch frowned. He knew he hadn’t misunderstood her signal or her flirting words.
“Like you, I’m much smarter than I was six years ago. Smart enough to know better than to chase a man. Especially a man like you.”
Mitch opened his mouth to deny that she’d chased him before, but she continued before he could get a single word out. “You say we won’t have sex. I say we will. Simple difference of opinion and only time will tell which one of us is right. And if you’re too uptight to do two things at once successfully, that’s fine. I can wait.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” he asked, watching nonplussed as she slid her folder into her briefcase and got to her feet. “What two things?”
“Rock your resort opening and have wild monkey sex with me,” she shot back as she turned to leave. “When it happens, I won’t have chased you to get it. You’ll be the one doing the chasing...and the begging.”
4
BELLE GLANCED OVER the guest list for the preopening event and added two more names. Actors, politicians, celebutants. She needed to scatter in some high-profile musicians, but she wanted to do a little more research first.
Almost two weeks had passed since her lunch with Mitch and she’d yet to spend any time alone with him. The first week was understandable. She’d been working from her office in L.A., finalizing things and tying up loose ends so she could spend the next few weeks here at Lakeside. The resort was a hundred miles from her office, and it was only practical that she work on-site for the duration. She’d figured the bonus would be seeing Mitch day in and day out for the next three weeks. Not only would she relish the sexual thrill, but she could drop a few hints and feel him out on the topic of her father.
But since she’d arrived to find her cozy cottage ready and waiting, he’d been avoiding her. And he wasn’t even trying to hide the fact.
The perfect host, he’d had fresh flowers waiting in her room. But he’d sent his
assistant to help her settle in. He’d remembered her preferences, making sure she had hot tea and a basket of muffins delivered each morning, but he’d avoided seeing her unless there were at least three other people in the room.
Today she was supposed to tour the grounds, the suites and the spa. And knowing Mitch, he’d send his rabbity assistant to do the honors.
She thought of her promise to Sierra. Do him. Fast, furious, as soon as possible. So far, she was failing dismally. Sexual frustration was never comfortable, but she was a big girl and could handle losing the game. But Mitch hadn’t even manned up enough to play. She recalled his declaration that sex between them was off-limits. This must be his way of making sure she knew he was serious.
Well, so was she. And seduction wasn’t going to work. It hadn’t when they’d been engaged, it hadn’t when they’d met again a couple of weeks ago. She obviously needed a new plan.
Nibbling on her second blueberry muffin, she punched a button on her cell phone, leaving it on speaker.
“Morning,” Sierra answered cheerfully. “I take it you haven’t died of sexual frustration yet?”
“I’m surviving,” Belle said dryly. “Barely, though. I need your help.”
“Sorry, sweets. You’re not my type.”
“Ha-ha. I need ideas, you dork. Mitch is running scared. He’s avoiding me except for emails and the telephone. Try as I might I can’t even get him to have phone sex with me.”
“Shit,” Sierra muttered. Belle heard the clink of glass against glass and knew her friend was topping off her coffee. Sierra always thought best when highly caffeinated.
“I need a plan,” Belle said, stating the obvious.
“No kidding. Otherwise I’ll be shopping for some ugly bridesmaid’s dress again.”
“Hey, the dress wasn’t that ugly.”
“Anything in Easter-egg pink is ugly and that’s beside the point.” Belle could hear the tap-tap-tapping of Sierra’s nails against the coffee cup. “Give me a rundown of what you’ve done on the job while I think.”
Belle thought best while lounging in a bubble bath or lazing in the sun, something that allowed her to relax and let the ideas flow. Sierra, though, was the opposite, needing noise and activity to find her solutions.
Pulling her notebook toward her, Belle went over the timeline and to-do list. On the off chance she managed to convince Mitch to consider the theme idea, she’d ordered sex-toy samples, sketched out three separate theme ideas and started the plans for the preopening event. To garner word-of-mouth buzz and set the tone for privacy, she’d suggested that Mitch hold a low-key non-advertised event before the media caught wind of the resort’s offerings. It would offer that semblance of privacy while giving their potential guests a taste of just how special a stay at Lakeside would be.
“Quit flirting,” Sierra said, interrupting Belle’s recitation of the tentative guest list.
“I was reading in my most serious tone,” Belle responded with a sniff. “I can’t help it if my voice excites you.”
“Ha. Seriously, though, your last encounter with Mitch, you tossed down the gauntlet. I don’t blame you, of course, but still, the guy is definitely running scared.”
Belle wrinkled her nose and pushed away what was left of her muffin. The idea of Mitch wanting nothing to do with her ruined her appetite.
“I told him I wouldn’t chase him and I’m not,” she defended, her tone stiff. “But is it asking too much that he meet with me without the chaperones?”
“You need to change tactics, lull him into complacency then reel him in.”
“Lull him from afar?” Her pouty tone was only half-pretend.
“He’s going to have to meet with you sooner or later,” Sierra assured her. “Once he does, turn the tables. Play the professional card. You know, pretend you’re there to work, to do a job.”
This time Belle really did pout. “I am here to do a job.”
“Yeah, yeah. But we both know you have ulterior motives. He’s not stupid, so he probably suspects it, too. So confuse him.”
“Professional?”
“More focus on the job, the reasons you’re there. Including needing Mitch’s help for your dad.” Glass clinked as Sierra got even more coffee. “Less focus on how cute his ass is.”
What, was she blind? Belle wanted to argue, but knew there was no point. Too much was at stake. Not only the job itself, but Eventfully Yours’s reputation and her father’s business. Mitch had made his disinterest plenty clear; she’d respect his decision.
“Have you talked to him any more about the theme program?” Sierra asked, obviously taking Belle’s silence as agreement to her plan.
“I haven’t seen him to pitch it any further,” Belle reminded her.
Silence.
Belle sighed. “I’ll send him an email. He seems to like those.”
She and Sierra wrapped up a few more details then hung up, leaving Belle to feel like a total slacker. Sierra was right. She’d been so focused on her attraction to Mitch, she’d let her priorities slip. Well, no more. She grabbed her pen and started a list of what she needed to do to set things right.
Before she could write more than a few things, though, her cell phone chimed the “Boogie-Woogie Blues.”
“Daddy,” she greeted in answer. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m feeling sick and tired of being asked that question, princess,” Franklin Forsham growled.
“People ask because they care, not out of some twisted desire to be irritating. You need to rest and give yourself time to recuperate. Quadruple bypass is nothing to blow off.”
“I’m sitting on my ass instead of golfing, aren’t I? That’s recuperation enough.” The pain of that was clear in his voice. Frank Forsham loved nothing more than a good game of golf. Belle glanced out the window at the gorgeous tree-studded view. Off in the distance the sun glinted, jewel-like, off the lake, and beyond that was what Diana had claimed to be a first-class golf course. Not big enough to bring in the major tournaments, but challenging enough to keep the guests entertained.
Her father would love it. Maybe after she got him and Mitch together, he’d come play a few rounds. She didn’t consider it naive to believe it would happen any more than she considered herself overoptimistic to think she and Mitch would get together. Faith and hard work. She figured as long as she had both—and some hot lingerie—she was set.
“Of course, I wouldn’t be able to golf anyway, given the state of things here,” he grumbled, stealing her attention back from her idyllic imaginings. “Damned market is only getting worse. Forsham Hotels hasn’t been hit this hard since the early seventies.”
Belle listened to her father’s description of the state of his company. She knew enough about business to realize he was actually making light of how bad it was. Worse, though, was the tension she heard in his voice. He was supposed to be recovering, not working himself into another heart attack.
“It’ll turn around and everything will be fine, Daddy,” she said, even though they both knew it was an empty promise. But as always, Franklin didn’t expect any real input or contribution from her, so he let the comment go unchallenged. She was his pretty little girl, no more, no less. Belle had long ago given up the idea of proving herself to him. But maybe, just maybe, he’d respect her a little if she saved his company?
“Come by tonight, we’ll go to dinner,” he ordered.
Belle glanced at her to-do list. Even if she rescheduled the tour, her plate was full. Added to that, it would take her an hour and a half to drive back to L.A., longer if she hit traffic. She flipped the page in her planner, noting an early breakfast meeting with the spa manager.
Then she thought of her dad, alone in that big rambling house.
“I’ll be there at seven,” she promised. “I wanted to talk to you anyway.”
“About?”
“Um, I sort of ran into someone from the past and thought you’d like to hear about him.”
“Him?”<
br />
She hated it when he did that. Single-word questions, then silence that made her feel as if she had to spill tons of details to fill the empty space.
“Mitch Carter,” she said. Then she cringed and waited.
But not for long.
“That cheating sonofabitch? I thought he’d run back to the East Coast where he belongs.”
Belle winced. “Dad, I told you, Mitch didn’t cheat.”
“Harrumph.”
“He didn’t. Really. He just sort of misled me. I’m sure he thinks I did much worse, leaving him at the altar like that.”
“He was a lucky man and he blew it.”
Belle pressed her lips together. She had to get her dad to quit hating Mitch or there was no point in pushing Mitch to help him. Leave it to her to be stuck between two stubborn men.
“Let’s talk about it over dinner, okay?”
“Let’s not. I don’t want to discuss the cheater or that debacle that was your wedding. Especially not when it’s thanks to him that I invested in that damned property. His connections and contracting license were supposed to get us past the stupid zoning regulations. Thanks to his duplicity, I’m stuck. Can’t build, can’t sell.”
Her father continued to mutter. Belle’s stomach twisted. She’d told her father the day after the wedding that Mitch hadn’t been with any other women, that she hadn’t meant to imply anything like that. But her father had blown up at her, ranting about the humiliation and misplaced trust. Too horrified to ask if he meant his trust in Mitch or his trust in her, she’d gulped down her explanation and run from the room.
Her father’s attitude didn’t bode well for her little save-Forsham-Hotels plan. But she’d worry about convincing him later. For now, she needed to focus on getting Mitch to listen to her. That was enough of a challenge.
With that in mind, she bade her father an absentminded goodbye, promising to see him that evening. As soon as she hung up, she grabbed the cottage phone and dialed star-seven.
“Diana? Hey, I need to postpone the tour until tomorrow, okay?”
“Is there a problem?” Mitch’s assistant asked in her hesitant tone.