Midnight Special: Coming on Strong

by Tawny Weber

  “Bullshit,” Reece claimed. “You’re saying Belle Forsham hired you? Tipped you off? What?”

  “Don’t know her name. Just that she’s the gal in charge of the party,” the guy snapped defiantly. “We talked by phone, email. I never saw her before.”

  “He’s lying,” Belle called out. Horror filled her voice, tears glistening on her cheeks.

  “Why would he lie?” Reece wondered aloud.

  “I don’t know,” Belle cried. “Why don’t you ask him?”

  “I don’t think we need to ask anyone except you, Ms. Forsham.” Reece’s words were quiet, bland. But his accusation hung in the air.

  “Me? Why the hell would I do this?” Anger snapped in her eyes.

  “You could be working to discredit the resort,” Reece said in his slow drawl. “Your dad’s hurting, needs money. You might have thought putting Mitch out of business would keep away some competition.”

  Belle shook her head. “You might want to go back to security school, cowboy. So far you’re batting zip. First you let that camera-toting idiot in here, despite all the supposed precautions. Then you accuse me of something impossibly far-fetched. This resort is no competition to my father.”

  “Sure it isn’t,” muttered someone behind Mitch. “She screwed him over once, she’s obviously doing it again. This time she’s getting pictures, too.”

  Belle gasped, her eyes filling. But instead of letting the tears fall, she lifted her chin and faced the crowd that had formed around them.

  Shaking off the feeling of fury and betrayal, Mitch followed her gaze and saw her glare at Lena. Mitch frowned. He glanced at his stepsister, whose grin looked evil in the glinting moonlight. Belle opened her mouth as if to say something, then she shrugged and turned to leave.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked.

  “Away.” He could hear it in her voice, the need to escape. To get away from the whispers and judgmental eyes.

  “This isn’t settled, Belle.”

  She gave him a dirty look. “What’s to settle? Did you want to wait for one of your kinfolk to go grab a rope from the golf cart so you can hang me?”

  “You’re overreacting,” Reece said quietly. “This isn’t a lynch mob.”

  “Could have fooled me,” she shot back.

  Mitch realized that his family and friends were all looking pissed enough to justify her accusation.

  He took Belle’s arm and pulled her away from the crowd, up toward the ninth hole where they could talk without all the commentary.

  “Belle, tell me what’s going on,” he asked when they reached some semblance of privacy. “The truth this time.”

  “I told you the truth. You’re choosing to believe that guy over me.” She gestured to the photographer Reece was tossing into the golf cart. “You’re so busy obsessing over your image, over your need to prove yourself perfect that you won’t even consider that you’re wrong.”

  Mitch bristled at the accusation. To hell with that. He wasn’t trying to prove a damned thing. He was just protecting his investment. He recalled her reluctance to come down to the lake earlier. Had she been having second thoughts? Or had it been because her plans were derailed when they’d gotten the lakeside envelope? God, he was the world’s biggest idiot.

  “Is that what you think?” he asked. “That I’m obsessed with image? Well, if I am, you sure blew it all to hell with this little stunt. Again,” he accused. Mitch spared a glance at his family, here to watch another of his dreams smashed to hell.

  Belle gave a bitter laugh and shook his hand off her arm. She took a step backward as if she couldn’t stand to be close to him. Mitch wanted to grab her and yell that he wasn’t the guilty party here. He’d be damned if she’d make him feel bad that she’d been busted at her own game.

  “You go ahead and believe that,” she said. “It’s easier for you to blame me than figure out the truth.” She gave a wave of her hand toward the crowd and swallowed, her jaw working and eyes blinking rapidly. “I thought I could trust you this time. I thought you were different. My God, I was such an idiot.”

  Spying her shoes on the grass, she leaned over and snatched them up, then tilted her chin at him. “There is no advantage to me ruining my own business reputation. There is no point in busting my ass to make this event, this entire themed resort, come together perfectly if I was going to just screw it all up in the end.”

  She stepped closer and punched her index finger into his chest. “Someone is fucking you over and it’s not me. Why don’t you grow up and quit flexing your dick and go find out who it really is?”

  With that, she stomped up the hill toward the golf carts parked haphazardly all over the ninth hole.

  Her words echoed in his head. His family’s voices faded into background noise.

  Brow furrowed, Mitch watched Belle slam the golf cart into gear and drive away. Part of him wanted to yell to her to wait. He wanted to run after her and fix things. But his family was all standing around. And they’d just seen Belle make him look like a loser idiot in front of them. Again. He let her go. Confusion and pain clawed at his gut. Belle had used him, used this event, all for publicity?

  Once again, he’d lost the princess. And once again, he’d lost face in front of his entire family as she screwed him over.

  Mitch tried to console himself that at least this time he’d had a whole bunch of hot, wild, kinky sex. But all that did was remind him of what he’d lost. Of what he’d never actually had.

  Wasn’t he a pitiful chump?

  13

  BELLE STUMBLED INTO her cottage, tears streaming down her face. She stopped cold when she was hit with a faceful of bright light and heavy metal music.

  Damn. She’d forgotten Sierra would be there.

  “You’re back early,” her friend yelled over Black Sabbath. “What happened? All that rocking the boat make you seasick?” She was one to tease, given that she was twisted around like a pretzel with her ass in the air.

  “Paparazzi,” Belle said shortly, not able to find her usual razz about Sierra being the only person in the world who practiced yoga to Ozzie. She scrubbed the tears off her face with the back of her hand.

  Sierra fell sideways with a crash. “What?” she asked, rubbing her shoulder. She finally took a look at Belle’s face and jumped up to slap the stereo off. “Oh, my God, what’s wrong?”

  “Paparazzi,” Belle repeated, throwing her shoes across the room so hard they knocked a teacup off the table, sending it to a shattered death on the tile floor.

  She glared at the mess, and not even caring that she was barefoot, stormed over to the couch. She dropped to the cushions, drew her knees up for comfort and waited.

  She didn’t have to wait long. Two seconds later and Sierra was right there, wrapping her arms around Belle. Belle took a shuddering breath, but before she could spill the details of the horrible encounter and Mitch’s betrayal, someone pounded on her door.

  “Belle, I want to talk to you.”

  Her body went numb at the sound of Mitch’s voice. Sierra stood to answer the door but Belle grabbed her damp T-shirt and gave a shake of her head.

  He pounded again.

  “Now.”

  Her chin flew up and anger, drowned out earlier by her tears, rekindled.

  Sierra took one look at her face and yelled back, “Get lost.”

  Silence.

  Sierra gave a satisfied smirk, but Belle knew better. Ten seconds later the pounding started again. Confused, angry and hurt beyond belief, she still knew she had to face him. But not yet.

  She went to the door and, after flicking off the overhead light to help hide her ravaged face, she set the security chain, then opened the door.

  Mitch’s fury was clear through the small opening. It was all she could do not to start crying again at the sight. Determined to cling to some form of dignity, she took a deep breath. Before he could say a word, she held up her hand. “I’ll discuss the situation with you in a half hour,”
she told him. “I’m not dressed for this and I’m not prepared to talk to you yet.”

  “You’re not negotiating a contract, Belle.” The disdain in his voice was so sharp, she wondered if she’d be left with a scar.

  She inclined her head toward him and gave a one-shouldered shrug. “No, but this is business, isn’t it? If you want to talk tonight, I’ll come up to your office in a half hour. Otherwise it will wait until tomorrow.”

  She watched his jaw work and knew he was struggling for control. His anger, so clear in the set of his shoulders and furious glare, shouldn’t turn her on. But, sicko that she was, it did, just a little. Her heart whimpered at the uselessness of the realization.

  “Fifteen minutes,” he finally said.

  “Thirty,” she repeated.

  He snarled and lifted his fist as if he were going to pound it through the door. But he didn’t. Instead he growled, “Fine.”

  Belle didn’t wait for him to leave. She shut the door and, knowing it would only add to his fury, flipped the locks with a loud snick.

  She turned to see Sierra staring, the shock in her blue eyes echoed in her slack jaw.

  “What?”

  “Just wondering where you’re hiding those brass balls. Your dress is awfully revealing.”

  Belle gave a watery laugh and collapsed against the door. Her fury-induced adrenaline washed away, leaving her limp and miserable.

  “We’re just getting hot and heavy on the dock and out jumps a blood-sucking photographer snapping pictures, calling dirty suggestions.” Belle shivered at the memory. “It was horrible. Then, before I could take that in, up squeals Reece like the cavalry, grabbing the guy and beating the hell out of him.”

  Sierra’s fascinated curiosity turned to derision and she shook her head. “Leave it to him to get all macho,” she muttered. Then she glanced at the clock, grabbed Belle’s arm and tugged her toward the bedroom.

  “Talk while you’re changing. We have twenty-five minutes.”

  “The paparazzi said it was me, the party girl,” Belle whispered. “He said I’d hired him. Arranged all this.”

  Sierra sucked in a sharp breath. Then she let out a low, vicious growl that would do a mama cat proud. “Someone’s setting you up.”

  Belle shrugged and started changing.

  “And there was that smug-faced bitch, Lena Carter, just gloating over the whole ugly mess,” Belle summed up as she finished recounting the horrible scene while reapplying foundation to cover her blotchy, tearstained skin.

  “Lena Norris,” Sierra corrected, her voice muffled by the sweater she was pulling over her head.

  Belle lowered the makeup brush and stared at her friend’s reflection. “What?”

  Sierra settled the black cashmere sweater in place and pulled her hair free, then met Belle’s eyes in the mirror. “Norris. She’s not one of the Carter clan. I found out tonight when I read the guest list over Larry’s shoulder.”

  She and Belle exchanged a long, comprehending stare.

  “L.N.,” they said together.

  Stunned, Belle dropped her makeup brush on the counter and sank onto the wide edge of the spa tub. That nasty vindictive woman was behind all this?

  “What a bitch.” Sierra gave a little growl and shook her head. “I can’t believe it. I thought she had it in for you, but it’s actually her own brother she’s been trying to screw over all these years.”

  Belle tugged on her short suede boots and considered the idea. God, she’d been a gullible idiot.

  Six years ago she’d scurried away at the first sign of conflict instead of talking to Mitch or her father. As always, she’d been so sure she’d be rejected if she confronted the issue. Shame washed over her. Apparently she was a wimp as well as an idiot.

  But not this time. She sucked in a deep, fortifying breath and squared her shoulders, trying to find courage. Hell, Mitch had already rejected her, so she had nothing left to lose. And one hell of a lot to gain by outing that obnoxious bitch, Lena.

  “She’s planning on ruining more than a wedding this time,” Belle pointed out, anger making her hand shake as she tried to apply lip gloss. “Mitch’s business is her goal this round.”

  Belle tried to focus on that, but she couldn’t quite get over the indignity of being so easily manipulated. She wanted to beat the hell out of Lena. And not some girly slap-fight, either. She wanted to gut-punch the other woman.

  “What a dirty sneak,” she muttered.

  “Exactly.”

  Belle let the fury of it all propel her out of the room. “C’mon,” she called back to Sierra, who was hopping from foot to foot trying to put on her platforms. “I have to tell Mitch. As soon as he hears this, we can sit back and watch him deal with that duplicitous bitch.”

  Belle had never been one to contemplate revenge before, but suddenly the idea filled her with a grim satisfaction. She couldn’t wait to see Lena pay for everything she’d done. To Mitch, to the resort. To Belle.

  Five minutes early, Belle stormed into Mitch’s office, Sierra hot on her heels. It was like walking into an ice-filled courtroom. Belle shivered, her momentum stalled at the implacable coldness on Mitch’s face. Like a judge, he sat behind his desk, the position of power loud and clear.

  There was a movement by the window and Belle’s gaze shot to the prosecutor du-jour. The fiery anger in Reece’s glare was the only heat in the room. Nerves snapped and snarled in her stomach, the little voice in the back of her head warning her to give it up and run. Get the hell out of there before they verbally shredded her.

  She’d actually taken a step back before she realized what she was doing. No. Belle squared her shoulders and forced herself to stand still. They wanted to judge, that was fine. She was here for justice.

  Knowing the only way she’d get through this was to block Reece’s intimidating presence out of her mind, Belle focused on Mitch. It took her two deep belly breaths to get the nerve, then she stomped over to his desk and slapped her hands on the surface.

  It was a good indication of how angry he was when he kept his gaze locked on hers instead of letting it drop to the view highlighted by her low-cut blouse. Okay, fine. She told herself she wasn’t worried that her one real weapon had already proved ineffective.

  “Look, I know who’s behind all your problems,” she said quietly. His blank stare didn’t change, but Belle pressed on. “Just hear me out and we’ll get to the truth of this whole mess.”

  “Truth?” Mitch snapped. She winced as his frigid tone sliced at her. “Or excuses?”

  Tears threatened again, but Belle blinked them away. She felt Sierra come up behind her. Her friend didn’t say anything, just stood a little behind and off to the side, giving silent support. It was all Belle needed. With a deep breath, she handed Mitch the papers she’d found in Diana’s office. He didn’t look at them, just slid them aside and kept his eyes on hers. With a quick glance at Sierra, who nodded, she went on to describe how they’d searched through Diana’s computer files.

  Through it all, the men said nothing. Mitch just sat there, his hands steepled as he stared at her emotionlessly. Reece lounged against the windowsill, one cowboy boot tapping impatiently.

  Finally, Reese straightened and walked toward the door. “You’re accusing Diana?” he asked as he passed her.

  “I found the information in her office,” Belle shot back, her tone pissy and defensive. It was like they hadn’t even heard what she said. She gave Reece the evil eye, to which he only raised a brow.

  “We talked to her,” Mitch said quietly. Belle glanced back at him. His face was still blank. Her fingers twitched nervously. She couldn’t read him at all and it was starting to scare her. “Turns out you’re right.”

  Belle opened her mouth to argue with him, then closed it. “Right?”

  “She’s not the mastermind, obviously. Diana’s just a very good, very efficient assistant.” She knew him well enough to recognize the betrayed hurt beneath his bitter words.

  “
Mitch, I’m sorry,” Belle murmured.

  Instead of accepting her sympathy, he just gave a snort of disbelief.

  Belle’s brows drew together.

  Before she could say anything else, though, Reece opened the side door to the boardroom and gestured to a security guard on the other side.

  Suddenly nervous but not sure why, Belle looked at Sierra. Her friend shot the security guard and his big gun a concerned look and rubbed a quick hand over the small of Belle’s back in support.

  But the only person to enter the room was unarmed. And, from the look of her, totally broken. Diana’s hair, styled so carefully for the party, hung in a stringy curtain around her tear-ravaged face. She shot Belle a fearful look, then took the farthest seat away from everyone.

  Reece sat opposite her, his long legs kicked out in front of him in a pose so relaxed it was a total insult to the situation. Belle wanted to beat him upside the cowboy hat with Mitch’s desk blotter.

  “Diana, you go ahead and repeat what you told Mitch and me earlier.”

  “I’d rather not,” she mumbled into her lap.

  “That’s too bad,” Mitch said shortly. “It’s talk to us or talk to the cops. Take your pick.”

  She gave a deep, shuddering sort of sigh, then, twisting her hands together in a way that was painful to watch, started in a hesitant voice, “I told you already, I admit to helping sabotage Lakeside.”

  “On whose orders?” Mitch demanded.

  The tension in Belle’s shoulders loosened, anticipation and a weird sort of vindication surging through her. Yes, now Lena would get what was coming to her.

  “Hers,” Diana mumbled, the word so quiet they all had to lean forward to hear it.

  Sierra and Belle exchanged confused looks.

  “You mean Belle?” Reece asked in a low, empty tone.

  “What?” Belle couldn’t believe the question.

  “Yes,” Diana whispered.

  The room tilted just a little and Belle felt her stomach pitch. “You’re so lying. I didn’t do a damned thing.”

  Diana just shrugged. Reece took off his cowboy hat and ran the brim through his fingers before putting it back on. Belle’s gaze, filled with confusion and panic, flew to Mitch. He didn’t believe this crap, did he?