Coming on Strong

“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.