by Tawny Weber
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 cusswords 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.
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 fairylike 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 onto 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 work boots 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 rep
utation 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 into 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 playdates 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 partners
hip 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 into 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 hardwired to ride to the rescue. Even after all that crap went down, Mitch never bad-mouthed 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.”
