Midnight Special: Coming on Strong

by Tawny Weber

  Belle grimaced.

  Mitch definitely lived by his own code. Over the past 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 B.S. 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 email 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 type 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 email. 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 email 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 ballsiness 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.

  “We have an opportunity to kick ourselves to the next level with a job this exclusive,” Sierra said quietly as she settled back in her chair. “Better yet, you have a chance here to settle up some past debts, get some of that fabled closure. Are you going to let semantics stop you?”

  Was she? Belle glanced at Sierra, noting the assured confidence on her friend’s angular face. Sierra wouldn’t push unless she thought it was really important. She might be a relentless nag when it came to the success of Eventfully Yours, but she was a good friend and would never sacrifice Belle to snag a client. Even one as potentially huge as MC Development.

  Belle had spent the past six years regretting her screwup. She should have faced Mitch herself instead of running like a wuss. Hell, she should never have agreed to marriage in the first place. She’d known better. Sex, as incredible as it might have been, was no reason to go off the deep end. But she’d been afraid to push the issue, then after the altar-ditch, too hurt and upset to face his anger.

  Ever since, she’d tried to find a guy to replace him, both in her bed and her fantasies. None had stuck, though. Probably because she’d never actually had Mitch. This might be her chance to get over him, once and for all.

  She glanced back at the files, the panoramic photo of the resort and its welcoming lakeside forest. She wanted to see it in per
son. Even more, she wanted to do Mitch, right there on the edge of that lake. Outdoor sex in the woods, like something out of a fairy tale. The orgasm she was imagining was probably mythical, too. But she didn’t care. She wanted to find out.

  Despite the nerves clawing at her, she set the file down, slipped her shoes on and grabbed her purse.

  “Shopping?” Sierra asked, sliding her feet into her shoes, too.

  “We’ll start with lingerie. I heard about this new place called Twisted Knickers. The designs supposedly take provocative to a whole new level.”

  * * *

  FOCUSED ON HIS CONVERSATION, Mitch strode past Diana’s desk with his cell phone glued to his ear. His assistant waved her hand, trying to get his attention, but he held up one finger, then pointed to his office door. He’d talk to her when he was done.

  “I don’t want any more excuses,” Mitch ordered his foreman. “The electrical has to be finished by the first of the month.” This damned week had gone downhill fast. There’d been even more building delays, his designer had gone into labor two months early, and now electrical problems. To top it off, he’d talked to three event planners so far and none had come close to sparking his interest. He was wound so tight, he was ready to snap. “The plumbing is already three weeks behind. If we lose any more ground, we won’t open on schedule. If that happens, we’re screwed.”

  He listened to his foreman’s justifications with half an ear as, still ignoring Diana’s increasingly frantic gestures, he opened his office door. As always, the view of the lush green woods through the window beckoned him. Maybe he’d go for a run, shake off some of the tension. He’d rather have a long, sweaty roll in the sheets, but he couldn’t afford the distraction. Not when everything was on the line.

  One more step into his office and Mitch felt like he’d been hit in the face. Maybe it was sex on the brain, but even the air shifted, turning sultry and suggestive. He breathed in, his lungs filling with a musky floral scent.

  Instant turn-on.

  Seated as she was in the high-backed leather chair facing the window, all Mitch could see were long, sexy legs ending in strappy black do-me heels. He tried to swallow, but his mouth had gone dirt-dry. Those were wrap-around-the-shoulders-and-ride-’em-wild legs.

  Damn. Talk about distraction.

  Mitch flipped his phone closed, not sure if he’d said goodbye or even if his foreman was still talking. He stepped farther into the office, deliberately closing the door behind him. Two more steps into the room, and he could see around the high leather back of the chair.

  Gorgeous. The impact was like getting kicked in the gut by a black belt on steroids. Swift, intense and indefensible. The first time he’d seen Belle, she’d been twenty-one. He’d thought then she couldn’t possibly be more confident in her own sexual power. He’d obviously been wrong, since she was now a master of it. Or was that mistress? And why did that make him crave studded black leather shorts?

  Six years had added layers of polish, maturity and assurance to her already powerful sexual charisma. Mitch’s gaze reluctantly left those delicious legs to travel upward. He noted the flirty green skirt, the same shade as her eyes, ending a few inches above her knees. A wide leather belt accented her waist and emphasized her lush breasts in the gossamer-soft white blouse. Mitch let his eyes rest there for just a second, millions of regrets pounding in his head. He wished like hell that once, just once, he’d tasted their bounty.

  He was sure if he had, he’d have easily kept her out of his mind. The only reason he’d never found another woman to replace her was that he’d blown the fantasy of sex between them all out of proportion.

  He felt her amusement before he even looked at her face. Belle was used to being ogled, so he didn’t waste time on embarrassment. He wondered briefly at giving her that much power this early in the game, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. That there was a game afoot was implicit. The question wasn’t who would win, either. It was how much it would cost him to play.

  She arched one platinum brow, amused challenge clear in her eyes and the dimple that played at the corner of her full lips. Her hair was shorter now, angled to emphasize her rounded cheekbones and the sharp line of her jaw.

  “Well, well,” Mitch drawled, moving around to lean on his desk while he faced the biggest mistake of his life. “If it isn’t my long-lost bride.”

  2

  “LONG-LOST BRIDE-TO-BE, if you please,” Belle corrected precisely.

  She had to work to keep her smile in place. As much as she’d have preferred to avoid reference to their past, she’d known Mitch, for all his gentlemanly reputation, wouldn’t sidestep the issue. She took a little breath before she lifted her chin. Since she had to deal with it, she’d face it head-on.

  Or at least make him think she was dealing with it just long enough to flirt her way off the topic.

  “Don’t you look gorgeous,” she commented with a wink. Since he’d made no attempt to hide his visual tour, she let her eyes take their own leisurely stroll, appreciating the view from head to toe.

  Damn, he really had gotten better with age. His hair, still that deliciously rich auburn, was a little longer, a little less formal. His face was leaner, his shoulders broader. She was tempted to ask him to turn around so she could decide if his ass was any tighter. But it was awfully hard to beat perfection, so she doubted it.

  “The years have definitely treated you well, Mitch.”

  Beneath her husky words and confident smile, her insides felt as though they were on a wobbly roller coaster. Despite that, she slid to her feet in one slow, sensual motion. His cinnamon-brown eyes blurred as she stepped forward. Heat flared between them, the same heat that had lured her from interested to obsessive so long ago.

  Then, so quickly she wondered if she’d imagined the desire, he blinked and the look switched to simple curiosity. Belle had to fight to keep her smile in place. Damn him, that’s how he’d always twisted her into knots. One second she’d been sure he was hot for her, the next he had total control.

  Not this time.

  Instead of the expected move, another step closer so she was in body-heat distance of him, Belle shifted her weight. Her hip to one side, she lifted a shoulder and gave a flutter of her lashes.

  “Well?” she asked.

  Mitch just arched one brow. His shoulders, she noted, were stiff, as though he was preparing himself. For what? she wondered. A handshake, a hug or, even worse, a big sloppy kiss.

  She was tempted. But lurking behind that polite curiosity in his eyes was something edgier. Perhaps he was just waiting to verbally rip into her. Instead of intimidating her, that just added to the excitement.

  “Well, what?”

  Some insane impulse urged Belle to blurt out an apology. To tell him how sorry she was for the pain she must have caused. To confess her immaturity, her lack of consideration. Luckily, nerves trapped the words in her throat.

  “Did you miss me?” she asked instead. Getting Mitch to deal with her, to give her the contract and with it the opening to butter him up so he’d help her father was going to be hard enough. Why throw fuel on the flames? Especially when she was much more interested in starting a whole new fire.

  “About as much as I miss the Macarena,” he shot back.

  Belle snickered. Then, unable to help herself, she laid her hand on his forearm. “It is good to see you again.”

  Eyes narrowed, he glanced down at her hand, then back at her face. With a shrug, he gave a half smile and jerk of his chin. Only an optimist would call it a nod. Belle, being a glass-half-full kind of gal, took heart.

  “Why are you here?”

  “Right to the point, hmm?” Belle used the seconds it took her to return to her seat to take a deep breath. Control was crucial here. She had to play it just right.

  With that in mind, she leaned back against the soft leather and gave Mitch a warm smile.

  “I’ve got something you need,” she told him.

  “I’ll pass,” he
responded instantly. “I tried to get it once before and look how that worked out.”

  Belle hid her wince. Whether the pain in her chest was from a singed ego or her bruised heart she didn’t know.

  “Maybe you were using the wrong inducement.”

  “Obviously,” he said. Apparently resigned to the fact that she wasn’t going to explain her presence until she was good and ready, he moved around his desk to take a seat.

  “Oh, please. Let’s be realistic. I was young and hot for you. For what I imagined would be incredible sex between the two of us. I wasn’t looking for marriage, but that was the price you put on yourself.” Talk about role reversal. She might be a jerk for her way of handling the situation, but he was a bigger jerk for being willing to use her lust to advance his career. But if she wasn’t holding any grudges, why should he? “We’d have been much better off if you’d just gone for the kinky affair I was hoping for instead of insisting on milking the free cow.”

  “Why buy the cow if you can get the milk for free,” he corrected.

  “There you go,” she said with a smile. “Except we were both after something other than milk, weren’t we?”

  She’d wanted sex, he’d wanted a foot up the career ladder. Neither one of them came off lily-pure, so she didn’t bother pointing that out. Instead, she leaned down to pull a file out of her black leather portfolio.

  “I understand you need an event planner.”

  Mitch’s jaw tightened, but he just gave a dismissive shrug. His shirt rippled over arms that looked very intriguing. She’d bet there were some sweet biceps under that pristine cotton. Her teeth itched to take a nibble and see just how hard his muscle was.

  “I might have considered a planner for the grand opening, but I’m not overly attached to the concept,” he hedged.

  Which meant he wanted one, he just didn’t want it to be her. No problem. She’d change his mind.

  “That’s smart,” she said, leaving the file in her lap instead of handing it to him. “Your grand opening should make a statement, of course. But you want that message to integrate with Lakeside’s theme, its purpose.”