Coming on Strong. Tawny Weber
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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.”
“This isn’t Disneyland,” he pointed out, rolling his eyes.
“No, but you would do well to look at the success of theme parks like that. They have a clear message. A purpose that fulfils the guests’ specific needs. Everything they offer, every single thing, supports that purpose.”
“My resort has a purpose. You grew up in the hotel business, you already know this.”
“But you’re not trying to launch a hotel here, are you? You aren’t targeting the average vacationer, honeymoon couple or getaway guest.”
“I’m not?”
Even though he phrased it as a question, his tone was pure let’s-humor-the-airhead. She was used to people taking one look at her blond hair and sexy image and judging her by stereotypes. Since it usually worked to her advantage, Belle didn’t mind. At least, she told herself she didn’t. It wasn’t like Mitch knew her well enough to understand her or anything. So she fell into her typical lure-’em-in-and-close-the-deal mode with a flutter of her lashes.
“Are you? What do you see this resort offering?” she asked off-handedly.
“Offering? What any resort offers, of course. First-class luxury accommodations. Relaxation and pampering. The perfect getaway.”
“I can get luxury and pampering at my father’s hotels for half the price,” she pointed out.
His eyes flashed at the mention of her father. Uh-oh, not a good sign. But instead of commenting, he just pointed out the window.
“Not with this lavish view, prime location or decadent opulence. Lakeside is top of the line. Luxurious suites, each with its own fireplace and bar. Three-hundred-count Egyptian sheets and down comforters, one-of-a-kind artwork and a stunning view from every room. We have the hottest golf course, three four-star restaurants, a ballroom, spa, designer shops.”
Belle pressed her lips together to hide the smile brought on by his fervent recital of his resort’s brochure. He sounded like a momma defending her baby against the crime of mediocrity. Good, that meant he was heavily invested in making Lakeside the biggest success possible.
“Let’s cut to the chase, hmm?” she said once she was sure she could keep the triumph from her tone. “To really make your resort stand out, to make it a certifiable success, you need a hook. If you want the wealthy southern California clientele to flock here like flaming moths you’re going to need to offer something a little more exotic than nice sheets, a golf course and hot stone massages.”
“Moths to a flame,” he corrected.
“Exactly,” she agreed with a wink. “And like those moths, the wealthy and famous will swarm here. With the right incentive, of course.”
“What do you have in mind?” he asked, sounding reluctantly intrigued. His gaze fell to the papers in her lap.
She tapped one red-tipped fingernail on the file and smiled.
“To use that Disney analogy again, I’m talking about a theme park for adults. Wealthy adults. Or better yet, famous wealthy adults. Ones who are looking for a grown-up park to play in.”
Belle leaned forward to put the file on his desk. Mitch’s gaze dropped to her cleavage. From the heat in his eyes, the way they went dark and intense, she figured her Twisted Knickers leather-and-lace demi-bra had just paid off.
“You want to make this resort a standout, you need to cater to the rich and famous. If you want them lining up to get in here, you need to offer them the one thing they want more than anything else. The one thing they’d pay almost any price for.”
Keeping his eyes locked on hers, Mitch used one finger to pull the file toward him. He didn’t flip it open, but sat there with his hand over it as if considering whether it was even worth the effort.
“And that is?” he finally asked.
“Sex, of course.”
MITCH’S JAW dropped. This was a multimillion dollar venture, prime real estate, and he had everything on the line—his money, his company and, even more important, his reputation.
“You’re suggesting I turn my luxury resort into a sex club?”
He didn’t know why the idea surprised him. Everything about Belle made him think of sex. It always had. From her husky voice to her bedroom eyes and on down that gorgeous body to her suckable toes.
But he’d screwed up his career once because he’d been obsessed with her. Blinded by the dream of having it all, he’d tossed aside his own plans to accommodate her and her father’s wishes, and ended up with nothing. It’d taken him three years to rebuild his reputation, another two to regain lost ground. He wasn’t about to screw up again.
“Actually, I doubt you’d be able to pull off the sex club,” she replied with a long look that made it clear she’d love to see him try. “There are some fabulous ones around that make good money, of course, but that’s not quite the niche I had in mind.”
It took physical effort to keep himself from asking her just how familiar she was with these fabulous sex clubs. He managed, just barely, to smother the biting jealousy that clawed at his gut when he imagined her hitting those clubs with another man. Or, given the clubs, other men.
Dammit, six years ago, that ugly green monster had goaded him into proposing marriage instead of taking her up on the wild sexual affair she’d offered. He hated—not just disliked, but viciously rip-the-head-off-whoever-it-was hated—the idea of some other man touching Belle. She was the only woman in the world to inspire him to want to brand her. To make her his and his alone, in every way possible. For a man who considered himself evolved beyond caveman idiocy, it had been a blow to the ego. Not enough of a blow to stun the jealousy monster, though.