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.”
Chapter 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.”
“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
