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.
Chapter 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 fairy-like 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 on 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 workboots 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 reputation 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