She nodded. “Not surprising. The whole King family is like that, aren’t they?”
“Pretty much,” he said and turned his back on the family photos so he could look instead at Bella. “We enjoy competing and we don’t lose gracefully.”
She tipped her head to one side, looked at him and said, “You can’t always win.”
“Don’t see why not.”
“You really don’t, do you?”
“Nope,” he told her and took the single step separating them. Standing alongside her, he looked up at the family photos and waved one hand at them. “Not a single one of those people is the type to settle for second place.”
“Sometimes you don’t have a choice,” Bella said softly.
“There’s always a choice, Bella.” Jesse glanced at one familiar face and then another as he said, “The King family decided a long time ago that the only people who lose are the ones who expect to. We expect to win, so we do.”
“Easy as that?”
He looked down at her and found her staring up at him. Those chocolate-brown eyes of hers looked deep and dark and filled with secrets. Secrets he wanted to know. To share. Lifting one hand, he cupped her cheek and said, “I never said it was easy. But winning shouldn’t be. Takes all the fun out of it if everyone could do it.”
“And fun’s important to you, too,” she said, stepping back, away from his touch, away from him.
“Should be important to everyone,” he said, his palm still tingling from the touch of her skin against his. “What’s life if you don’t enjoy it? Hell, why do anything if you don’t enjoy it?”
“And you enjoy what you do now?”
“Yeah,” he said with a shrug. “I didn’t think I would, you know. Never planned to be the suit-wearing guy, Mr. Businessman. But I’m good at it.”
She looked toward the closed office door and the busy office beyond. “Yes, I guess you are.”
“See, I’m enjoying this. We’re agreeing on things.”
“Don’t get used to it,” she told him wryly.
“Why not? We could make a great team, Bella.”
She laughed a little. “We’re so not a team, Jesse.”
This was it, he thought. The moment. Time to slide an offer in here while she was still impressed by her tour. While she still liked him a little. It struck him then that he’d never had to work so hard to get a woman to like him. “We could be. Think about it. King Beach. Bella’s Beachwear. A match made in heaven.”
She stilled, slid an uneasy look at him and asked, “What kind of match?”
“Well, I wasn’t going to bring this up so soon, but I don’t like waiting, either. So I’ll get right to it.” He walked to his desk and leaned back against it. Through the wide window behind him, the sun splashed down on the view of Morgan Beach and the ocean stretching out to the horizon. “I want to buy Bella’s Beachwear.”
“No.” Bella blurted the word out instinctively.
“Jeez.” He came up off the desk and took a step toward her. “At least let me finish my sentence.”
“No need to, I’m not for sale.” She should have known. Should have guessed that he was softening her up for something. She’d allowed herself to relax around him. All right, she’d actually been enjoying herself. The touch of his hand, that wicked smile of his, the way he seemed to focus so intently on her. All that had combined to weaken her defenses and now she was going to pay.
“I’m not trying to buy you, Bella. Just your business.”
“That’s what you don’t get, Jesse. I am my business.” Irritated, hurt and just a little angry at herself for walking into this mess, she continued, “You want to buy my swimwear, but to you it’s just that. Bathing suits. Stick them on a rack, sell them to the masses.”
Both his eyebrows rose. “There’s something wrong with selling your product to people who want it?”
“No, but I’m not interested in the quick, easy sale.” She took a deep breath, fisted her hands at her sides and tried once again to get through his hard head. “I’m interested in the whole woman. Helping ordinary women build their self-esteem. You’re interested in making the young and skinny feel pretty. Well, guess what, they already do.”
“Bella, I know you think I want to change what you do, but you couldn’t be more wrong.” He threw both hands up, then let them fall to his thighs. “I’ve been resisting selling women’s stuff for years because how the hell do I know what women want to wear? Everything I stock I personally believe in. That’s the reason I want you to be a part of King Beach. Because you believe in your stuff the way I believe in mine.”
“It’s not ‘stuff.’”
He laughed and Bella simmered.
“I get it, I get it. Your line is not interchangeable with department store swimsuits.”
“I’m not looking to be bought out or rolled over or absorbed by King Beach. You can’t buy me up like you did this city, Jesse. I won’t let you ruin the thing I love just for the sake of business.”
“So you have something against becoming a millionaire?” he countered. “Because I promise you, join me and that’s what you’ll be.”
For just one, brief, electrifying moment, she actually considered his offer and thought about what it would mean to her to be financially independent. She could buy her little house from Kevin. She could donate all the money she wanted to the different charities that had always tugged at her heart. She could…Bella stopped, gasped and accused, “You’re the devil.”
He grinned. “Good. That means you’re thinking about it.”
“I did, for about thirty seconds.”
“That’s a start.”
“No,” Bella insisted. “It’s not. I’m not set up for large-scale production. I’m a cottage industry and I like it that way. I know my weavers, my seamstresses. I personally choose fabrics, design styles. The women who work for me care as much about the product as I do. We’re making a statement.”
“Yes, but do you have to make it poor?” He grinned and said, “Think about this. You align with King Beach and you’ll be creating more jobs. Better money for your weavers and seamstresses. We’ll be able to use them, I know. Hell, they can probably teach the pros a thing or two.”
“They are pros,” she told him.
“I’m sure. But on a much smaller scale,” he said. “Don’t you see, Bella? Signing with me will get you and your company even more.”
“I know you want my shop, but I’m not turning my business over to you.”
“I don’t just want your business, Bella,” he said. “I want you.”
Oh God. A quick blast of something hot, delicious and practically mind-numbing shot through her. He wanted her. Jesse King wanted Bella Cruz. Did he mean that? And what exactly did he mean? Want? Want how? For how long? In what way? Oh God. Her stomach was a mess and in a split second, her mind took off on dozens of wild, crazy tangents that splintered again and again, teasing her with possibilities. Until he spoke again and shattered them all.
“I want you to