Coming on Strong

TAWNY WEBER is usually found dreaming up stories in her California home, surrounded by dogs, cats and kids. When she’s not writing hot, spicy stories for Blaze®, she’s testing her latest margarita recipe, shopping for the perfect pair of boots or drooling over Johnny Depp pictures (when her husband isn’t looking, of course). When she’s not doing any of that, she spends her time scrapbooking and playing in the garden. She’d love to hear from readers, so drop by her home on the web, www.TawnyWeber.com.

To the Writers At Play:

Beth, Kath, Janice, Sheila, Anna, Kimmi,

Terri, Stacey, Carla, Betty, Marlene, Lisa, Trish,

Tammy, Heather, Angi, Leslie, Mona,

Anne-Marie, Cheryl and Terry.

Wild, crazy, amazing.

I love you all!

Coming on Strong

Tawny Weber

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Table of Contents

Cover

About the Author

Title Page

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Copyright

Prologue

“I DON’T THINK I can go through with it,” Belle Forsham said, one hand pressed to her chest. Beneath the beaded silk of her bodice, her heart raced like a terrified rabbit. “I mean, this is crazy, you know? What the hell was I thinking?”

“If I recall, you were thinking that Mitch Carter was the hottest piece of ass you’d ever seen,” Sierra Donovan said absently, her attention focused on getting the fluffy white tulle arranged just so over Belle’s blonde curls.

“I said I thought he’d be the hottest piece of ass,” Belle corrected, frowning at the image in the mirror. It was like watching herself through a Halloween filter. “I haven’t been able to find out how hot he really is, though, have I? Which is why I’d be insane to go through with this, isn’t it? Like, you know, buying a poked pig or something?”

“Pig in a poke?”

“Whatever.”

Sierra just laughed and, with one last fluff of the veil, stepped back to gauge the results. “You look so…virginal.”

Her best friend’s tone said it all. Virginal was the last image Belle had ever aspired toward. Then again, she’d never figured on being a bride, either.

Wild and free, that was Belle’s motto. Or it had been, right up until she’d met Mitch Carter. Then mottos had been nudged aside for her new obsession. Getting Mitch into bed.

Mitch was her daddy’s new VP of development. The man was gorgeous. Rich auburn hair, cinnamon-brown eyes and the tightest butt she’d ever ogled. He exuded an energy that fascinated Belle. Power, definitely, and drive. A kind of intense focus that promised a woman that once she had his attention, he’d give her the most incredible sex of her life.

And Belle wanted his attention. But while she’d practically panted at his feet, he’d barely acknowledged her. For a woman used to men drooling on her buffed and polished toes, he’d been a total challenge. She threw herself at him, he gave her polite acknowledgment. She flirted, he watched. She pursued, he evaded.

Hard to get? Hell, Mitch Carter was damn near impossible.

At least, to get into bed. For some bizarre reason, after about a month of chasing him, he’d turned the tables. To use his own words, he’d started courting her. She smothered a baffled laugh at the idea of it. They’d mostly attended business functions, family events with her father, the occasional romantic dinner.

Unable to pace in the voluminous dress, Belle fidgeted on the stool where she sat. Her fingers fiddled with her late mother’s pearl necklace, so sweetly innocent as it circled with a heavy weight of expectation around her neck. Like the white dress and delicate veil, the pearls really didn’t suit her. Of course, neither did marriage.

Three months of dating. A smoking-hot kiss at the end of the evening. A little touchy-feely to add to the thrill. But never more. God, she’d wanted more. Then he’d scared the hell out of her when, out of the blue, he’d popped the question. Marriage. He wanted to make an honest woman of her…which was just plain weird since he hadn’t tried her dishonest ways first.

She’d been so hot for him, she’d agreed instantly. She’d rushed the wedding plans, pulled out all the stops and organized a ritzy society event in less than three months. Through all the planning, something she’d proven to be amazingly skilled at, she’d had one thought and one thought only.

Hurry it up so she could get to her wedding night.

But now, when faced with the actual nuptials, she wasn’t sure it was the right thing to do.

“Sierra, am I crazy to marry Mitch after only knowing him six months? I mean, is this too fast?”

Her friend opened her mouth, most likely to offer some dumb platitude about bridal jitters. It wasn’t nerves, though. Belle didn’t know what it was, but the lead weight in her stomach made her feel trapped, terrified. She’d much rather feel jittery anxiety instead.

Then Sierra shrugged, her own worry clear.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, chewing off her lipstick as she started to pace the room. Her typical in-your-face honesty and her maid-of-honor duty to keep Belle from freaking out were obviously at odds.

“Does it matter, though? You’ve wanted Mitch since you first saw him and now you’re getting him. Long-term, even. You’ll have killer sex tonight and blow his mind. Happy-ever-after, all that crap—that’ll come with time.”

Crap, indeed. The last thing anyone would call Belle was naive, but compared with the cynical Sierra she was a wide-eyed romantic. Whenever she thought past the honeymoon, let herself focus on anything besides the killer sex she was anticipating, she felt ill. She understood honeymoons. They were all about indulging in decadent sex in as many ways, places and times as possible. But marriage? Oh, God. She pressed her hand to her stomach, hoping she didn’t get sick all over her dress. Was she ready to get married?

Belle stared at her reflection. White satin, seed beads and tulle. It all went perfectly with the pearls. Sweet and innocent. Definitely not her style. Her first choice for a dress had been sexy and edgy, but she’d thought Mitch would like this better.

“I guess that establishes why I’m marrying him,” she said slowly. She loved him. Or, at least, she thought she did. Or, at least, she figured what she felt was probably love. She was fascinated by his kisses and his mind. By the sexual energy that simmered just under the surface. She was willing to make a promise to Mitch and keep it. Add to that the fact that she was agreeing to tie herself to the guy before he’d given her a single orgasm…well, that had to be love.

So, yes, she was ready for marriage.

“But why is he marrying me?” she asked in a whisper.

“Why don’t you find out?” Sierra prompted for, like, the millionth time. “Quit second-guessing yourself and trying to please him and just ask.”

Confront him? Straight up ask for possible rejection? Hell, no. One thing Belle had learned watching her late mother’s bout with cancer was “what you don’t know won’t hurt you until later.” She’d rather take her chances with the unknown.

“I’m just saying, if you want to know why Mitch is marrying you, he’s the guy to ask,” Sierra said, her tone making it obvious she knew she was wasting her breath.

“He’s marrying you because he loves you, of course.”

“What?” Surprised, she and Sierra both spun around to see Belle’s other bridesmaid, Mitch’s sister Lena.

Average height, average features, pale-brown hair cut in an unfortunate bob that did nothing to hide her very high forehead, Lena looked nothing like her brother. Belle had first met her when the woman had flown in from Pennsylvania a week earlier. Where Mitch was dynamic, Lena was tepid. It was hard to believe the two of them were even related.

Belle wanted to like her, but it was a struggle. She’d first suggested Lena join the wedding party in an attempt to make nice with Mitch’s family. But the other woman had a mocking, judgmental air about her that grated on Belle’s nerves. She was trying to ignore it, though. After all, this was her new sister-in-law.

“He must be madly in love with you,” Lena pointed out as she inched into the room. The pale-rose bridesmaid dress that looked so sexy on Sierra made Lena look like a fluffy pink marshmallow. “Why else would he give up on his goals to get married?”

What goals was Mitch giving up? Belle gave Sierra a confused frown, then looked at Lena.

“Well, sure, partnership with your father is a huge incentive since Mitch had only planned on a short-term association with Forsham Hotels. It was the last step in his plan to take his construction company to the next level.” She said all this while gliding an ugly shade of nutmeg lipstick over her thin lips. Then she met Belle’s eyes in the mirror and shrugged. “His own development firm. He was counting on the experience and, you know, connections to help him out. Of course, I don’t have to tell you how ambitious and determined to succeed he is.”

“Partnership?” Belle frowned. What partnership?

“You didn’t know?” Lena’s mouth rounded to match the oops look in her brown eyes. “I’m so sorry. Maybe he was saving the news as a wedding surprise.”

“He’s a vice-president, not a partner,” Sierra said, sounding as confused as Belle. “I thought he didn’t have enough money or land to bring to the table for that kind of a deal.”

“Well, yeah. But Uncle Danny said Mitch was given one of those offers he couldn’t refuse. I guess your daddy’s backing a risky land deal with the agreement that Mitch develop it for him. Aunt Edna said he saw a perfect opportunity and made the most of it.” Lena gave a little who-knows shrug and a wide smile. Neither hid the malice peeking out from her simpering demeanor.

All those family names blurred in Belle’s mind. She’d been so excited to be a part of a large family, for the first time since she was eight to have more than just her and her dad at the Thanksgiving table. But after meeting Mitch’s relatives, she wasn’t so sure. It was like coming up against a very large, very cohesive wall. And she was on the wrong side of it.

Lena babbled more family gossip and inane insights into Mitch’s personality. Belle just stared, her mind numb.

A risky land development? Her father wouldn’t go into a project like that with just anyone. It would require a family commitment. Had he offered to make Mitch family? Or had Mitch offered to marry her in order to get the deal? And what did that make her? The price he had to pay for success? An easy route to the top?

Recognition, denial and sharp pain twisted together in her stomach. She’d wanted to believe he was marrying her because he couldn’t resist, because he was crazy for her. But she’d obviously been wrong.

It all made sense now. His reluctance for intimacy, his emotional distance. Her earlier bridal jitters turned to cramping nausea. He was marrying his way into a business deal.

Lena’s overarched brows drew together above her gleaming eyes. “You look a little green. Are you feeling okay?”

“Of course she’s not,” Sierra snapped. “What are you thinking, coming in here and spewing ugly rumors like that? What kind of person goes around gossiping about her brother on his wedding day?”

“Stepbrother,” Lena corrected with a pout. “My dad married his mom when we were teenagers. And you’re the nasty one. I was just saying that Belle’s lucky that Mitch loves her enough to give up his dreams of his own development firm to work for her father. I wasn’t insinuating anything else.”

Lena wasn’t his real sister? Why hadn’t he told her? Belle didn’t know why, but that was the last straw. She stood, the stool pressing against her full skirt like the bars on a cage. She wanted to run, but where? To Mitch? Hardly.

“The hell you weren’t trying to cause trouble,” Sierra growled at Lena. Their voices seemed to be coming from a long way away, muffled by the buzzing in Belle’s head. “You’re intimating that Belle’s father bought her a groom. Like she or Mitch would be that desperate.”

“Desperate? No. But when you put it that way, the wedding does sound a little fishy, doesn’t it?” Lena gave them a wounded look, then headed for the door. Once there, she glanced over her shoulder. “Of course, I’m sure Belle knows Mitch loves her more than any silly promotion. I mean, who gets married without hearing vows of love? And Mitch never lies, not even for a business deal.”

Sierra’s cuss words hit Lena’s retreating back. The brunette stormed to the door.

“Sierra,” was all Belle said.

“I’m taking her down. That bitch isn’t getting away with ruining your day.”

For just one second, Belle let herself imagine Sierra jumping Lena and pummeling the smirk off her face. For the first time in her life, she considered diving in to help instead of yelling encouragement from the sidelines. Unlike her friend, Belle hated arguments.

Before she could decide whether or not to encourage Sierra to chase the woman’s passive-aggressive ass down, Belle’s father strode through the door. Handsome as ever in his tux, he winked at Sierra, then gave his only child a doting smile.

“You’re a beautiful bride, sweetheart. Mitch is a lucky man.”

Lucky? Really. It sounded like Mitch and her dad were the lucky ones. After all, they’d made the deal between them. She felt like the booby prize. She sucked in a shuddering breath, trying to calm the nausea rolling through her system. It would be so easy to just go through with this. She wasn’t stupid. She’d known Mitch didn’t love her. She wasn’t sure she loved him, although she’d been willing to convince herself she did. But, like this stupid school-girl wedding dress, she’d been trying to give him whatever he wanted. And he couldn’t even give her the truth?

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 well-connected. But when the chips were down, she couldn’t be counted on.

“She’s a flake,” he finally said.

“She’s the best.” Diana held up a sheaf of papers, all recommending Eventfully Yours. “Everything I’ve heard, all the research I did says that Belle Forsham is the It Girl of events. She’s the hottest thing on the west coast.”

Ambition fought with ego. The good of his company versus the biggest humiliation of his past. His need to see Belle again, to see if she was still that intriguing combination of sexy and sweet, battled with his desire to keep the door to that part of his history nailed shut.

Mitch looked over the resort grounds again, the gentle beauty of the sun-gilded lake beckoning him. Reminding him to do his best. A lot was riding on this deal. He’d sunk all his available resources into making this resort the most luxurious, the most welcoming. None of that would matter without guests with big enough wallets to indulge themselves.

He’d screwed himself into a corner once because of Belle Forsham. Or because of his desire to screw her, to be exact. He’d never wanted a woman the way he’d wanted Belle. But she’d been his boss’s only child and off-limits. His old-fashioned upbringing and his worry that he’d be disrespecting Franklin if he had wild monkey sex with the guy’s daughter had inspired him to the dumbest proposal of his life. Well, that and his idiotic belief that he’d fallen in love with her.

He’d handled it all wrong. He could see that now, but that didn’t change the fact that she’d dumped him at the altar, and because of her he’d lost both his job and the respect of his mentor. Which bothered him almost as much as never having the wild Belle-against-the-wall sex he’d wanted so badly.