Conquering King's Heart / Montana Mistress

But not her.

At least, not again.

Everyone made mistakes, but only an idiot made the same mistake repeatedly.

Inhaling sharply, Bella told him, “Look, there’s no point in arguing anymore. You’ve already won and I have a business to run. So if you’re not here to tell me you’re evicting me, I really have to get back to work.”

“Evicting you? Why would I do that?”

“You own the building and I’ve done nothing but try to get rid of you for months.”

“Yeah,” he said, “but as you pointed out already, I’ve won that battle. What would be the point of evicting you?”

“Then why are you here?”

“To let you know about the coming rehab.”

“Fine,” Bella said. “Now I know. Thanks a bunch. Goodbye.”

He grinned again and Bella’s stomach pitched wildly.

“You know,” Jesse said, “when a woman doesn’t like me, I’ve just got to find out why.”

“I’ve already told you why.”

“There’s more to it than that,” he said, his gaze fixed on her. “Trust me when I say I will figure it out.”

Chapter Two

Jesse couldn’t figure out why he was still thinking about Bella. Why the scent of her still clung to him. Why one badly dressed woman with magic eyes was haunting him hours later. Clearly, he told himself, he’d been working too hard.

“According to research, women’s beachwear outsells comparable styles for men two to one,” Dave said.

Jesse’s train of thought cut off as he leaned back in his desk chair. The fact that he actually had a desk chair hardly bothered him anymore.

“Dave,” Jesse said, as patiently as he could, “I’ve told you already. I don’t have any interest in catering to women—in the stores at least,” he added with a smile.

“You’re missing out on a gold mine, Mr. King,” the short, balding man said hurriedly. “And if you’ll just give me one more moment of your time, I could show you what I mean.”

Dave Michaels was the head buyer for King Beach and was constantly trying to push Jesse into expansion. But Jesse had a firm policy. He only sold products he knew and used personally. Products he believed in. Growing up as a King, he’d learned early on that success meant loving what you did. Knowing your business better than anyone else.

But he realized that Dave wouldn’t give up until he’d had his chance to make a pitch.

“Fine, let’s hear it.” Jesse stood up, though, hating the feeling of being trapped behind a desk. Even though his desk was a sleek combination of chrome and glass, it always called up memories of his dad behind a mahogany desk the size of an aircraft carrier, waving at his sons, telling them to go and play, that he was too busy to join them.

Irritated at the memory, he turned his back on Dave to wander the perimeter of his office. Absently, he noticed the shelves filled with the trophies he’d won over the years. On the dark blue walls, there were framed photos of him in competitions, seascapes of some of his favorite beaches and assorted shots of his family. His lucky surfboard was propped up in one corner and the windows behind his desk offered a view of Main Street and the ocean beyond.

As if he needed that connection with the ocean he loved, Jesse moved to the windows and fixed his gaze on the water. Sunlight glinted off the surface of the sea and seemed to spotlight the lucky bastards waiting for the next ride atop their boards. That’s where he should be, he thought wryly. How had he come to this, he wondered, not for the first time. How had he ended up exactly in his father’s place?

His brothers were probably laughing their asses off just thinking about it.

“There’s a store here in town with the kind of products we should be carrying,” Dave was saying.

Jesse hardly heard the man. He was willing to do the job that he’d created for himself, but that didn’t mean it would ever be his life’s blood. Unlike the rest of his family, Jesse considered himself the anti-King, he thought with a half smile. He liked the money, liked the way he lived his life, liked the perks that being successful gave him. So he did the job, but it wasn’t who he was. The job was simply that.

Work.

He did what he had to do so that he could do what he wanted to do. Enjoy life. Surf. Date gorgeous women. He wasn’t going to end up like his dad—a man who’d devoted everything to the King family dynasty and never really lived.

“If you’ll only look at these photos, I’m sure you’ll see that her products would be a perfect fit to King Beach’s apparel line.”

“Her products?”

“I know, I know,” Dave countered quickly, holding up one hand to forestall Jesse’s objections. “You don’t want to add women’s sportswear to the line, but if you’ll just look…”

Jesse laughed shortly. “You just don’t give up, do you Dave?”

“Not when I’m right.”

“You should have been born a King,” Jesse told him and reluctantly took the photos Dave was holding out to him. The sooner he finished work, the sooner he was out there in the sunlight.

“What am I looking at here?” Jesse asked, flipping through the stack of color photos. Bikinis. Sarongs. Beach cover-ups. All pretty, he supposed, but he didn’t understand Dave’s excitement. Nice enough swimsuits, Jesse thought, though he preferred his bikinis wrapped around gorgeous blondes.

“These suits,” Dave said, “are growing in popularity. They’re custom-designed, handcrafted with all ‘green’ fabrics, and the women who buy them swear there’s nothing else like them.”

Jesse suddenly had a bad feeling.

“There was a write-up in the Sunday magazine section of the newspaper last month and from the reports I’m getting, her sales are going through the roof.”

Oh, yeah. That bad feeling kept getting…worse.

Jesse studied the photos more carefully. Some of them looked familiar. As in, he’d seen one of them just yesterday, tacked up to a wall in a crumbling shop on Main Street. “Bella’s Beachwear?”

“Yes!” Dave grinned, pointed at one of the photos and said, “That one?” A cherry-red bikini. “My wife bought that one last week. Said it’s the most flattering, comfortable suit she’s ever owned and she wondered why we didn’t offer something like it.”

“It’s nice that your wife’s happy with her purchase,” Jesse started.

“It’s not just my wife, Mr. King,” Dave interrupted, his eyes shining with enthusiasm. “Since we moved the business to Morgan Beach, all we’ve heard about is Bella’s. She’s got women coming in from all over the state to buy her suits.”

Dave kept talking. “One of our guys in accounting did a projection. If we added her line to ours, the sky would literally be the limit on how well she’d do. That’s not even saying how her line would influence King Beach sales.”

Jesse shook his head. Though he was King enough to appreciate the thought of higher profit margins and headier success, he had his own plan for his business and when he branded women’s wear, he would do it his way.

Dave told him flatly, “She’s carved out a slice of the consumer pie that no one had really touched on before. We’ve checked into her and she’s had other offers from major sportswear companies to buy her out, but she’s turned them all down.”

Intrigued in spite of himself, Jesse leaned back against the edge of his desk, folded his arms over his chest and said simply, “Explain.”

Warming to his theme, Dave did. “Most swimsuits in this country and, hell, everywhere else, are designed and created for the so-called ‘ideal’ woman. A skinny one.”

Jesse smiled. Skinny women in bikinis. What’s not to smile about? Although he usually preferred a little more meat on his women.

As if he could read Jesse’s mind, Dave said, “The majority of American women don’t meet that standard. And thank God for it. Most women are curvy. They eat more than a lettuce leaf. And thanks to most designers, their needs are overlooked.”

“You know, Dave, I like curves on a woman as much as the next guy,” Jesse told him, “but not all women should wear a bikini. If Bella wants to sell to women who probably shouldn’t be wearing suits anyway, let her do it. It’s not for us.”

Dave grimaced, then reached into his pocket for another photo. “I thought that would be your reaction,” he said tightly. “So I came prepared. Look at this.”

Jesse took the photo and his eyebrows lifted. “This is your wife.”

“Yeah,” Dave said, grinning now. “Normally Connie bans all cameras when we go swimming. Since she bought this suit, I couldn’t get her to stop posing.”

Jesse could understand why. Connie Michaels had given birth to three children over the last six years. She wasn’t skinny, but she wasn’t fat, either. And in the swimsuit she had purchased from Bella, she looked…great.

“She’s really beautiful,” Jesse mused.

Instantly, Dave plucked the photo from his hand. “Yeah, I think so. But my point is, if Bella’s suits look this good on a normal-size woman, they’d look great on the skinny ones, too. I’m telling you, Mr. King, this is something you should think about.”

“Fine. I’ll think about it,” Jesse told him, more to get Dave to drop the subject than anything else.

“Her sales are building steadily and I think she’d be a great asset to King Beach.”

“Asset.” Jesse murmured the word, remembering the look on Bella’s face that morning during their “conversation.” Oh, yeah. She’d already turned down offers from other companies. He could just see how pleased she’d be with his offer to buy out her business. Hell, she’d probably run him down with her car.

Not that it was going to be an issue because, “We don’t sell women’s wear yet.”

Dave took a breath and said, “Word is Pipeline is looking to court Bella’s Beachwear.”

“Pipeline?” Jesse’s major competitor, NickAcona, ran Pipeline clothing and the fact that neither of them surfed anymore didn’t get rid of the rivalry. If Nick was interested in Bella—that was almost enough to get Jesse involved.

“He says the way to increased sales is through women,” Dave told him.

Jesse gave his assistant a hard look. He knew exactly what Dave was up to. And it was working. “I’ll consider it.”

“But—”

“Dave,” he asked, “do you like your job?”

Dave grinned. He’d heard that threat before and didn’t put much stock in it. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Let’s keep it that way.”

“Right.” The man gathered up his notes, his research and the photos and headed for the door. “You did say you’d think about it, though.”

“And I will.” The truth was he knew he should expand into women’s beachwear. He just hadn’t found any he’d believed in enough to stock. Until now. The challenge would be in convincing Bella to come on board—before Pipeline got their hooks in her.

When Dave was gone, a spot of color caught his eye and Jesse bent down to pick up off the floor a photo Dave had left behind. A sea-green bikini with narrow straps on the halter top and silver rings at the hips, holding the bottom together.

Jesse caught himself trying to imagine Bella wearing that suit. He couldn’t quite bring it off, though, and that was irritating, too. She wore those big, blousy tops and shapeless skirts, deliberately hiding her figure. Was it a studied plan to drive a man nuts?

Smiling to himself, Jesse tossed the photo onto his desk, turned around and looked down Main Street to Bella’s place. He couldn’t seem to get her out of his head. He kept remembering the battle-ready glint in her eye. Even if she dressed like a disaster refugee, there was something about her that…

Nope, forget it. He wasn’t interested in Bella Cruz.

But there was a certain woman in Morgan Beach he was looking for. His mystery woman.

Narrowing his gaze on the sea, Jesse thought back to one night three years ago. He didn’t remember much about that night or her…He’d won a huge competition that day and he’d been doing a lot of celebrating before he ran into her. Then there was more celebrating and finally, there was sex on the beach. Amazing, completely staggering, sex.

She’d been at the edges of his mind ever since. He couldn’t recall her face, but he knew the sizzle of her touch. He couldn’t remember the sound of her voice, but he knew the taste of her.

Oh, it was more than the waves that had brought him to Morgan Beach. His mystery woman was here. Somewhere. At least, he hoped so. She could have been in town for the competition, he supposed, but he liked to think that she lived here. That sooner or later, he’d run across her again.

And this time, when he got his hands on her, he wouldn’t let her go.

His phone rang, thankfully silencing his thoughts. Automatically, he turned to snatch it up. “King.”

“Jesse, it’s Tom Harold. Just checking with you on the photo shoot scheduled for tomorrow.”

“Right.” More photos. But this was for a national campaign advertising King Beach and its end-ofsummer sale. He might not have wanted to become a businessman, but now that he was, the King blood in his veins refused to let him be anything but a success.

“Yeah, we’re set, Tom.” He turned back to the window and stared out at the ocean. “The models will arrive first thing in the morning, and you can do the shoot on the beach. The mayor’s cleared it for us to rope a section off.”

“Perfect. I’ll be there.”

Jesse hung up, sat down at his desk and shoved thoughts of Bella out of his mind. There was plenty of paperwork—the one sure way to keep his thoughts too busy to wander.

“For Pete’s sake, Bella,” Kevin Walters told her over dinner that night, “stop antagonizing the man. Do you want him to end your lease?”

Kevin, with his dark red hair, tanned skin and blue eyes was Bella’s best friend. They’d known each other for five years, ever since Bella had moved to Morgan Beach and rented her house from him. She could talk to him as she would any girlfriend and he was usually willing to give her the guy’s point of view when she needed it. Tonight, however, she’d really rather he saw things from her perspective.

“No, I don’t,” she said quickly. She still had two months left on her lease and if Jesse King tossed her out, she’d have to sell suits out of her rental house; she didn’t think Kevin would be thrilled with that solution. Which was just one more reason to be mad at Jesse King.

“You know, another couple of years in my location and I could have bought my house from you—”

He held up one hand. “I’ve offered to make you a deal.”

“I don’t need special deals, Kevin. You know I want to do this myself.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Reaching across the table to give his hand a pat, Bella said, “I really do appreciate that you want to help me buy the place, Kevin. It’s just that it wouldn’t really be mine if I didn’t do it all myself.”

“Right. Like that shirt you’re wearing?” He pointed to the heavily appliquéd, long-sleeved yellow muslin shirt that she wore with her best black skirt. “That’s yours, right? So what? You did the weaving yourself? Stitched it all together and did the little flowers around the collar?”

“No…”

“So houses and shirts are different?”

“Well, yeah.”

He shook his head and sighed. “Fine. Good. You want to buy the house and if you make King mad enough, he’ll end your lease and then no house. So why continue to piss him off?”

Bella used her fork to poke at her vegetarian lasagna, then gave it up and dropped the fork to her plate with a clatter. Folding her arms atop the table, she looked at Kevin. “Because he doesn’t even remember me. It’s infuriating. Humiliating.”

She’d confessed all one night during a monster movie marathon. And Kevin had immediately told her that she should have reminded Jesse of who she was when she’d run into him the following day. Of course he had. He was a guy.

Kevin shrugged and took a bite of his zucchini and potato casserole. “So tell him.”

“Tell him?” Bella just stared at him. “You know, maybe I’d have been better off with a girl for a best friend. I wouldn’t have to explain to another woman why telling Jesse that we’d slept together was a bad idea. She would know that instinctively.”

Grinning, Kevin said, “Yes, but a girl best friend wouldn’t come next door at ten at night to unclog your shower drain.”

“Good point,” Bella said. “But you’ve got a blind spot when it comes to Jesse.”

“God, women always make everything harder than it has to be,” Kevin muttered with a shake of his head. “This is why the battle of the sexes exists, you know. Because you guys are always on the battlefield ready for war and we’re standing around on the sidelines saying, ‘What’s she mad about?’”

Bella laughed at the irritation in his gaze, which didn’t appease him much.

“Let me guess,” Kevin said with a tired sigh. “This is one of those If-he-doesn’t-know-why-I’m-mad-I’m-sure-not-going-to-tell-him things, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. And it’s not a ‘thing’, it just is. He should know,” Bella snapped and reached for her wineglass. “For Pete’s sake, are there so many women in his wake that we’re all just blurs to him?”

“Bella, honey,” Kevin said, leaning back in the red leather booth, “you know I love you. But that is so female it has nothing to do with the world of man.”

He was right and she knew it. Men and women came at the whole sex thing from completely different mindsets. Even though she’d had too many margaritas that night, Bella had made a conscious decision to sleep with Jesse. And it hadn’t been because he was rich or famous or gorgeous.

But because they’d really talked to each other. She’d felt a connection to him that she’d never felt before to anyone. That was the only reason she’d done what she did. Jesse, though, she realized by the next day, had only had sex with her because she was there. Willing. There’d been no meaning in it for him at all.

“If you wanted more from him than one night, you should have said something the next day,” Kevin told her. “Made him remember. But no. Instead, you went all female on him and left him in the dark.”

“I didn’t put him in the dark,” Bella reminded him.

For at least the tenth time, Bella went back over her conversation with Jesse King that morning three years ago. He’d looked right at her. Given her all his most practiced moves and never once remembered that they’d had sex! The man had had so many women, she’d been lost in the crowd from the moment she gave herself to him.

“Look, I know you don’t like the guy, but he’s here now and he’s not going away,” Kevin pointed out around another bite of his dinner. “He’s moved the corporate offices here, he’s opened his flagship store in town. Jesse King is here to stay, like it or not, and no protest is going to change that.”

“I know,” she grumbled.

“So if you’re going to live in the same town with him, tell him what’s bugging you. Otherwise, you’re gonna drive yourself insane.”

“You know,” Bella told him, “I wasn’t really looking for logic, here. I just wanted to enjoy my rant.”

“Ah. Okay then, rant away. I’m listening.”

“Sure, but you’re not agreeing,” she said, smiling.

“Nope, I’m not.” Kevin shrugged. “I’m sorry you hate him and everything, but he seems like a nice enough guy to me.”

“That’s only because he bought that gold-andemerald necklace from you.” Kevin’s store stocked work by local artists and jewelry designers, so he was always happy when he made a big sale.

He smiled and sighed. “Yeah, gotta say, a guy who spends a few thousand on a custom-made necklace without batting an eye? My kind of customer.”

“Fine, fine. You’re happy. The town’s happy. Jesse’s happy.” She shoved her lasagna around on the plate. “I wrote a letter to the editor of the local paper.”

“Uh-oh,” Kevin muttered. “What kind of letter?”

She winced, regretting now what she’d done, but it was way too late to call it back. “Something about the corporations of America ruining small-town life.”

He laughed. “Bella…”

“They probably won’t even run it.”

“Of course they will,” he said. “Then you can expect another visit from Jesse King.” Kevin paused, tipped his head to one side and looked at her. “Or is that what this is all about? You actually want him coming around, don’t you?”

“No, I don’t,” she argued, wishing Kevin were just a little less observant. Could she help it if every time Jesse King walked through her door she felt a zing of something amazing? It wasn’t her fault that her hormones reacted when he was in the room. Heck, every female in America suffered from the same symptoms when it came to Jesse King.

And the very fact that he affected her so much was exactly why she was so bent on making him miserable. She probably should stop antagonizing him, as Kevin said, but she just couldn’t bring herself to.

Bella had fought Jesse’s takeover of Morgan Beach with everything she had. And still, she’d lost. He’d moved in, bought up property and immediately started ruining the only place she’d ever called home.

An only child, Bella had lost her parents at seven, gone into a series of nice, if impersonal foster homes and when she turned eighteen, she was out on her own. She didn’t mind it so much, though the pangs for family never quite left her.

She’d put herself through college by making clothes for the girls who didn’t have to worry about saving every cent. She’d sewn and knitted and crocheted her way to an education. Then she’d taken her first vacation ever, stumbled across Morgan Beach and never left.

She’d been here five years and she loved it. The tiny coastal town was everything she’d always dreamed of in a hometown. Small, friendly and close enough to big retail she could always indulge in a fun shopping trip when she felt the need. Even better, the close-knit feeling of the community fed that lack of family she’d always felt. People here cared about each other.

Now, with Jesse here, her beloved small town felt almost claustrophobic.

“Sell it to somebody else, Bella,” Kevin said laughing. “Every time you say the guy’s name, your eyes go all soft and shiny.”

“They do not.” Did they? Well, that was embarrassing as all get-out.

“Oh, yeah, they do, and I’ll prove it. Look out the window.”

She turned her head to glance out the window onto Main Street and was just in time to see Jesse King walking by. His dark blond, sun-streaked hair was too long. His blue jeans were faded and molded to his long legs and the white long-sleeved shirt he wore only accentuated his tan.

She sighed.

“Gotcha,” Kevin said.

“You’re so evil,” Bella told him, but couldn’t tear her gaze away from the man who was still occupying far too much of her thoughts.

Chapter Three

By the next morning, Bella had convinced herself that Kevin was right. She’d just have to suck it up and talk to Jesse. Tell him just what she thought of a man who could make love to a woman one night and forget her existence the following morning. She’d get everything off her chest and then she’d be fine.

She’d be over him.

Bella paused in front of her shop for a moment, and smiled to herself. Even Jesse King couldn’t quash the thrill she experienced every time she walked into the world she’d built with her own talent.

But even as she enjoyed the sight of her place, once Jesse’s “rehab” was finished, it would lose all its character. The creak in the front door would be “fixed.” The pockmarked walls would be smoothed. The floor would be carpeted, all the gleaming floorboards covered up. Bella’s Beachwear would survive, but it wouldn’t be the same. The man had no more vision when it came to business than he had when it came to women.

It was all about the bottom line to men like Jesse.

A crowd was gathering across the street on the beach and she turned her head to look. As a few dozen people milled around, Bella caught glimpses of what was going on. She noticed the RVs parked on the sand, a bank of cameras, huge lights and electric fans. And in the middle of it all, Jesse King.