And he couldn’t help feeling guilty about it all. He’d won. This was what he’d set out to do. To seduce her and persuade her to join his company. Everything had gone according to his original plan. He’d submarined her. Coaxed her into sharing the most important thing in her life.
The only trouble was, while he was seducing her, he was the one who’d been falling.
He’d stumbled into a snare that only tightened when he tried to escape. But then, he told himself, maybe that was because he didn’t really want to get free.
He groaned and shoved one hand through his hair. His life had been a lot less complicated before he’d come to Morgan Beach.
There were two customers in her store, a new order just arriving from the seamstresses and a tidy profit sitting in the bank, thanks to the sales made on the day of the surfing exhibition.
So why wasn’t Bella happier?
She frowned as she fitted the new swimwear onto hangers and sorted them by size and style. She knew the answer to that question. Because she hadn’t seen Jesse since she’d agreed to join King Beach.
Oh, she’d talked to him on the phone several times. He was busy. Had meetings. Decisions had to be made. Papers drawn up. He said all the right things, and when she was talking to him it all made perfect sense. It was later, when she was alone, that the niggling doubts crept into her mind to torture her.
She missed Jesse, too. Missed his smile. His laugh. The feel of his arms sliding around her. The whisper of his breath against her neck.
But if he was feeling the same things, why was he staying away from her?
Bella shook her head, tried to dismiss her thoughts and smiled at a woman browsing through the racks. She went back to her work, all the time her mind whirling with possibilities, each worse than the one before.
He’d gotten what he wanted, now he didn’t need to see her anymore. She shook her head, not liking the sound of that at all.
Romancing her had simply been part of the plan, to wear down her defenses and get hold of her company. That one she liked even less. He couldn’t have been pretending, could he? Was anyone that good an actor?
He was feeling guilty for stealing her company under false pretenses, so he couldn’t bring himself to face her. Hmph. She didn’t think so. Jesse King didn’t do guilt.
“So what’s going on?” she muttered, her stomach twisting itself into knots.
And why was she standing around wringing her hands about it? For heaven’s sake, all she had to do was go to him and tell him she wanted to know what was going on. They were partners now, weren’t they? In business and in life. If she had questions, then she’d take them straight to Jesse. This might have nothing to do with her, after all. It might be a family problem. Something she could help him with.
Nodding to herself, Bella decided that as soon as these customers left the shop, she’d go to the King Beach office and make Jesse talk to her.
The front door opened, the bell above it jangling, and Bella looked up. A man in a three-piece suit approached the counter. “Bella Cruz?”
“Yes,” she said, giving him her best, I’m-the-owner-welcome-to-my-store-smile. “How can I help you?”
He nodded, tucked one hand into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and withdrew an envelope. “I was instructed to deliver this.” He handed it over. “Have a nice day.”
Then he turned and left. Before the bell had stopped jangling again, Bella had the envelope open and was pulling the folded, single sheet of paper from inside. She read it. Then read it again.
Her insides iced over and a cold, hard knot of pain settled in the pit of her stomach. The letters on the paper blurred as tears swam in her eyes. Determinedly though, she blinked them back. She wasn’t going to cry. She was going to scream. Fury erupted, clawing at her throat, nearly choking her.
This couldn’t be right, she thought, her gaze locked on a few, select words. Had to be a mistake. But then, a quiet, logical voice in her mind whispered, it explains a lot, doesn’t it? Why Jesse’d been avoiding her, for example. And as her thoughts raced, the sense of betrayal blossomed inside her until she thought she would explode.
She’d wondered what was going on.
Now she knew.
But she couldn’t do a thing about it until her customers were gone. With that thought in mind, she plastered on a helpful smile, tucked the paper into the pocket of her skirt and went to work. The sooner she helped these women find what they’d come for, the sooner she could face Jesse King.
If he thought she’d simply disappear, he was sadly mistaken.
He was about to find out exactly what Bella thought of him.
Ten
A knock on his office door had Jesse frowning an hour later. Before he could shout, come in, the door opened and Dave Michaels stuck his head inside. He looked worried. Never a good sign.
“Boss, there’s a problem.”
“What? What problem?”
“Oh,” Bella said, pushing past Dave to stomp into the office, “there’s more than just a problem.”
Dave’s expression went from concerned to panicked. Jesse hardly noticed though, because his attention was focused on the absolutely infuriated woman standing in front of his desk. Bella’s eyes were flashing like danger signals and her mouth was flattened into a grim slash. She was practically vibrating with rage.
“Thanks, Dave,” Jesse said, waving one hand to dismiss the man. “I’ll take it from here.”
Obviously grateful for the reprieve, Dave backed out and closed the door behind him.
Jesse stood up from his chair, walked around the desk and headed for Bella. Worry raced through him, but he squelched it. He’d fix whatever was wrong.
She backed up, shook her head at him and held out one hand to stave him off. “Don’t you even come near me, you bastard.”
Surprised, he stared at her. “Now just a minute…”
“It was all a game, wasn’t it?” she said, her voice cold, tight, pitched low enough that he had to strain to hear her. She wasn’t shouting or shrieking. Trust Bella to be different from every other woman he’d ever known. The few times he’d faced down a furious woman, they’d railed and screamed at him, and one had even tossed a vase at him.
Not Bella, though.
And the icy cold had him more worried than heat would have.
“What are you talking about?” He took a step toward her, but she shoved her hand out again as if trying to use telekinesis or something to hold him back.
“This,” she snapped, reaching into a pocket of her skirt, “I’m talking about this.” She dragged out a sheet of paper, crumpled it in one fist and then threw it at him.