Buch lesen: «Coming on Strong»

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.