Midnight Special Coming on Strong - By Tawny Weber Page 0,82

I heard about this new place called Twisted Knickers. The designs supposedly take provocative to a whole new level.”

* * *

FOCUSED ON HIS CONVERSATION, Mitch strode past Diana’s desk with his cell phone glued to his ear. His assistant waved her hand, trying to get his attention, but he held up one finger, then pointed to his office door. He’d talk to her when he was done.

“I don’t want any more excuses,” Mitch ordered his foreman. “The electrical has to be finished by the first of the month.” This damned week had gone downhill fast. There’d been even more building delays, his designer had gone into labor two months early, and now electrical problems. To top it off, he’d talked to three event planners so far and none had come close to sparking his interest. He was wound so tight, he was ready to snap. “The plumbing is already three weeks behind. If we lose any more ground, we won’t open on schedule. If that happens, we’re screwed.”

He listened to his foreman’s justifications with half an ear as, still ignoring Diana’s increasingly frantic gestures, he opened his office door. As always, the view of the lush green woods through the window beckoned him. Maybe he’d go for a run, shake off some of the tension. He’d rather have a long, sweaty roll in the sheets, but he couldn’t afford the distraction. Not when everything was on the line.

One more step into his office and Mitch felt like he’d been hit in the face. Maybe it was sex on the brain, but even the air shifted, turning sultry and suggestive. He breathed in, his lungs filling with a musky floral scent.

Instant turn-on.

Seated as she was in the high-backed leather chair facing the window, all Mitch could see were long, sexy legs ending in strappy black do-me heels. He tried to swallow, but his mouth had gone dirt-dry. Those were wrap-around-the-shoulders-and-ride-’em-wild legs.

Damn. Talk about distraction.

Mitch flipped his phone closed, not sure if he’d said goodbye or even if his foreman was still talking. He stepped farther into the office, deliberately closing the door behind him. Two more steps into the room, and he could see around the high leather back of the chair.

Gorgeous. The impact was like getting kicked in the gut by a black belt on steroids. Swift, intense and indefensible. The first time he’d seen Belle, she’d been twenty-one. He’d thought then she couldn’t possibly be more confident in her own sexual power. He’d obviously been wrong, since she was now a master of it. Or was that mistress? And why did that make him crave studded black leather shorts?

Six years had added layers of polish, maturity and assurance to her already powerful sexual charisma. Mitch’s gaze reluctantly left those delicious legs to travel upward. He noted the flirty green skirt, the same shade as her eyes, ending a few inches above her knees. A wide leather belt accented her waist and emphasized her lush breasts in the gossamer-soft white blouse. Mitch let his eyes rest there for just a second, millions of regrets pounding in his head. He wished like hell that once, just once, he’d tasted their bounty.

He was sure if he had, he’d have easily kept her out of his mind. The only reason he’d never found another woman to replace her was that he’d blown the fantasy of sex between them all out of proportion.

He felt her amusement before he even looked at her face. Belle was used to being ogled, so he didn’t waste time on embarrassment. He wondered briefly at giving her that much power this early in the game, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. That there was a game afoot was implicit. The question wasn’t who would win, either. It was how much it would cost him to play.

She arched one platinum brow, amused challenge clear in her eyes and the dimple that played at the corner of her full lips. Her hair was shorter now, angled to emphasize her rounded cheekbones and the sharp line of her jaw.

“Well, well,” Mitch drawled, moving around to lean on his desk while he faced the biggest mistake of his life. “If it isn’t my long-lost bride.”

2

“LONG-LOST BRIDE-TO-BE, if you please,” Belle corrected precisely.

She had to work to keep her smile in place. As much as she’d have preferred to avoid reference to their past, she’d known Mitch, for all his gentlemanly reputation, wouldn’t sidestep the issue. She took a little breath before she