LITMIR.BIZ

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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.

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