He’d watched his three older brothers slide into the family business concerns as if they’d been molded for the task. Even Justice, on his ranch, was a businessman first and foremost. But Jesse had broken away. Become a professional surfer and damn if he hadn’t loved the life. While his brothers and cousins were wearing suits and running meetings, he was traveling the world, looking for the perfect ride. He did things his way. Lived his life the way he wanted to. He didn’t answer to anyone.
Until his favorite surfboard maker went out of business a few years ago. Jesse had bought up the company because he wanted access to the boards he favored. He’d done the same thing when he’d found the perfect wet suit. And the ideal swim trunks. Pretty soon, he’d actually done what he’d always insisted he wouldn’t. Become a businessman. Not just a drone, either—the head of King Beach, a giant, diversified company that centered around life on the beach. Ironic that the thing he loved had eventually turned him into what he’d never wanted to be.
“Look,” he said quietly, shaking away thoughts that were too troubling to focus on. “We don’t have to be enemies.”
“Oh, yes, we do.”
Damn, she was stubborn. For ten years, he’d been at the top of his sport. He’d won hundreds of competitions, been featured in magazine ads, partied with the most glamorous celebrities and last year had even been named California’s Sexiest Bachelor. He had money, charm and all the women he could possibly want. So why was he torturing himself by standing here listening to Bella Cruz harp at him?
Because she intrigued him. Whether it was her obvious enmity for him, or her sheer hardheadedness, he wasn’t sure. But there was something about Bella that got to him. Felt somehow…familiar.
Jesse pulled in a deep breath, leaned both hands on the counter and looked at her. “It’s just some walls and windows, Ms. Cruz—or can I call you Bella?”
“No, you cannot, and it’s not just walls and windows.” She held out her arms as if physically trying to hug the ratty old building. “This place has a history. The whole town did. Until you showed up, that is.”
She gave him a look that was heat and ice both at the same time. Impressive. She was practically vibrating with banked rage. He’d always found a way around a woman’s temper. Until now.
For months, he’d been trying to worm his way into her good graces. It would have made life easier if she’d agreed to an easy working relationship. She had friends in Morgan Beach. She was successful—in her own, cottage-industry kind of way. And dammit, women liked Jesse King.
“The town’s history is still here,” Jesse told her, “along with buildings that won’t collapse at the first sign of a stiff breeze.”
“Yeah,” she muttered, “you’re a real humanitarian.”
He laughed. “I’m just trying to run a business,” he said and nearly winced at the words. When had he become his brothers? His father?
“No, you’re trying to run my business.”
“Trust me when I say I have zero interest in your company.” Jesse glanced behind her to where one of her custom-designed swimsuits was tacked to the wall.
Jesse’s company catered to men. He knew what a guy was looking for in a wet suit, bathing suit or whatever. He had no idea what women were looking for and wouldn’t expand until he knew. Though his stockholders and managers were after him to expand to women’s gear, Jesse was standing firm against them. He had no idea what to stock for women, yet; he’d rather focus on what he did best. Bella Cruz could have the female share of the market.
“Then why are you here?” she asked, and he heard the toe of her shoe tapping against the floor. “My rent’s not due for another three weeks.”
“So warm. So welcoming,” he said, giving Bella another smile. It bounced off her like bullets off a tank. Woman was determined to hate him. Jesse shoved his hands into the pockets of his khaki slacks and walked off to study the racks.
“I’m very welcoming. To customers,” she said.
“Yeah, the store’s so packed I can hardly walk.”
She huffed out a breath. “Summer’s over. Sales slow down a little.”
“Funny, everyone else says business is great.”
“Worried about your rent?” she asked.
“Should I be?”
“No,” Bella said quickly. “I have a small, but loyal clientele.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You’re impossible,” he thought he heard her mutter. Jesse smiled to himself. Good to know he was getting to her as thoroughly as she was getting to him.
Beyond the plate-glass window, Morgan Beach was going about its day. It was late morning and the surfers were packing it in for the day. He knew all too well that the best rides were just after dawn, before the water was crowded with kids and moms and wannabes with their little belly boards.
People were wandering the tidy sidewalks, sitting at sidewalk cafés and, in general, enjoying the day. While he was standing in a women’s-wear shop talking to a female who practically hissed when she saw him. Jesse stifled a sigh of impatience.
He shifted his gaze to the interior of Bella’s place. Pale, cream-colored walls were dotted with handmade swimsuits tacked up beside framed posters of some of the best beaches in the world. And Jesse should know. He’d surfed most of those beaches. For ten years, he’d hardly been out of the water. He’d snatched up trophies, endorsement deals, nice fat checks and plenty of attention from the surf bunnies who followed the circuit.
Sometimes he really missed that life. Like now, for instance.
“So, since I’m your landlord, why don’t we play nice?”
“You’re only my landlord because Robert Towner’s kids sold you the building after he died. He promised me that they wouldn’t, you know,” she said, regret tingeing her voice. “He promised that I could stay here another five years.”
“But that wasn’t in his will,” Jesse reminded her as he turned around to meet her hard gaze. “His kids decided to sell. Hardly my fault.”
“Of course it was your fault—you offered them a small fortune for the building!”
He smiled. “Good business.”
Bella smothered a sigh. What good would it do? Facts were facts and the fact was, Jesse King was now the owner of her building, despite Robert’s promises.
Robert Towner had been a sweet old man, a surrogate grandfather to Bella. They’d had coffee every morning, dinner at least once a week. She’d seen him far more often than his own children had and she’d hoped to actually buy the building from him one day. Unfortunately, Robert had died in a car accident nearly a year ago. Despite his assurances, he hadn’t made any provisions for Bella in his will.