“Hey, now,” he argued, grabbing her finger and closing his fist around it. Warmth shot through him with the first contact of her skin against his, shattering his thoughts, obliterating whatever it was he’d been about to say.
He remembered feeling like this once before with the touch of a woman’s skin. Remembered the slide of her skin against his, the heat of their joining, the taste of her mouth, the tight fit of his body locked inside hers. And just for a second, Jesse stared at her, refusing to believe that Bella Cruz might be his mystery woman.
“What are you doing?” she asked, trying to tug her hand free of his grasp. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“No way,” he murmured, more to himself than to her. It couldn’t be. Not her. Not the woman who had been a thorn in his side from day one.
“What?” This time she succeeded in pulling free of him and then she took a hasty step or two backward just for good measure. “Look, um, I’ve got to get to my shop. I’ve spent too much time here already and—”
“Just a minute,” he said, moving toward her, letting the RV door swing closed behind him. Inside, the trailer was filled with shadows, sunlight drifting through louvered shades on the windows. The scent of coffee and perfume hung in the air and from outside came the shouts and laughter of the crowd gathered to watch the photo shoot.
Jesse paid no attention to any of it. All he could see was her. Her chocolate eyes watched him warily even as he told himself that the only sure way to know if Bella was actually his mystery woman was to kiss her. To taste her. And damn if she was leaving this trailer until he’d done just that.
“Mr. King,” she said, looking around as if for an exit that wasn’t barred by his tall, broad body, “Jesse, I really do need to get going now.”
“Yeah,” he said, moving closer still until her breath fanned against his chin as she looked up at him. “I know. But there’s just one more thing we have to do first.”
She licked her lips. “What’s that?”
He smiled and dipped his head. “This,” he whispered, then took her mouth with his.
She went stiff as a board for about a split second, then pliant, leaning into him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He pulled her in close, his hands at her waist, his fingertips nearly burning with the heat her skin engendered. Her lips parted under his and his tongue swept into her warmth and he knew.
That taste of her was something he would never forget. Something he’d been dreaming about for three years. He finally had her in his arms again. Finally could hold her, taste her, touch her and as realization flooded him, he broke the kiss abruptly, stared down into her glazed, dark brown eyes and said, “It’s you.”
She staggered a little. “What?”
“You. On the beach. Three years ago.”
She blinked up at him, rubbed her fingertips across her mouth and then drew in a long, shaky breath. “Congratulations,” she said at last. “You finally remembered.”
“You knew?” he demanded. “You remembered and didn’t say anything to me?”
“Why would I?” she asked, gathering up the clothes she’d dropped when he was kissing her. “You think I’m proud of that night?”
“You ought to be,” he told her sharply. “We were great together.”
“We were strangers. It was a huge mistake.”
She tried to get past him, but Jesse grabbed her upper arm and stopped her dead. “I looked for you. The next day, I went back to the beach and looked all over.”
“You thought I’d just be lying there on the sand, waiting for you?”
“That’s not what I meant, damn it. But where the hell were you?”
Bella pushed her hand through her hair and glared at him. “You didn’t look for me very hard. I went to see you the next morning and you blew right past me.”
Frowning, Jesse tried to remember that, but truthfully, he’d been celebrating so much that most of that night and the following morning was a blur. All he’d really known was the touch of her. The taste of her. “When you saw me, did you tell me who you were?”
“Of course not!” This time, she did push past him, dragging her arm from his grasp.
“Well, how the hell would I know who you were otherwise?” he asked.
“Oh!” She looked at him the way she would a splotch of mud on her shirt. “What kind of man can’t remember what the woman he’s had sex with looks like?”
“One with a hangover,” he told her. “As I recall, we both had a few margaritas that night.”
“Yes, but I still knew who you were,” she snapped, then took a long, deep breath and said, “You said you went looking for me. Just how did you plan to identify me?”
“I don’t know…” He scrubbed one hand across his jaw and over the back of his neck. “Dammit, Bella, you could have told me—if not the morning after, then any time since I came to town.” He tilted his head to one side and studied her. “Is this why you’ve been so mad at me?”
“Please,” she said with a sniff and a lift of her chin. “Could you think any more highly of yourself? This isn’t personal, Jesse,” she told him as she grabbed the doorknob and twisted it. “This is about you taking over my town. Don’t you get it? I hate you and everything you stand for.”
“You can’t hate me,” he told her, bracing one hand on the wall and leaning in toward her. “You don’t know me well enough to hate me.”
She laughed shortly, but her eyes didn’t shine with humor. “I got to ‘know’ you well enough three years ago.”
“Yeah,” he said softly, “well, I think it’s time we got to know each other all over again.”
“Never. Going. To. Happen,” she told him and opened the door.
“Never say never, Bella,” he called after her and when she slammed the door, Jesse grinned. Three years he’d been thinking about that woman. And he wasn’t going to rest until he got her back where he wanted her. In his bed.
Nothing a King liked better than a challenge.
“Get Dave Michaels in here,” Jesse told his assistant as he stalked toward his office.
He closed the door, walked directly to the window overlooking Main Street, Bella’s shop and the ocean. He told himself he wanted to stare at the sea for a few minutes, gather his thoughts, let the never-ending roll and slap of the waves ease his mind as it always did.