Propositioned By The Tycoon: Mr Strictly Business / Bought: His Temporary Fiancée / A Win-Win Proposition

Chapter Eight

It had become almost a ritual, Catherine decided. The long elevator ride to the executive floor of Piretti’s office building, the brisk sweep across plush carpeting toward Roxanne’s desk, the brief feminine clash of gazes and then the welcome that waited for her on the other side of Gabe’s door.

Unlike the previous week, this time Roxanne stopped her, putting an unwelcome kink in the ritual. “Did she call you?” Her usual honeyed accent was missing, replaced by a tone both tight and abrupt.

Catherine paused. “If you mean Natalie, yes, she did.”

Coal-black eyes burned with resentment. “That ends it, then?”

“That’s entirely up to you.”

She didn’t wait for a reply but gave Gabe’s door a light tap and walked in. He stood in his usual position at the windows, talking on his headset, and she could tell he hadn’t heard her knock. She didn’t think she’d ever tire of seeing him like this, a man in his element, captain of all he surveyed.

A hint of melancholy swept over her. He deserved so much more than she could give him. It was wrong of her to take advantage of him. Wrong of her to allow him to believe, even for this brief span of time, that they could forge a future together.

Even knowing all that, she couldn’t seem to help herself. He’d asked her to try, and she intended to do precisely that, all the while knowing that she’d never have to reveal her secret because their relationship would never get that far. They’d hit a stumbling block long before it was time for true confessions.

The muscles across his back flexed the instant he became aware of her, and his head tilted as though he were scenting the air. He turned his head, his focus arrowing in her direction, and he smiled. Just that. Just a simple smile. And she melted.

What was it about him? Why Gabe and only Gabe? His personality was a big part of it, that forceful, take-charge persona that never saw obstacles, only challenges. But it wasn’t only that. His intelligence attracted her, those brilliant leaps of insight and the instant comprehension of facts and figures, people and events. And then there was that raw sex appeal, his ability to ignite her with a single touch. She closed her eyes. Or a single look. Just being this close to him left her drunk with desire, the need for more a craving she’d never quite overcome.

“I’ll get back to you tomorrow,” he murmured into his headset, before disengaging. “What is it, Catherine? What’s wrong?”

She forced herself to look at him and accept what couldn’t be changed. “Nothing’s wrong,” she replied calmly. “In fact, something’s very right.”

He lifted an eyebrow and pulled off the headset, tossing it aside. “Good news? I’m all for that. What happened?”

“I had a call from Natalie Marconi this morning. It seems she’s had a change of heart. She’s discussed the situation with a number of her friends and decided that Elegant Events did a marvelous job, after all, and that the series of catastrophes that occurred were neither our fault, nor could we have prevented them.”

Instead of appearing relieved, Gabe frowned. “That’s a rather dramatic turnaround, considering her attitude the day after her party. Do you know what prompted it, other than a bit of time and conversation?”

Catherine prowled across his office to the well-stocked wet bar adjacent to the sitting area. Gabe got there ahead of her and poured her a glass of merlot. “Thanks.” She took an appreciative sip. “From what I can gather, the suggestion has been made that someone deliberately caused the problems at her party in order to make Elegant Events appear incompetent.”

“Interesting. And why, according to Natalie and her cronies, would someone do that?”

“Natalie is of the opinion that it’s one of my competitors.” Her comment caused surprise to bloom across his face and his frown to deepen. “Apparently, she’d been warned prior to the party not to hire me, but chose not to listen to the advice. She thinks the incidents were retribution.”

He puzzled through that, his head bent, his fists planted on his hips, before shaking his head. “I don’t like this, Catherine. It doesn’t feel right to me. Just off the top of my head, I can think of a half dozen methods for undercutting someone in the business world that are far more effective than ruining a client’s party. There are way too many risks setting up the sort of problems you experienced. Too many chances of getting caught. Too many potential witnesses who could point the finger in your direction. It’s sloppy and nowhere near as effective as, say, undercutting your prices.” He shook his head again. “No. This sort of reprisal, assuming it is a reprisal and not a series of unfortunate accidents, feels personal, not business related.”

Unfortunately, he was right. It was personal. One more thing bothered her and bothered her a lot. She didn’t care for Roxanne blaming other event planners. They were innocent in all this, and if the gossip adversely impacted their business, she’d have to find a way to set the record straight. Worse, she’d have to assume a small portion of the blame, since she’d ordered Roxanne to correct the problem, without putting any conditions on how she went about it.

Gabe seemed to reach a decision. “Let it go for now, Catherine. If Natalie is willing to forgive and forget, and better yet, give you a glowing recommendation, it can only help.”

She stilled, eyeing him with open suspicion. “I know you, Gabe, and I know that expression. You’re planning something. What is it?”

“Not planning,” he denied. “But I do intend to poke around a bit. Kick over a few rocks and see if anything slithers out. If Natalie is right and someone is trying to destroy your business, I want to know about it. And if it’s personal, I damn well intend to get to the bottom of it.” A grimness settled over him and had her stiffening. Anyone who saw his expression at that moment wouldn’t question how or why he’d acquired his nickname. “And if I find out it’s deliberate, there will be hell to pay.”

Catherine considered that for a moment and decided it worked for her. She hadn’t asked for his help. She hadn’t so much as hinted in that direction. Nor had she anticipated him offering it. If Gabe chose to do some kicking and came across a certain snake wearing a smirk and a tight red dress, it wouldn’t hurt her feelings, nor would she feel terribly guilty about the resulting fallout.

“Fine. Let’s forget about all this for now and move on.” She checked her watch and nodded in satisfaction. Five on the dot. She set aside her wineglass. “Time to go,” she announced, crossing to his side.

She’d caught Gabe off guard and suppressed a smile at his confusion.

“Go?”

“Absolutely. Time to clock out or whatever it is you do when you power down the mighty Piretti conglomerate. We have plans.”

“Hell, I didn’t realize. Sorry about that.”

He reached for his PDA and she took it from his hand and tossed it aside. “You won’t find the appointment in there.”

That captured his attention. “What are you up to?” he asked, intrigued.

“It’s a surprise. Are you interested?” She started toward the door, throwing an enticing smile over her shoulder. “Or would you rather work?”

He beat her to the door. Opening it, he ushered her through and didn’t even glance Roxanne’s way. “Close down shop” was all he said as they headed for the elevators.

It proved to be a magical evening. They strolled along the Seattle waterfront, taking in the sights with all the excitement and pleasure of a pair of tourists. There’d been a number of changes since they’d last taken the opportunity to visit. New, intriguing shops, refurbished restaurants, a small plaza that hadn’t been there before.

Catherine couldn’t recall afterward what they talked about. Nothing life-altering. Just the sweet, romantic exchanges a man and a woman share while establishing a relationship. The swift, intimate touches. The eye contact that said so much more than mere words. The flavor of the air, combined with the texture of the season, mingling with the unique scent of the man at her side. She knew it was a bonding ritual, and that she had no business bonding with Gabe. But she couldn’t seem to help herself.

Eventually, they arrived at Milano’s on the Sound, Joe’s newest restaurant. He’d asked her to drop by some evening and see if it wouldn’t be an acceptable venue for one of her future events. They entered the restaurant, a trendy building at the far end of one of Seattle’s many piers, and Gabe lifted an eyebrow.

“Is this business or pleasure?” he asked in a neutral voice.

“Not really business,” she assured him. “I’ll comeback another time to check it out more thoroughly, but not tonight.” She caught his hand in hers. “Tonight’s for us.”

One of the aspects that she loved about Joe’s restaurants was that he designed them with lovers in mind. She had never quite figured out how he pulled it off, but through the clever use of spacing, angles and elegant furnishings, he managed to create little clandestine nooks that gave the diner the impression of utter privacy.

The maître d’ remembered her from the many events she’d scheduled at Milano’s downtown restaurant, and clearly recognized Gabe. He greeted them both by name and, with a minimum of fuss, escorted them to an exclusive section reserved for VIPs. A deep-cushioned V-shaped bench faced windows overlooking Puget Sound and allowed them to sit side by side. And yet, because it was angled, they were still able to face each other.

“I’m curious,” she said, once they were seated. “Would you have been angry if I’d chosen to eat here in order to check out the restaurant, as well as have a romantic dinner with you?”

“Not if you’d told me that was your intention.” He accepted the wine list from the sommelier and after a moment’s discussion, placed their order. Out on the Sound, a ferry plied the white capped chop, heading toward Bainbridge Island while the Olympics rose majestically against the horizon. “I think one of the problems I’m having is deciding how, when and where to separate business from pleasure.”

She conceded his point with a wry grin. “Don’t feel bad. So am I.”

He regarded her in all seriousness. “How am I supposed to handle it, Catherine? I’d like to tell you about my day. It’s a big part of who I am and what I enjoy doing. I want to share that aspect of myself with you. And I’d like to tell you about the progress I’ve made on your accounting records.” He watched the ferry as it headed out, and the bustle of a tug returning to port, before switching his attention to her. “But I’m hesitant in case I cross that line, especially since I haven’t quite figured out where you’ve drawn it.”

“I haven’t,” she insisted, turning to face him more fully. “I think that’s something we should discuss.”

“Fine. Are you willing to discuss it here and now?”

Good question. She’d planned this as a romantic evening rather than a business meeting. But with two high-powered careers, finding a balance was paramount. “Let’s discuss work over wine and then see if we can’t move on from there.”

He gave a brisk nod. “Agreed.”

She almost laughed at the mannerism. It was so Gabe Piretti, master negotiator. “Okay, here goes. Have you had a chance to look at my accounts?”

“I have.”

He seemed troubled, so she gave him a gentle bump. “Did you find something wrong? Dina is always so meticulous, I can’t believe she made a mistake.”

“No, everything looks in order. It’s just…” He hesitated. “You remember I told you that Natalie’s deduction about a competitor being responsible for your problems felt wrong?” At her nod, he continued. “Your books appear in order. But they feel wrong to me. Off, somehow.”

“Have you spoken to your mother about it?”

He shook his head. “Not yet. I need time to go through them a little more thoroughly first. I’ve been a bit distracted because of this upcoming buyout, so I haven’t been able to give it my full attention.” The wine arrived, was poured and tested, then accepted. “When’s your next event? I want to make sure I schedule it in my PDA.”

She played with the stem of her glass. “Two days. It’s a small one. Under normal circumstances I wouldn’t have taken the contract, but with all the problems I’ve been having, I didn’t dare turn them down.”

“Smart.”

“After that there’s a charity function later in the week. And Dina tells me that some of the people who called after the Marconi party wanting to cancel have changed their minds. It’s clear that word is getting out, though I suspect some of the turnaround is thanks to your mother’s way with people.” She shifted closer to Gabe. “You’re like that, too.”

He draped his arm around her, and she rested her head on his shoulder. “Dad wasn’t. He tended to be gruffer. No nonsense.”

She toyed with her wineglass. “I’ve seen that side of you, too, particularly when it comes to business.”

“It runs down the Piretti line.” A slow smile built across his face and a distant look crept into his gaze. “It’ll be interesting to see which of our sons and daughters carry on that tradition. Or maybe they’ll be more like you. More passionate. Determined to take on the world.”

“Oh, Gabe,” she whispered.

He stiffened. “Damn. Damn it to hell.” He gave a quick shake of his head. “I’m sorry, Catherine. That wasn’t deliberate, it just popped out. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Don’t. Don’t apologize.” She eased from his hold. “Don’t you see, Gabe? It’s part of who you are. Part of what you come from. You’re a Piretti. Your family has been in this part of the country since the first settler felled the first log. You told me yourself that Piretti’s was originally a sawmill.”

“Times change,” he said with a hint of imperiousness. “Now Piretti’s is what I say it is.”

“Your empire was built on a foundation of those who came before you,” she argued. “You may have changed the scope and context of your family’s business, but it’s still a family concern.”

“It’s my concern,” he corrected. “Where it goes from this point forward is wherever I choose to steer it.”

“And in another thirty years?” she pressed. “In another forty? Who steers it then, Gabe?”

“In another thirty or forty years I’ll have an answer for you,” he replied with impressive calm. “Or maybe I’ll follow Jack LaRue’s example and sell out. Retire and live large.”

“I can’t believe you could simply let it all go after working so hard to build it up.”

“Watch me.”

She didn’t believe him. “I know you, Gabe. You still want children. That little slip tells me that much. And it doesn’t take a genius to see what course of action you’ve set. You think you’ll be able to change my mind.”

“Cards on the table, Cate?”

She snatched up her wineglass. “Oh, please.”

“I do want children. Either you’ll change your mind about that, or you won’t. But understand this…” He paused, his face falling into uncompromising lines. “If it comes down to a choice between you and children, I choose you. Is that course of action clear enough for you?”

He didn’t give her time to say anything more. He took her wineglass from her hand and returned it to the table. And then he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. Kissed her in a way that had every other thought fleeing from her head. Kissed her with a thoroughness she couldn’t mistake for anything but total, undiluted passion. Kissed her until her entire world was this man and this moment.

“No more excuses,” he growled, when they came up for air. He bit at her lip and then soothed it with his tongue. “No more barriers. I may have forced you to move in with me, forced you into this devil’s contract, but you accepted the terms and by God, you’ll honor them. I won’t have you walking away from me because of some trumped-up excuse.”

She fought for breath. “It’s not an excuse.”

He swore. “Anything and everything you use to shove a wedge between us is an excuse, and I’m not having any more of it. Try me, Catherine. Keep trying me. Because I swear to you, I will wipe each and every obstacle out of existence before I’ll ever let you go again. I made the mistake of letting you run last time. This time I will follow you to the ends of the earth. I will follow you to hell and back, if that’s what it takes.”

She buried her head against his shoulder. “You’re wrong, Gabe. You just don’t know it yet. Next time, you won’t just let me go. You’ll throw me out.”

Gabe couldn’t help but notice that the tenor of their relationship changed after that. There’d always been barriers between them, but now they were so high and clear that he found himself stumbling over them at every turn. Despite that, two things gave him hope.

For one, Catherine continued with their impromptu dates, constantly surprising him with tickets to a play or dinners out or a picnic in their bedroom. Some occasions were brief, barely an hour, slipped into a narrow window in their schedules. Others were longer, partial days where they’d escape from work and spend endless hours enjoying each other’s company. It made him realize that they could change. They could work around two diverse and demanding schedules.

The other thing that gave him hope was the nights they shared. For some reason, when they slid into bed and then into each other, all their differences, all their conflicts, faded from existence. There they joined and melded. There they found a true meeting of mind and body and spirit.

Later that week, he surprised her by showing up at one of her events, a charity fund-raiser for pediatric cancer patients. He’d expected to find her in her usual position, quietly in the background directing and coordinating the smooth progress of the affair. Instead, he found her sprawled on the floor, reading to a crowd of children from a Mrs. Pennywinkle picture book.

Tendrils of her hair had escaped its orderly knot and a succession of curls danced around her forehead and cheeks and at the vulnerable nape of her neck. Her eyes as she read were golden warm and sweetened with a soft generosity. There weren’t any barriers here. Here he found her at her most open and natural. He’d seen her like this other times, almost invariably around children, and he shook his head in amusement. How could she claim to never want a child of her own when he could almost taste her longing, and could see the sheer joy she experienced light up the room?

She must have sensed him on some level because her head jerked up, like a doe sensing danger. Her gaze shot unerringly to his and for a brief second she shared that same openness with him that she’d shared with the children. And then the barriers slammed into place. He stood for a long moment, staring at her. It just about killed him that she felt the need to protect herself from him, and a fierce determination filled him.

Somehow, someway, he’d break through those defenses. He’d win back her trust, and this time he’d do everything in his power to keep it. He approached, keeping his demeanor open and casual. Leaning down, he gave her a light, easy kiss, one that elicited giggles from their audience.

Catherine handed the book over to one of her assistants and excused herself. Not that the children let her go without a fight. She was swamped with hugs before they reluctantly allowed her to leave.

He helped her up, drawing her close long enough to murmur in her ear, “Have I told you recently how beautiful you are?”

Vivid roses bloomed in her cheeks. “Don’t exaggerate, Gabe.”

He tilted his head to one side. “You don’t believe me, do you?” The idea intrigued him.

“I’m attractive. Interesting looking, perhaps.” She stepped back. “But I’m not beautiful.”

“You are to me,” he stated simply.

To his amusement she changed the subject. “I didn’t expect to see you here. You never mentioned that you might attend.”

“I’ve been on the board of this particular charity for a number of years, but I wasn’t sure I could get away.” He cut her off before she could ask the question hovering on her lips. “And no, I had nothing to do with hiring you. That’s handled by a subcommittee. I did discover, however, that you’ve waived your usual fee and donated your services.”

She shrugged. “It’s for a good cause.”

“Thank you.” He could see her slipping back into professional mode and didn’t want to distract her. “I’ll let you get on with your duties. One quick question. What’s your calendar for tomorrow look like?”

“I thought I might need a day off after the fundraiser, so I kept it clear.”

That suited him perfectly. After a few days of allowing Catherine to take the lead with their romantic outings, Gabe was intent on trying his hand at it. “Keep it that way, if you would.”

She brightened. “You want me to plan something? Or shall we wing it?”

“I’ll take care of everything. You just show up.”

He gave her another swift kiss and then left her to focus on her event, though periodically through the afternoon he caught her glancing his way with a speculative look. Since they’d started in with the dates, he’d discovered that she preferred to keep their outings moving, no doubt so they wouldn’t have another incident like the one at Milano’s.

Come tomorrow, he intended to change all that.

All Gabe told Catherine in advance was to wear a swimsuit underneath her shorts and cotton tee and prepare for a day in the sun. When he pulled into Sunset Marina the next morning, she turned to him, her eyes glowing with pleasure.

“We’re going for a cruise?”

“I thought we’d take a ride through the Chittenden locks and onto Lake Washington. Or we can wander around the Sound, if you prefer.”

“It’s been ages since I’ve gone through the locks. Let’s do that.”

The day became magical. In those precious hours, Gabe didn’t care about the secrets that divided them, or the past or the future. The now occupied his full attention. It turned into one of those rare Seattle days where the Olympics stood out in sharp relief to the west and the Cascades held up their end to the east, with Mt. Rainier dominating the skyline in between. But as far as he was concerned the best view was the pint-sized woman who lazed across his foredeck. A hot golden sun blazed overhead, causing Catherine to strip down to her swimsuit, while a warm summer breeze stirred her hair into delightful disarray.

Eventually, she joined him on the bridge, handing him a soft drink and curling up in the seat next to him. She examined her surroundings with unmistakable pleasure. “I gather this is one of the custom-designed yachts your company manufactures.”

“One of the smaller ones, yes.” He shot her a swift grin. “It’s not a Piretti engine…at least, not yet. I’m hoping to pin Jack LaRue down soon. Then maybe I’ll have time to dig into your bookkeeping records and give them the attention they deserve.”