Mr. Strictly Business Page 2

  He nodded. “Excellent. I’ll go over what you brought and have Roxanne prepare a list of anything more I might need.”

  A shadow swept across Catherine’s face, evaporating so swiftly that he’d have missed it if he hadn’t been looking straight at her. “I’d hoped to keep my problem strictly between the two of us. Would you mind if we leave your assistant out of this? Is that possible?”

  “Possible, but not probable. Roxanne is privy to most of what goes on around here.”

  “And what she isn’t privy to, I’m certain she makes it her business to find out,” Catherine commented blandly. “How else can she provide you with everything you need?”

  Okay, he knew a minefield when he saw one. “I’ll leave Roxanne out of the loop.”

  “And if she asks?”

  His eyes narrowed. “Are you questioning how I run my business? Considering why you’re here…”

  “No, I—”

  “I didn’t think so.” He relented. “But if it will make you feel better, should the subject come up in conversation, I’ll simply explain that you and I are an item again.”

  Alarm flared to life in Catherine’s eyes. “Excuse me?”

  “After all, it won’t be a complete fabrication.” He smiled in anticipation. “In fact, it won’t be a fabrication at all.”

  She tensed, like a mouse finally noticing the trap. She’d been so busy nibbling at the tasty hunk of cheese that she’d been oblivious of it. Until now. “What are you talking about?”

  “You never asked my price for helping you.”

  She inhaled sharply before lifting her chin. “How foolish of me. I’d forgotten what a pirate you are, Gabe.”

  “That’s me,” he agreed lazily. “A pirate to the bone.”

  “So what’s your price? What do you want?”

  He gave it to her hard and straight. “You. I want you, Catherine. Back in my life. Back in my apartment. And back in my bed.”

  She shot to her feet. “You’ve lost your mind. You can’t possibly think I’d agree to such a thing.”

  He regarded her in silence for a long moment before responding. “I guess that depends on how badly you want to save your business.”

  “Not that badly.”

  He stood and closed the distance between them. “Liar.”

  “Whatever there was between us is over, Gabe. Dead.”

  She was so small compared to him. So delicately put together. And yet she vibrated with sheer feminine outrage, with a strength and power he found irresistible. It was one of the qualities he’d always admired about her. Where most women looked for ways to make themselves as appealing to him as possible, Catherine had never played those types of games. He’d always known where he stood with her. Those gloriously unique eyes of hers could slay him with a single look, or melt him with the fire of her passion. Right now she was busy slicing and dicing him in every imaginable way.

  “I know you’d like to think that what we shared is dead and buried.” He allowed his amusement to show. “But you’ve forgotten one small detail.”

  “What detail?” she demanded.

  “This…”

  He slid his arms around her and locked her close against him. He remembered the feel of her, the perfect way her body fit his. She had a pixie-lean figure with delicious curves her trim business suit only hinted at. But they were there, and they never failed to arouse him. Unable to resist, he cupped her face and drew her up for a kiss. She didn’t fight as he expected, but neither did she respond. Not that he expected instant capitulation. That would take time.

  For now, her full, generous mouth did no more than accept the teasing pressure of his. Gently, oh so gently, he teased his way past that sweet barrier, knowing just how she liked to be touched. Caressed. Taken. He’d missed the taste of her, the feel of her, the subtle scent of her. He missed the sharpness of her mind, and yes, even the sharpness of her tongue when she felt wronged.

  He missed the quiet evenings when they’d sit together on his balcony sipping a glass of local merlot while day slid into night and Puget Sound came alive with the twinkling lights from the boat and ferry traffic. How they would slip from soft, sweet conversation to a soft, sweet tangle of arms and legs and lips. How their clothes would form a silken pathway from the balcony to the bedroom. And then the night would go from that softness, that sweetness, to something fiery and demanding. Something that branded their connection on every fiber of his being.

  No matter how hard he tried to cut off that part of himself, that part indelibly linked to her, it would have been easier to rip out his heart and soul. He couldn’t live without her. And he wouldn’t. He’d been one of the living dead for long enough. He refused to spend another minute without Catherine in his life. And if it meant that he had to use blackmail to get her there, then that’s what he’d do. Because once he had her back, he’d do whatever necessary to keep her.

  With a soft moan, her lips parted and he slid inward. For a split second she surrendered to him, taking all he had to give. Her body flowed against his and her lips moved with familiar certainty, nibbling hungrily. Her fingers slid into his hair and gripped, anchoring them together. And her heeled foot inched upward, hooking around his calf in a practiced maneuver. He recognized the signal and responded without thought. Cupping her bottom, he lifted her so she could wrap those incredible legs around his waist. The instant he did, she began to fight free.

  “No!” She wriggled from his hold and took several stumbling steps backward. “This isn’t happening.”

  “It’s too late, Catherine. It already happened.”

  He saw comprehension burn in her eyes. He also caught an infuriated acknowledgment that their feelings for each other weren’t anywhere near as dead as she claimed, though if he didn’t miss his guess, that fury was aimed more at herself than at him. She closed her eyes, effectively shutting him out.

  “Damn,” she whispered.

  “Does that kiss prove my point, or is another demonstration necessary?”

  She yanked at the hem of her suit jacket and with an exclamation of annoyance, shoved button through hole where it had come undone. Then she tugged at her skirt and smoothed her hair. What he’d ruffled, she swiftly unruffled. Then she regarded him with undisguised irritation. “You’ve made your point,” she retorted. He could only imagine the amount of effort it took to look at him. “You do realize that I believed it was over between us, or I’d never have approached you.”

  “That’s rather naive of you since there’s not a chance in hell this will ever be over between us, sweetheart.”

  Her chin shot up. “There shouldn’t have been anything left. I figured at most we’d have to kick over some of the ashes just to satisfy our morbid curiosity. I didn’t expect to find any lingering embers.”

  “I don’t doubt that for a minute.”

  “This—” She waved an all-encompassing hand to indicate him, herself, and the kiss that still heated their lips. “None of it changes my mind about our relationship. I’m not coming back home.”

  Home. The slip hung in the air for a timeless instant. He didn’t reply. He simply smiled knowingly.

  Swearing beneath her breath, she shot toward the couch and gathered up the file she’d given him and stuffed it inside her briefcase. Tossing the strap of her purse over one shoulder, she spun around to face him. He deliberately stood between her and the door. Not that that stopped her.

  “I’m leaving,” she warned. “And I’m going around you, through you or over your dead body. But I am going.”

  “And I’m going to make certain that doesn’t happen. Oh, not today,” he reassured her at her unmistakable flare of alarm. “But very soon I’m going to be around you, through you and—trust me—your body will be far from dead when I’m over it.” He stepped to one side. “When you change your mind about needing my help with Elegant Events, you know where to find me.”

  She crossed the room, circling just out of reach as she headed for the door. Her hand
closed over the knob, and then she hesitated. “Why, Gabe?” she asked quietly, throwing the question over her shoulder. “Why the conditions?”

  “The truth?”

  “If you don’t mind.”

  The words escaped in a harsh undertone, the brutal honesty making them all the more devastating in their delivery. “Not a night passes that I don’t ache for you, Cate. Not a morning dawns that I don’t reach for you. I want the pain to end. The next time I reach out, I want you there.”

  Two

  I t took every ounce of self-possession for Catherine to exit Gabe’s office without it looking as though she were attempting to escape the fiery pits of hell. Worse, she’d completely forgotten about Roxanne Bodine, aka Satan’s handmaiden, whose sharp black eyes made note of the distress Catherine wasn’t quick enough to conceal. A mocking smile slid across sharply flamboyant features.

  “Not the reunion you were hoping for?” Roxanne asked in a honeyed voice that contained just a whiff of a southern drawl. “If you’d bothered to ask, I could have warned that you were wasting your time. You let that fish slip off your hook nearly two years ago, and he’s none too eager to slip back on again.”

  “Maybe you should tell him that,” Catherine retorted, then wanted to kick herself for revealing so much.

  Roxanne could deliver taunts with needle-sharp precision. But she wasn’t the type of woman who took them well. Nor did she appreciate the implication that Gabe might be interested in getting back together with the rival she’d worked so hard to rid herself of.

  “Some women don’t understand the concept of making a graceful exit.” Roxanne stood and stretched a figure as full and lush as Catherine’s was petite and fine-boned. She settled on the corner of her desk with all the lazy grace of a true feline. Then she proceeded to sharpen her claws on the nearest available target, in this case, Catherine. “Seems to me you’d have more pride than to come crawling back. You’re just asking to get kicked to the curb again.”

  All her life Catherine had chosen discretion over a more overt approach. She’d been the good girl. Quiet. Polite. Turning the other cheek when required. But enough was enough. She didn’t have anything to lose anymore. “I don’t know how I’d survive without you looking out for my welfare, Roxanne,” Catherine said with a sunny smile. “Maybe that’s your problem. Maybe instead of looking out for me, you should be looking out for yourself.”

  “Oh, don’t trouble yourself on my account. I’m like a cat,” she said, stating the all-too obvious. “I’ve been blessed with nine lives and I have a knack for landing on my feet.”

  Catherine planted a hand on a trim hip. “And yet here you are still sitting behind a desk…like an alley cat meowing at the back door waiting to be let in. I’d have thought with me out of the way, you’d have found a way in by now. I guess that’s one door you can’t quite slink through.”

  Fury turned Roxanne’s face a deadly shade of white while two patches of harsh red streaked across her sharp cheekbones. “You think I made your life a misery before? Try me now. This is my turf, and I’ll do whatever necessary to defend it.”

  Catherine made a sweeping gesture. “Go right ahead. But while you’re so busy staking out your territory, maybe you should consider one small detail that you seem to have overlooked.”

  That stopped her. “I haven’t overlooked a thing,” Roxanne insisted, just a shade too late.

  “No? How about this. You know your boss. When he wants something, he doesn’t let anything stand in his way. Gabe wants, Gabe takes.” Catherine allowed that to sink in before continuing. “You’ve worked for him for…what? Two and a half years? Three? And yet you’ve never been taken. I’m willing to bet you can’t even get him to sample the goods. If he hasn’t been tempted in all that time, what makes you think he ever will?”

  She didn’t wait for a response. If there was one thing she’d learned since opening Elegant Events, it was when to pack up your knives and leave. Without another word, she swung around and headed for the elevators. The instant she stepped into the car, she checked her back. To her relief she didn’t find any of those knives sticking out of it.

  Yet.

  “So, fill me in on every detail. How did it go?” Dina Piretti asked eagerly. “You didn’t have to tell him about me, did you?”

  Catherine set down her briefcase just inside the front door and shot Gabe’s mother an uneasy glance. “No, he still hasn’t discovered that you’re my partner,” she reassured her.

  Dina released a sigh. “I hear a ‘but’ in there.”

  “But it didn’t go well,” Catherine confessed. “I’m afraid we’re on our own. We’ll either have to figure out where the problem is ourselves, or we’ll have to hire an outside consultant to advise us. A consultant other than your son.”

  Dina stared in patent disbelief. “No,” she stammered. “You must have misunderstood. I can’t believe Gabriel refused to help you. Not you.”

  Catherine hesitated. She had two choices. She could lie, something she not only hated, but didn’t do well. Or she could tell Gabe’s mother what her precious firstborn had demanded in exchange for his help. Neither option held any appeal.

  “I need a drink,” she announced. Maybe while they fixed a pot of coffee, some stroke of brilliance would come to her and she’d figure out a third option. “And then we’d better get to work. The Marconi birthday party is tonight and I have a dozen phone calls I need you to make while I head over there and supervise the setup.”

  Dina led the way to her kitchen, though she hardly needed to considering the two women spent a good deal of their workday together in its comfortable confines. When they’d first conceived Elegant Events it had been right here, in Dina’s Queen Anne home, sitting at her generously sized bleached oak kitchen table. Since then, they’d filled the emptiness of the huge house by converting several of the rooms into an office suite, one that had so far escaped Gabe’s notice. The division of labor worked to each of their strengths. Catherine manned the front lines, while Dina ran the business end of things. Right now the older woman wore her shrewdest and most businesslike expression.

  “You’re being evasive, Catherine. That’s not like you. Tell me what went wrong. Oh, wait. I’ll bet I can guess.” A broad smile flashed, one identical to Gabe’s. When they’d first started working together that smile had caused Catherine untold pain. Even now it stirred a twinge that wouldn’t be denied. “Gabriel put those patented Piretti moves on you, didn’t he?”

  Catherine deliberately turned her back on her partner. “One or two,” she admitted. Dumping fresh coffee beans into the grinder, she switched it on, relieved that the noise of the machine made conversation impossible.

  The instant the machine shut off, Dina jumped in. “It was just the same with his father. I never could resist him.” A hint of sorrow appeared in her eyes and cut faint grooves beside her mouth. Not that it detracted from her startling beauty, a beauty she’d managed to pass on to her son, if in a slightly more masculine form. “Funny how much I can still miss him after all this time.”

  Catherine abandoned the coffee and wrapped her arms around Dina. “From everything you and Gabe have told me, he was an incredible man. I only wish I could have met him.”

  “He’d have adored you.” Dina pulled back and forced a smile. “You’ve evaded answering me long enough. What happened? Why did Gabriel refuse to help?”

  “He didn’t refuse,” Catherine told her. “He just put a price on his help that I’m unwilling to pay.”

  “Ah.” Understanding dawned. “He wanted to get back together with you, didn’t he?”

  “How did you…?” Catherine’s eyes narrowed. “Did you speak to him before I went over there?”

  “I haven’t spoken to Gabriel about you in months. I haven’t spoken to him at all in the past three days,” Dina insisted. She crossed to the coffee machine and made short work of starting the brewing process before turning to face Catherine. “I am, however, a woman, and I know my son
. He’s still in love with you.”

  No, not love, Catherine almost said. Lust, maybe. But he’d never truly been in love with her. Not that she could explain any of that to Dina. “He said that he’d only help if I moved back in with him.”

  “Naturally, you refused.”

  “Naturally.”

  “Because you don’t have feelings for him anymore, either.”

  Catherine didn’t dare answer that one. Instead, she regarded Dina with troubled eyes. “I know you’ve always hoped that we’d work out our differences, but that’s not going to happen. You understand that, don’t you?”

  It was Dina’s turn to look troubled. “I’ve never wanted to push for answers you weren’t ready to give. I gather something went horribly wrong between you. You were so ill during those early weeks after the two of you broke up that I didn’t have the heart to ask. But I always thought that you and Gabriel would work it out. You were so right together. So in love.” She swept that aside with a wave of her hand. “Never mind. You were absolutely right to refuse him. It was quite rude of Gabriel to put conditions on his help.”

  Catherine smiled in relief. “You’re not upset?”

  “I’m disappointed.” She poured them both a cup of freshly brewed coffee, putting an end to the subject. “Why don’t we forget about all that for now and get down to business? I suggest we double-and triple-check that everything’s in place for tonight’s affair. We can’t afford any errors.”

  No question about that. Between their financial woes and the contracts they’d lost, there was added urgency on getting every event perfect. The next several hours flew by. Much to Catherine’s relief, the intensity of the work didn’t allow for thoughts of Gabe to intrude. Every ounce of concentration and effort went into putting the finishing touches on the Marconi event. More than ever she needed tonight to be a stunning success, for Natalie Marconi to rave about Elegant Events to all of her closest friends—and more importantly, her husband’s business contacts.