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

He conceded the observation with a shrug. “We can’t resolve our differences until I know what the problem is.”

He had a point.

“Will you give me a little more time?” Time to see whether their relationship had a shot at working before she unburdened herself. “I need to be convinced we can straighten out our previous problems before introducing new ones. I need to be certain it’s real.”

“It is real. But if time is what you need, I’ll give it to you. For now.” He held out his hand. “Shall we make it official?”

“You have a deal, Mr. Piretti.”

She took the hand he offered, not the least surprised when he gave it a little tug. She allowed herself to sink against him. Then she lifted her face to his and sealed the agreement in a long, lingering kiss, a kiss that spoke to her on endless levels. The gentleness of it made a promise, one that she longed to believe, while the strength and confidence had her relaxing into the embrace. It contained an unspoken assurance that she could lean on him and he’d be there to gather her up. That she could tell him anything and everything and he’d understand. But there was another quality underlying the kiss, the strongest quality of all. Passion. It ribboned through the heated melding of lips, barely leashed.

“Cate…” Her name escaped in a harsh whisper, one filled with need. “How can you deny this? How can you doubt?”

“I don’t deny it.” It would be ridiculous to try, not when he could feel her helpless reaction to his touch. “But—”

“No, Catherine. No more excuses.” He cupped her face and fixed her with a determined gaze. “Make a choice. Right here, right now. Give us a chance.”

She’d spent two long, lonely years getting over Gabe. Out of sheer protection, she’d shut that door and locked it, and she’d been determined to never open it again. Now here she was, forced to deal with all that she’d put behind her. Gabe didn’t just want her to open that door to the past, he wanted to storm through.

She shivered. What would happen when he uncovered the secrets she kept hidden there? Would it make a difference? Or would a miracle happen? Was it possible for them to come to terms with the past? To readjust their priorities and choose each other over their careers? Or would they slowly, relentlessly slip back into old patterns?

There was only one way to find out. With the softest of sighs, Catherine closed her eyes and surrendered to the dream. “All right. I’ll give us a chance.”

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.