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

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.”