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

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?”