Читать книгу Propositioned By The Tycoon: Mr Strictly Business / Bought: His Temporary Fiancée / A Win-Win Proposition - Yvonne Lindsay - Страница 12

Before Gabe could respond, the elevator doors parted and Catherine exploded from the car. Her heels beat a furious tattoo across the garage surface, a beat that echoed the anger chasing through her. She hadn’t realized until then how long those words had choked her and how badly she’d wanted to speak them. But now that she had, she realized they wouldn’t make the least difference. He wouldn’t believe her now any more than he had two years ago. When it came to Roxanne, he was as blind to her true nature as every other man.

Catherine paused beside Gabe’s Jag and struggled to regain her self-control. How the hell did Roxanne do it? It wasn’t just her looks. Plenty of women had incredible bodies, as well as faces that could have graced a goddess. Maybe it was the body combined with a Machiavellian brain that would have done Lucretia Borgia proud that gave Roxanne such an edge.

Gabe opened the car door and waited while Catherine slid in before circling the car and climbing behind the wheel. Instead of igniting the powerful engine, he swiveled to face her. “I’m sorry. I had no idea she was such a problem for you.”

“She isn’t a problem. Not any longer.”

“And I’ll make certain of that. When you call, I’ll give her strict instructions to put you straight through, even if I’m in a meeting.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I do.”

It took Catherine a moment to steady her breathing. “Why, Gabe?” she whispered. “Why couldn’t you have done this before when it first came up? Why now when it’s far too late?”

His jaw firmed, taking on an all-too familiar stubborn slant. “It’s not too late.” He started the engine with a roar. “You walked out on me for good cause. I admit there were problems. Serious problems. This time around, I intend to fix them.”

The drive to the Marconi estate took just under an hour. A maid, all starched and formal, escorted them to an equally starched and formal parlor that overlooked the scene of last night’s disaster. Catherine didn’t doubt for a moment that the uncomfortable choice of venue was deliberate.

“I’m not quite sure why you’re here,” Natalie said, once they were seated. She made a point of not offering them refreshments by pouring herself a cup of coffee from the gleaming silver service on the table at her side and taking a slow, deliberate sip. Her coldly furious eyes moved from Catherine to Gabe and back again. “I’m particularly in the dark about your presence, Gabe. It’s Ms. Haile who owes me both an explanation and an apology.”

“You’re absolutely right, Mrs. Marconi.” Catherine spoke up before Gabe could. “I do owe you an apology, and I can’t begin to express how sorry I am that your party was ruined.” She opened her purse, removed a check and placed it on the delicate coffee table that served as a buffer between her chair and Natalie’s. “This is a full refund.”

Twin spots of color chased across Natalie’s cheek-bones. “You think throwing money at me is going to fix this?”

“Not at all. I think refunding your money is the least I can do to compensate for my part in what happened. I’m sorry the security detail I hired was unable to intercept the intruders. I contacted the authorities this morning, and they informed me that the young men on the boats received an invitation from an unidentified woman. They’re continuing to look into it in the hopes of pinning down precisely who extended the invite, in case you wish to pursue the matter. The boaters involved have volunteered to recompense your guests, as well as the gondola company, for any damages incurred.”

“That will certainly help,” she reluctantly admitted. “And the sprinklers? That mistake is one hundred percent your fault.”

Catherine inclined her head. “I accept full responsibility for that. I promise you, I double-checked to make sure they’d been disengaged for the evening. I can’t explain how they were switched back on.”

“I can. You’re incompetent.”

“Natalie,” Gabe said softly.

“Well, what other explanation is there?” she retorted defensively.

“I can think of three. One, there was a power interruption and the device returned to its default setting. Two, someone accidentally changed the time. Or three, someone did it deliberately as a prank.” He paused to allow that to sink in. “There were a lot of youngsters there last night who might have considered it quite a lark to have the sprinklers go on in the middle of the party and watch the mayhem from a safe distance.”

Natalie sat up straighter, her eyes flashing. “Are you accusing someone in my family?”

“I’m not the one making accusations.” He let that hang. “I’m simply pointing out that there are alternative explanations.”

“Catherine’s initials were on the checklist as the one responsible for resetting the sprinklers. I saw them there myself.”

“Which means she did reset them. Why else would she have initialed it? Twice, I might add.” Natalie fell silent at the sheer logic of his question. He pressed home his advantage. “You’d have more cause to point fingers if it hadn’t been checked off because then you’d know she’d overlooked it.”

Natalie dismissed that with a wave of her hand. “And the tent going up in flames? We could have lost our house. People could have been seriously injured, or worse.”

“Your daughter tripped over the line anchoring that corner of the tent. I saw it happen. I’m sure if you ask her, she’ll admit as much, especially since she twisted her ankle as a result and your son-in-law had to carry her to safety. There is no negligence here, Natalie. It was a simple, unforeseeable accident.”

“On the other hand,” Catherine inserted, “the point of hiring an event planner is to foresee the unforeseeable and take precautions.”

Gabe turned on her. “In hindsight, what could you have done differently to prevent those accidents from happening? You’d already checked the sprinkler system. Twice. That section of the lake was posted and patrolled. And the tent was securely anchored.”

Natalie released her breath in a sigh. “All right, all right. You’ve made your point, Gabe. I don’t see how Catherine could have possibly foreseen any of those eventualities. I wish she could have, but I like to consider myself an honest and fair woman. And honesty and fairness compel me to admit that no one could have anticipated such a bizarre string of events.” She looked at Catherine, this time without the anger coloring her expression. “Thank you for returning my fee and for your apology. Up until all hell broke loose, the event was brilliantly planned and executed.”

Catherine stood. “I appreciate your understanding. I’d say I look forward to doing business with you at some point in the future…” She offered a self-deprecating smile. “But I have a feeling I might find a cup of that lovely coffee poured over my head.”

Natalie managed a smile as well. “Good try, my dear, but there’s little to no chance of my being quite that forgiving.”

Catherine shrugged. “It was worth a try.” She held out a hand. “Thank you for taking the time to see me.”

“You can thank Gabe for that. I’m not sure I would have agreed if not for him.” Her gaze swept over him, filled with pure feminine appreciation. “For some strange reason, it’s impossible to say no to the man.”

Catherine released a sigh of exasperation. “So, I’ve discovered,” she murmured.

After leaving the Marconi residence, Gabe handed Catherine a business card for a transportation firm, along with the key to his apartment. “I’ve made arrangements with this company to move your belongings over to my place. Just call them when you’re ready.”

“I won’t have that much,” she protested, as they headed back toward the city. “Just a couple of suitcases.”

He pulled onto the floating bridge that spanned Lake Washington and negotiated smoothly around oncoming traffic. “I want you to feel like you live there, not like you’re a temporary guest.”

“I am a temporary guest,” she retorted. “The only one who doesn’t realize that is you.”

He didn’t bother to argue. But when he pulled up in front of her apartment complex, he parked the car and exited at the same time Catherine did. He followed her across the sidewalk and up the stairs leading to the vestibule.

“You don’t need to come in,” she informed him over her shoulder. “I’ll call the moving company if that will satisfy you.”

One look at his set face warned that she wouldn’t get rid of him that easily. “You’d rather have this discussion out here on a public street?” he asked with painful politeness.

“In all honesty, I’d rather not have this discussion at all,” she replied.

“I’m afraid that’s not one of the options available to you.”

She hated when he donned his business persona. There was no opposing him. “I’ve agreed to your terms. What more do you want?” He simply stood and stared, and she released her breath in an irritated rush. “Fine. Let’s go inside.”

She led the way, choosing to take the steps to her second-floor apartment, rather than the elevator. She paused at the appropriate door and unlocked it. “Would you like a cup of the coffee Natalie didn’t offer us before you leave?”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Here’s your hat, what’s your hurry?”

Her mouth quivered in amusement. “Something like that.”

“No, what I want is to clarify a few things.” He paced through the confines of her tiny living area, studying first the view, and then her furnishings. “Cozy.”

“I don’t require a lot of space.” She dropped her keys in a green blown-glass bowl on a table near the front door. “Probably because I don’t take up anywhere near as much room as you.”

He turned. “Sometimes I forget how small you are. It must have something to do with that strong, passionate personality of yours.”

The compliment knocked her off-kilter, and she didn’t want to be off-kilter. She folded her arms across her chest. “Do you really think it’s going to make the least difference to our relationship whether I move two suitcases’ worth of possessions into your place or two truckloads? Possessions won’t keep me there. Not when our relationship falls apart again.”

He ignored that final barbed shot. “Having personal possessions around you will make you feel more comfortable. And maybe if you’re more comfortable, you’ll be more inclined to work through our difficulties rather than run from them.”

“I didn’t run the first time, Gabe.”

His jaw tightened. “Didn’t you? It looked like running to me. It felt like it. One minute you were there and the next you were gone. No warning. Not even a phone call.”

“I left a note,” she retorted, stung.

“I remember.” He stalked closer. “I got home after forty-eight straight hours of a brutal work crisis that could have meant the end of Piretti’s and found it waiting for me.”

“What do you mean…that could have meant the end of Piretti’s?” she asked in alarm. “I thought it was one of your takeovers on the verge of imploding.”

“No, it was an attempted coup staged by Piretti’s former board members, the ones I’d kicked out after staging my own coup. Not that it matters.” He returned to his point with dogged determination. “What you did was cold, Catherine.”

“You’re right, it was,” she conceded. “And I’m sorry for that. Someday ask me about the brutal forty-eight hours I experienced leading up to that decision. It was cold because I was cold. Cold and empty and—” She stemmed the flow of words before she said too much. She wouldn’t go there with him. Didn’t have the emotional stamina, even now. Even after nearly two years, she couldn’t face the memories with anything approaching equanimity.

“And what? You were cold and empty and…what?” he pressed.

“Broken. Sick and broken.”

She forced the words out, then busied herself opening her briefcase and removing the file on Elegant Events that she’d offered Gabe the day before. His hand dropped over hers, forcing her to set the papers aside.

“Is that why you went to stay with my mother? Because you were sick and broken?”

“I didn’t have any other family,” she whispered. “I didn’t have anywhere else to—”

His grip gentled. “You don’t have to justify it. I’m relieved that you felt comfortable going to her.”

“Really?” She searched his expression, seeking reassurance. “I’m surprised you didn’t give her a hard time about taking me in.”

His head jerked as though she’d slapped him. “Was I such a bastard that you think I’d do such a thing to you? I’m relieved to know you had a place. To know you were safe.” Then he asked the one question she dreaded most. “You said you were sick. What was wrong with you?”

“Nothing that a little tender loving care couldn’t cure.”

“Care I didn’t offer you.”

She met his gaze dead-on. “No, you didn’t.”

“That’s going to change.” He waved aside her incipient response. “I know you don’t believe me. Only time will convince you otherwise, and I’m hoping the next few months will do just that.”

There was no point arguing, not when he was right. Only time would give them the proof they needed…proof that they didn’t belong together. “Fair enough.”

“Call the number on the business card, Catherine,” he urged. “They’ve been paid regardless of how much or how little you bring. And all you have to do is point out the things you want transferred. They’ll pack, load and transport, and then reverse the process once they get everything over to my place.”

“Thank you,” she said with in a stiff voice. “That’s very generous of you.”

He frowned. “Don’t. Please, don’t.”

She closed her eyes for an instant. “I’m sorry. We’ve been apart so long, and—” She shook her head in bewilderment. “I don’t know how to handle this.”

“Then I’ll show you how to handle it. It’s easy.” He cupped her face and feathered a kiss across her mouth. It was soft and gentle and drove every ounce of common sense straight out of her head. “See how easy?”

“I still don’t—”

She never completed the sentence. She never even completed the thought. It faded away, forever lost. His mouth returned to hers, and the tenor of the kiss changed, grew more potent. He slipped a small demand into the embrace, urging a response she was helpless to resist. So she didn’t resist. After that it seemed such a small step to go from reluctant response to active participation. To meet his demand and make one of her own. To give. To take. To nudge up the heat ever so slightly.

She felt the tilt, the inner shift from submission to aggression. She slid her arms across his chest and shoved at his suit jacket. She caught the whisper of silk as it slipped away. Not breaking contact, she yanked his tie from its mooring, ripping at the knot until it followed the same path as his jacket. Plucking at the buttons of his shirt, she finally, finally, hit hot, firm flesh.

Heaven help her, but he was built. Her mouth slid from his and traced a pathway along his corded throat and downward. She felt the groan vibrating beneath her lips and smiled. She remembered that sound, the pleasure it gave her to be the cause. To thrill at the knowledge that her touch could drive a man of Gabe’s strength of will to lose total control.

Even now she felt him teetering on the brink and caught herself hovering there as well. She had just enough awareness to realize she had a choice. She could finish what she’d started, or she could pull back. Part of her, the part that longed to feel Gabe’s hands on her again and experience anew that incredible rush when their bodies joined, urged her to continue. But there were too many issues between them for her to give in so quickly and easily.

As though sensing her hesitation, he gave a push of his own. “I’ve missed you, Catherine,” he murmured roughly. He followed the tailored line of her suit, reacquainting himself with familiar territory. Fire splashed in the wake of his touch. “And I’ve missed this.”

She wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer. It was now or never. With a reluctant sigh, she pulled back and felt the first tiny shudder of her common sense returning. “You don’t fight fair,” she complained. She gave his chest a final nipping kiss and stepped clear of his embrace. “I guess you think this proves your point.”

“If I could remember what the hell my point was, I’d agree with you. But since every ounce of blood has drained from my head to places lacking brain cells, I don’t think that’s going to happen.” He lifted a sooty eyebrow. “I don’t suppose you remember what my point was?”

“Can’t say that I do.”

He grinned. “Liar.”

She cleared her throat. “It might have been that living together again will be like riding a bicycle. Once we start pedaling, the moves will come back to us.”

“I have to admit, I don’t remember that part of our conversation, but it sounds good to me.” His eyes sharpened, the blue growing more intense. “The business card. The movers. Your doubts.”

She smiled with something approaching affection. “Ah, there he is. Back to business-as-usual.”

His mouth twitched in an answering smile. Not that it kept him from staying on target this time round. “How about this. Have the movers take less than I’m asking and more than you want. Is that a reasonable compromise?”

“Yes.”

“Does that mean yes, you’ll do it?”

She nodded. “I should be there well before dinner-time.”

Satisfaction settled over him. “Perfect. I’ve arranged for something special for tonight.” He tapped the tip of her nose with his index finger. “And no, I didn’t mean anything sexual, so don’t go all indignant on me.”

“Hmm.” She tilted her head to one side and scrutinized him through narrowed eyes. “Despite your assurances, I somehow suspect you’ll get there later, if not sooner.”

“You can count on it.” The promise glittered like sapphires in his gaze and gave the hard angle of his jaw an uncompromising set. “But in this case I was actually talking about dinner.”

“You don’t have to do anything special,” she protested.

He hooked her chin with his knuckle so they were eye-to-eye. “Yes,” he assured her. “I do. I’ll see you about six.”

The rest of the day flew by. Giving in to the inevitable, she phoned the movers. She barely hung up the phone before two burly men arrived on her doorstep. It was almost as easy as shopping on the Internet. They were user-friendly, and all she had to do was point and click. In no time they had far too many of her possessions packed and carted down to their moving truck. Just as Gabe predicted, the other end of the procedure proved equally as painless.

The one uncomfortable moment came when they asked where they should put her clothing. She briefly debated whether to direct them to one of the spare bedrooms, or to Gabe’s master suite. Considering the close call she and Gabe had experienced back at her apartment, it seemed pointless to take a stand she suspected wouldn’t last more than a single night. Even though she knew that nothing would come of their relationship—that nothing could come of it—she might as well enjoy the fantasy while it lasted.

The instant the door closed behind the movers, she finished the few unpacking chores she preferred to see to herself. Then she took a leisurely tour of Gabe’s penthouse suite. It felt peculiar to be back again. Part of her felt right at home, as though she’d never left.

There was the table where she used to sit and keep track of their social calendar and plan the parties that had become her specialty. And in the window seat over there, she and Gabe would curl up together on a quiet Sunday morning over a steaming cup of coffee while they watched the rain pound the city. And over there…How many times had they entertained guests in the living room? Gabe would sit in that enormous chair he’d had specially designed, and she’d squeeze into a corner next to him.

Of course, there were a few changes. A different set of throw pillows were scattered on the sofa. She came across a gorgeous wooden sculpture that hadn’t been there before. It was of a woman in repose and made her itch to run her fingertips along the graceful, sweeping lines. The drapes were new, as were a pair of planters on either side of the front door.

After delaying the inevitable as long as she could, she gathered her nerve and entered the bedroom, only to discover this room showed the most changes of all. The previous bed and furniture, darkly masculine pieces, had been removed, and Gabe had replaced them with furnishings made with a golden teak heartwood that brought to mind sailing ships from the previous century. Catherine couldn’t help but smile. Nothing could have suited him better, though she couldn’t help but wonder why he’d replaced his previous bedroom set.

To her surprise, the changes brought her a sense of relief, as though all the old, negative energy had been swept clean. Checking her watch, she realized that Gabe would be home in just under an hour and if he’d planned something special for their dinner, maybe she should consider dressing for the occasion.

She took her time primping, finally settling on a casual floor-length sheath in an eye-catching turquoise. For the first time in ages, she left her hair loose and flowing, a tidal wave of springy curls that tumbled down her back in reckless abandon. She touched up her makeup, giving her eyes and mouth a bit more emphasis.

She’d just finished when the doorbell rang, and she went to answer it, fairly certain it was whatever dinner surprise Gabe had arranged. Sure enough, it proved to be a small catering company that she’d used for a few of her events. She greeted the chef by name and showed her and her companion to the kitchen.

“Gabe said we were to get here right at six and serve no later than six-thirty,” Sylvia explained. “It’ll only take a few minutes to unload the appetizers and get them heated. In the meantime, I’ll open the wine and let it breathe while Casey sets the dining room table. She’ll be serving you tonight.”

“Thanks,” Catherine said with a warm smile. “I’ll be in the living room. Gabe should be home any minute.”

Or so she thought. By six-thirty, she’d nibbled her way through any number of appetizers that she was certain should have tasted like ambrosia, but for some reason had the flavor and consistency of sawdust. At a quarter to seven Sylvia appeared in the doorway. “Should I hold dinner a little longer? I’m afraid to wait too long or it’ll be overcooked.”

“Hold off for fifteen more minutes. If he’s not here by then, you can wrap everything up and stash it in the fridge.”

“Oh. Oh, sure. We can do that.”

Catherine flinched at the unmistakable pity in the other woman’s voice. “Thanks, Sylvia. I’ll be in the bedroom if you need me.”

Keeping her chin high, she marched to the master suite and gently closed the door. Then she proceeded to remove her belongings and transfer them to one of the guest bedrooms. Why, oh why, had she allowed herself to believe for even one single second that he’d changed? Nothing had changed. Business always came first with Gabe and it always would.

From deep inside the apartment the phone rang. More than anything, she wanted to ignore it. But it would only make matters worse if she allowed the answering machine to take the call so that Sylvia and Casey could overhear whatever excuse Gabe cared to offer for his delay.

She picked up the bedroom extension. “Hello?”

“I’m sorry.” Gabe’s voice rumbled across the line. “This wasn’t how I planned our first night together.”

She held on to her self-control by a shred. “I’m sure it wasn’t.”

“You’re furious, and I don’t blame you. That deal I told you about earlier came to a head. Roxanne managed to get LaRue to the table, and this was the only time he’d agree to.”

“I’ll bet.”

“It’s going to be a while. I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

She heard the unspoken question and answered it. “I promised I’d be here, and I will. The rest we’ll negotiate in the morning.”

He swore softly. “This will be the last time.”

She shook her head in disbelief. He still didn’t get it. “You think it will, Gabe. That’s part of the problem. You always think that next time will be different. But it never is, is it?”

She didn’t wait for his response, but hung up. She needed to inform the caterers that their services wouldn’t be required. But first, she needed a moment to herself. A moment to grieve over the death of a tiny blossom of hope that had somehow, at some point when she wasn’t looking, managed to unfurl deep in her heart.