by Day Leclaire
A frown formed between her eyebrows. “People will think I can’t handle my own business,” she argued.
“I’ll keep a low profile.”
“Right,” she said in exasperation. “Because, goodness knows, no one in Seattle will recognize Gabe ‘the Pirate’ Piretti.”
He tried another tack. “My presence might help keep Annie’s mother in check.”
“I can handle Beth,” Catherine grumbled.
“I don’t doubt it. But it might force her to think twice before causing trouble or throwing a fit over some trifling problem.”
Catherine turned white. “There will be no trifling problems. There will be no problems at all.”
Hell. “That’s what I meant to say,” he hastened to reassure her. “I’ll just be your muscle.”
To his relief, she relaxed ever so slightly, and her smile flashed again. “Fine. You can be my muscle. Muscle remains in the background and blends in with the wallpaper.”
“Got it. I can do wallpaper.”
Catherine simply shook her head in open amusement. “Good try, but you couldn’t do wallpaper if your life depended on it.”
He lifted her hand and kissed it. “Why, thank you, darling. Allow me to return the compliment.”
She visibly softened. “You don’t have to come, Gabe. I won’t need help.”
“You’re right, you won’t. But I want to be there for you.”
She debated for a few seconds before nodding. “Fine. This one time you can come.”
He struggled to appear both humble and grateful. If she hadn’t been so distracted, she wouldn’t have bought it for a minute. “I appreciate it.” That decided, he pushed back from the table. Bending down, he tipped her chin upward and gave her a slow, thorough kiss. “I’m off to work. If you need me, call my cell.”
She stopped him before he’d gone more than a half dozen steps. “Gabe?” When he turned, she smiled in a way that had his gut clenching.
“Thanks.”
The day of Annie’s wedding proved perfect in every regard. The weather couldn’t have been prettier. Everyone showed up exactly on time. And best of all, the entire affair ran like clockwork. To Catherine’s relief, her nerves settled the minute she stepped foot in the church. She fell into a comfortable rhythm, orchestrating the progression with an ease and skill that impressed even Annie’s mother.
There were the expected last-minute glitches. Someone stashed the bridal bouquet in the wrong room, causing momentary panic. The ring bearer managed to get grass stains on his britches during the ten seconds his mother wasn’t supervising him. And one of the bridesmaids caught her heel in the hem of her gown and needed last-minute stitching. But other than that, the flow continued toward its inevitable conclusion, slow and smooth and golden.
Once the ceremony began, she had a moment to catch her breath and stood in the vestibule with Gabe, watching the timeless tradition of sacred words and new beginnings. It never failed to move her, and this time was no different.
“We never quite got there, did we?” Gabe said in an undertone.
It had been a long day. An exhausting week. Perhaps because of it, the question struck with devastating accuracy. “No,” she whispered. “We never did.”
The couple had reached the point where they were exchanging their vows, promises to love and cherish through good times and bad. When she and Gabe had hit those rough patches, she hadn’t stuck. She’d run.
“We’re not going to ever get there,” he informed her in a quiet voice. “Not the way we’re going. In order for a couple to marry, they have to trust each other. And we don’t.”
She fought to keep the tremble from her voice. “I know.”
He leaned in, his presence a tangible force. “We have a choice, sweetheart. We can walk away now. No harm, no foul.” He let that sink in before continuing. “Or we can do what we should have done two years ago. We can fight for it.”
Would he still feel the same way if he had all the facts at his disposal? She doubted it. And now wasn’t the time to find out. “I don’t trust easily,” she admitted. “Not anymore. I’ve spent two years building up walls.”
“There are ways around walls. Chinks and cracks we can squeeze through. If it doesn’t work out between us, you can always seal up all those cracks again.”
“True.”
“Are you willing to try, Cate?” His hands dropped to her shoulders and he turned her to face him. “Will you give it an honest try?”
She wanted to. Oh, how she longed to do just that. “I’d like to. But there are things—”
His mouth tightened for a telling moment. “I’m well aware there are ‘things.’ I’m not asking you to explain until you’re ready.”
A wistful smile quivered on her lips and she shook her head in a combination of affection and exasperation. “I know you, Gabe. What you really mean is I can explain when I’m ready, so long as I’m ready on demand. Am I close?”
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.”
Eight
I t 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.
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 come back another time to check it out more thoroughly, but not tonight.” She caught his hand i
n 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.”