by Day Leclaire
“If I do what you want…” The words escaped like chewed glass. “What then?”
“Then you have two choices. Option number one, you can behave yourself and toe the line. For instance, I have an event coming up this next weekend, assuming Gabe and I can salvage the account. You are not going to interfere with that event in any way, shape or form. If anything goes wrong, just the least little thing, I’m putting it on you. I don’t care if it decides to rain that day, it’ll be your fault. If Mt. Rainier turns active and dumps ash all over Annie Collington’s special day…your fault. If anything goes wrong, I promise, I will bury you for it.”
One look at Roxanne’s face told the story. She’d planned to do something. Catherine could only imagine what that might be. “You said I have two choices,” she replied. “What’s my other one?”
“You can pack up your brimstone and find a new boss to screw with.”
“You can’t fire me. Only Gabe can.”
Catherine smiled in real pleasure. “Now, that’s my favorite part about our little dilemma here, because you’re right. I don’t have that ability. So I thought of the perfect way around that small stumbling block. You see, men always have so much trouble deciding on the perfect wedding gift for their bride.” Not that he’d asked. But Roxanne didn’t have to know that. “Lucky for Gabe, now I know exactly what I want. And I guarantee he’ll accommodate my request.”
“You bitch!”
Catherine’s amusement faded. “You’re damn right. I’m through playing nice. And in case you still have any doubts, let me assure you that the benefits of bitchdom keep adding up.” She gave it to her, chapter and verse. “If you try and start any more trouble after you leave Piretti’s, people will immediately conclude that it’s sour grapes on your part. And if they have the least little doubt, I’ll be sure to explain it first to them, and then to my lawyer.” She released her breath in a happy little sigh. “See how simple all this is?”
“This isn’t over, you—” She broke off and to Catherine’s shock, huge tears filled her eyes. “Oh, Gabe. I’m so sorry you have to see us like this.”
He stood in the doorway, his gaze shifting from one woman to the other. “Problem?”
“Not yet,” Catherine said.
She kept Roxanne pinned with a hard look. She held up her phone as a pointed reminder and then made a production of returning it to her purse. It was a subtle warning, but it seemed to have a profound effect. Satisfied that they understood each other, Catherine turned and offered Gabe a sunny smile.
“No problem at all,” she assured him. “Roxanne and I were simply coming to a long-overdue understanding.”
He folded his arms across his chest. “That explains the tears.”
“Exactly,” she stated serenely. “Tears of joy. We’re both all choked up with emotion.”
“Uh-huh. So I see.” She wished she could read his expression, but he’d assumed the indecipherable mask he wore during his most intense business negotiations. “Roxanne? Anything to add?”
His assistant ground her teeth in frustration, but managed a hard, cold smile. “Not a thing. At least, not yet.”
“Excellent.” He inclined his head toward the elevators. “Ready, Catherine?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Then off we go before you cause any more tears of joy.”
Seven
C atherine gave Gabe directions to the little café just north of the city, where arrangements had been made to meet with the bride-to-be. Annie Collington, a bubbly redhead with a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her upturned nose, appeared tense and unhappy.
Introductions were made, and Annie smiled at Gabe with only a hint of her customary zest. “I recognize you, of course. I think your photo is on everything from the society page to the business section to the gossip magazines.”
“I wouldn’t believe a word of anything except the gossip magazines.”
She twinkled briefly before she caught Catherine’s eye and her amusement faded. “Do we really have to do this?” she asked miserably. “I’ve fired you, now that’s the end of it. Nothing you say is going to change my mind.”
Before Catherine could respond, Gabe stepped in smoothly. “Why don’t we sit down and have a cup of coffee and a bite to eat while we figure out how best to settle this?”
“Please, Annie.” Catherine added gentle pressure. “Your wedding is only eight days away. You have such a beautiful day planned. You don’t want to make any rash decisions that might jeopardize it.”
“That’s precisely what I’m trying to prevent,” Annie insisted. “I heard about the Marconi party. It was a disaster. I can’t have that happen at my wedding.”
“And it won’t,” Gabe assured her. Without even seeming to do so, he guided them to the table the hostess had waiting for them, seated them, and ordered coffee and a platter of house specialty sandwiches. “May I make a proposal that might help with your decision?” he asked Annie.
“Gabe—” Catherine began.
“No, it’s okay,” Annie interrupted. “He can try.”
Catherine fell silent, struggling to suppress an irrational annoyance. After all, Gabe was just trying to help, even if it did feel as if he’d swooped in and taken command of her meeting. Still, she didn’t appreciate him seizing control like…well, like a damn pirate.
“How about this, Annie?” Gabe was saying. “If you agree to continue to use Catherine and Elegant Events as your wedding planner, I will personally guarantee that your wedding goes off without a hitch.”
“You can’t do that,” Catherine instantly protested.
“You can do that?” Annie asked at the same time.
“I can, absolutely.”
The coffee arrived in a slender, wafer-thin porcelain urn hand-painted with an intricate pattern of wild red strawberries and crisp green leaves. After aiming a dazzling smile of dismissal in the direction of their waitress, Gabe took over the chore of pouring fragrant cups for the three of them. The delicate bits of china should have looked small and clumsy in his large hands. But instead he manipulated the coffee service with an impressive dexterity that made him appear all the more powerful and male. He made short work of the chore, and Catherine could see that she wasn’t the only one dazzled by the way his raw masculinity dominated and subdued the fussy bit of femininity.
“Let’s see if this offer doesn’t appeal,” he said as he handed Annie her cup. “If you’re not one hundred percent satisfied with your wedding, I’ll personally see to it that you’re refunded every penny.”
She accepted the coffee with a smile. “That doesn’t exactly guarantee that it’ll go off without a hitch,” she pointed out with impressive logic.
“True,” Gabe conceded, while Catherine silently steamed at his high-handedness.
She didn’t want or need anyone to guarantee her ability to pull off this wedding. She was capable. Competent. She knew the business inside and out. But with one simple offer, he’d reduced Elegant Events in the eyes of her client to a struggling start-up in need of a “real” businessman to back its ability to perform successfully.
Gabe relaxed in his chair, very much in charge. “I may not be able to guarantee that nothing will go wrong if you honor your contract. But understand this, Annie. There is one thing I can guarantee.” He paused to add weight to his comment. “Your wedding will be an unmitigated disaster if you try and do it on your own at this late stage. You’re just asking for trouble attempting to be both bride and coordinator.”
Annie gnawed on her bottom lip. Clearly, the same thought had occurred to her. “I might be able to pull it off,” she offered.
“You think so? Then I suggest you consider this…”
He turned the full battery of Piretti charm and business savvy on her and Catherine watched in amused exasperation. Annie didn’t stand a chance against him, poor thing. She hung on his words, her eyes huge as she tumbled under his spell like every other woman who’d come up a
gainst those devilish blue eyes and persuasive personality.
“After what happened at the Marconi party, Catherine is strongly motivated to make certain your wedding is perfect in every regard, if only to prove that her reputation for excellence remains intact.”
Catherine shot Gabe a quelling glare. Not that it did much to quell him. The man was unquellable. “I can’t go into specifics about what happened,” she explained to Annie, deftly assuming control. “But I want to assure you that the problems we experienced were not a result of anything I did wrong, but for the most part caused by some mischief maker out to amuse him-or herself by turning on the sprinklers. On top of that there were a few boaters who crashed the party. I know this is a stressful time for you. And I don’t doubt you’re under tremendous pressure.”
“My mother’s insisting I get rid of you,” Annie admitted. “And since she’s the one paying…”
“If you’d like me to meet with her and address her concerns, I will.”
Annie gave it a moment’s thought before shaking her head. “No, that won’t be necessary. One of the agreements Mom and I came to about the wedding was that it was my wedding. I get to make the decisions.” Her gamine smile flashed. “She gets to pay for them.”
Catherine responded with an answering smile and gave one more gentle push. “In that case, I hope you’ll decide to honor our contract.” She kept her eyes trained on Annie’s, hoping the younger girl would see Catherine’s sincerity, as well as her determination. “I promise to do my absolute best for you.”
“But Gabe’s guarantee stands, right?”
Catherine gritted her teeth. “Gabe’s guarantee stands.”
“In that case…” Annie beamed. “Okay.”
“Then it’s settled? We move forward?”
“It’s settled. You can stay on as my event stager.” Her attention switched to Gabe and she shot him an impish look. “Although I have to admit I’m almost hoping something does go wrong so you’re stuck footing the bill.”
He leaned in. “I’ll see what I can do to sabotage something,” he said in a stage whisper. “Something that won’t cause too much trouble, but just enough to get you off the hook.”
Annie giggled. “Nah, don’t do that. It would only make me feel guilty, afterward. If you can make sure there aren’t any screwups, that’s all that matters to me.”
“Gabe won’t have to worry about it,” Catherine inserted smoothly. “That’s my job.” She leveled Gabe with a single look. “And it’s a job I do quite well.”
Lunch sped by, though afterward Catherine couldn’t have said what they talked about or even what they ate. While part of her was grateful for Gabe’s assistance—after all, he’d rescued the account, hadn’t he? The other part, the major part, was hands-down furious.
“Go on,” he said the minute they parted company with Annie and were walking toward his Jag. “What’s eating you?”
She didn’t bother to hold back. “I realize you’re accustomed to being in charge, but I’d appreciate it if you’d remember that this is my business.”
He paused beside the passenger door, key in hand. “You resent my offering to guarantee a successful event?” he asked in surprise.
“To be blunt, yes. I felt like a teenager purchasing her first car and needing Daddy to cosign the loan agreement.”
He considered that for a minute. “Perhaps it would help if you examined it from a slightly different angle.”
She folded her arms across her chest. What other angle was there? “What other angle is there?”
“I’m a businessman. It goes against the grain to lose money.” He thought about it, and added, “It more than goes against the grain.”
“Then you better hope everything proceeds without a hitch, because otherwise you’ll be on the hook for…” She silently performed a few mathematical gymnastics and named a total that left him blanching. “Weddings don’t come cheap,” she informed him. “Especially not ones I stage.”
“Why don’t they just buy a house?” he argued. “It would last longer and one day show a return on investment.”
“Fortunately for Elegant Events that doesn’t occur to most couples.”
He brushed that aside. “My point is…my offer to guarantee your success shows the extent of my confidence in you and Elegant Events. I don’t back losers, and I don’t have any intention of paying for Annie’s wedding. Nor will I have to because I know you. I know you’ll do an outstanding job.”
Catherine opened her mouth to reply and then shut it again. “Huh.”
He closed the distance between them, trapping her against the car. “I have faith in you, sweetheart. There’s not a doubt in my mind that Saturday’s wedding is going to be a dream come true for our young Annie. And I think it’s all going to be thanks to you.”
“You really believe that?” she asked, touched.
The intensity of his gaze increased. “I’ve always believed in you, and one of these days you’re going to let me prove that to you.”
She barely had time to absorb that before he lowered his head and caught her mouth in a kiss so tender it brought tears to her eyes. He believed in her, had done his best to demonstrate that today. And what had she given him in return? Doubt. Mistrust. Secrets. As much as she feared attempting that first, wobbly step to reestablish their relationship, maybe it was time to take a small leap of faith. Gabe was reaching out. Maybe, just maybe, she could do the same.
And with that thought it mind, she surrendered to the embrace and opened herself to possibilities. Opened herself to the dream.
The next week flew by. To Gabe’s amusement, he realized that Catherine was doing just as he’d predicted. She threw every ounce of energy, focus and determination into making Annie’s wedding as perfect as possible. She double-and triple-checked every detail. Then she checked again. She ran through endless scenarios of potential problems that could crop up, endless possibilities that might occur at the last instant. She knew she’d be under intense scrutiny, that any tiny flaw would be blown up into a major catastrophe. Annie’s mother, in particular, was already proving a handful with endless phone calls and demands. And yet Gabe noticed that Catherine dealt calmly with every problem and complaint, not allowing her demeanor to be anything other than polite and reassuring.
“You’re driving yourself to exhaustion,” he told her toward the end of the week. He sank his fingers into the rigid muscles of her shoulders and worked to smooth out the knots and kinks. “You don’t want that exhaustion to show, and the best way of avoiding that is to get some sleep.”
Catherine nodded absently. “You’re right. I’ll join you in a minute. I just want to go over the seating chart one final time.”
Without a word, he lifted her into his arms and carried her—protesting all the way—into the bedroom. “The seating chart will still be there in the morning, as will the menu and the flower order and the final head count. There’s nothing more you can do tonight other than fuss.”
“I do not fuss,” she argued. “I organize.”
“Sweetheart, I know organizing. That wasn’t it. That was fussing.”
She sagged against him. “You’re right, you’re right. I’m fussing. I can’t seem to stop myself.”
“That’s what I’m here for.”
He lowered Catherine onto the bed and in less than thirty seconds had her stripped and a wisp of a nightgown tugged over her slender form. Then he tucked her under the covers. He joined her ten seconds later, but by that time she’d already fallen sound asleep. Thank God for small miracles, he couldn’t help but think. Sweeping her close, he brushed her hair back from her brow and planted a gentle kiss there. Satisfied that he’d accomplished his goal with minimal effort, he cushioned her head against his shoulder and allowed sleep to consume him as well.
As the end of the week approached, Gabe kept a weather eye on Catherine, ensuring that she ate properly and caught as much sleep as possible. She tolerated his interference, seemed amused b
y it, even. Perhaps she understood that it originated from concern. And that gave him hope that maybe this time around they’d get their relationship right.
By Friday morning, the day of the reception, Catherine’s calm had vanished and her nerves had shredded through her self-control. “Anything I can do?” he asked over breakfast.
She shook her head. “I have some paperwork to take care of this morning—”
“You and I both know it’s all in order.”
She flashed a brief, tense smile. “True. But I’m going to review it, anyway. Late this morning I’ll head over to Milano’s and finalize the arrangements for tomorrow’s reception. Joe’s outstanding at his job, so I don’t doubt everything will be perfect, but—”
“You’ll feel better after making sure.” Gabe nodded in complete understanding. “What about tonight’s rehearsal dinner?”
“That’s the responsibility of the groom’s family, thank goodness. Once the rehearsal is out of the way, I’ll come home.” He could see her do a mental run-through of her to-do list and wondered if she even noticed that she’d fallen into the habit of calling the apartment “home.” “I want to try for an early night, which shouldn’t be a problem. There will be a few last-minute phone calls to make before turning in, just to confirm everyone knows what time they need to show up tomorrow.”
He covered her hand with his. “No one will dare be late.”
She relaxed enough to offer a genuine smile. “You’re right about that. It’s not wise to tick off a woman clinging to the edge of a cliff by a fingernail.”
His grin faded, replaced by concern. “That bad?”
She hesitated, then shook her head. “Not really,” she confessed. “I’ve got two or three fingernails firmly dug in.”
Maybe he could help with that. “I want to escort you to the wedding tomorrow, Cate.”
She stared blankly. “I’ll be working.”
“I understand. But I’d like to be there to offer moral support, as well as give you another set of hands should there be a snag.”
