by Day Leclaire
Tears welled up in Dina’s eyes. “Oh, Gabriel. You have no idea how much your saying that means to me. You’ve always done your best to look out for me.” She gave him a misty smile. “But it’s not about the money, dear.”
“Then, what?” Catherine asked. She caught her lip between her teeth. “Is this because I left Gabe? Is this some sort of payback?”
Dina inhaled sharply. “You think I did this out of revenge? Oh, no, sweetheart. Never that. I love you as though you were my own daughter. How could you doubt that?” Her gaze, bird bright, shifted from Gabe to Catherine. “No, I did it to help the two of you.”
“To help us,” Catherine repeated, confusion overriding every other emotion. “How does driving our business into bankruptcy help?”
“Think about it. What did you do once you realized we were having financial difficulties?”
“I tried to drum up more business. I economized. I worked to reduce overhead and increase—” She broke off and closed her eyes. “Of course. I went to Gabe.”
“There you go.” Dina patted her hand. “I knew you’d get there eventually. Just as I knew that if our finances became serious enough and you couldn’t see any other option available to you, you’d eventually go and ask Gabriel for help. I have to tell you, I was quite impressed by your determination not to give in. I almost had to scrap the entire plan.”
“But I caved before you had to.”
She beamed. “Exactly.”
“Are you telling me,” Gabe gritted out, “that you set up this entire scam, put Catherine through hell and back, as a matchmaking scheme?”
Dina tilted her head to one side in a mannerism identical to Gabe’s. “I’d say that pretty much covers it, yes. And it worked, didn’t it? You two are back together and looking happier than ever. If I hadn’t stepped in, you’d still be apart and miserable.” She tapped her index finger against the tabletop. “And before you lose that infamous Piretti temper of yours, let me tell you that I’d have done almost anything, risked just about any consequence in order to give you the opportunity to work out your differences. You taught me that, Gabriel, when you abducted me. You didn’t care what ultimately happened to you as a result of your actions, so long as we patched up our relationship.”
Gabe wrestled his temper under control, with only limited success. “I believe the expression is…hoisted by my own petard.” And didn’t that just bite? Another thought occurred to him. “And are you also behind the sabotage of her reputation?”
Dina’s mug hit the table with a crack. “Absolutely not. How can you think I’d do such a thing?”
“Oh, hell, Mom. I don’t know. Maybe because you stole from her?”
She sniffed. “That’s different. The money didn’t actually go anywhere. It’s safe and sound. Catherine’s name is even on the account where I have the funds stashed. So, technically, it probably isn’t embezzlement.”
“Technically, when I kill you it won’t be murder because there’s not a man alive who wouldn’t consider it justifiable momicide.” Okay, so maybe his temper wasn’t totally under control.
“That’s enough, Gabe,” Catherine said, stepping into the fray. “It’s time to go.”
For the first time, Dina’s smile faltered. “Are you terribly angry with me? I really was trying to help.”
To Gabe’s surprise, Catherine left her chair and crouched beside Dina. She wrapped her arms around the older woman and whispered something in her ear, something he couldn’t make out. All he knew was that it made his mother cry, though a single look told him they were tears of happiness. Then Catherine straightened and glanced at Gabe.
“Could you take me back to your apartment, please?” she asked.
Not home, he noted. But to his apartment. He could feel the time remaining between them growing short, could almost hear the clock ticking down the final minutes, and his jaw clenched. Now that he’d resolved Catherine’s financial issues, and her reputation had regained its footing, he was rapidly running out of leverage for convincing her to stay with him. Did she want to return to his place because she planned to pack up and return to her apartment?
If so, he’d better come up with a new plan for convincing her to stay…and fast.
Gabe’s tension was palpable the entire drive to his place and Catherine didn’t dare say a word in case it was the wrong word, one that set off whatever was building inside him. She waited quietly while he inserted his key in the lock and shoved open the door, allowing her to enter ahead of him.
The interior lay in utter darkness and thundering silence, a silence broken only by the harsh sound of their breathing. She switched on the lamp by the wooden sculpture of the sleeping woman and trailed her hand along the fluid lines. It had become a habit to caress the small statue whenever she entered the apartment.
“I bought that after you left because it reminded me of you,” Gabe said.
“Does it?” She took another look. She couldn’t see the similarity herself, but then she had no idea what she looked like when asleep. She could only hope it was this graceful. “Why would you do that when our relationship was over?”
“Because it wasn’t over. It isn’t over.”
She couldn’t miss the implacable tone, the underlying statement that he planned to do everything within his power to convince her to stay, even after all the problems at Elegant Events had been resolved. And he was right. It wasn’t over between them.
Not yet. Not tonight.
“And when our business is concluded?” She glanced at him over her shoulder. He stood in shadow, making it impossible to read his expression. But there was no mistaking the look in his eyes. A look of utter ruthlessness. “You aren’t going to honor your promise and let me go, are you?”
“No.”
She nodded to herself. “I didn’t think so.”
In a single supple movement she snagged the hem of her T-shirt and pulled it up over her head. The scrap of cotton fluttered to the floor, a pale flag of surrender against the gray carpet.
“What are you doing?” The question escaped, abrasive as sandpaper.
She unsnapped her shorts and shimmied out of them, letting them pool at her feet before stepping clear of them. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
“It looks remarkably like a striptease.” He reached for her, but she evaded him. “Why, Catherine?”
Reaching behind her, she unhooked her bathing suit top and let it slip away into the darkness. “Why am I taking off my clothes? Why aren’t I packing up and moving out? Or why did you never come after me when I left? Why did your mother have to go to such extremes to throw us together again?”
He ignored all her questions, but one. “Are you staying?”
She hooked her thumbs in the scrap of silk anchored to her hips and slid it off. She headed for the bedroom, turning at the last minute to say, “It would be a shame to let all Dina’s hard work go to waste, wouldn’t it?”
He caught up with her in the hallway. Without a word, he swept her high into his arms and carried her into the bedroom. The world spun dizzily around her right before the bed reached up to cushion their fall. Still he didn’t speak. But she found that words weren’t necessary. Not when he said it all in a single kiss.
His mouth closed over hers, first in tender benediction, then in something else. She sensed he wanted to be gentle, but this wasn’t a night for gentleness. Something fierce and desperate and raw erupted between them. It was as though they’d been stripped to their bare essence, all polish and sophistication shredded, with only an elemental need remaining.
“I can’t hold back tonight,” he said in between kisses.
“I don’t want you to.”
He gathered her up and spread her across the silk bedcover, anchoring her wrists above her head with one hand while shaping her lean contours with the other. And then he feasted on what her striptease had bared. His mouth captured her breast. While the light nip and tug shot her skyward, his hand slid to her hip and then
through the crisp triangle of curls. He cupped her, and with one slow, torturous stroke with his clever, clever fingers he had her erupting.
“No,” she moaned. “I want more. I want you.”
“And you’ll have me,” he promised. “Patience, sweetheart.”
“You be patient. I’ll have you now.”
She fought free of his hold and pushed at his shoulders, rolling him onto his back. He didn’t put up much of a struggle, but then she didn’t expect him to. It was her turn to explore. Her turn to taste, then devour. Her turn to sculpt lines as graceful as the wooden statue he’d compared her to. But his lines flowed with a far different type of grace. His body was hard and crisp and honed. And utterly, gloriously male.
She started at the top of him, with that face that was just a shade too pretty for his own good. Sooty brows. Eyes of cobalt blue that pierced mere skin and bone and arrowed right through to the heart and soul of her. A nose, straight and proud. His jaw, a stubborn block of granite that once set could rarely be shifted. And his mouth.
She fell into his mouth, moaning at the endless sweep and parry of his tongue that never failed to send her heart tripping and racing like a sprinter’s. And still, it wasn’t enough. More, more, more. She wanted to explore every single inch and give to him the way he’d so often given to her.
His throat moved convulsively as she kissed her way along it and she could feel a harsh groan building there, rumbling against her lips. “Not in control now, are we, Piretti?” she teased. “Looks like there’s a new pirate in charge of the pillaging and plundering.”
“Pillage any more of my plunder and I’ll go digging for your buried treasure.”
She choked on a laugh and skittered downward. “Not yet. I have other plans for you first.”
Like his amazing chest. It had driven her crazy the entire day, watching him helm his yacht in just a pair of white gauze, drawstring pants slung low on his narrow hips. He truly had a spectacular physique, with powerful arms roped with muscle and yards of deeply tanned, lightly furred chest. And when he’d bent down to adjust one of the boat fenders or secure the lines, the sight of his tight, rounded flanks almost brought her to her knees. All she could think about throughout those endless hours was giving that drawstring of his a little jerk. Now she could.
She made quick work of it, loosening the waistband and delving inside. She followed the plunging line of crisp, dark hair until she hit her own personal treasure. He felt hot to the touch, that peculiar combination of sleek overlying steel one that never failed to amaze, even as it aroused. She wanted to give to him, give something special. So first she touched; then she tasted.
The groan finally escaped his throat, an eruption of sound, followed by an eruption of movement. He dragged her upward, flipped her, and with a single swift plunge mated them one to the other. Energy shot through her, a tense expectation that hovered just out of reach.
“I’m sorry.” The words were torn from him. “I’m so sorry.”
She cupped his face, forcing that wild blue gaze to fix on her. “Why are you sorry? How can you possibly be sorry when we’re here, together, like this?”
“My mother was wrong to force you into this. I was wrong to force you.”
Catherine could barely hang on. “This isn’t wrong.” It was perfect. It was heaven on earth. “It never was and never could be.”
The breath burned from his lungs. “You didn’t take her apart as you had every right to do. I don’t know what you said to her, but it made her so happy.”
In a smooth flow of movement, Catherine cinched his waist with her legs and pulled him in tight. “You want to know what I said?” She gave herself up to his helpless movements, caught the rhythm with him and rode the storm. “I told her thank you.”
They shattered then, falling apart in each other’s arms. Catherine stared blindly up at him, knowing that she’d never be able to gather up all the pieces again, never be able to put them together the way they were before. She’d done the unthinkable that day.
She’d fallen in love with Gabe again.
“Why did you leave me?”
In the exhausted fallout from their lovemaking, the question caught her completely off guard and utterly defenseless. No doubt he’d planned it that way. “Do we have to do this now?”
He rolled over to face her and lifted onto an elbow. His expression was so serious, so determined. “Something happened, didn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Something more than my giving work priority at the worst possible time.”
“Yes,” she whispered again.
“What happened?”
“Please, Gabe. Tonight was so special, I don’t want anything to ruin it. I owe you the truth. I know I do. And I’ll give it to you, I promise.”
He swept wayward curls from her face, his gaze one of infinite compassion. “You thought this moment wouldn’t come, didn’t you? That our relationship would fall apart and spare you whatever it is you need to confess.”
“Yes.” She sat up and snagged the sheet, wrapping it around herself. It was a telling gesture. She took a minute to think through her options, aware of him tamping down on his impatience so she had that opportunity. “Do you know what the weekend after next is?”
She could see he didn’t care for the abrupt change in subject. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“The date,” she continued doggedly. “Do you know the significance of the date?”
He paused to consider, then nodded. “It’ll be two years to the day that you left.”
“I want you to take four days off—just four days—and go away with me that weekend. You choose the spot. Someplace special.”
He left the bed, his movements uncharacteristically jerky. “Are you serious?”
“Quite serious. If you’ll do that, I’ll answer any and all questions you put to me. And I’ll answer them unconditionally.” She hesitated. “But I think I should warn you that you’re not going to like what you hear.”
He snagged a pair of jeans and yanked them on. He’d never looked more potently male than in that moment. His hair was rumpled from their lovemaking, and traces of fierce passion still cut across the planes of his face. Even his body was taut and scented with aggression. The predator had escaped from beneath his civilized cloak and he was on the prowl.
“Why all the drama, Catherine? Why not just come clean here and now?”
She looked around with wistful affection. “I don’t want any more ghosts haunting this place than there already are. And I want to deal with our issues on neutral territory. Either we’re able to put it all behind us and move on.” She swallowed. “Or we call it quits.”
“Son of a—” He thrust a hand through his hair. “You think next weekend is going to end our relationship, don’t you?”
A vise tightened around her throat, and she had to force out her answer. “Yes. Please, Gabe. I want—I need—this time beforehand.”
“All right, fine. I’ll arrange to take that weekend off and give you the time you’re asking.” He stalked toward the bed. Perhaps it was his partial nudity. Perhaps it was the distracting gap in his jeans. Perhaps it was simply that he still had a prowl to his step. Whatever the cause, she’d never seen him more intimidating. “But hear me, Catherine, and hear me well. I won’t let you go. Whatever this secret is, we’ll work our way through it.”
“I want to believe that.”
He rested a knee on the mattress and cupped her face. “All you have to do is let me in. All you have to do is trust me. I’m not going to walk away from you. We will figure this out, after which I’m going to propose to you again. And this time I won’t let anything interfere. No phone calls. No business. And no secrets.”
Tears overflowed, spilling with helpless abandon down her cheeks. “I’m afraid.”
“I know you are.” He feathered a kiss across her mouth. “But there’s nothing I can do about that, no way to reassure you, until you’re honest wit
h me.”
The next several days passed as though on wings. With each one that slipped away, Catherine saw the death of her dreams approach with lightning-fast speed. Her days became overloaded with work, necessary if she was going to take the next weekend off to be with Gabe. But the nights…
Seated at the small desk in her bedroom, Catherine set her current checklist aside as she paused to consider. The nights overflowed with a passion unlike anything that had gone before. It was as though Gabe were determined to put some indelible mark on her, to prove that what existed between them could never be lost. Would never end.
But all things ended.
She shivered at the thought, then forced herself to return to work, scanning the checklist for any minor details she might have overlooked. At her elbow, the phone rang and she picked up the receiver. “Catherine Haile,” she said, still focused more on work than the caller.
“May I speak with Mr. Gabe Piretti, please?” The voice was young, female and friendly.
“I’m sorry, he’s not available,” Catherine said absentmindedly. “May I take a message?”
“Hmm. Maybe you can help me. This is Theresa from Très Romantique. I’m calling regarding the reservations he made with us.”
Catherine put down her checklist and perked up a little. “Actually, I can help you with that.”
“Lovely.” Relief sounded in her voice. “When Mr. Piretti originally booked with us, he requested a suite.”
“Did he?” Catherine murmured, pleased by his thoughtfulness.
“But when he changed the dates, the room was switched from a suite to a standard king. I took Mr. Piretti’s original reservations myself, and I remember how adamant he was about wanting that particular suite. So, before I let it go, I just want to double-check that my associate didn’t misunderstand his request.” Theresa lowered her voice. “She’s new, and I’m in charge of training her, so it’s my head if a mistake is made. Besides, it would be a shame for him to lose that room, if it’s the one he actually wanted. It’s absolutely gorgeous.”
