Propositioned By The Tycoon. Yvonne Lindsay

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shook her to the core.

      And in that moment, he turned her world upside down.

      She heard a harsh groan and couldn’t tell if it emanated from his throat or hers. All she knew was that it sounded primal and desperate. She’d gone without this for too long, she was forced to concede. She’d been stripped of something she hadn’t even realized she needed. He was her air. Her heartbeat. Her sustenance and her reason for being. How had she survived all this time without him?

      Unable to help herself, she wrapped herself around him and gave. And then she gave more, putting all the longing and hope and despair into that one single kiss. She had no idea how long they stood there, their breath coming in urgent pants, hands groping, bodies pressing.

      Perhaps she’d never have surfaced if she hadn’t suddenly felt a tingling awareness that they were being watched. Shoving at his shoulders, she pushed him back, or tried to, for all the good it did her. The man was as immovable as an oak, and because of his height, he blocked her view of whomever had witnessed their embrace. All she caught was a fleeting glimpse of red.

      “Playtime’s over,” she managed to say.

      It took him a minute to release her and another one after that for her to recover her equilibrium and attempt to walk down the hallway. Thank God she’d worn sensible shoes. If she’d tried to maneuver on her usual heels, her shaky legs would have pitched her straight onto her backside. He must have picked up on the results of his handiwork because his rumble of laughter followed her down the hallway, as did he.

      “Seriously, I need to work, Gabe,” she said, attempting to dismiss him. She gave her walkie-talkie a cursory check to make sure she hadn’t accidentally bumped the volume knob. To her relief, she saw that it was on and working just fine.

      “I won’t get in your way. I have a legitimate reason for following you.”

      “Which is?”

      “I need to watch how your run your business. Just in case.”

      “Just in case…what?” she asked distractedly.

      “Just in case you change your mind and ask for my help.”

      She stopped dead in her tracks and faced him. “That isn’t going to happen. I can’t meet your price.” She shook her head. “Correction. I won’t meet it.”

      He only had to lift a single eyebrow for her to consider what had happened just moments ago, and realize that her claim rang a little hollow. “Time will tell,” he limited himself to saying.

      She waved him aside with an impatient hand and looked around, not sure where she was or how she’d gotten there. What the hell had she been going to do when he’d interrupted her? She was utterly clueless. With an irritated sigh, she turned on her heel and headed back the way she’d come. Giving the checklist another cursory glance, she stepped outside. She’d do a quick walk-through and inspect each of the various stations. Then she’d touch bases with the caterers—She snapped her fingers. The caterers. That’s where she’d intended to go. She needed to coordinate the presentation of the cake.

      She spared Gabe a brief glance. If she turned around yet again, she’d confirm how thoroughly he’d rattled her, which would never do. No point in giving him that much of an advantage. Instead, she’d keep moving forward and circle back once she’d ditched him. She crossed the beautifully manicured lawn toward Lake Washington, pausing at the demarcation between grass and imported white sand. She took a moment to gaze out across the dark water. And all the while a painful awareness surged through her.

      “You’ve done an incredible job, Catherine,” Gabe said quietly. “The gondolas are a particularly special touch. I’m sure it reminds Alessandro of his home in Italy.”

      Catherine smiled at the sight of the distinctive boats and the gondoliers manning them, all of whom were decked out in their traditional garb of black slacks, black-and-white-striped shirts and beribboned straw hats. Some were even singing as they rowed, maneuvering the distinctive single oar with impressive skill and dexterity as they ferried passengers around the section of the lake cordoned off for their use. Channel markers fashioned to look like floating fairy lights turned the scene into a romantic wonderland.

      “It was something Natalie said that made me think of it,” Catherine explained. “I was a bit concerned about lake traffic, but we were able to get permission to use this small section for a few hours tonight. I even stationed security personnel in private craft directing boaters away from the area.”

      “Smart, though there’s a no-wake zone through here, isn’t there?”

      “There’s supposed to be.” She shrugged. “But you know how that can go.”

      Satisfied that the guests were thoroughly enjoying their small taste of Venice, she turned her attention to the buffet station set up on one side of the sweeping lawn. The caterers she’d chosen specialized in authentic Italian cuisine and had gone all out for the evening’s festivities. Graceful tents of silk and tulle surrounded the groaning tables. With a stiff breeze blowing from off the lake, the tents served the duel function of protecting the food and keeping the fuel canisters beneath the hot dishes from blowing out. Adjacent to the tents, linen draped tables dotted the area, the silver cutlery and crystal glassware gleaming softly beneath the lighting.

      Catherine gave the area one final check, and was on the verge of returning to the kitchen when she caught sight of Roxanne. The woman stood chatting with Natalie, while her gaze roamed the crowds, clearly searching for someone. Catherine could make three big, fat guesses who that someone might be and they would all center on the man standing beside her.

      “I didn’t realize you brought your assistant with you,” she said to Gabe.

      He followed her gaze and shrugged. “I didn’t. I believe she’s a friend of Natalie’s daughter.”

      As though aware of the scrutiny, Roxanne homed in on Catherine…and Gabe. And then her lips curved in a killer smile, a horribly familiar one that, in the past, warned of coming trouble. Offering her hostess a quick air kiss, she excused herself and made her way toward them, undulating across the grass with her distinctive catwalk stride.

      She looked fabulous, Catherine reluctantly conceded, dressed in traffic-stopping red. The bodice of her skintight dress bared a path of bronzed skin straight to her equator while her skirt barely covered the assets composing her southern hemispheres. She shot Catherine a challenging look, before wrapping herself around Gabe.

      “Since we’re not on duty…” She moistened her lips before planting a lingering kiss on his mouth. Then she pulled back and laughed up at him. “See what you’ve been missing? I did tell you.”

      He regarded his assistant with indulgent amusement. “A shame I have that rule about not mixing business with pleasure,” he replied easily. “Otherwise, you’d be in serious trouble.”

      “Some rules are made to be broken. And in case you didn’t notice, I excel at trouble.” Her dark eyes sparkled. “Don’t you agree?”

      “That you excel at trouble?” He inclined his head. “Absolutely. Unfortunately, my rules are written in concrete. I never break them, no matter how tempting the offer.”

      It was a gently administered rebuff and maybe if they’d been alone, Roxanne would have taken it better. Unfortunately, Catherine’s presence heaped humiliation on top of embarrassment.

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