Propositioned By The Tycoon. Yvonne Lindsay

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pair of hips. She’d chosen sandals that were little more than a knot of sexy straps with the prerequisite three-inch heels, which she invariably wore to give the illusion of height. The heels also performed double duty by showcasing a stunning pair of legs. Clearly, she’d dressed to impress…or distract.

      “It’s been a while,” he commented. “You’ve changed.”

      “Stop it.”

      He lifted an eyebrow and offered a bland smile. “Stop what?”

      “You’re mentally undressing me.”

      It was true, though not the way she thought. He couldn’t help but wonder what had caused the recent weight loss, but was careful to hide his concern beneath gentle banter. “Only because I figured you’d object if I undressed you any other way.”

      A reluctant smile came and went. “What happened to your motto of strictly business?”

      “When it comes to work, I am all business.” He paused deliberately. “But you don’t work for me, do you?”

      “And haven’t for three and a half years.”

      His humor faded. “Do you regret your choices, Catherine?”

      He caught a flicker of distress before she rearranged her expression into a mask of casual indifference. “Some of them. But that’s not what you’re asking, is it? You want to know if I had the opportunity to do it over again, would I choose differently?” She gave it serious consideration. “I doubt it. Some things you simply have to experience in order to learn how to live your life…or how not to.”

      “Some things? Or some people?”

      She met his gaze, dead-on. “Both, of course. But I’m not here to discuss our past.”

      “Straight to business, then.”

      She continued to study him. He remembered how disconcerting he’d found those amber-gold eyes when they’d first met. Nothing had changed. They were still as intense as they were unusual, seeing far more than he felt comfortable revealing. “Isn’t business first how you prefer it?” she asked. “I seem to recall that’s practically a cardinal rule at Piretti’s. Whenever you buy and sell companies, put them together or dismantle them, it’s never personal. It’s just business.”

      “Normally, that would be true. But with you…” He shrugged, conceding the unfathomable. “You were always the exception.”

      “Funny. I’d have said just the opposite.”

      Her mouth compressed, a habitual gesture when the spontaneous part of her nature ran up against the bone-deep kindness that kept her more wayward thoughts in check. In the past, he’d taken great delight in kissing those wide, full lips apart and teasing the truth from her. Somehow he didn’t think she’d respond well to that particular tack. Not now. Not yet.

      “Sorry,” she murmured. “Water under the bridge.”

      “Quite a bit of water. But not quite enough to break the dam. I’ll have to see what I can do about that.”

      A hint of confusion drifted across her expression, but he moved on before she could question what he meant. In time, he’d find out why she’d left. In time, he’d break through that calm, polite facade and force the fury and passion to the surface. He’d poke and prod until the dam finally broke and the truth spilled out.

      “How have you been?” he asked, hoping the mundane question would help her relax.

      A hint of strain blossomed across her elegant features. When he’d first met her—and hired her on the spot—he’d thought her delicate. And though her fine-boned appearance gave that impression, he’d quickly learned she possessed a backbone of steel. But right now she seemed more than delicate. She looked undone.

      “I’m a little stressed right now,” she confessed. “Which is why I’m here.”

      “Tell me about it,” he prompted.

      She hesitated, gathering her self-control and wrapping dispassion around herself like a protective cloak. “About eighteen months ago, I started my own business.”

      “Elegant Events.”

      He’d surprised her. “How did—” She waved the question aside. “Never mind. You would have made it your business to know what I did after we went our separate ways.”

      “You mean…after you left me.”

      The correction escaped without thought or intent, the words whisper-soft and carrying an underlying edge. An edge she caught. The strain she fought so hard to conceal deepened, melded with an old anger and an even older hurt. Her hands curled tight, her knuckles bleached white. This time when she compressed her mouth he suspected it was to control the betraying tremble. Time stretched taut.

      “Do you really want to go there?” she asked at last. She pinned him with a single look. “Do we need to deal with the past now? Is that the only way you’re willing to help me?”

      “It’s not the only way.”

      “Just the way you prefer.” She didn’t wait for the confirmation. “Fine. I’ll make this as straightforward as I know how. You, with your unrelenting need to keep business and personal in separate compartments, gave me a choice. I could work for you or love you, but not both. I, foolishly, chose love. What I didn’t realize is that you were already in love. And that love would always come first with you.”

      “You were the only woman in my life,” he bit back.

      She lifted a shoulder and smiled in a way that threatened to tear his heart right out of his chest. “Perhaps the only woman, but not the only thing. Piretti’s was always your first love. And because of that, it will always be the love you put first.”

      “You left me because I worked late on occasion?” he demanded in disbelief. “Because sometimes I was forced to put work ahead of you or our social life?”

      She didn’t bother arguing, though he could see part of her yearned to. The anger and disillusionment could be read in her expression, the bitter words trembling on the tip of her tongue. She waited until both faded away before speaking.

      “Yes,” she said with painful simplicity. “Yes, I left you for all those reasons.”

      “And a host of others?” he guessed shrewdly.

      She inclined her head. “And a host of others.” Before he could demand more information, she held out a hand in supplication. “Please, Gabe. It’s been nearly two years. There’s no point in beating this issue to death after all this time. Can’t we move on?” She paused a beat, a hint of wry humor catching him by surprise. “Or am I wasting my time coming here today?”

      He had no intention of moving on, but he could be patient. Maybe. If he tried really hard. “You aren’t wasting your time. If it’s in my power to help, I will. Why don’t you start by explaining the problem to me?”

      She took a deep, steadying breath. “Okay, let’s see if I can’t keep this short and straightforward, the way you like it. In a nutshell, Elegant Events is an event-staging business

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