my point, or is another demonstration necessary?”
She yanked at the hem of her suit jacket and with an exclamation of annoyance, shoved button through hole where it had come undone. Then she tugged at her skirt and smoothed her hair. What he’d ruffled, she swiftly unruffled. Then she regarded him with undisguised irritation. “You’ve made your point,” she retorted. He could only imagine the amount of effort it took to look at him. “You do realize that I believed it was over between us, or I’d never have approached you.”
“That’s rather naive of you since there’s not a chance in hell this will ever be over between us, sweetheart.”
Her chin shot up. “There shouldn’t have been anything left. I figured at most we’d have to kick over some of the ashes just to satisfy our morbid curiosity. I didn’t expect to find any lingering embers.”
“I don’t doubt that for a minute.”
“This—” She waved an all-encompassing hand to indicate him, herself, and the kiss that still heated their lips. “None of it changes my mind about our relationship. I’m not coming back home.”
Home. The slip hung in the air for a timeless instant. He didn’t reply. He simply smiled knowingly.
Swearing beneath her breath, she shot toward the couch and gathered up the file she’d given him and stuffed it inside her briefcase. Tossing the strap of her purse over one shoulder, she spun around to face him. He deliberately stood between her and the door. Not that that stopped her.
“I’m leaving,” she warned. “And I’m going around you, through you or over your dead body. But I am going.”
“And I’m going to make certain that doesn’t happen. Oh, not today,” he reassured her at her unmistakable flare of alarm. “But very soon I’m going to be around you, through you and—trust me—your body will be far from dead when I’m over it.” He stepped to one side. “When you change your mind about needing my help with Elegant Events, you know where to find me.”
She crossed the room, circling just out of reach as she headed for the door. Her hand closed over the knob, and then she hesitated. “Why, Gabe?” she asked quietly, throwing the question over her shoulder. “Why the conditions?”
“The truth?”
“If you don’t mind.”
The words escaped in a harsh undertone, the brutal honesty making them all the more devastating in their delivery. “Not a night passes that I don’t ache for you, Cate. Not a morning dawns that I don’t reach for you. I want the pain to end. The next time I reach out, I want you there.”
It took every ounce of self-possession for Catherine to exit Gabe’s office without it looking as though she were attempting to escape the fiery pits of hell. Worse, she’d completely forgotten about Roxanne Bodine, aka Satan’s handmaiden, whose sharp black eyes made note of the distress Catherine wasn’t quick enough to conceal. A mocking smile slid across sharply flamboyant features.
“Not the reunion you were hoping for?” Roxanne asked in a honeyed voice that contained just a whiff of a southern drawl. “If you’d bothered to ask, I could have warned that you were wasting your time. You let that fish slip off your hook nearly two years ago, and he’s none too eager to slip back on again.”
“Maybe you should tell him that,” Catherine retorted, then wanted to kick herself for revealing so much.
Roxanne could deliver taunts with needle-sharp precision. But she wasn’t the type of woman who took them well. Nor did she appreciate the implication that Gabe might be interested in getting back together with the rival she’d worked so hard to rid herself of.
“Some women don’t understand the concept of making a graceful exit.” Roxanne stood and stretched a figure as full and lush as Catherine’s was petite and fine-boned. She settled on the corner of her desk with all the lazy grace of a true feline. Then she proceeded to sharpen her claws on the nearest available target, in this case, Catherine. “Seems to me you’d have more pride than to come crawling back. You’re just asking to get kicked to the curb again.”
All her life Catherine had chosen discretion over a more overt approach. She’d been the good girl. Quiet. Polite. Turning the other cheek when required. But enough was enough. She didn’t have anything to lose anymore. “I don’t know how I’d survive without you looking out for my welfare, Roxanne,” Catherine said with a sunny smile. “Maybe that’s your problem. Maybe instead of looking out for me, you should be looking out for yourself.”
“Oh, don’t trouble yourself on my account. I’m like a cat,” she said, stating the all-too obvious. “I’ve been blessed with nine lives and I have a knack for landing on my feet.”
Catherine planted a hand on a trim hip. “And yet here you are still sitting behind a desk…like an alley cat meowing at the back door waiting to be let in. I’d have thought with me out of the way, you’d have found a way in by now. I guess that’s one door you can’t quite slink through.”
Fury turned Roxanne’s face a deadly shade of white while two patches of harsh red streaked across her sharp cheekbones. “You think I made your life a misery before? Try me now. This is my turf, and I’ll do whatever necessary to defend it.”
Catherine made a sweeping gesture. “Go right ahead. But while you’re so busy staking out your territory, maybe you should consider one small detail that you seem to have overlooked.”
That stopped her. “I haven’t overlooked a thing,” Roxanne insisted, just a shade too late.
“No? How about this. You know your boss. When he wants something, he doesn’t let anything stand in his way. Gabe wants, Gabe takes.” Catherine allowed that to sink in before continuing. “You’ve worked for him for…what? Two and a half years? Three? And yet you’ve never been taken. I’m willing to bet you can’t even get him to sample the goods. If he hasn’t been tempted in all that time, what makes you think he ever will?”
She didn’t wait for a response. If there was one thing she’d learned since opening Elegant Events, it was when to pack up your knives and leave. Without another word, she swung around and headed for the elevators. The instant she stepped into the car, she checked her back. To her relief she didn’t find any of those knives sticking out of it.
Yet.
“So, fill me in on every detail. How did it go?” Dina Piretti asked eagerly. “You didn’t have to tell him about me, did you?”
Catherine set down her briefcase just inside the front door and shot Gabe’s mother an uneasy glance. “No, he still hasn’t discovered that you’re my partner,” she reassured her.
Dina released a sigh. “I hear a ‘but’ in there.”
“But it didn’t go well,” Catherine confessed. “I’m afraid we’re on our own. We’ll either have to figure out where the problem is ourselves, or we’ll have to hire an outside consultant to advise us. A consultant other than your son.”
Dina stared in patent disbelief. “No,” she stammered. “You must have misunderstood. I can’t believe Gabriel refused to help you. Not you.”
Catherine hesitated. She had two choices. She could lie, something she not only hated, but didn’t do well. Or she could tell Gabe’s mother what her precious firstborn had demanded in exchange for his help. Neither option held any appeal.
“I need a drink,” she announced. Maybe while they fixed a pot of coffee, some stroke of brilliance would come to her and she’d figure out a third option.“ And then we’d better get to work. The Marconi birthday party is tonight and I have a dozen phone calls I need you to make while I head over there and supervise the setup.”