Propositioned By The Tycoon: Mr Strictly Business / Bought: His Temporary Fiancée / A Win-Win Proposition. Yvonne Lindsay

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      Her mouth quivered in amusement. “Something like that.”

      “No, what I want is to clarify a few things.” He paced through the confines of her tiny living area, studying first the view, and then her furnishings. “Cozy.”

      “I don’t require a lot of space.” She dropped her keys in a green blown-glass bowl on a table near the front door. “Probably because I don’t take up anywhere near as much room as you.”

      He turned. “Sometimes I forget how small you are. It must have something to do with that strong, passionate personality of yours.”

      The compliment knocked her off-kilter, and she didn’t want to be off-kilter. She folded her arms across her chest. “Do you really think it’s going to make the least difference to our relationship whether I move two suitcases’ worth of possessions into your place or two truckloads? Possessions won’t keep me there. Not when our relationship falls apart again.”

      He ignored that final barbed shot. “Having personal possessions around you will make you feel more comfortable. And maybe if you’re more comfortable, you’ll be more inclined to work through our difficulties rather than run from them.”

      “I didn’t run the first time, Gabe.”

      His jaw tightened. “Didn’t you? It looked like running to me. It felt like it. One minute you were there and the next you were gone. No warning. Not even a phone call.”

      “I left a note,” she retorted, stung.

      “I remember.” He stalked closer. “I got home after forty-eight straight hours of a brutal work crisis that could have meant the end of Piretti’s and found it waiting for me.”

      “What do you mean…that could have meant the end of Piretti’s?” she asked in alarm. “I thought it was one of your takeovers on the verge of imploding.”

      “No, it was an attempted coup staged by Piretti’s former board members, the ones I’d kicked out after staging my own coup. Not that it matters.” He returned to his point with dogged determination. “What you did was cold, Catherine.”

      “You’re right, it was,” she conceded. “And I’m sorry for that. Someday ask me about the brutal forty-eight hours I experienced leading up to that decision. It was cold because I was cold. Cold and empty and—” She stemmed the flow of words before she said too much. She wouldn’t go there with him. Didn’t have the emotional stamina, even now. Even after nearly two years, she couldn’t face the memories with anything approaching equanimity.

      “And what? You were cold and empty and…what?” he pressed.

      “Broken. Sick and broken.”

      She forced the words out, then busied herself opening her briefcase and removing the file on Elegant Events that she’d offered Gabe the day before. His hand dropped over hers, forcing her to set the papers aside.

      “Is that why you went to stay with my mother? Because you were sick and broken?”

      “I didn’t have any other family,” she whispered. “I didn’t have anywhere else to—”

      His grip gentled. “You don’t have to justify it. I’m relieved that you felt comfortable going to her.”

      “Really?” She searched his expression, seeking reassurance. “I’m surprised you didn’t give her a hard time about taking me in.”

      His head jerked as though she’d slapped him. “Was I such a bastard that you think I’d do such a thing to you? I’m relieved to know you had a place. To know you were safe.” Then he asked the one question she dreaded most. “You said you were sick. What was wrong with you?”

      “Nothing that a little tender loving care couldn’t cure.”

      “Care I didn’t offer you.”

      She met his gaze dead-on. “No, you didn’t.”

      “That’s going to change.” He waved aside her incipient response. “I know you don’t believe me. Only time will convince you otherwise, and I’m hoping the next few months will do just that.”

      There was no point arguing, not when he was right. Only time would give them the proof they needed…proof that they didn’t belong together. “Fair enough.”

      “Call the number on the business card, Catherine,” he urged. “They’ve been paid regardless of how much or how little you bring. And all you have to do is point out the things you want transferred. They’ll pack, load and transport, and then reverse the process once they get everything over to my place.”

      “Thank you,” she said with in a stiff voice. “That’s very generous of you.”

      He frowned. “Don’t. Please, don’t.”

      She closed her eyes for an instant. “I’m sorry. We’ve been apart so long, and—” She shook her head in bewilderment. “I don’t know how to handle this.”

      “Then I’ll show you how to handle it. It’s easy.” He cupped her face and feathered a kiss across her mouth. It was soft and gentle and drove every ounce of common sense straight out of her head. “See how easy?”

      “I still don’t—”

      She never completed the sentence. She never even completed the thought. It faded away, forever lost. His mouth returned to hers, and the tenor of the kiss changed, grew more potent. He slipped a small demand into the embrace, urging a response she was helpless to resist. So she didn’t resist. After that it seemed such a small step to go from reluctant response to active participation. To meet his demand and make one of her own. To give. To take. To nudge up the heat ever so slightly.

      She felt the tilt, the inner shift from submission to aggression. She slid her arms across his chest and shoved at his suit jacket. She caught the whisper of silk as it slipped away. Not breaking contact, she yanked his tie from its mooring, ripping at the knot until it followed the same path as his jacket. Plucking at the buttons of his shirt, she finally, finally, hit hot, firm flesh.

      Heaven help her, but he was built. Her mouth slid from his and traced a pathway along his corded throat and downward. She felt the groan vibrating beneath her lips and smiled. She remembered that sound, the pleasure it gave her to be the cause. To thrill at the knowledge that her touch could drive a man of Gabe’s strength of will to lose total control.

      Even now she felt him teetering on the brink and caught herself hovering there as well. She had just enough awareness to realize she had a choice. She could finish what she’d started, or she could pull back. Part of her, the part that longed to feel Gabe’s hands on her again and experience anew that incredible rush when their bodies joined, urged her to continue. But there were too many issues between them for her to give in so quickly and easily.

      As though sensing her hesitation, he gave a push of his own. “I’ve missed you, Catherine,” he murmured roughly. He followed the tailored line of her suit, reacquainting himself with familiar territory. Fire splashed in the wake of his touch. “And I’ve missed this.”

      She wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer. It was now or never. With a СКАЧАТЬ