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Propositioned By The Tycoon: Mr Strictly Business / Bought: His Temporary Fiancée / A Win-Win Proposition
Propositioned by the Tycoon
Mr. Strictly Business
Day LeClaire
Bought: His Temporary Fiancée
Yvonne Lindsay
A Win-Win Proposition
Cat Schield
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Mr. Strictly Business
Excerpt
About The Author
Dear Reader
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Bought: His Temporary Fiancée
Excerpt
Dear Reader
About the Author
Dedication
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Preview
A Win-Win Proposition
Excerpt
Dear Reader
About the Author
Dedication
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Copyright
Mr. Strictly Business by Day LeClaire
“If it makes you feel better,” Gabe said, “I’ll simply explain that you and I are an item again.”
Alarm flared to life in Catherine’s eyes. “Excuse me?”
“After all, it won’t be a complete fabrication. In fact, it won’t be a fabrication at all.”
She tensed. “What are you talking about?”
“You never asked my price for helping you.”
She inhaled sharply before lifting her chin. “How foolish of me. I’d forgotten what a pirate you are, Gabe.”
“That’s me,” he agreed lazily. “A pirate to the bone.”
“So what’s your price? What do you want?”
He gave it to her hard and straight. “You. I want you, Catherine. Back in my life. Back in my apartment. And back in my bed.”
USA TODAY bestselling author DAY LECLAIRE lives and works on a remote barrier island off the North Carolina coast—a perfect setting for writing passionate books that offer a unique combination of humour, emotion and unforgettable characters. Described as “one of our most popular writers ever!”, Day is a three-time winner of both the Colorado Award of Excellence and the Golden Quill Award. She’s won a Romantic Times BOOKreviews Career Achievement Award and a Love and Laughter award the Holt Medallion, a Booksellers’ Best Award, and has received an impressive ten nominations for the prestigious Romance Writers of America RITA® Award.
Day’s romances touch the heart and make you care about her characters as much as she does. In Day’s own words, “I adore writing romances and can’t think of a better way to spend each day.” For more information, visit Day on her website at www.dayleclaire.com.
Dear Reader,
I had a lot of fun writing this book. It is a lighter story than some of mine, full of emotion and humourand of course, conflict.
The setting for this book is Seattle, Washington, my old stomping grounds. My son was born here and my experiences while living in this marvellous city gave birth to more than one book. A couple of years ago I was fortunate enough to visit my Totton cousins, who live in Seattle, and my mother and I had a marvellous day with them on Lake Washington. We had such a lovely day it actually provided inspiration for one of the scenes in this book.
I hope you enjoy the story, one with a tad more humour, tons of warmth, a strong, powerful hero and a heroine with a secret…
Enjoy!
Day LeClaire
To Jon, Louise and Samantha Totton, with my love and gratitude, particularly for one amazing summer day on Lake Washington.
Chapter One
“I need your help.”
Gabe Piretti struggled to conceal the intense wave of satisfaction those four simple words gave him, spoken by the only woman he’d ever loved. After twenty-three months he thought he’d be able to see Catherine Haile without experiencing any lingering emotions. Foolish of him to think such a thing was even remotely possible. After all, they’d worked together. Lived together. Tangled hearts and minds and bodies into what he’d once believed an inseparable knot. The passion that erupted between them had been an inferno that even eighteen months together had done nothing to lessen. If anything, it had grown stronger with each day they’d shared.
And then she’d left. He knew the excuses she’d offered, what she’d said or—even more damning—hadn’t said. For the first time in his life, Gabe “the Pirate” Piretti had been unable to solve the problem. Not by hook or crook. Not by demand, nor wit, nor full frontal attack, nor carefully crafted stealth. When Catherine had left him, he’d lost his anchor. And as much as he hated to admit it, he’d been adrift ever since.
If she hadn’t chosen to come to him today, he’d have seen to it that their worlds collided in the very near future. Over the endless months they’d been apart, he’d given her the space she’d requested. And he had watched from a distance while she set up her business and professional life on her terms. Keeping that distance had been the hardest thing Gabe had ever done, harder even than when he’d swooped in and taken the helm of Piretti’s away from his mother in order to snatch the business from the teeth of bankruptcy.
Well, now Catherine was back, and he’d find a way to keep her. She wanted his help? So be it. He’d give it to her. But the price would be high. The question was…would she pay it, or would she run again?
Aware that he’d kept her standing, Gabe waved her toward the sitting area that occupied a large corner of his office. Liquid sunlight, still damp from a recent shower, spilled in through tinted glass windows that overlooked a broad sweep of Seattle, as well as Puget Sound. The brilliant rays caught in Catherine’s upswept hair, picking out the streaks of gold buried in the honey warmth.
“Coffee?” he offered.
After taking a seat, Catherine set her briefcase at her feet and shook her head. “I’m fine, thanks.”
He took the chair across from her and tilted his head to one side as he studied her. She wore a chocolate-brown silk suit that shimmered richly over subtle curves, revealing that she’d recently lost weight, weight she could ill-afford to lose. The fitted jacket nipped in at a miniscule waist and ended just shy of a feminine 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 geared toward upper-echelon corporations and large-budget clientele.”
“Of which there are plenty in the Seattle area.”
She nodded. “Exactly. My goal was—and is—to plan and stage every aspect of the event in order to spare clients any and all worry and headaches. They tell me what they want, and I provide it. If they’re willing to pay for it, I’ll find a way of fulfilling their every desire, and if possible, to exceed their expectations.”
“And you do it with grace and elegance and panache.”
Pleasure gave her cheeks a hint of much-needed color. “You should write my PR releases. That’s precisely our goal. We strive to bring something unique to every event, to set the perfect stage, whether it’s to high-light the release of a new product or to create the perfect memory for a special, once-in-a-lifetime occasion.”
“Like the Marconi affair tonight.”
She shook her head in amused disbelief. “Is there anything you don’t know? Yes, like the Marconi affair tonight. You’re only ninety once, and Natalie is under tremendous pressure to make her father-in-law’s birthday celebration an unforgettable occasion.”
Gabe couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Catherine so happy, and that fact filled him with regret. She’d suffered at his hands. It hadn’t been deliberate on his part, but that didn’t alter the facts. “I don’t doubt you’ll pull the party off in grand style,” he stated with absolute conviction.
“During my years at Piretti’s, as well as during the time we were together, I learned a lot about what works, and more importantly, what doesn’t. And though I didn’t expect the business to take off right away, to my surprise and delight, it did.” Energy and enthusiasm rippled through her voice. “We’ve scored some impressive clients and they seemed pleased with the various events. At least, I thought they were.”
Her excitement dimmed and he frowned in concern. “Obviously, something’s gone wrong. What’s happened to change all that?”
The last of her vivaciousness drained away, leaving behind the tension. “Two things. First, we’re losing clients. It’s nothing overt. Just contracts I thought were a sure thing have suddenly gone away without any explanation. Everyone’s polite and makes encouraging noises, but when it’s all said and done, they choose another company.”
“And the second problem?”
“Is the most serious.” Worry darkened her eyes and turned her voice husky with nerves. “We’re on the verge of bankruptcy, Gabe. And I don’t know why. I thought we’d been careful with our profit margin, but maybe there’s been more waste than I realized. I can’t quite get a handle on it. It’s not my area of expertise. I can tell something’s off, but I can’t seem to pinpoint what. I’m hoping you can figure it out and suggest changes to correct the problem before we go under.”
He keyed in on one very pertinent word that he hadn’t noticed until then. “We?” he repeated.
She hesitated. “I have a partner, someone who prefers to remain anonymous,” she hastened to add.
He didn’t like the sound of that. “Why?”
Catherine lifted a shoulder. “She just does. Since half the startup money was hers, I respect her desire for privacy.”
She. Gabe refused to allow his relief to show that the partner was female rather than a male. It was petty of him, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. Not when it came to Catherine. Still, it seemed odd that this partner would want to keep her identity a secret. Maybe he’d do a little digging and see if he couldn’t find out what the mystery was all about. “Depending on what I find, that may need to change,” he warned. “There’s an excellent chance I’ll want to meet her.”
“I did discuss that possibility with her. She’s agreed that if it means the difference between salvaging the business and having Elegant Events go bankrupt, she’s willing to meet with you.”
“Good decision,” he said dryly.
“Agreed.” A quick smile flashed. He didn’t realize how much he missed it until it was there, reawakening an ache that had been tamped down, but never fully excised.“ Tell me what you require in order to get started,” she requested.
He forced himself to switch gears. “All bank and accounting records since you opened your doors.” He ran through a mental list. “Debts, creditors, cost of goods purchased, billables, write-offs. Your prospectus, past and current contracts, a list of services offered and what you charge for them.”
“In other words, you want a copy of everything.” She reached for her briefcase. Pulling out a thick folder, she handed it to him. “I have most of that information with me.”
He nodded. “Excellent. I’ll go over what you brought and have Roxanne prepare a list of anything more I might need.”
A shadow swept across Catherine’s face, evaporating so swiftly that he’d have missed it if he hadn’t been looking straight at her. “I’d hoped to keep my problem strictly between the two of us. Would you mind if we leave your assistant out of this? Is that possible?”
“Possible, but not probable. Roxanne is privy to most of what goes on around here.”
“And what she isn’t privy to, I’m certain she makes it her business to find out,” Catherine commented blandly. “How else can she provide you with everything you need?”
Okay, he knew a minefield when he saw one. “I’ll leave Roxanne out of the loop.”
“And if she asks?”
His eyes narrowed. “Are you questioning how I run my business? Considering why you’re here…”
“No, I—”
“I didn’t think so.” He relented. “But if it will make you feel better, should the subject come up in conversation, I’ll simply explain that you and I are an item again.”
Alarm flared to life in Catherine’s eyes. “Excuse me?”
“After all, it won’t be a complete fabrication.” He smiled in anticipation. “In fact, it won’t be a fabrication at all.”
She tensed, like a mouse finally noticing the trap. She’d been so busy nibbling at the tasty hunk of cheese that she’d been oblivious of it. Until now. “What are you talking about?”
“You never asked my price for helping you.”
She inhaled sharply before lifting her chin. “How foolish of me. I’d forgotten what a pirate you are, Gabe.”
“That’s me,” he agreed lazily. “A pirate to the bone.”
“So what’s your price? What do you want?”
He gave it to her hard and straight. “You. I want you, Catherine. Back in my life. Back in my apartment. And back in my bed.”
She shot to her feet. “You’ve lost your mind. You can’t possibly think I’d agree to such a thing.”
He regarded her in silence for a long moment before responding. “I guess that depends on how badly you want to save your business.”
“Not that badly.”
He stood and closed the distance between them. “Liar.”
“Whatever there was between us is over, Gabe. Dead.”
She was so small compared to him. So delicately put together. And yet she vibrated with sheer feminine outrage, with a strength and power he found irresistible. It was one of the qualities he’d always admired about her. Where most women looked for ways to make themselves as appealing to him as possible, Catherine had never played those types of games. He’d always known where he stood with her. Those gloriously unique eyes of hers could slay him with a single look, or melt him with the fire of her passion. Right now she was busy slicing and dicing him in every imaginable way.
“I know you’d like to think that what we shared is dead and buried.” He allowed his amusement to show. “But you’ve forgotten one small detail.”
“What detail?” she demanded.
“This…”
He slid his arms around her and locked her close against him. He remembered the feel of her, the perfect way her body fit his. She had a pixie-lean figure with delicious curves her trim business suit only hinted at. But they were there, and they never failed to arouse him. Unable to resist, he cupped her face and drew her up for a kiss. She didn’t fight as he expected, but neither did she respond. Not that he expected instant capitulation. That would take time.
For now, her full, generous mouth did no more than accept the teasing pressure of his. Gently, oh so gently, he teased his way past that sweet barrier, knowing just how she liked to be touched. Caressed. Taken. He’d missed the taste of her, the feel of her, the subtle scent of her. He missed the sharpness of her mind, and yes, even the sharpness of her tongue when she felt wronged.
He missed the quiet evenings when they’d sit together on his balcony sipping a glass of local merlot while day slid into night and Puget Sound came alive with the twinkling lights from the boat and ferry traffic. How they would slip from soft, sweet conversation to a soft, sweet tangle of arms and legs and lips. How their clothes would form a silken pathway from the balcony to the bedroom. And then the night would go from that softness, that sweetness, to something fiery and demanding. Something that branded their connection on every fiber of his being.
No matter how hard he tried to cut off that part of himself, that part indelibly linked to her, it would have been easier to rip out his heart and soul. He couldn’t live without her. And he wouldn’t. He’d been one of the living dead for long enough. He refused to spend another minute without Catherine in his life. And if it meant that he had to use blackmail to get her there, then that’s what he’d do. Because once he had her back, he’d do whatever necessary to keep her.
With a soft moan, her lips parted and he slid inward. For a split second she surrendered to him, taking all he had to give. Her body flowed against his and her lips moved with familiar certainty, nibbling hungrily. Her fingers slid into his hair and gripped, anchoring them together. And her heeled foot inched upward, hooking around his calf in a practiced maneuver. He recognized the signal and responded without thought. Cupping her bottom, he lifted her so she could wrap those incredible legs around his waist. The instant he did, she began to fight free.
