LITMIR.BIZ

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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

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