“He’d have adored you.” Dina pulled back and forced a smile. “You’ve evaded answering me long enough. What happened? Why did Gabriel refuse to help?”
“He didn’t refuse,” Catherine told her. “He just put a price on his help that I’m unwilling to pay.”
“Ah.” Understanding dawned. “He wanted to get back together with you, didn’t he?”
“How did you…?” Catherine’s eyes narrowed. “Did you speak to him before I went over there?”
“I haven’t spoken to Gabriel about you in months. I haven’t spoken to him at all in the past three days,” Dina insisted. She crossed to the coffee machine and made short work of starting the brewing process before turning to face Catherine. “I am, however, a woman, and I know my son. He’s still in love with you.”
No, not love, Catherine almost said. Lust, maybe. But he’d never truly been in love with her. Not that she could explain any of that to Dina. “He said that he’d only help if I moved back in with him.”
“Naturally, you refused.”
“Naturally.”
“Because you don’t have feelings for him anymore, either.”
Catherine didn’t dare answer that one. Instead, she regarded Dina with troubled eyes. “I know you’ve always hoped that we’d work out our differences, but that’s not going to happen. You understand that, don’t you?”
It was Dina’s turn to look troubled. “I’ve never wanted to push for answers you weren’t ready to give. I gather something went horribly wrong between you. You were so ill during those early weeks after the two of you broke up that I didn’t have the heart to ask. But I always thought that you and Gabriel would work it out. You were so right together. So in love.” She swept that aside with a wave of her hand. “Never mind. You were absolutely right to refuse him. It was quite rude of Gabriel to put conditions on his help.”
Catherine smiled in relief. “You’re not upset?”
“I’m disappointed.” She poured them both a cup of freshly brewed coffee, putting an end to the subject. “Why don’t we forget about all that for now and get down to business? I suggest we double—and triple-check that everything’s in place for tonight’s affair. We can’t afford any errors.”
No question about that. Between their financial woes and the contracts they’d lost, there was added urgency on getting every event perfect. The next several hours flew by. Much to Catherine’s relief, the intensity of the work didn’t allow for thoughts of Gabe to intrude. Every ounce of concentration and effort went into putting the finishing touches on the Marconi event. More than ever she needed tonight to be a stunning success, for Natalie Marconi to rave about Elegant Events to all of her closest friends—and more importantly, her husband’s business contacts.
By nine that night the party was in full swing, and Catherine worked behind the scenes, keeping everything running with smooth efficiency, while remaining as unobtrusive as possible. Having a half dozen walkie-talkies that kept all the various stations in touch with each other certainly helped with speed and communication, not to mention coordinating the progress of the party. But she always faced last-minute glitches, and tonight proved no exception.
This time around the band showed up late and the caterers underestimated the amount of champagne necessary to fill the flutes of the several hundred people who’d come to toast the Marconi patriarch. Both problems were corrected before anyone noticed, but it took some fast maneuvering, a flurry of phone calls and an exhausting combination of threats and pleas.
Catherine paused by the doorway leading outside to the staging area and, for what seemed like the fiftieth time that night, examined the checklist she’d posted there. Every aspect of the evening was listed and carefully initialed by the responsible party once it had been dealt with. She’d found the list a lifesaver on more than one occasion since it kept everyone up to date on the progress of the event, and ensured accountability. Only a few boxes remained blank. The birthday cake. A few catering chores. And, of course, the post-party cleanup.
Satisfied, she had started toward the kitchen to speak with the caterers about the cake when she felt a telltale prickle along her spine. She turned, not the least surprised to discover Gabe lounging in the doorway behind her.
For a split second, all she could do was stand and stare. That’s how it had been the first time she’d seen him, too. One look stole every last ounce of sense and sensibility. He stood a full six feet two inches, with mile-wide shoulders, topping a powerful, toned body. He’d encased all that potent masculinity in formal wear, which turned his body into a lethal weapon that no woman had a chance of resisting. But it was far worse than that. Gabe Piretti also possessed the striking features of an angel coupled with the burning cobalt-blue eyes of a devil. And right now he had those predatory eyes fixed on her.
It wasn’t just the raw, physical impact of the man, Catherine was forced to admit. Perhaps for some women that would be sufficient. Maybe his looks, along with the embarrassing number of digits that graced his bank account, would satisfy. But she’d always wanted something else in the man she chose as her own. She wanted a heart and a mind that worked in sync with hers. For a brief time, she’d found that with Gabe. At least, she had until he made it clear that money was his god, and what she had to offer was only icing to fill in the cracks of his multilayered cake.
Maybe he hadn’t caught her helpless reaction to his appearance, though why she even bothered to indulge in such pointless speculation, she didn’t know. One glimpse of the amusement gleaming in his eyes put paid to that forlorn hope. How could she have forgotten? Gabe could read people at a single glance. It was part of what made him such a good deal-broker. No one pulled anything over on him.
Except Roxanne.
“Should I even bother to ask what you’re doing here?” she asked.
A half smile eased across his mouth. “I was invited.”
“Of course.” She didn’t doubt that for a minute. “You neglected to mention it when I saw you this morning.”
He lifted a shoulder in a careless shrug. “Must have slipped my mind.” His attention switched to her mouth. “I believe I was preoccupied with more important matters at the time.”
“Speaking of more important matters, I have to work right now. So if you’ll excuse me…” She started to press past him, but he shifted just enough to make it awkward. “Gabe, please,” she whispered. “This is a really bad idea.”
“I’m afraid I have to disagree with you about that.” When she made another move to pass him, he pressed her against the wall, locking her in place. Tucking a loosened curl of hair behind her ear, he allowed his fingers to drift from the curve of her cheek to her mouth. And there, he lingered. “Just give me one more minute.”
“Forget it, Gabe. I can’t be caught necking with the guests.”
“I just want to talk to you. You can spare a minute to talk, can’t you?”
One minute. Sixty seconds of sheer heaven. She couldn’t resist the temptation, not when those devil’s eyes promised such decadent delight. “You can have thirty seconds. But no kissing the help,” she warned.
His smile came slow and potent. “You look stunning tonight. That shade of bronze turns your eyes to pure gold.”
It took her precious seconds to find her voice and respond with anything approaching normalcy. “I look quietly elegant,” she corrected in far too husky a voice. “I work hard at looking quietly elegant so that I fit in with my surroundings without standing out.”
He regarded her in amusement. “I gather standing out would be inappropriate.”
“It would,” she assured him.
Just another few seconds and then she’d step away