It was two in the morning before Gabe keyed open the lock to his apartment. Catherine had left a light burning for him, the one by the sculpture of the sleeping woman—a sculpture whose gentle curves and sleek, soft lines reminded him vividly of her. It was why he’d bought the damn thing, even though he suspected it would torment him every time he looked at it. And it did.
Turning off the light, he headed directly for the bedroom, pulling up short when he realized Catherine wasn’t there. For a single, hideous moment, he flashed back on the night she’d left him. His gaze shot to the dresser, half expecting to see another crisp white envelope with his name neatly scripted across the front. Of course, it wasn’t there. Nor was the dresser. Within a week of her departure, memories too painful to bear had him replacing every stick of furniture in the room.
Stripping off his suit jacket and tie, he went in search of Catherine. He found her in the spare bedroom farthest from the master suite. She sat at a small antique desk by the window, her head pillowed in her arms, sound asleep. She wore a long, sweeping silk nightgown in a stunning shade of aqua, covered by a matching robe.
Gabe silently approached and glanced at the papers littering the desk beneath and around her. They were accounting records, he realized, and he tugged free a few of the sheets. As he glanced down the rows and across the columns, a frown knit his brow. Hell, she was skating precariously close to disaster. First thing tomorrow, he’d take a closer look at this and see just how close to the edge she’d come and what it would take to turn it around…assuming that was even possible.
Tossing the pages aside, he circled the desk and gently tipped her out of the chair and into his arms. She stirred within his hold, but didn’t awaken until he reached their bedroom and eased her onto the bed. She stared up at him in confusion, her golden eyes heavy with exhaustion and brimming with vulnerability.
“What…?”
“You fell asleep at your desk.”
He saw the instant her memory snapped back into place, watching with keen regret as her defenses came slamming down. She bolted upright. “What am I doing in your bed? How did I get here?” she demanded.
“You’re in my bed because it’s where you belong,” he explained calmly. “And you got here because I carried you here.”
“Well, you can just carry me back, because I’m not staying.”
He toed off his shoes without saying a word. Then he proceeded to strip. He was one article of clothing away from baring it all when she erupted off the bed.
“You’re not listening, Gabe. I’m not sleeping with you.”
“Then don’t sleep,” he retorted mildly. “But when we go to bed, we’ll be doing it together.”
She shook her head, and her sleep-tangled curls danced in agitation. “You stood me up tonight. You promised me this time would be different and then you stood me up.” The vulnerability he’d seen earlier leaked through her defenses, nearly killing him. “You can’t do that and then expect me to—” She waved a hand in the direction of the bed.
“Just for my own edification, is this how I’m supposed to react when the shoe is on the other foot?” he asked.
That stopped her, if only for a moment. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that your business is as demanding as mine. Most of your events take place in the evening or on the weekend when I’m off work. Having spent the past two years building up your business, you know there are times when the unexpected arises and you have no choice but to deal with it.”
“Damn you!” She glared at him in frustration. “I’m not in the mood for your brand of logic. You can’t turn this back on me.”
“I’m not trying to. I’m trying to make you see that every once in a while something like this is going to happen. We’d better learn to deal with it starting right here and right now. Tonight was on me, and I’m sorry, Cate. I’m more sorry than you can possibly know. I wanted your homecoming to be special, and instead it was a nightmare. But you tell me how to handle it the next time or how I should react when you’re the one calling with the last-minute emergency.”
He could tell she was at a loss for words. The fire died, leaving behind pain and confusion. “I was looking forward to tonight so much,” she confessed.
The admission hit and hit hard. “So was I.” He stripped off his shorts and tossed back the bedcovers. Then he held out his hand. “Robe.”
When she didn’t immediately comply, he simply took matters into his own hands. He flicked buttons through holes with ruthless efficiency before sweeping it from her shoulders.
“Don’t,” she whispered. “Please don’t.”
If she’d used anger against him, or that ice-cold wall of defiance, he might have ignored her request. But he couldn’t resist her when every scrap of defensive armor lay shattered around her and unhappiness coursed from her in palpable waves.
“Okay, sweetheart,” he said in a husky voice. “It’s okay. We’ll just sleep.”
He gathered her close, locking her against him, and his eyes shut at the feel of her body curving into his. This time she didn’t protest when he urged her toward the bed. How long had it been since he’d had her head pillowed on his shoulder and felt those crisp, wayward curls tickle his jaw? How long had he waited to have that silken skin flowing over his, her small, perfect breasts pressed against his side? He’d craved this, just this, for endless, torturous months. Now that he had her back in his arms he could afford to be patient. As much as he wanted to make love to her, this would do until the time was right. He could give her some space while they worked through their issues.
“Are you asleep?” she asked.
“Not yet.”
“Did you make the deal?”
He smiled. It was a start. He could be satisfied with that.
Gabe woke at first light and realized that this time he wasn’t dreaming. This time it was real. He held Catherine safely tucked within his arms, tight against his side, the rhythm of her heart and breath and sleep-laden movements perfectly synchronized with his. He’d always considered her an elegant woman, small and delicate. But not here. Not now. Not when she abandoned herself to sleep and was at her most unguarded. Then he saw through all the defenses and shields to the very core of the woman. Mysterious. Powerful. Gloriously female.
She’d entwined her body around his, all slender shapely arms and legs. Even in sleep she clung to him, a delicious, possessive hold that cut through all the conflicts and difficulties that separated them and simply lay claim. In the real world she dressed with style, presented herself with calm self-confidence. She’d always impressed him with her cool, professional demeanor. But here in their bed she revealed a passion that never failed to set him on fire.
He traced the planes of her face, reveling in the sensation of warm, silken skin, skin covering a bone structure of such purity that it quickened his breath and annihilated reason. He thought he would forgot, that over the long months they were apart that time would steal precious memories. But it didn’t. He knew each curve, remembered them all, would have recognized the feel of her, even if he’d been blind.
She was back. Granted, it wasn’t out of choice. But in time, that would change. He’d make sure of it. His fingers trailed downward, across a pale shoulder, sculpting the feminine dip and swell of waist and hip. The hem of her nightgown had bunched high on her slender thighs, offering him a tantalizing view of the shapely curve of her backside. He’d missed waking up to this. Would she still moan if he caressed those sinewy lines with his fingertips?
He put thought into action and was rewarded with the lightest of sighs, one of undeniable pleasure. She shifted against him, softening and opening. Her head tipped back, spilling golden curls across their pillow, offering up the long