The Calamity Janes: Gina and Emma: To Catch a Thief
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“When I die, I will leave you the secret in my will,” he teased. “Now talk to me. What is this big trouble in your life?”
Gina sighed and gazed into Tony’s dark-brown eyes. There was so much fatherly concern there. She realized suddenly just how much she had missed this man, missed sitting here and talking about her hopes and dreams until she was certain he must be bored silly, but he had never complained. Some of the time Francesca had been with them, clucking over Gina’s disappointments and offering encouragement.
“Did I ever thank you for everything you did for me?” she asked.
“You did, but there was no need. For Francesca and me, you are the daughter we never had.”
“How is Francesca? I should have asked.”
“Still the most beautiful woman in the world,” he said, a gleam in his eyes. “She will be here soon. It will make her very happy to see you again. You can tell her everything you saw in Italy. She still dreams of seeing it again one day.”
“Then take her, Tony,” she said with a sudden sense of urgency. “Don’t let time slip away.”
He regarded her worriedly. “You aren’t sick, are you?”
“No, no, of course not.”
“It’s just that you sounded so sad, as if there were things you wanted that you might never have.”
She shook her head. “No, just things that mean the world to me that I could lose.” She told him the whole story then, leaving out none of the sordid details about Bobby’s betrayal of her and their investors.
True to his word, Tony listened and said nothing until she wound down. “Now, to top it off, the attorney who’s filed charges against Bobby is right here in Winding River. He thinks I’m as guilty as Bobby or, at the very least, that I know something that will help his case,” she concluded.
“But you don’t?”
She shook her head. “I was as shocked as anyone. I’m embarrassed to say that the first clue I had of how bad things are came when I read that deposition. That’s when I looked at the books.”
“Then tell him that, tell this man what you have told me. Hold nothing back. He will believe you.” He patted her hand. “If he does not, send him to me. I will tell him that Gina Petrillo does not lie.”
If only it were that simple, Gina thought. She glanced outside and spotted Rafe standing on the sidewalk, leaning against the bumper of a very fancy car, staring right back at her.
“Speak of the devil,” she muttered, resigned to the fact that the man was going to be true to his word and haunt her everywhere she went, even here in this place that had always been her sanctuary.
Tony followed her gaze. “That is Rafe O’Donnell?”
“In the flesh.”
“He looks like a reasonable man.”
“He’s not,” Gina said. “If he were, he would go away and leave me alone. I told him when I would return to New York. He doesn’t believe me. He’s determined to stick to me like glue until I go back.”
Tony stood up. “Then we should invite him in to join us, show him that you have nothing to hide, nothing to fear from him.”
“I don’t know,” Gina protested, but Tony was already opening the door and beckoning Rafe inside.
“Better you should sit here than loiter on the sidewalk outside,” Tony told him, ushering him to the table. “I will bring you an espresso, then I must get back to work in the kitchen so things will be ready for lunch.”
Rafe sat down opposite Gina, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He looked totally at ease, not one bit like a man on a mission to make her life a living hell. And, to her very deep regret, he was still the sexiest male she’d stumbled across in a very long time. She had really, really hoped she’d been wrong about that.
Rafe glanced around, surveying the restaurant with fascination.
“Is this where you got your start?” he asked.
“I worked at Stella’s for a while as a waitress, then came here. Tony taught me to cook.”
Rafe gestured toward the mural. “Who’s the artist?”
Gina turned to look at the familiar painting, tried to imagine how it must look through Rafe’s no-doubt jaded eyes.
“Francesca, Tony’s wife, painted it from an old photograph,” she explained a bit defensively. “She was born in Naples. She says that painting keeps her from being homesick, so I suggest you not make fun of it.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because it’s probably too hokey for a sophisticated man like you,” she said.
“Are you sure you’re not projecting? I like it.”
She studied him to see if he was mocking her, but his expression was serious. “You really like it?” she asked skeptically.
“I said I did, didn’t I? I’m not an art snob, Gina.” He regarded her pointedly. “Are you?”
She flushed at the accusation. “I always loved it because of what it meant to Francesca, but it’s not exactly great art.”
“It doesn’t need to be. There’s a simplicity to it that I find appealing. It gives the restaurant a personal touch, a certain charm.” He met her gaze evenly. “Now I imagine your restaurant has Venetian-glass chandeliers, oil paintings you picked up in Florence, dark wood, fresh flowers and green linen tablecloths.”
He was closer to the truth than Gina cared to admit. Bobby had believed that to charge the outrageous prices he intended to charge, the atmosphere had to be elegant.
“Have you been to Café Tuscany?” she asked.
“Nope.”
“Then you shouldn’t be making judgments.”
“Which must mean I got it exactly right,” he said, grinning.
“You did not.”
“Which part was wrong?”
“The tablecloths are dark red,” she murmured.
His grin spread. “What was that? I don’t think I heard you.”
“Oh, get over yourself,” she said, this time very clearly. “I have to go.”
“I haven’t even had my espresso yet,” he chided her.
“Then, by all means, stay and enjoy it. I’m sure Tony will be glad to keep you company.”
Casting one last wistful look toward the kitchen, Rafe rose to his feet. “Unfortunately, it’s not his company I’m after. Where you go, I go, so lead on, Gina.”
She scowled at him. “You’re serious, aren’t you? You’re going to tail me like you would some common criminal?”
“Oh, I doubt there’s anything common about you,” he said, but he didn’t deny his intentions. “You could save me some trouble and just invite me along.”
“The very last thing I want to do is save you from putting yourself out. If you want to follow me, then I suggest you get into that fancy car of yours and rev the engine, because I don’t slow down to wait for anybody.”
He regarded her with a resigned expression. “Suit yourself. Do your worst, Gina. I promise I’ll keep up. And just in case you have any ideas about exceeding the speed limit to lose me, remember I have my cell phone with me and I’ll use it to call the sheriff.”
“The sheriff is a friend of mine,” she countered.
“Which won’t matter when I suggest to him that you skipped out on a court-ordered deposition.”
“I did not skip out,” she said, her voice rising. “I postponed it. You know that.”
“Do I?” he asked innocently. “I imagine by the time we get it all sorted out, you’ll be late for whatever it is you’re so anxious to get to.”
Gina held on to her temper by a very slender thread. “I am not anxious to get anywhere except away from you,” she said, gritting her teeth. “Oh, never mind. My car’s down the block. You might as well come with me. I’m going to a rodeo. It might be interesting to see how you take to all that hot air and dust.”
“If you want to see me sweat, I can think of far more interesting ways to go about it,” Rafe taunted.
Gina felt her skin burn. Wasn’t it bad enough that the man was out to torment her over the mess Bobby had created? Now he apparently intended to drive her crazy with sexual innuendoes that stirred her imagination in ways destined to leave her hot and bothered and thoroughly frustrated.
“Don’t even go there,” she warned him tightly. “You’re probably breaking at least a dozen different rules of ethics just by hinting at such a thing.”
“At least that many,” he agreed, as if it were of no importance. His gaze locked with hers. “But something tells me it might be worth it.”
Judging from the way her heart was thundering in her chest, Gina was very much afraid he could be right about that.
3
It had only been twenty-four hours since his arrival, and already Rafe was having a really hard time remembering why he had come to Winding River. For a man known for his razor-sharp mind and powers of concentration, it was a disconcerting experience. He’d certainly never had any trouble in the past when it came to focusing on the best interests of his clients.
Now, however, he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off the woman sitting beside him in the stands at the rodeo arena. That was truly saying something, given the level of activity going on in the center of the ring and the cheers sounding all around him. His mind was drifting in all sorts of wicked directions, just as it had the night before.
Okay, he told himself, all that proved was that he was a healthy, virile male who’d been without intimate female companionship for way too long. Whose mind wouldn’t wander just a bit around a woman like Gina? Pleased with the assessment of his state of mind as being perfectly normal, he gave himself permission to study her even more intently.
Gina’s dark-eyed gaze was fixed on the current bronc rider with total absorption. Her cheeks were bright. Her hair, which was caught up in a red and white bandanna, had surprising auburn highlights in it. At the moment, as some man she apparently knew tried to stay on the back of a particularly wild horse, she appeared to be holding her breath. When time ran out and he was still solidly in the saddle, her cheer almost deafened Rafe. Eyes shining, she faced him.
“Did you see that? He did it. That’s the toughest horse in the competition and Randy stayed with him. Amazing.”
“Amazing,” Rafe echoed, but his comment had nothing to do with the winning rider.
Her gaze narrowed. “Are you even paying attention?”
“Absolutely. Your friend won.”
“He’s leading, at any rate. There’s another round of competition,” she said, excitement still shining in her eyes.
It was the most unguarded she had been around Rafe since they’d met. Seeing her like that, filled with enthusiasm, her expression open, laughter glinting in her eyes, made him want things that were impossible. It had probably been safer all the way around when she’d kept him at a cool distance. The temptation to kiss her was almost too much to resist.
“Want something cold to drink?” he asked, needing to put some space between them. Being in a state of semiarousal for the past hour was beginning to get to him.
She feigned exaggerated shock. “You’re willing to go off and leave me here all alone for a few minutes? Are you sure you trust me not to steal the wildest horse in the stables and flee over the Canadian border?”
“Actually, no, but since the horses are otherwise engaged and I have the car keys, I’m not nearly as worried about it as I might be if the circumstances were different.” He was still rather proud of the way he’d managed to get those keys away from her and into his own pocket.
“How do you know I don’t have a spare set?” she retorted.
He gazed directly into her eyes, a look he’d perfected in the courtroom. It commanded total honesty. “Do you?”
She hesitated, then sighed. “No. And just for the record, I resent like crazy the fact that you manipulated those keys out of my possession.”
He grinned. “I didn’t wrestle you for them, Gina. You handed them over so I could drive.”
“Right, after you gave me some very sincere hogwash about how you’d been just dying to test-drive a car like my mother’s.”
“You bought it, didn’t you?”
“Long enough for you to get behind the wheel,” she agreed. “Then I remembered that my mother’s car is a very nondescript Chevy with eighty thousand miles on it.”
“And what I told you was the absolute truth,” Rafe insisted. “I’ve never driven anything like it.”
Gina rolled her eyes. “Yes, that I can believe.”
He chuckled. “Do you want something to drink or not?”
“A soda,” she said finally, fanning herself with the program. “Orange, if they have it.”
The action only drew attention to the perspiration beaded on her chest. Rafe’s gaze seemed to be riveted to the exposed skin. He swallowed hard and resisted the urge to nab that program and use it to cool off his own overheated flesh.
“Lots of ice,” she added. “I’m sweltering out here.”
“Want to come with me?” he asked, forgetting all about his intention to give himself a break from her nonstop assault on his senses. “Maybe we can find some shade somewhere and cool off.”
She seemed to debate that, then finally nodded. “Let’s go.”
Rafe let her lead the way to the refreshment stand, ordered large sodas for both of them, then glanced around until he spotted a spreading cottonwood tree with a patch of shade beneath.
“Over there okay?” he asked.
“Perfect,” Gina agreed.
Seemingly oblivious to the fact that the ground was more dirt than grass, she sank down, accepted her drink, then sighed. “This is heaven,” she murmured. She snagged an ice cube from the drink, held it at the base of her throat and let it slowly melt. The water trickled across her flushed skin, then ran between her breasts.
As he watched her, Rafe’s throat went dry as a parched desert. Not even a long, slow swallow of his drink had a cooling effect. He was beginning to regret inviting Gina to leave the stands with him. Hell, he regretted accompanying her to the rodeo in the first place. It was testing him to his limits to keep his hands to himself.
He could have been in a nice, air-conditioned motel room, a beer in his hand, and all those damning Café Tuscany figures right in front of him. That’s where he ought to be, not out here on the verge of sunstroke and filled with more lust than he’d felt in the past twelve months combined, all directed at a woman who was totally untrustworthy, perhaps even more so than his own mother.
“Something wrong?” she inquired.
Her expression was all innocence as she let another ice cube melt, holding it a little lower, a little more provocatively this time. She’d stripped off her blouse when they’d first arrived, giving him a bad moment or two before he’d realized that she was wearing a tank top beneath. Between her deliberately provocative actions with that ice and the perspiration, the already revealing tank top was damp and clinging in a way that left very little to Rafe’s overheated imagination.
“Not a thing,” he claimed. “Why?”
“You look a little flushed.”
“Is that so surprising? It must be ninety-five degrees out here.”
“But it’s a dry heat,” she countered.
“Heat is heat.”
Pure mischief lit her eyes. “I could help you cool off,” she offered.
Before he could respond or guess what she intended, she upended her drink over his head. Fortunately, it was mostly water and melting ice by now, but the splash of frigid liquid against his burning skin was a shock.
Gina was already up and dancing away by the time he caught his breath. Rafe was on his feet in a heartbeat, fighting indignation and—to his own surprise—laughter.
“You are in such trouble,” he said.
“Mighty tough words from a man who’s dripping wet,” she taunted. “I did you a favor. Try to keep that in mind.”
“Oh, I have no intention of forgetting what you did,” he said, regarding her with a deceptively lazy look as he halted his pursuit.
He waited until she stopped backing nervously away, gave her time to grow complacent, then moved so quickly she didn’t have time to react. He snagged her wrist and hauled her into his arms.
He captured her gasp with his first kiss, then settled in to discover exactly how she tasted, exactly how her lips felt beneath his. There was a lingering sweet taste of orange soda to her mouth, a willing pliancy to her lush lips.
Her body fit against his as if they’d been made for each other. Between the dousing his clothes had taken, the dampness of hers and the skyrocketing heat of that kiss, he was surprised they weren’t enveloped in steam.
It took a very long time—too long, by his own rigid standard of ethics—for him to discover everything he’d wanted to know about the taste and texture of her mouth. He released her suddenly and with tremendous reluctance, muttering a curse under his breath.
Wide-eyed and open-mouthed, she stared at him for a full minute and then the heat rose in her cheeks right along with a flash of temper in her eyes.
“You had no right to do that,” she snapped.
“No,” he said mildly. “You’re right. I didn’t. I’m sorry. It was a mistake.”
His admission and his apology seemed to throw her off stride.
“If you think that’s good enough to make me forget what just happened here, you’re crazy.”
Despite himself, he chuckled at that. “Yes, I imagine it will take a good deal more to make me forget it, too.”
“That is not what I meant, and you know it,” she said with a scowl.
“Okay, let’s take a step back and reassess what just happened,” he suggested reasonably.
“Oh, don’t use that lawyerly tone with me. We both know what happened. You kissed me.”
“You provoked me.”
“I dumped water on you. If anything, that should have cooled off your libido, not inflamed it.”
He shrugged. “What can I say? I obviously have a perverse streak.”
“How about saying ‘I’m sorry, it will never happen again,’” she suggested.
“I’ve already apologized.” He met her gaze. “And sadly I can’t promise it will never happen again.”
“You have to,” she said, sounding a little desperate.
“Why?”
“Because it’s the right thing to do, because you have no business kissing me, because I have no business kissing you.” She frowned at him. “You think I’m a criminal, for heaven’s sake. Are you beginning to get the picture?”
Unfortunately, Rafe was, though he doubted it was the same picture she was getting. The one in his mind had him carting her straight off to bed to finish what they’d started. Given his belief that she was a thief, he figured that was a really, really lousy idea...and way too tempting at the moment. His very recent lapse in judgment was proof enough he couldn’t be trusted within fifty feet of her.
He reached in his pocket, took out her car keys and tossed them to her. She regarded him with surprise.
“How are you getting back to town?” she asked.
“The old-fashioned way,” he said, turning his back on her and striding away.
“Rafe, you can’t walk all the way back,” she protested, chasing after him. “You’ll die of heat stroke.”
“Thanks for your concern, but I’ll be fine.”
“You will not be fine. Don’t be stubborn. I’ll drive you back.”
He faced her. “How do I know you won’t try to ravish me the second we get to my motel?”
She gave him a wry look. “Oh, I think I can pretty well guarantee that you’re safe.”
He shrugged. “Okay, then, I trust you.”
She regarded him skeptically. “Oh, really?”
“About that, anyway.” He tapped a finger against the sunburned tip of her nose. “We’ll have to see about the rest. I’ll think it over while I’m walking.”
“I don’t suppose you could keep on going all the way back to New York and ponder the evidence there?” she asked wistfully.
“Not a chance.”
Gina heaved a resigned sigh. “Yeah, that’s what I figured.”
* * *
That blistering, mind-boggling kiss was still very much on Gina’s mind when she walked into the high school gym that night for the reunion dance. Spotting Rafe sitting all alone at one of the tables along the perimeter of the floor only accentuated the memory. For a man whose arrogance she had experienced firsthand, he looked surprisingly lonely. For a brief second, sympathy almost drove her over to talk to him.
“I’m not going anywhere near him,” she muttered, even as she began to drift in his direction. When she realized where she was going, she added wryly, “I obviously have the willpower of a nymphomaniac.”
“Who’s a nymphomaniac?” Lauren demanded, startling Gina.
“Nobody, I hope,” Gina retorted glumly, stopping in her tracks. She wasn’t entirely sure whether she was relieved by the distraction, which was yet another fact that was worrisome. Was it moths that couldn’t resist a flame and wound up dead because of it?
Lauren followed the direction of her gaze, then grinned. “Ah, yes, I heard about the kiss.”
“Heard about it?” Gina asked, horrified. “How? From whom?”
“Half the town was at the rodeo. Word gets around. My source says it was more entertaining than anything that went on inside the arena.”
Gina groaned. “Why did I do it? Why did I let him kiss me? And right out in public, yet! Wouldn’t you think I’d learned my lesson about getting mixed up with smooth talkers after what happened a few years ago in Rome?”
“Could you have stopped him?”
“Not at first,” she admitted. “He caught me by surprise, but later...”
Lauren’s eyes sparkled with growing amusement. “Later? Then it did go on and on, just the way I heard?”
“Okay, yes, it went on a very long time. It was a very good kiss. In fact, it was a terrific kiss, which is why I am in more trouble than I ever thought it was possible to get into. I want to kiss a man who—” She cut herself off before she could finish the revealing thought.
“Who what?” Lauren asked, clearly fascinated by Gina’s slip.
“Never mind,” Gina said dismissively. “Have you seen Cassie? Did she come tonight?”
“She’s here. She’s busy hiding out from Cole. Seems to me she has her own problems with steering clear of intoxicating kisses,” Lauren said. “And before you ask, Karen’s on the dance floor, and Emma’s out in the hallway on her cell phone. There’s some kind of emergency back in Denver. Hopefully she’s telling her boss or her client or whoever it is to take a hike. The woman is in serious need of a break. She’s stretched so tight I’m afraid she’s going to snap.”
“Emma can take care of herself,” Gina insisted. “She’s always been totally levelheaded and sane compared to the rest of us.”
“Take another look. I was out at the ranch with her and Caitlyn earlier. I think even that little girl senses that her mother’s at the breaking point. Caitlyn’s birthday is coming up, and she told me the only thing she wanted was for her mom to move here because in Denver she never, ever sees her. How pitiful is that?”
Gina glanced toward the door and spotted Emma striding toward them, her expression grim.
“What’s wrong?” Gina asked, regarding her with concern.
“One of my major clients in Denver has a problem. He wants me back there tonight.”
“Are you going?” Lauren asked.
“What choice do I have?”
“You could tell him that you’re taking the first break you’ve had in years and that he can just wait until Monday,” Lauren retorted heatedly. “Sweetie, if you don’t start looking out for yourself, who will? Certainly not those partners who are raking in big bucks from all those billable hours you put in each month, and certainly not the clients who see nothing wrong in tracking you down when you’re supposed to be on vacation. How did he get your cell phone number, anyway?”
“All my clients have my cell phone number,” Emma said defensively.
Lauren removed the offending item from Emma’s grasp. “Which is a really good reason for shutting it off and letting me hang on to it for the rest of the weekend. If you’d like, I can call this client of yours back and tell him that you’ve consulted your schedule and you are tied up in a very important negotiation and can’t see him until the middle of next week. If it’s a real emergency, he can speak to one of the other partners.”