#1 New York Times bestselling author Sherryl Woods returns with two enthralling tales of the Calamity Janes…fierce friends facing challenges in life and love

To Catch a Thief

Gina Petrillo thought she was on the run from her troubles…but they followed her home to Winding River, Wyoming. City-slicker lawyer Rafe O’Donnell is in hot pursuit of Gina, and he doesn’t intend to let his suspect out of his sight, even though Gina’s mouthwatering kisses are irresistible. And while Rafe is out to catch a thief—she just might steal his heart!

The Calamity Janes

Struggling with single-motherhood and career pressures, Denver attorney Emma Rogers comes home for a reunion with the Calamity Janes in desperate need of their support. Can they—and her young daughter—possibly be right that sexy journalist Ford Hamilton, the biggest thorn in her side, is actually the answer to her prayers?

Praise for the novels of Sherryl Woods

“Sherryl Woods writes emotionally satisfying novels about family, friendship and home. Truly feel-great reads!”

—#1 New York Times bestselling author Debbie Macomber

“Woods is a master heartstring puller.”

—Publishers Weekly on Seaview Inn

“Woods’s readers will eagerly anticipate her trademark small-town setting, loyal friendships, and honorable mentors as they meet new characters and reconnect with familiar ones in this heartwarming tale.”

—Booklist on Home in Carolina

“Once again, Woods, with such authenticity, weaves a tale of true love and the challenges that can knock up against that love.”

—RT Book Reviews on Beach Lane

“In this sweet, sometimes funny and often touching story, the characters are beautifully depicted, and readers…will…want to wish themselves away to Seaview Key.”

—RT Book Reviews on Seaview Inn

“Woods…is noted for appealing character-driven stories that are often infused with the flavor and fragrance of the South.”

—Library Journal

“A reunion story punctuated by family drama, Woods’s first novel in her new Ocean Breeze series is touching, tense and tantalizing.”

—RT Book Reviews on Sand Castle Bay

“A whimsical, sweet scenario…the digressions have their own charm, and Woods never fails to come back to the romantic point.”

—Publishers Weekly on Sweet Tea at Sunrise

The Calamity Janes

Gina & Emma

To Catch a Thief

The Calamity Janes

Sherryl Woods

www.mirabooks.co.uk

Dear friend,

When I first conceived the idea for the Calamity Janes series years ago, I knew I wanted to write about a group of friends who’d been a bit of a disaster back in high school, then taken very different paths. Now they’re back in Wyoming for their class reunion and the chance to catch up on their lives. In a lot of ways, these women were the predecessors of the Sweet Magnolias. I’m so delighted that new readers will have a chance to get to know them.

Back then, in addition to writing about strong friendships, I also wanted to attempt a group of books set in a parallel time frame. In other words, even though these are very separate stories, the plots overlap during the big class reunion. Only the final book continues past the last dance. It was an interesting writing challenge. As you read the five stories, you’ll have to decide if the experiment worked.

I hope you’ll have as much fun with the Calamity Janes as you’ve had through the years with the Sweet Magnolias and that you’ll enjoy the Wyoming setting as much as I enjoyed visiting that part of the country to do research for the series.

With all good wishes for lasting friendships in your life.

Sherryl

Table of Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Praise

Title Page

Dear Reader

To Catch a Thief

Prologue

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

Epilogue

The Calamity Janes

Prologue

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

To Catch a Thief

Sherryl Woods

Prologue

The office at Café Tuscany on Manhattan’s Upper West Side was little bigger than a broom closet, large enough for a desk, a chair and a bookshelf crammed with cookbooks, nutrition reports, menus and file boxes of handwritten recipes. It could only hold one person at a time, but at the moment Gina Petrillo’s feeling of claustrophobia had more to do with the court document in her hand than the size of the space.

“I’m going to kill him,” she muttered, fingers trembling as the summons to appear for a deposition slid to the desk. “If I ever get my hands on Bobby, I am going to kill him.”

She had met Roberto Rinaldi when they were both studying cooking in Italy. A passionate enthusiast of fine food, Bobby was an intuitive genius in the kitchen. They had struck up an instant rapport that had more to do with ingenious blends of sauces and inventive uses for pasta than lust.

Truthfully, Gina wouldn’t have trusted Bobby anywhere near her bed. The man was more fickle about women than he was about ingredients. He was constantly experimenting with both. He got away with it because he was charming, impossible to resist when he tempted with either delectable dishes or devilish kisses—at least according to his many conquests.

Gina had ignored his romantic overtures and concentrated on his skills in the kitchen. He was the most creative chef she had met during all of her studies, which was saying quite a lot. After forsaking college, she had studied at some of the finest culinary institutes in Europe. Though she had loved French cuisine, from the gourmet recipes of Paris to the simpler fare of Provence, Italian cooking spoke to her soul. Maybe it was genetic, maybe not, but the first time she had walked into the kitchen in Rome with its aromas of garlic, tomatoes and olive oil, she had felt at home.

It had been the same for Bobby, or so he had claimed. His recipes were both bold and adventurous. She doubted he’d ever tasted plain old pasta and tomato sauce, much less eaten canned ravioli, even as a child.

Five years ago, when the year-long course in Italy had ended, they had agreed to form a partnership, seek out investors among Bobby’s financial contacts and open a restaurant in New York. It had taken another year to put the deal together, but it had been worth all of the scrimping and sacrifice, all of the long nights scraping paint and sanding floors. Café Tuscany had been a dream for both of them.

Apparently, it had also been Bobby’s personal get-rich-quick scheme.

According to the summons she’d been handed an hour ago, Bobby had not only embezzled restaurant funds, but stolen from their backers, as well. A check of the café’s account, made just minutes ago, confirmed the worst—the coffers were empty. And the rent was due, as were payments on invoices from most of their vendors.

Gina had no one to blame but herself for this disaster. She had allowed Bobby to keep track of their finances, because she was more interested in cooking and marketing than calculating. The fact that an outsider—an attorney representing the supposedly swindled backers—knew more about the state of the business’s finances than she did was humiliating. It didn’t seem to matter that she had done her part to make the business thrive. She was as much at fault as the man who’d run off with the money. At least, that was the implication in the summons.

Gina thought of all she had sacrificed to put Café Tuscany on the map, including a personal life. But it had been worth it. With a promotional push by one of her old high school classmates, superstar Lauren Winters, Gina had launched Café Tuscany as the hottest restaurant in a town where five-star dining and excellent neighborhood eateries were a dime a dozen. Prime tables were booked weeks in advance, and special events were sold out. Celebrities liked to be seen here, their presence always noted in the next day’s papers. In the past year, their brand-new catering division had been booked for a dozen of society’s most important charity events. With each success had come new bookings that kept her on the go morning till night.

So where had all that money gone? To finance some new scheme of Bobby’s, no doubt. Or perhaps to freshen his designer wardrobe of Italian suits. Or maybe to buy diamonds for his latest lover. All Gina knew for certain was that none of it was in the bank, and that second notices for unpaid bills were stuffed into a drawer of the desk that Bobby had kept under lock and key. She’d broken into it an hour ago, right after she’d read through the damning words in the summons.

When she’d called Bobby’s home—an expensive brownstone on the Upper East Side—she’d discovered that the line had been disconnected. His cell phone had gone unanswered. The man was gone.

The man was slime!

And because of him, this lawyer—she glanced at the summons again—this Rafe O’Donnell was on her trail, apparently convinced that she was in on the scheme, rather than another one of its victims.

Sitting there, stunned, Gina realized that her dream was not just ending, but crash landing. Unless she could come up with money—a lot of money—she would have to declare bankruptcy and close Café Tuscany within months, if not weeks. She might be able to stave off creditors for a while, but not indefinitely.

“I have to think,” she muttered.

And she wasn’t going to get the job done sitting in this closet. She needed fresh air and wide-open spaces. She needed to go home to Winding River, Wyoming.

She could leave the restaurant in the capable hands of her assistant manager for a week or so. She could call this O’Donnell person and postpone the deposition until, say, sometime in the next century.

With her high school class reunion in a few days, the timing couldn’t be better. Her friends—the indomitable Calamity Janes—would be there to bolster her spirits. If she decided to ask, they would offer advice. Lauren would write a check on the spot to bail her out. Emma would give her expert legal counsel. And Karen and Cassie would find some way to make her laugh.

Gina sighed. They would do all of that and more if she decided to tell them just how badly she’d messed up.

In fact, she thought with the first bit of optimism she’d felt all day, they might even offer her a shotgun she could use if she ever spotted Roberto Rinaldi again.

1

“Gina Petrillo has gone where?” Rafe O’Donnell’s head snapped up at his secretary’s casual announcement.

“Wyoming. She called an hour ago and rescheduled the deposition,” Lydia Allen repeated, looking entirely too cheerful.

If Rafe didn’t know better he’d think she was glad that this Gina had escaped his clutches. He scowled at the woman who had been assigned to him when he’d first joined the firm, Whitfield, Mason and Lockhart, seven years earlier. At the time, she’d been with the firm for twenty years and claimed that she was always assigned to new recruits to make sure they were broken in properly. She was still with him because she swore that, to this day, he was too impossible to foist off on a less-seasoned secretary.

“Did I say it was okay to reschedule?” he inquired irritably.

“You’ve been in court all day,” she said, clearly unintimidated by his sharp tone. “We reschedule these things all the time.”

“Not so some crook can go gallivanting off to Wyoming,” he snapped.

“You don’t know that Gina Petrillo is a crook,” Lydia chided. “Innocent until proven guilty, remember?”

Rafe held on to his temper by a thread. “I do not need to be lectured on the principles of law by a grandmother,” he said, deliberately minimizing whatever legal expertise she might legitimately consider her due.

Typically, she ignored the insult. “Maybe not, but you could use a few hard truths. I’ve eaten at that restaurant. So have most of the partners in this firm. If you weren’t such a workaholic, you’d probably be a regular there, too. The food is fabulous. Gina Petrillo is a lovely, beautiful young woman. She is not a thief.”

So, he thought, that explained the attitude. Lydia was personally acquainted with the elusive woman and disapproved of Rafe’s determination to link Gina Petrillo to her partner’s crimes. As softhearted as his secretary was, she’d probably called Gina and warned her to get out of town.

“You say she’s not a thief,” he began with deceptive mildness in his best go-for-the-jugular mode. “Mind telling me how you reached that conclusion? Do you have a degree in psychology, perhaps? Access to the restaurant’s books? Do you happen to have any evidence whatsoever that would actually exonerate her?”

“No, I do not have any evidence,” she informed him with a huff. “Neither do you. But, unlike some people, I am a very good judge of character, Rafe O’Donnell.”

Rafe was forced to concede that she was...usually.

“Now that Roberto,” she continued, “I can believe he’s stolen from people. He has shifty eyes.”

“Thank you, Miss Marple,” Rafe said snidely. “Roberto Rinaldi was not the only one with access to the money.”

A good chunk of that money happened to belong to Rafe’s socialite mother. She had been taken in by the man’s charm. Rafe hadn’t explored the exact nature of the relationship, but knowing his mother’s track record, it hadn’t been platonic. He was no more oblivious to his mother’s faults than his father had been before the divorce, but he did his best to keep her from getting robbed blind.

“But Roberto is the one who’s missing,” Lydia pointed out. “He’s the one you should be concentrating on.”

“I would if I could find him,” Rafe said, not bothering to hide his exasperation. “Which is one reason I want to talk to Gina Petrillo. She just might know where he is. Now, thanks to you, I don’t even know where she is.”

“Of course you do—I told you. She’s gone to Wyoming.”

“It’s a big state. Care to narrow it down?”

She frowned at him. “There is no need to be sarcastic.”

Rafe sighed. “Do you know where she is or not?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then book me on the next flight.”

“I doubt that Winding River has an airport. I’ll check,” she said, her expression unexpectedly brightening.

“Whatever,” he said, not one bit happy about the images of Western wilderness that came to mind. “Just cancel everything on my calendar and get me out there by tomorrow night.”

“Will do, boss. I’ll go ahead and cancel everything through next week. You could use the time off.”

Lydia’s sudden eagerness, the spring in her step as she started to leave his office, had him frowning. “I don’t need time off,” he protested. “I’ll take care of this over the weekend and be back here on Monday.”

“Why don’t you just play it by ear?”

His gaze narrowed. “What are you up to?”

“Just doing my job,” she said with an innocent expression.

Rafe seriously doubted her innocence, but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out why Lydia was so blasted anxious for him to jet off to Wyoming. She was not the kind of secretary who used the boss’s absence to sneak out and shop or even to take long lunch hours. No, she was the kind who meddled, the kind who took great pride in making his private life a living hell with her well-meant pestering.

And she liked this Gina Petrillo, he thought, suddenly making the connection.

“Lydia!” he bellowed.

“You don’t have to shout,” she scolded. “I’m just outside the door.”

“When you book my room in Winding River, make sure I’m all alone in it.”

She feigned shock. “Why, of course I will.”

“Don’t look at me like that. It wouldn’t be the first time some hotel mixup had me sharing a room with a woman you thought I ought to get to know better.”

“I never—”

“Save it. Just make sure of it, Lydia, or you’ll spend the rest of your career at Whitfield, Mason and Lockhart doing the filing.”

She shot him an unrepentant grin. “I doubt that, sir. I know where all the bodies are buried.”

Rafe sighed heavily. She did, too.

* * *

When the Winding River Wildcats did a class reunion, the festivities went on for three solid days. There was a welcome barbecue on Friday night, a rodeo during the day on Saturday, a dance Saturday night and a farewell picnic on Sunday. It all flowed right into the town’s annual Fourth of July celebration.

Gina was less interested in all of that than she was in spending a few quiet hours with her oldest and dearest friends. For just a little while she wanted to forget all about that slime Roberto Rinaldi and the financial mess he’d left her to clean up.

“Couldn’t we just go down to the Heartbreak, have a few beers, listen to some music and chill for a few hours?” she pleaded, even as the others were coaxing her off her parents’ front porch and toward a car on Friday night.

“There will be beer and music at the barbecue,” Emma told her. “Besides, since when have you ever turned down the chance to party? The only one in our crowd who was any wilder was Cassie.”

At the mention of Cassie, Gina’s spirits sank even lower. “I wish she’d come tonight.”

“She’s promised to be at the dance tomorrow night,” Karen reminded her. “And you know perfectly well why she stayed away.”

“Because of that run-in with Cole earlier,” Gina said. “She really was shaken by that. He came within seconds of bumping face-to-face into their son.”

“It might have been best if he had,” Karen said. “I think she’s just postponing the inevitable.”

“Maybe so, but as much as I wish she were here, I am not going to let it spoil tonight,” Lauren said. “Now, get moving, you guys. I’ve been living on lettuce a long time now. I haven’t had a decent barbecue in years, and I am ready to pig out, no pun intended.” She herded them toward the fancy sports utility vehicle she had rented for her visit.

Twenty minutes later Lauren turned into the parking lot at the school where they had shared some of the best times of their lives. Known far and wide as the Calamity Janes, the five of them had stirred up more trouble than any graduate before or since. Cassie had been the ringleader, but the rest of them had willingly gone along with whatever mischief she devised.

Now Karen lived on a ranch, Lauren was in Hollywood, Cassie was still struggling to keep her son a secret from his father and Emma was a hot-shot attorney in Denver. Like Emma and Lauren, Gina was considered one of the class success stories. The daughter of an insurance agent and a high school secretary, in high school Gina had earned much-needed spending money by working as a waitress right here in town. Now she owned her own very exclusive restaurant in New York. By anyone’s standards, it was a rags-to-riches story.

If only they knew how close it was to turning around the other way, she thought with a sigh as they approached the football field that had been turned into giant picnic grounds for the night. A stage had been set up under the goalpost at the north end, a pit for the roasted pig was at the opposite end and in between were rows of tables with every kind of food imaginable, all catered by the town’s restaurants. Huge galvanized steel tubs were filled with ice and crammed with soft drinks and beer.

Classmates had already staked out spots for themselves by tossing blankets on the ground, but at the moment nobody was sitting. Everyone was milling around greeting people they hadn’t seen since graduation ten years before.

Suddenly Gina felt an elbow being jammed into her ribs. “Hey,” she protested, turning to face Lauren. “What was that for?”

The woman who had been declared most likely to succeed because of her brains, not her now-legendary beauty, gestured toward the bleachers, where a lone man sat, legs stretched out in front of him, elbows propped on the bench behind. He looked aloof and out of place. He also happened to be handsome as sin, but in the last few days Gina had sworn off the type. If she never met another sexy charmer, it would suit her just fine. In fact, at the moment, Bobby’s disappearing act had made her view every male with healthy suspicion.

“Who, pray tell, is he?” Lauren asked. “He’s definitely not one of us. Nobody we went to school with could improve that much in twenty years, much less ten.”

Gina forced herself to give the stranger a closer inspection. True, he was gorgeous, in a citified, sophisticated way. Even in jeans and a chambray shirt—which looked brand-new from this distance—there was no mistaking the man for a cowboy. He was too polished, his chestnut hair a little too carefully trimmed, his complexion a little too pale, his cheekbones a little too aristocratic. He all but shouted that he was some Yankee blueblood.

“Well?” Lauren prodded. “Do you know him?”

Gina was certain she’d never seen him before, but that didn’t seem to stop her heart from doing a little lurch or her stomach from taking a dip. It was possible he was someone’s husband, sitting on the sidelines because he felt uncomfortable among all the strangers. She didn’t think so, though. She had the uneasy sense that his penetrating gaze was locked directly on her. Not on Lauren, who tended to captivate any male in a room, but on her, Gina Petrillo, with the untamable hair, too-wide hips and a ten-year-old sundress she’d snagged from the back of the closet in her old bedroom.

Lauren, ever confident from years in the limelight, didn’t seem to notice that the man’s attention was elsewhere. She grinned at Gina. “Only one way to find out.”

Gina wanted to tell her not to go over there, to steer as far away from the man as she could, but she knew the warning would only draw a hoot of laughter. There wasn’t a person born who could intimidate Lauren once her curiosity was aroused. That confidence was something new. In high school Lauren had been as shy as she’d been brainy. The adoration of millions of fans had given her self-esteem a much-needed boost.

Gina deliberately turned her back on the scene and went in search of a desperately longed-for beer. She had just tipped up the can for a long, slow swallow when she heard Lauren say, “Oh, here you are. Gina, sweetie, this incredibly gorgeous man is looking for you. Aren’t you lucky?”

Gina’s stomach plummeted as she slowly turned to face them. With every fiber of her being she knew she wasn’t the least bit lucky. Never had been, and certainly not lately. No, this man was not looking for her because he’d been dying to get her recipe for fettuccine.

“Gina Petrillo, Rafe O’Donnell,” Lauren said, relinquishing him to Gina with a broad wink and then abandoning the two of them as if she’d just accomplished the matchmaking success of the century.

Gina recognized the name with a sense of inevitability. She forced herself to look straight into the man’s unreadable topaz eyes. There was little point in pretending that she didn’t recognize the name. Nor did she have to work very hard to figure out what he was doing here. She was not going to let him rattle her, though. She would remain cool, calm and collected if it killed her. She refused to let him think for a second that she was harboring any sense of guilt.

“A long way from home, aren’t you, Mr. O’Donnell?”

“As are you, Ms. Petrillo.”

“No, this is my home,” she said firmly.

“And New York?”

“Where I work.”

“Not any longer, if I have anything to say about it.”

She gave him a wry look. “Then I guess the battle lines are drawn. It’s a good thing you’re not either judge or jury. I might be quaking in my boots.”

“You should be, anyway. I’m very good at what I do.”

“And what is it that you do, Mr. O’Donnell? Condemn people without a trial?”

“Get at the facts, Ms. Petrillo. That was the whole purpose of that deposition you skipped out on.”

She regarded him with indignation. “I didn’t skip out on anything. Check your appointment book. I rescheduled.”

“Without my permission.”

“Your secretary didn’t seem to have a problem with it.”

“Yes, well, Lydia sometimes forgets who’s in charge.”

If it had been anyone else under any other circumstance, Gina might have grinned at his resigned expression. Instead, she said only, “You must find that extremely annoying.”

“Mostly it’s just an inconvenience,” he corrected.

“Yes, I imagine chasing halfway across the country after bad guys like me must play havoc with your schedule.”

To her surprise, he chuckled.

“You have no idea,” he said. “I had really big plans for this weekend.”

“Oh? A ball game with the kids? Maybe a charity event with the wife?”

“No kids. No wife.”

That news set off totally inappropriate little butterflies in Gina’s stomach. To her deep regret they seemed to be doing a victory dance. She refused to let him see that he could disconcert her in the slightest way—especially not in that way.

She studied him thoughtfully. “A hot date, then?”

“Nope.”

“Surely you weren’t spending the weekend all alone, Mr. O’Donnell.”

“Afraid so. Of course, I would have had my share of entertainment. Before I left I got a subpoena for the Café Tuscany books. I had someone pick them up yesterday morning. I understand your assistant was very helpful. Too bad you and your partner aren’t that cooperative. Where can I find Rinaldi, by the way?”

Gina barely contained a groan. That explained the frantic messages she’d been getting from Deidre all day. Gina hadn’t called back because she had vowed to take this weekend off from everything connected to the restaurant. She had figured Monday would be soon enough to return the call and face whatever catastrophe had struck. Just one more bad decision she would have to live with. They were stacking up faster than the ones the Calamity Janes had made in high school.

“I’m sure those books would have been as illuminating as anything I can tell you,” she said. “You should have stayed at home with them. You could have crunched numbers all weekend long. As for Bobby, if you locate him, let me know. I have a few choice words I’d like to share with him.”

“Do you expect me to believe he skipped out without telling you?”

“Frankly, I don’t care what you believe. Now, go home, Mr. O’Donnell. It’s not too late to cozy up with those financial records. Why not fly back tonight?”

“Because I gave the pilot on the charter jet that brought me here from Denver the night off and I hate to ruin his evening,” the attorney countered. “He was looking forward to doing some line dancing at someplace called the Heartbreak.”

“How very thoughtful of you. And how very expensive to go around chartering jets to get from here to there. Do your clients know how you toss their money around?”

“Oh, this trip’s on me,” he said easily. He glanced around at the crowded field, took a deliberate sniff of the smoky, barbecue-scented air. “I haven’t been to an event like this in a long time.”

She regarded him with skepticism. “For such a proponent of truth, Mr. O’Donnell, that’s quite a fib. You’ve never been to an event like this, have you?”

She deliberately looked him over from head to toe. “I’m guessing some East Coast prep school, then Harvard. If you’ve ever been to a reunion, I’m sure it was in some fancy hotel or private country club. And my hunch is that the closest you’ve ever come to a horse is on a New York street corner and there was a cop mounted on its back.”

“You’d be wrong,” he said without rancor. “I went to public schools, then to Yale, not Harvard.”

“That’s not exactly a significant distinction.”

“I suggest you not say that to an alumnus of either university. We do like to cling to our illusions of supremacy.”

“Well, cling all you like, just do it somewhere else. I’m here to have a good time with some old friends. I don’t want to find you lurking in the shadows everywhere I turn.”

“Too bad. I’m not going anywhere.”

His vehemence was annoying, but not all that surprising. “What really brought you running all the way out here?” she asked curiously. “Are you afraid I’m going to disappear? Are you hoping to discover I’ve stashed the missing money in a mattress at my parents’ house?”

The idea seemed to intrigue him. “Have you?”

“Nope. No stash. No hiding place. And I can show you my airline ticket. It’s round-trip. Go home, Mr. O’Donnell. I’ll see you right on schedule in a couple of weeks.”

“We could get this out of the way right here and now,” he suggested. “Then I could get back to New York and you could enjoy the rest of your weekend.”

“Without an attorney present? I don’t think so.”

He shrugged. “Then I guess you’ll just have to get used to having me underfoot for...how long did you say you were planning to stay?”

“Two weeks.”

The news seemed to make him very unhappy, but he nodded. “Two weeks, then. I’ll look forward to it.”

Gina sighed. “Suit yourself. I’m going to get another beer.”

He seemed to find that amusing. “Drinking won’t make you forget I’m here.”

“No, I imagine it won’t,” she agreed. “It would take a blow on the head to accomplish that. But the beer might make your presence more palatable.”

She gave him a jaunty salute. “See you in court, Mr. O’Donnell.”

“Oh, I’ll be seeing you long before that,” he said smoothly. “In fact, I’ll be everywhere you turn.”

If only his mission weren’t to put her in jail, Gina thought with a trace of wistfulness, she might actually look forward to that.

As it was, the knot of dread in her stomach tightened. She might not be guilty of anything except the bad judgment to go into business with Bobby, but Rafe O’Donnell struck her as the kind of man who could dig up secrets, twist words and paint a very dark picture of the saintliest person on earth.

And he intended to stay right here in Winding River turning over rocks, no doubt, looking for incriminating evidence, pestering her friends. She shuddered at the prospect.

Maybe she should just get it over with. Talk to him, and send him on his way. But that idea held no appeal, either. She needed time to gather her thoughts and see an attorney back in New York. She didn’t want to drag Emma or anyone else here into this unless she absolutely had to. It was her disaster and she would fix it. Assuming it could be fixed.

In the meantime the music had started and nobody loved dancing more than Gina did. She could postpone that beer for a few more minutes. She gave Rafe O’Donnell a considering look.

“Can you do a two-step?” she asked.

He looked at her blankly. “What’s that?”

She regarded him with pity. “Never mind,” she said, reaching for his hand. “Just follow my lead.”

He caught on more quickly than she had expected. He wasn’t good, but he wasn’t tripping over his own feet or stepping on hers, either.

“You do rise to a challenge, don’t you?” she teased.

“There’s very little I won’t do to win,” he agreed solemnly.

“Are we still talking about dancing?”

“Were we ever?”

Gina sighed. So that was the way it was going to be. He was never going to let her forget why he was here.

“I think I’ll have that beer after all,” she said, even before the music ended. She started away, then turned back. “Leave my friends out of this.”

“I won’t say anything,” he agreed, then had to ruin it by adding, “For the time being.”

“Look, Mr. O’Donnell...”

“I think since we’re going to become so well acquainted over the next couple of weeks, you should call me Rafe.”

She shrugged off the request. “Whatever. The point is, they don’t know anything about this and I don’t want them to.”

“Why? Your friend Lauren makes ten million a movie. She could write you a check and put an end to this right now. You could pay off all those people who’ve been bilked, settle up the restaurant’s accounts and life would go on. You’d never have to see me again.”

“She could,” Gina agreed. “But it’s not her problem. It’s mine.” She leveled a look straight into his eyes. “No, let me correct that. It’s Bobby’s.”

“But he left you holding the bag, didn’t he?”

She held up her hands. “I’m not doing this. Not now. Good night, Mr. O’Donnell.”

She deliberately turned her back on him and walked away, but with every step she took, she felt his gaze burning into her. She was glad he couldn’t see her face, because then he’d know exactly how badly the encounter had shaken her.

Halfway across the field, she ran into Lauren.

“What did you do with that gorgeous man?”

“That gorgeous man is a viper,” Gina snapped.

Instantly her friend’s teasing expression faded. “What did he do?” Lauren demanded, her gaze searching the field for the man who’d offended her friend.

Gina grinned. “It’s okay. Settle down. It’s nothing I can’t deal with.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

But even though she managed to inject a note of confidence into her voice for Lauren’s sake, Gina couldn’t help wondering if Rafe O’Donnell wasn’t way more than she could handle. She thought of the way her pulse had skipped in his presence, then amended the thought: he might be more than she could handle in more ways than one.

2

Rafe had been stunned when he’d realized that the woman sashaying over to him earlier in the evening was the Lauren Winters, an actress renowned for her beauty and her box office appeal. Who would have imagined finding such a glamorous superstar in a one-horse town in the middle of nowhere? To top it off, she seemed to fit right in. No one was gawking. No one was begging for autographs. Clearly she wasn’t just a celebrity imported for the event, but a hometown girl.

But as intrigued as he was to be face-to-face with the superstar, he’d barely been able to pull his gaze away from her friend. From the moment Lauren had introduced him to Gina, he’d been captivated. That was the only word for it, and it was damned inconvenient. He didn’t trust her. He didn’t like her. But his body didn’t seem to give two hoots about any of that.

Gina Petrillo was tall and slender with black eyes and dark hair that curled to her shoulders in sexy disarray. There was an earthy quality to her that reminded him of some of the most legendary Italian beauties. He could instantly envision her standing over a steaming pot of tomato sauce and just as easily imagine her in his bed, in a steamy tangle of arms and legs. He couldn’t think of the last time he’d reacted on such a purely male level to a woman.

Of course, the fact that she was a thief—okay, an alleged thief, he conceded, thinking of Lydia’s admonition—took a little of the fun away from the discovery that he was attracted to her. He had a feeling he was going to spend a lot of time reminding himself that Gina Petrillo was trouble. He would probably spend even more time in cold showers.

Holding her for that dance, watching the sway of her hips as she’d walked away from him, he’d found himself regretting the fact that she was so thoroughly forbidden. Then, again, maybe that was the real allure.

And not only was she forbidden, she didn’t seem to trust him any more than he did her. That offended him. Most people considered him solid and reliable. In fact, he was one of the most respected attorneys at a firm that prided itself on its respectability. In some circles he was even considered a prize catch.

Not that he was any sort of playboy, but he was used to women being eager to see him. He seldom had time for even half the women who called asking him to accompany them to social functions. He had a hunch it would be a cold day in hell before Gina asked him to dance again, much less to join her for dinner. That made her a challenge, and as she had already guessed, he loved a challenge.

The smart thing would be to speak to a local judge, arrange a quick deposition—first thing tomorrow morning, if possible—and then hightail it out of town before he lost sight of his professional ethics.

The only problem with that was that it would leave Gina Petrillo on her own in Wyoming. She’d be able to sneak off to who-knew-where the minute his back was turned. And she was his best link to Roberto Rinaldi. The deposition was only half of what he wanted from her. He also wanted her to lead him to that sleazebag partner of hers. Sooner or later she was going to make contact with the man, if only to strangle him herself...or to get her share of the cash he’d stolen.

No, he concluded, he was here to stay. At least until Gina went back to New York, which she’d insisted would be in two weeks.

Two endless weeks, he thought despondently. Lydia would be elated.

He listened to the annoying whine of a fiddle as the band tuned up for yet another round of country songs, and shuddered. Why couldn’t the woman have run off to Italy? Or Paris? Or anyplace civilized where the music tended to be classical?

“Care to dance, Mr. O’Donnell?”

He gazed down into Lauren’s crystal-blue eyes and wondered why he wasn’t the least bit tempted by the superstar. Because the only eyes on his mind were black as onyx and belonged to a woman who was off-limits, he made himself nod.

“I’d be honored,” he told her. If nothing else, it would be a story to tell when he got back home. Maybe even to repeat to his children, if he ever got around to marrying.

They had taken only a few awkward steps to the unfamiliar rhythm when Lauren came to a stop and dropped any pretense of friendliness. “You don’t know much about the Texas two-step, do you, Mr. O’Donnell?”

“Can’t say that I do,” he admitted. “Tonight is the first time I’ve tried it.”

“Do you consider yourself a quick learner?” she asked.

He regarded her warily. “Under most circumstances.”

“Okay, then, here’s another lesson,” she said. “You don’t know any more about Gina than you do about the two-step. She won’t tell me why you’re here, but your presence is clearly upsetting her, and I don’t like that. She’s a terrific person and she’s among friends, Mr. O’Donnell. You tangle with her, you tangle with all of us.”

He grinned at the feisty defense and the warning. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“I’m not saying that for your amusement,” she snapped. “I mean it. People who underestimate me live to regret it.”

He managed a more somber expression. “I’m aware of that, Ms. Winters. You’ve made your point.”

She studied him intently, then nodded, evidently satisfied. “See that you don’t forget it.”

He watched as she went back to a cluster of three women, Gina among them. Lauren gave her friend a fierce hug, a public demonstration of support meant for his benefit, no doubt. He admired the show of loyalty, but it didn’t change his mind about Gina.

Whether Gina was a thief or not remained to be seen, but her partner was, and that made her guilty of very bad judgment if nothing else. Nothing she’d said or done tonight had persuaded him of her innocence. In fact, quite the opposite.

The way he saw it, Gina was even more dangerous than he’d anticipated. She was savvy and unpredictable. She had a smart mouth. With her restaurant under siege, she just might get it into her head that she had nothing to lose. She could decide to run. And she was surrounded by people who evidently would do just about anything to protect her no matter how guilty she might be.

He was going to have to keep a clear head, which was doubly difficult given the effect she had on him. Obviously, what he needed was a good night’s sleep, though he doubted he’d get it with Gina’s sexy image plaguing him. He glanced around until he found her in the crowd.

She was dancing again, head thrown back, her gaze locked with some cowboy’s. Rafe felt his blood boil. He wanted to stride across the field and yank her out of the man’s embrace. The depth of that unexpected and unfamiliar streak of jealousy startled him. He hadn’t cared enough about any woman to be jealous, not ever. This was not good, not good at all.

He definitely needed to get back to his motel room, alone, and get his sex-starved emotions under control. He hadn’t mentioned to Gina that he’d brought the Café Tuscany books with him. Studying those cold, hard figures ought to put things back into perspective. And they were a whole lot more reliable and easier to understand than any woman. His mother had taught him that.

* * *

Gina didn’t get a wink of sleep all night long. Despite her cool responses and bravado the night before, Rafe O’Donnell had gotten to her. She knew all about the fancy Park Avenue law firm he worked for. She’d recognized the name from its frequent mentions on the news, and some of the partners were among her best customers. They didn’t take cases they didn’t intend to win. She didn’t doubt that he was as driven and determined as the rest of them.

Which meant he was going to make her life a living hell. Oh, in the end, she might be able to prove that Bobby had acted alone, but not without paying a high price. Her reputation would be tarnished. Between unpaid bills and legal fees, the restaurant would be forced to close. And she’d be right back where she started five years ago, working in somebody else’s kitchen to scrape up enough money to open her own restaurant.

It would take longer this time, too, because she wouldn’t have Bobby to draw in investors. In fact, her link to Bobby would probably prevent anyone except the most foolhardy from lending her a dime.

Sighing, she crawled out of bed, pulled on a pair of faded jeans, a short-sleeved blouse and the cowboy boots she hadn’t worn since she’d left Winding River ten years ago. They still fit perfectly. Maybe there was a message there, that Winding River was where she really belonged, where people still felt a shred of respect for her.

Her parents had long since left the house. Her father worked Saturdays. Her mother spent the morning with the altar guild at church and her afternoon doing errands. Gina was used to late nights and sleeping in. She’d gotten to bed before midnight the night before, but add in a little jet lag and her schedule was completely upside down. It felt like noon, which it was in New York. The clock said otherwise.

She poured herself a cup of coffee, made two slices of toast from her mother’s homemade sourdough bread, then went onto the porch. It was already hot outside, better suited for iced tea than coffee, but she drank it anyway. Maybe a jolt of caffeine would help her think more clearly so she could decide what to do about Rafe O’Donnell.

Unfortunately, the only ideas that came to mind had more to do with discovering what his mouth would feel like against her own than they did with getting him out of town.

Too restless to sit still, she grabbed the keys to her mother’s car, which had been left for her, and headed for town. She parked in the middle of the block on Main Street and considered her options. She could go to Stella’s and probably find a half dozen people she knew who’d be glad to chat with her over another cup of coffee. Or she could go to the Italian restaurant down the block, where Tony would probably let her work off her frustrations over his stove.

No contest, she thought, with a stirring of anticipation.

Tony Falcone had been her mentor. He’d hired her as a waitress while she was still in high school, but it hadn’t been long before he’d discovered that her real talent was in the kitchen. He’d taught her to make lasagna and spaghetti sauce with meatballs. He’d let her experiment with new recipes when cooking the traditional dishes had grown boring. And then he had helped her to persuade her parents that she would be better off going to culinary schools around the world than to any traditional college. It had been a tough sell, especially to her father, who’d been convinced that a degree in accounting would be a lot more practical. Given her current circumstances, Gina had to admit her father might have had a point.

A wave of nostalgia washed over her as she approached the back door at Tony’s and knocked, then opened it without waiting for a response from inside.

“Anybody in here have a good recipe for meatballs?” she called out.

“Cara mia,” Tony said, a smile spreading across his round face when he saw her. “Where have you been? I heard you were coming home, but then nothing. I am insulted that I was not at least the second stop on your list after your parents.”

“I know, I know,” she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Will you forgive me?”

He studied her. “That depends.”

“On?”

“How long you intend to stay. It has been too long, Gina. My customers are grumbling about the same old food, week after week. Not a day goes by that someone doesn’t ask when you will be back to liven up the menu.”

“What do you tell them?”

“That you are now a famous chef in New York, and that if they want to eat your food, they will have to travel there.”

Gina eyed with longing the huge old stove with its simmering pots. “I could fix something for tonight,” she offered. “Maybe a spicy penne arrabiata or a Greek-style pizza with black olives and feta cheese.”

“But you are on vacation,” Tony protested. “I cannot ask you to cook.”

“You didn’t ask. I offered. Besides, I have some thinking to do, and I always think more clearly as I cook.”

He studied her intently. “Problems, cara mia? Do you want to talk about them? I may not be able to solve them, but I can listen. Sometimes that is all we need, yes? An objective listener while we sort through things?”

Gina debated telling Tony everything. She knew he would keep it to himself. She also knew he would sympathize with her predicament because he, more than anyone, knew how important her restaurant was to her.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t mind?” she asked.

He regarded her with feigned indignation. “How many nights did I listen to you go on and on about this boyfriend or that?”

She grinned ruefully. “More than I care to think about, but this is different.”

“How?”

“Because it really matters.”

“When you were sixteen, those boys mattered, too.”

She thought back to the string of broken hearts she’d suffered. “Okay, you’re right. I guess it’s all a matter of perspective, isn’t it?”

“I will fix us both an espresso and we will talk.” He gestured toward the front. “Go in there and sit.”

“But you have things to do,” she protested. “We can talk here.”

“Nothing that can’t wait. Now, go. I will be there in a minute.”

Gina walked into the dining room with its familiar red-checked tablecloths, the dripping candles stuck in old Chianti bottles, the wide-planked oak floor and the big picture window overlooking Main Street. An inexpertly done mural of Naples had been painted on one wall by Tony’s homesick wife, Francesca.

By comparison, Café Tuscany had five-star ambience, but Gina felt perfectly at home here with the rich scents drifting from the kitchen and the sunlight spilling in the window. An astonishing sense of peace crept over her. Right here, right now, she could believe everything would be all right.

Tony joined her at a table in front. She smiled as she accepted the cup of dark espresso and took her first sip. “Still the best,” she told him. “I grind and blend my own beans, but it’s not the same.”

“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.”

Emma stared at her in amazement. “You sound so convincing.”

Gina chuckled. “She is an actress, Emma.”

Emma shook her head. “Of course, she is. I just can’t quite think of Lauren as anything other than the girl who used to spend the night at my house talking about boys until dawn.”

“I had to talk about them. I certainly never dated them,” Lauren said.

“Because you scared them to death. You were the smartest person in our class,” Gina said. “That was very daunting, even to the boys with a B average.”

“A fat lot of good that’s doing me these days,” Lauren grumbled. “Most of the people I deal with now don’t even realize I have a brain.”

“Which must mean that they underestimate you,” Emma guessed. “Surely you can use that to your advantage.”

“Maybe you two can trade services,” Gina suggested. “Lauren can fend off your pushy, inconsiderate clients, and Emma, you can negotiate Lauren’s deals. Nobody ever mistakes you for a pushover.”

“Not a bad idea,” Lauren said thoughtfully. “But we still haven’t resolved this current situation. Shall I make the call?”

Emma hesitated. “Let me think about it.”

Gina thought of what Lauren had said earlier about Emma’s little girl. “Emma, think about Caitlyn. She’s having the time of her life with her cousins and her grandparents. Do you want to spoil that by running home early?”

Emma blinked at the reminder, proof that she too seldom considered her daughter’s feelings when work was involved. Then she drew herself up. “You’re absolutely right. Lauren, make that call. Tell Mr. Henley that he can contact one of the senior partners if he doesn’t want to wait for me to get back.”

Lauren beamed at her. “Punch in that number,” she said, relinquishing the cell phone temporarily to Emma.

As soon as the call had gone through, she stepped away from Emma and Gina, speaking quietly but firmly to the offensive Mr. Henley. After she’d hung up, she came back smiling.

“He’ll wait. By the way, what was that big emergency, or can’t you say?”

Emma grinned. “I can’t say, but I can assure you that it wasn’t life or death. Nor were any of his millions at risk.” She reached for her cell phone, but Lauren shook her head.

“I think I’ll hang on to this, at least for the rest of the night,” she told Emma.

“But Caitlyn—”

“If Caitlyn calls, I know where to find you. Otherwise, your new secretary can handle anything that comes up.”

Gina chuckled. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you, Lauren?”

“It’s actually rather nice to do something so ordinary. Maybe I should chuck it all and become somebody’s secretary. I have terrific organizational skills.”

Both Emma and Gina stared at her.

“Have you lost it?” Gina asked.

“Okay, maybe not a secretary,” Lauren said. “Organizational skills aside, I’m a little too bossy to take orders well.”

“An understatement if ever I heard one,” Gina said.

Lauren sighed. “You know who I really envy? Karen. She has it all. A husband who adores her and a ranch.”

“Where she works too hard,” Gina pointed out.

“I guess nothing’s perfect, is it?” Lauren said. She glanced behind Gina. “For example, you have this absolutely gorgeous man staring at you as if you were more tempting than a banana split, and for reasons you refuse to explain, you’re avoiding the guy.”

All three of them turned to stare at Rafe, who was sipping on his drink, his gaze fixed on Gina.

“He’s not interested in me,” she protested. “Not the way you mean, anyway.”

“That kiss I heard about says otherwise,” Lauren said. “In fact, that kiss speaks volumes.”

Emma’s eyes widened. “Kiss, what kiss? That man kissed you? Did you want him to?”

“No,” Gina said. “Yes.”

A slow grin replaced the indignation on Emma’s face. “Not sure, are you?”

“Of course I’m sure. That kiss was totally inappropriate.”

“We can sue him for sexual harassment,” Emma suggested, looking a little too eager.

“Settle down,” Gina advised. “Nobody is suing anybody, and you are not taking on any cases in the middle of a dance, not after Lauren worked so hard to make sure you had the night off.”

“I suppose not,” Emma said, clearly disappointed. “But let me know if you change your mind.”

“Do you look at everything in life in terms of the legalities?” Lauren asked her.

“Pretty much,” Emma acknowledged.

“That has to stop,” Lauren said emphatically, then glanced at Gina. “And you and I have to see to it. Find this woman someone to dance with. Are there any eligible males in the room? Other than Gina’s guy, of course.”

“Rafe O’Donnell is not my guy,” Gina reminded her. “I’d be glad to turn him over to Emma.”

“Whatever.” Lauren surveyed the gym carefully. Finally her expression brightened triumphantly. “There,” she said. “He’ll do very nicely.” She snagged Emma’s hand. “Come on. Do you know him?”

“No,” Emma said, hanging back.

“Then I’ll introduce you,” Lauren said.

“Do you know him?” Emma asked.

“No, but that’s a technicality. Don’t be a spoilsport. It’s one dance, not the rest of your life.”

Emma cast a totally uncharacteristically helpless glance over her shoulder as Lauren dragged her away.

“I see your friend is matchmaking again,” Rafe said, coming up beside Gina and startling her so badly she almost dropped her drink. “Think she’ll have better luck with those two?”

“Don’t do that,” she said irritably.

“What?”

“Sneak up on me.” She avoided his gaze, pretending that his nearness wasn’t stirring up all sorts of wicked memories of the kiss they’d shared earlier. She deliberately watched the drama unfolding as Lauren introduced Emma to the stranger, then left them to their own devices. After an awkward moment the man must have asked her to dance, because Emma allowed him to lead her to the middle of the gym. Neither of them looked especially happy about being there, but Lauren stood by beaming her approval.

Apparently satisfied, Lauren came back to where Gina and Rafe were standing. Gina noticed she deliberately inserted herself protectively between them. Rafe noted her action with amusement.

“Still protecting your friend, I see,” he said.

“Of course.”

“Trust me, she can defend herself. Did you hear how she doused me with ice earlier today, then made me hike all the way back into town?”

Gina regarded him with indignation. “I did not! You decided to walk back. I tried to stop you.”

Lauren looked from one to the other, lips twitching. “But the part about the ice was true? Did that happen before or after the kiss?”

Rafe didn’t seem the least bit surprised or embarrassed by the fact that Lauren knew about that. “Before.”

“Interesting. I would have thought after.” She grinned. “You know, an attempt to cool you off, so to speak.”

“It would have taken more than a cup of ice to do that,” Rafe said.

Lauren waved her hand as if it held a fan. “Oh, my.”

Gina scowled at both of them. “If you two are enjoying yourselves so much, why don’t I just leave? There are a lot of people here I haven’t spoken to yet.”

Before she could take a step, Rafe grabbed her hand. “Not now. I was hoping for another dance lesson.”

She frowned at him. “The band’s not playing country-western tonight. It’s playing oldies. Surely you can slow-dance. Lauren, you dance with him.”

“Afraid not,” Rafe insisted with a perfectly straight face. “No offense, Lauren, but Gina’s a little more patient with my stumbling attempts. Dancing is one of those social graces I never had time to learn. Too much studying. It made me a very dull kid.”

“Then I’m amazed so many women invite you to society balls,” Lauren chimed in, drawing a startled look from both Gina and Rafe.

“How do you know that?” Gina demanded.

Lauren grinned. “The Internet is an amazing thing. You’d be surprised what you can find out. I only scanned a few editions of the New York papers, and guess whose name popped up over and over in the society columns?”

Rafe regarded her with admiration. “I underestimated you, after all, Lauren.”

“Many people do,” Gina said. “Lauren, I think maybe you and I need to have a little talk.”

“Tomorrow will be soon enough. There’s a handsome man who’s eager to dance with you. My hunch is he knows his right foot from his left, despite what he says.”

She winked at Rafe, then added for Gina’s benefit, “Just keep your guard up, sweetie. From what I’ve read about him, you don’t want to cross him.”

Unfortunately, Gina was already well aware of that.

4

Since the whole purpose of coming to Winding River had been to clear her head and decide what to do to save her restaurant, Gina awoke at what she considered to be the unholy hour of 7:00 a.m. on Sunday morning determined to get on with that assignment. The only way she was able to drag herself out of bed was by reminding herself that it was nine in the morning in New York.

With Rafe turning up almost everywhere she went, the only way she was going to have any time to herself was to sneak out of her own house and take a drive into the nearby Snowy Range, where distractions were few and far between. And she had to do it before he turned up to accompany her or trail along behind like some sort of watchdog.

A glance outside told her it was the perfect day for going for a drive and then maybe even a hike. The sky was a crystal-clear blue with floating puffs of white clouds. The temperature had dropped overnight and promised to stay lower throughout the day. And there were no reunion events until the picnic at midday.

But before she could make her escape, she bumped straight into her parents, lingering over Sunday breakfast in the kitchen. They regarded her with surprise, no doubt because they so rarely saw her before noon.

“What on earth are you doing up so early, darling?” her mother asked. “You had a late night. It was after midnight when I heard you come in. How was the dance?”

Gina thought of the time she’d spent in Rafe’s arms. For a man who’d professed to have no skill on the dance floor at all, he’d been astonishingly adept at everything from the waltz to the twist. Apparently it was only the Texas two-step that eluded him, despite his pitiful claim that he’d had no time for dances as a younger man. When she’d called him on it, he’d simply shrugged and insisted he was only following her lead.

As if, she thought dryly. She doubted he’d ever let anyone get a head start on him, much less lead him anywhere. She sighed at that. It was something she needed to keep in mind.

“The dance was fine,” she said.

“Meet anyone interesting?” her mother asked, her expression just a little too innocent.

“What have you heard?” Gina asked, regarding her with resignation.

Her father frowned. “Yes, Jane, what have you heard? I’d like to know, too.”

“Oh, for goodness sakes, it’s nothing shocking,” her mother said with a hint of exasperation. “Rose Ellen just happened to mention that Gina was with an incredibly handsome man at the rodeo yesterday afternoon.”

George Petrillo seemed no more convinced by that innocuous explanation than Gina was.

“And?” he prodded.

“The man kissed me,” Gina blurted, hoping to save them all the embarrassment of a long, drawn-out debate. “It was nothing.”

Her mother grinned. “That’s not the way I heard it. Rose Ellen said it made her toes curl.”

“Jane Petrillo, I hope you weren’t discussing your daughter’s lack of discretion with half the town,” her father said, his expression dismayed. As the owner of the local insurance company, he tended to worry first about what his customers might think. Gina had done enough outrageous, risky things with the Calamity Janes in high school to turn his hair gray. He always swore he’d taken out extra accident and liability insurance on the family just because of her dangerous shenanigans.

“No, of course not,” Jane said, giving him a soothing pat on the hand. “Just Rose Ellen. She brought it up. I must say I found it fascinating.” She turned to Gina. “I had no idea you’d brought a fellow home for the reunion. Why haven’t we met him?”

“I didn’t bring him. He’s not here for the reunion. And you haven’t met him because I sincerely wish that I’d never met him,” Gina said, reaching for the car keys, even though the drive no longer held much appeal. “I’m going out.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know, but I won’t be long.”

She walked out before they could pester her with more questions. As she paused on the back steps to take a deep, calming breath, she heard her mother ask, “What do you suppose is going on?”

“I have no idea,” her father said grumpily. “But I’m sure half the town will know about it before we do. That’s what comes from letting her go off and spend all that time in Europe. She’s come home with a lot of wild ideas.”

“Oh, she has not,” her mother said, then added wistfully, “I just hope there is something more to this. Wouldn’t it be nice to see her married? I can’t wait till we have a houseful of grandchildren to spoil.”

Gina’s groan was almost as heartfelt as her father’s. The speculation about her and Rafe O’Donnell was getting entirely out of hand and he’d only been in town a couple of days. Right now all he was doing was shadowing her—okay, and kissing her in public. Just wait till people around here found out what he was really after.

* * *

Rafe drove by the Petrillo house about 7:45 a.m. There was no sign of Gina, though from what he’d gathered, she was not exactly a morning person. Still, he found the fact that her mother’s car was missing this early on a Sunday vaguely worrisome. Had Gina taken off in it? Would her mother conspire to help her daughter skip town? Leave the country? Maybe that remark Gina had made the day before about fleeing to Canada had been no joke.

Because he hated the way his imagination was running wild, he concluded the best way to get to the truth would be to knock on the door and ask to see her. For all he knew, the entire family might be at church, though most had services that began later.

When a woman he assumed to be Mrs. Petrillo answered the door, he understood where Gina got her beauty. Her mother was probably in her late forties, maybe even her early fifties, but she looked a decade younger. There wasn’t a single strand of gray in her thick, dark hair. There was hardly a wrinkle on her heart-shaped face. But while her daughter’s eyes were dark, Mrs. Petrillo’s were a vibrant green, and they were studying him with undisguised curiosity.

“May I help you?” she asked, when Rafe remained speechless.

He gathered his composure. “Actually, I’m looking for your daughter, Mrs. Petrillo. Is she here?”

“Ah,” she said, her expression brightening. “You must be the mysterious man everyone is talking about.”

“I’m Rafe O’Donnell,” he said, taken aback by the friendly welcome. Obviously, the people talking were those who’d witnessed the kiss, and not Gina herself. He doubted she had painted him in a favorable light.

“My husband and I are just having a second cup of coffee, Mr. O’Donnell. Will you join us? Gina left a little while ago, but she shouldn’t be gone long.”

Never one to turn down caffeine or the chance to pump someone for information about Gina, he smiled. “I’d love a cup.”

In the cheerful, yellow kitchen with its warm oak cupboards and white trim, she introduced Rafe to her husband and invited him to make himself at home.

“Were your ears burning?” she asked. “We were talking about you not fifteen minutes ago.”

“Is that so?” he asked warily. “What did Gina have to say?”

“Not much, which is why I’m so glad you dropped by. You’re not local, are you? How do you know our daughter?”

Now there was a minefield, Rafe thought. “Actually, I’m from New York.”

“So, you and Gina met there?” George Petrillo asked, regarding Rafe with suspicion.

“Not exactly.”

The vague response clearly stirred more suspicion on her father’s part. “We don’t get a lot of New Yorkers around here. How did you happen to choose Winding River for a vacation?”

“Actually I’m working.”

George’s gaze narrowed. “You’re not some fool movie producer, are you? They come crawling around here all the time these days, paying outrageous amounts for property. If it keeps up, the next thing we know we won’t be able to afford to live in our own hometown.”

Rafe chuckled. “No. I haven’t even been to a movie in the last two years, and I am definitely not buying any property.”

“Then what do you do?” her father asked, just as Gina’s mother stepped in.

“George, you’re pestering the man. Let him drink his coffee in peace.”

“I’m just trying to get acquainted with a man who’s got half the town talking about the way he kissed my daughter,” George grumbled.

So they had heard, Rafe thought. That explained the interrogation. “I apologize for that,” he said with absolute sincerity. It had been one of the biggest mistakes of his life, though he could hardly deny enjoying it.

“There’s no need to apologize to us,” Jane assured him, shooting a warning look at her husband. “Is there, George?”

“Not unless Gina objected,” he said, scowling at Rafe. “Did she?”

Just then the back door opened and Gina stepped inside. “You!” she said when she saw him. “I thought that was your rental car out front. What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you, of course.”

“And grilling my parents while you’re at it? What a lowdown, sneaky trick,” she accused. “Did you wait until you saw me leave before knocking on the door?”

“No, I did not. And actually, I’ve barely gotten a word in,” he said, regarding her with amusement.

“That’s true, dear,” her mother verified. “Your father has been doing most of the talking. I’m surprised your friend hasn’t told him to mind his own business.”

Gina directed a frown at Rafe, then her father, then Rafe again. “I’d like to see you outside, please.”

He grinned. “Sure thing. Mr. and Mrs. Petrillo, it’s been a pleasure. Thanks for the coffee.”

“I do hope you’ll come back and visit with us,” Jane said. “Perhaps you could come for dinner before you go back to New York.”

“Sorry, Mom, he won’t be around that long,” Gina said. “Will you, Rafe?”

He gave her a penetrating look. “My schedule is actually pretty flexible. Last I heard I’ll be in town for at least two weeks.”

Her mother beamed. “Then I’m sure we’ll be able to work something out. You must be staying at the hotel. I’ll be in touch.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” he said, then followed Gina outside. Since she couldn’t seem to stop pacing up and down, he leaned against the porch railing and waited to see what she had to say.

Finally she stopped in front of him. “I do not want you here.”

“So I gathered.”

“My parents don’t know anything about my business. They don’t know anything about Bobby. Leave them alone.”

“I was not pumping them for information. In fact, I thought I was doing a darned fine job of evading all of your father’s questions about how we knew each other and what I do for a living.”

“You didn’t tell them you were a lawyer?”

“No.”

“You didn’t tell them you’d followed me out here?”

“No.”

“You never mentioned Bobby?”

“Nope.”

That seemed to silence her. Rafe couldn’t help himself. He reached out and cupped her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “I’m just after the truth, Gina. Nothing else. If you have nothing to hide, talk to me, tell me the truth.”

“You wouldn’t know the truth if it bit you in the butt.”

“You have a very low opinion of my ability to judge character, don’t you?”

“Can you blame me? You’ve come after me as if I’m some hardened criminal, when I’m as much of a victim as any of the people you say that Bobby swindled. The man has all but destroyed my business. He has turned my life upside down. And because of him, an annoyingly persistent attorney won’t leave me alone.”

Rafe grimaced at the characterization. He’d always considered persistence to be a virtue, but he could see her point. Moreover, he was forced to admit that he was beginning to believe in at least the possibility of her innocence, but he was a long way from having any evidence for or against her. She might not see that as much of a shift in his opinion, but in truth it was a major concession. He usually trusted his initial gut reaction in any given situation, and he rarely let go of preconceived notions this easily.

“You could go a long way toward making your case, if you would just sit down and get this deposition over with,” he pointed out.

“Not without my attorney present.”

“Of course not, but isn’t your friend Emma an attorney?”

“Yes, but her practice is not in Wyoming, and besides, she’s here this weekend because she’s overworked and badly needs a break. I’m not going to get her involved in this,” she said flatly. “Hell, I’m here because I need a break, but I haven’t had five seconds to think with you trailing around after me. I started to take a drive, but I stopped for coffee instead. I glanced outside and spotted you heading in this direction. I had this horrible feeling this was exactly where you were going. Lo and behold, here you are, sneaking around behind my back to cross-examine my parents.”

“I was not cross-examining your parents,” he repeated patiently. “I stopped by looking for you. Your mother invited me in. Your father did most of the talking. That’s it.”

She gave him a plaintive look. “Couldn’t you go away?” she asked in what had become a familiar, wistful refrain. “Go home? I’ll be there in a couple of weeks and answer every single question you have.”

“Much as I would like to get out of the wilds of Wyoming and back to civilization, I can’t take a chance that you’ll disappear. You’re my best link to Rinaldi.”

“I haven’t heard from him. In fact, if he’s smart, I will never hear from him, because if I ever get five minutes alone with him, I will wring his scrawny neck.”

She said it with such heartfelt conviction that Rafe’s faith in her shot up another notch. That still didn’t mean he could go running back to New York the way she wanted. Unfortunately, he was here for the duration.

And gazing into her sad, vulnerable eyes was making that more and more difficult with every passing day.

“I’ll tell you what,” he said finally. “I’ll make you a deal.”

She regarded him with suspicion. “What sort of a deal?”

“What’s on the reunion agenda for the day?”

“A picnic in the park.”

“Is that the last event?”

“No, most of us will be here for the Fourth of July fireworks later in the week.”

He regarded her solemnly. “Do you swear that you will not skip town on me?”

She sighed. “I’m not going anywhere. How many times do I have to tell you that? You can turn your back on me. In fact, it might be nice if you just forgot all about me.”

Rafe grinned at her wistful tone. “I can’t do that, but I will back off. I have some paperwork to do.”

“Hallelujah!” she said, though her tone was less than enthusiastic.

“I’m not saying I won’t cruise by the park—”

“I should have known it was too good to be true,” she murmured.

“That could be just because I’m longing for a glimpse of you,” Rafe suggested.

“Oh, of course,” she said sarcastically. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

He was surprised by her skepticism. “You don’t think that could be true?”

“You are not hanging around here because you’re attracted to me. You’re here because you want to nail me with a crime.”

“Maybe that’s how it started,” Rafe said quietly, regretting the admission almost before the words were out of his mouth.

She gave him a startled look. “What are you saying?”

“I’ve already said it. Never mind. The point is I will try to give you a little space. Just don’t make me regret it. I have a lot of resources and I will use them to find you, so save yourself the trouble.”

He’d taken half a dozen steps, almost made it to safety, when she called out to him. He turned back.

“What?” he asked, noting the confusion in her eyes.

“Are you saying that kiss yesterday...” Her gaze locked on his. “Did it mean something?”

Rafe couldn’t help the smile tugging at his lips. Her words were too close to an invitation, way too close to a dare, or maybe he’d just been searching a little too desperately for any excuse at all to do it again.

“I don’t know,” he said nonchalantly. He walked slowly back to her. “Only one way to find out.”

Alarm flared in her eyes just as he bent down and lightly touched his mouth to hers. He could have stopped with that. He should have. But her soft little moan, the way she swayed toward him, they were too much. The next thing he knew she was in his arms and he was devouring her mouth.

The morning had been unseasonably cool up until then, but now the temperature shot up until it felt hotter than it had under the blazing sun on his walk back into town the day before. His heart pounded and his body turned hard, even as hers went pliant, molding to his in a way that left him shaken and her trembling.

His breathing was ragged when he finally pulled away. “I guess we have our answer,” he murmured, his voice husky.

She stared back at him with dazed eyes. “Answer?”

“That kiss definitely meant something.”

“What did it mean?”

He took a step back before he replied. “Trouble,” he said quietly. “It was definitely trouble.”

* * *

Trouble? Gina echoed to herself after Rafe had wisely walked away. It wasn’t just trouble. It was a disaster. If he’d asked, she would have followed him straight to the nearest bed without giving it a second thought. She would have slept with a man who wanted to put her in jail.

Okay, maybe he was beginning to cut her a little slack, but he definitely didn’t trust her, not the way a man ought to trust a woman he was making love to. Of course, that kiss had been all about lust, not love. Gina supposed a man—or a woman—could have spectacular sex with somebody without worrying too much about such niceties as trust. Personally, she’d never tried it. She’d had one serious relationship in Italy, but since coming back to the United States, she’d barely had time to date, much less get involved with a man deeply enough to think about letting him into her bed. And her relationship with Carlo had taught her all about the dangers of dating a suspicious man. His lack of trust, his constant accusations that she was deceiving him had destroyed them.

Now, in just a few short days, Rafe had stirred her hormones to such a fever pitch that she was willing to toss aside everything she valued for a quick romp with yet another man who didn’t believe in her.

“I saw what Rose Ellen meant,” Gina’s mother said quietly, slipping up beside Gina and putting an arm around her waist.

“You saw?”

“Oh, yes. So did your father.”

“I’m surprised he didn’t go for his shotgun.”

“I think he might have, if you’d shown even the tiniest hint of displeasure.”

Gina regarded her mother with a wry look. “Well, that certainly didn’t happen, did it?”

Her mother chuckled. “No, which begs the question, what is your relationship with Rafe O’Donnell?”

“I wish I knew,” Gina said plaintively. “It’s...it’s confusing.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She shook her head. “Not yet, Mom, but I’ll tell you everything when I get it sorted out. I promise.”

“If you want your father to run him off, he will, you know.”

Gina grinned. “I know, and believe me, the thought holds a certain appeal.” She uttered a sigh of resignation. “But Rafe would just come back again.”

“Your father was a persistent man, too,” Jane said, looking nostalgic.

“Did you ever try to shake him?”

“For a while,” she said, then grinned. “But my heart was never in it. Is your heart really in getting rid of Rafe once and for all?”

“Apparently not,” Gina said. In fact, she was beginning to look forward to having him pop up when she least expected it. As for those devastating kisses, she was pretty sure she was becoming addicted.

5

Rafe had expected to be back in New York by Monday. Unfortunately, Gina showed every sign of sticking to her guns and staying in Winding River for a full two weeks. He’d hoped that his pestering would eventually wear her down, but she was clearly stubborn. Maybe that trait was also the reason she hadn’t given in to the inevitable and shuttered Café Tuscany already.

He had been true to his word on Sunday. He’d steered clear of her, though he hadn’t been able to resist taking a stroll through the park where the reunion attendees were gathered for their picnic. Gina had been playing baseball at the time, looking more carefree than she had since arriving in Wyoming. He regretted being the one responsible for putting a perpetual frown on her face, the worry lines between her eyes, but he had a job to do, whether he liked it or not.

Since it looked like he was stuck here, he had no choice but to call his office and have his appointments shifted to other partners or postponed until his return.

Even as he dialed, he was dreading the third degree he was likely to get from his meddlesome secretary.

“Have you made contact yet?” Lydia asked in an undertone, as if he were on some sort of secret mission.

“Yes, I have ‘made contact,’” Rafe said impatiently. “How are things on that end? Any word from the investigator on Rinaldi’s whereabouts?”

“Nothing. Charlie Flynn says the man has vanished. He’s probably basking in the sun on a beach in the Cayman Islands by now.”

“Entirely possible,” Rafe agreed. “What’s the deal on the restaurant? Have you been by there?”

“It was operating at full capacity last night. I checked it myself. Gina’s assistant has everything running smoothly. The veal piccata was as superb as ever.”

“Did I pay for your dinner?”

“No, but now that you mention it, that’s a very good idea. After all, it seems I was spying for you.”

“If that’s what you were doing, you must not be very good at it. You’re not giving me anything I can use, Lydia.”

“Because there’s nothing to pass along. All I can say is that it’s a shame that jerk’s actions might bankrupt the place.”

“Is the word out about Bobby skipping town?”

“It wasn’t in any of the society columns, and Deidre, that’s Gina’s assistant, acted as if everything were perfectly normal. If there was any buzz about their problems, I certainly didn’t hear it.” She hesitated, then said, “You know, if you just stopped bugging her, I think Gina could keep the place open and pay back all the money Bobby stole. Not that she should have to, if you ask me, but I suppose somebody is obligated to make good on the investors’ losses. Why not at least give her a chance?”

“If she’s guilty of conspiring with her partner—”

“She’s not,” Lydia retorted, cutting him off. “I wish you’d just use that supposedly stellar gut instinct of yours where she’s concerned. Have you spent a single minute with her? If you had, you’d know she’s no thief.”

Maybe not, Rafe thought, but he refused to give his know-it-all secretary the satisfaction of admitting that just yet. Then there was the very intriguing question of how Gina was keeping the place afloat on her own. Assuming she wasn’t involved in the scam—which he still considered to be a sizable leap—she had to be hurting financially.

Then again, Lauren Winters probably had very deep pockets. Even though Gina had insisted she wasn’t going to burden her friends with her problems, maybe she had lied. Maybe Lauren was quietly bailing her friend out of her financial difficulties. Rafe wondered if he owed the actress a warning about what a risky venture she’d be getting into. Unfortunately, based on past experience, he had a hunch she wouldn’t take the news well and that she’d manage to turn him into the bad guy.

“Lydia, cancel my appointments for the next two weeks. If that changes, I’ll let you know.”

“You’re staying?” she asked, sounding more pleased than shocked. “Why?”

“Because Gina is staying.”

“How are you and Gina getting along?”

“Let’s just say nobody’s likely to nominate us for couple of the year.” He tried to keep the regret out of his voice when he said it.

Apparently he’d succeeded, because Lydia sighed heavily. “Then you’re an even bigger fool than I thought you were,” she said. “Romantically speaking, of course.”

“Of course,” he said wryly. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

“You’ve been doing it for seven years. I should be used to it,” she said with weary resignation. “But I keep holding out hope that one of these days you’ll come to your senses, find a woman who can put up with you and settle down.”

She paused, then added, “Now would be a good time, Rafe. You’re not getting any younger, and you could do a whole lot worse than Gina Petrillo.”

“So you’ve mentioned—more than once, as a matter of fact.”

“It bears repeating,” she said. “Bye, boss.”

“Goodbye, Lydia. Hopefully they’ll appreciate your humor in the unemployment line.”

“Your threats don’t bother me.”

“I know. I know. All those bodies,” he said and hung up. If only he could find a few of the skeletons in her closet. A woman as cheeky as Lydia was bound to have dozens of them.

* * *

If he was going to stay in Winding River, Rafe couldn’t keep wearing the same clothes, especially since the only dry cleaner in town seemed to have a quirky disregard for customer service. Whoever owned the business apparently opened when he felt like it. If he had regular hours, they weren’t posted, and Rafe had yet to see the lights on in the business.

The only clothing store in town offered Western wear. Rafe resigned himself to a new wardrobe of jeans he’d rarely have the opportunity to wear once he got back to New York. His closet was filled with practical suits and three tuxedos for all of the charity events he was duty-bound to attend because his partners’ wives served on the boards and the fund-raising committees.

He left the hotel, walked down Main Street and was about to go into the clothing store when he spotted Emma Rogers accompanied by a little girl, who looked as if she might be about six. Emma frowned when she saw him.

“Still here, Mr. O’Donnell?” Emma asked, her tone not especially friendly. “I thought you’d be long gone by now.”

“I’m afraid my business is taking longer than I’d hoped.”

Her gaze narrowed. “What exactly is your business?”

Before he could respond, Gina came darting out of the café across the street and pointedly got between them. Ignoring the two adults, she hunkered down to give the little girl a hug.

“Caitlyn Rogers, you are getting so big I hardly recognized you. How old are you now? Ten?”

The child giggled. “No, Aunt Gina, I’m only six.”

“I can’t believe it.” She leaned closer. “I think Stella has your pancakes on the griddle. Do you want to run on over there so you can get them while they’re hot?”

Caitlyn looked up at her mother. “Is it okay?”

Emma regarded Gina with amusement, then turned her attention to her daughter. “Go,” she said. When the little girl would have darted straight across the street, Emma reached out and caught her. “Hey, what do we do before crossing the street, even here in Winding River?”

Caitlyn regarded her guiltily. “Look both ways,” she said, then dutifully did just that.

“Okay then, now you can go.”

All three of them watched the child’s progress, then Gina beamed at Emma. “We should join her.”

“In a minute,” Emma said. “Rafe was just about to explain why he’s still in town.”

Gina gave him a sharp look. “Was he really?”

He grinned. “Emma was certainly hopeful that I might. In all honesty, I was heading for the store to buy some clothes.”

“You don’t look like a man who wears a lot of jeans,” Emma said. “In fact, if I had to hazard a guess, I’d say you usually wear thousand-dollar suits. I recognize the type. I go up against them in court every day. In fact, again if I were guessing, I’d say you’re either a lawyer or a stockbroker, Mr. O’Donnell. Which is it? Or are my instincts totally wrong?”

Rafe looked to Gina for some sense of what she expected him to do under the circumstances. She sighed.

“Oh, for heaven’s sakes, he’s a lawyer,” she said with no attempt to hide her exasperation. “Now that we know you have razor-sharp instincts, Emma, can we please go get some breakfast? I’m starved.”

“Not until we clear up one more thing,” Emma said, her gaze locked with Rafe’s. “Why are you hassling Gina?”

“Maybe I’m just a suitor who won’t take no for an answer,” he said, enjoying the flash of indignation in Gina’s eyes. Apparently she liked that explanation even less than the truth.

Emma’s gaze turned to Gina. “Is he?”

“He’s the most annoying man I know,” Gina said with heartfelt sincerity. “And that is all I intend to say on the subject.” She latched on to Emma’s arm. “Let’s go.”

This time her friend allowed herself to be led away, but not before pointedly meeting Rafe’s gaze. “I’m keeping an eye on you,” she warned.

Emma and half the rest of the people in Winding River, Rafe thought with resignation. Would a thief inspire that kind of protectiveness and loyalty? He needed to ask more questions about Gina, but doing so would stir up a real hornet’s nest. She might never forgive him for unfairly dragging her friends and family into this, and for reasons he didn’t care to examine too closely, that bothered him way more than it should.

* * *

“So, I was telling Mommy that I think we should live here forever and ever,” Caitlyn told Gina, her eyes shining. “Grandpa has already gotten me my own horse.”

“Grandpa ought to know better,” Emma grumbled under her breath, then smiled at her daughter. “Darling, we live in Denver. You’d miss all your friends if we moved here.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” Caitlyn insisted. “I already have a lot of friends here.” Her expression brightened. “And I have cousins here. I don’t have any cousins in Denver.”

“She’s got you there,” Gina said, grinning.

“Oh, stay out of it,” Emma snapped. “I don’t see you moving back to Winding River.”

“You never know,” Gina said. Of course, if Rafe was successful in his attempts to make her part of Bobby’s scam, she might be in jail instead, but it was seeming more and more likely that she was going to have to leave New York once this mess was straightened out. Customers could be fickle. If Café Tuscany’s reputation was tarnished, they would stay away in droves. Any chance she might have of paying off the old debts would vanish.

She sighed, then realized that Emma was staring at her with a shocked expression. “What?” she asked.

“You aren’t seriously considering coming back here to live, are you?” Emma asked. “I thought you had your dream job in your dream city.”

“I do, but things could change.”

“Does this have something to do with Rafe?”

Gina nodded. “Let it alone, though, Emma. You have enough on your plate without me dumping my worries on you.”

“Hey, we’re friends. Friends can always share their troubles with each other.”

“Then why don’t you tell me why you’re wound tighter than a string on Pete Sampras’s tennis racket?”

“Too much work, too little time,” Emma said succinctly.

“Mommy is never, ever home,” Caitlyn said. “She works really, really hard.”

Emma winced at the matter-of-fact assessment by her six-year-old. “It’s going to get better, baby. I promise.”

Gina studied her worriedly. “When? I know you’re thinking about taking on a big case here with Sue Ellen. How much time will you have if you’re commuting between here and Denver?”

“I’ll manage,” Emma said tightly.

“And Caitlyn?” Gina persisted gently. “Will she manage, too?”

“Look, I’m doing the best I can, Gina, okay?” Emma stood up. “I have to get over to the jail. Will you take Caitlyn back to my mom’s?”

“Of course,” Gina said at once. She winked at the little girl. “But only if she’ll go to the toy store with me first. What do you think, Caitlyn? Want to help me pick out some toys?”

Caitlyn bounced up and down on the vinyl seat of the booth excitedly. “Who’re you buying toys for, Aunt Gina? Do you have kids at home?”

“Nope.” She grinned. “I guess if we find something really, really special, I’ll have to give it to you.”

Caitlyn’s eyes widened. “Really?”

Emma shook her head, looking amused. “You’re going to spoil her.”

“That’s what an honorary aunt is supposed to do, right, Caitlyn?”

“Uh-huh,” the little girl said solemnly.

“Okay then, have fun, you two.” Emma kissed Caitlyn on the forehead. “See you later, sweet pea.”

“Bye, Mommy,” Caitlyn replied distractedly. “Aunt Gina, I was thinking. There’s this really, really neat Barbie I’ve been wanting. Do you think maybe the toy store has it?”

“If it doesn’t, we’ll go find ourselves a computer and look for it online.”

Caitlyn bounded out of her seat. “I’m ready. Are you?”

Gina drank her last sip of coffee, then joined the eager child. Truthfully, she was almost as enthusiastic as Caitlyn. Henderson Toys had been one of her favorite places as a child. She would save up her allowance for a whole month, then go into the store with her mother and walk up and down the crowded aisles studying the dolls and the trains and the board games before making her selection.

Sometimes, between the cost of an item and indecision, it was several months before she made a purchase. One memorable year, she bought a miniature stove, in which she could actually bake cookies, albeit very tiny ones. Her excitement over that purchase should probably have been a clue about the direction her life was likely to take.

Back on the street, they ran into Rafe standing outside of Henderson’s, his gaze locked on an elaborate train display in the window. The expression on his face was surprisingly wistful for a man whose every boyhood whim had probably been fulfilled.

Caitlyn slipped up beside him, her gaze every bit as fascinated as his. “It’s a really cool train, isn’t it?”

Surprised, he glanced down at her, then grinned. “It sure is. Do you like trains?”

Caitlyn nodded. “But I like dolls better. Aunt Gina is going to buy me a Barbie if they have the one I want.”

Rafe’s gaze shifted until it met Gina’s reflected in the window. “Is that so?”

“It’s not an expensive toy,” Gina said defensively.

He frowned at her. “Did I suggest it was?”

“No. Never mind. Come on, Caitlyn. Let’s see if they have the doll you want.”

The little girl gazed up at Rafe. “You can come, too, if you want,” she said politely. “I’ll bet they have lots more trains inside.”

“Maybe I will take a look,” Rafe said, ignoring the frown Gina directed at him.

Inside, Nell Henderson rushed out from behind the counter to give Gina a hug. “And this is your family,” she enthused. “How lovely that you’ve brought them in.”

“Actually, this is Emma’s daughter, Caitlyn. You remember Emma, don’t you?”

“Well, of course. The two of you were in here often enough, right along with Cassie, Lauren and Karen.” She beamed at Rafe. “They were some of my best customers, at least until they discovered boys. Then I lost them to the cosmetics counter over at the drugstore.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Rafe said. “They’re all beautiful enough without makeup.”

Nell chuckled. “Oh, honey, you have found yourself a jewel.”

“Rafe and I are not married,” Gina said irritably. “We’re not involved. We’re not anything.”

That threw the older woman for little more than a heartbeat. “Well then, you should work on changing that. A gallant man is a rarity these days. You should hang on to him if you’re lucky enough to find one.”

“Something to keep in mind,” Rafe said, regarding her with amusement.

Bored with the adult conversation, Caitlyn wandered over to the dolls. She was back in seconds, clutching a Barbie in a fancy ball gown.

“This is the one I’ve been wanting and wanting,” she announced to Gina.

Gina hunkered down beside her. “She is beautiful,” she agreed. “You’re sure this is what you want?”

Caitlyn’s head bobbed, then she cast a shy look at Rafe. “What do you think? Isn’t she beautiful?”

But Rafe’s gaze was locked on Gina, not the doll, when he murmured, “Yes, she certainly is.”

Gina’s cheeks burned. “I thought you wanted to look at the trains,” she grumbled.

“I’ll come with you,” Caitlyn offered, tucking her hand into Rafe’s. “I’ve been here before. I can show you where they are.”

Gina watched the two of them disappear at the end of the aisle, then sighed. When she looked up, Nell Henderson was grinning.

“Can’t say that I blame you for sighing over that one. If I were thirty years younger, I’d give you a run for your money.”

“There is nothing between Rafe and me,” Gina repeated very firmly.

Nell shook her head. “Then that’s a real pity, especially since the man looks at you as if you were the most fascinating creature he’s ever come across. I haven’t seen a look like that since the night my Herbie, God rest his soul, swept me off my feet.”

Gina recalled belatedly that Herb Henderson had died just over a year ago. “You must miss him,” she said sympathetically.

“Every day of my life,” Nell agreed. “But I have my memories. That’s something you ought to think about. Grab as many memories as you can, Gina. They’re what carry you through during the difficult times. Otherwise, all you’ll have are regrets. You don’t want the last two words you whisper on your deathbed to be if only.”

Gina heard Caitlyn’s giggle, then Rafe’s lower rumble of laughter. They were sweet sounds. She was already regretting that she had no claim to Rafe or to any family of her own, for that matter. Lately, she’d had no time to think about any future outside of Café Tuscany. With the restaurant’s fate so much in doubt, she was forced to face the fact that without it her life would be unbearably empty.

She gave Nell’s hand a squeeze, then went after Caitlyn and Rafe. She found them both watching an intricate labyrinth of miniature train tracks as half a dozen tiny engines sped around them on what appeared certain to be a collision course. But of course it wasn’t. At the last second Rafe touched the controls and switched the tracks, sending the various trains safely past each other.

“Do you collect trains?” Gina asked him.

He shook his head and shut down those on the display. “Never had one.”

“Why not? It’s obvious you want one.”

“As a kid, there were better uses for our money. Now I don’t have the time to fiddle with a hobby.”

“You know what they say about all work and no play, don’t you?”

He regarded her seriously. “That it gets the job done?”

She groaned. “No, that it makes for a very dull guy.”

A dangerous glint appeared in his eyes. “You think I’m boring?”

She knew exactly how he intended to prove otherwise, and a part of her wanted him to demonstrate, but there was Caitlyn to consider, and Nell. “Not boring, just limited. Under other circumstances, I might be tempted to try to change that.”

“Oh? How?”

“Let me think about it,” she said. “Maybe one of these days I’ll give you a list of my recommendations. Will you pay any attention to them?”

“I might,” he said solemnly. “What would my reward be?”

“More fun,” she said at once.

He grinned. “You’ll have to provide more incentive than that.”

“Such as?”

“Will I get the girl?”

Gina shuddered at the penetrating look in his eyes. “I suppose that depends.”

“On?”

“How badly you want her.”

“I’m beginning to wonder about that myself.”

He said it in a way that made Gina’s breath hitch in her throat. She was thankful Caitlyn chose that moment to reach for her hand and give it a tug.

“Aunt Gina, since you’re buying me a toy, why don’t you buy one for Mr. O’Donnell, too?”

“His toys are too expensive,” Gina said.

“That’s right,” Rafe agreed, his gaze locked with hers. “In fact, something tells me they’re priceless.”

6

There had been times in her life—even after enduring Carlo’s possessiveness—when Gina had deeply regretted the lack of a man who’d be there when she woke up and when she went to bed at night, a man who cared more about spending time with her than about his career. Now it seemed she had one.

It wasn’t nearly as much fun as she’d anticipated.

Rafe O’Donnell was everywhere she turned, his expression remote, his gaze cool. The nonstop surveillance wasn’t exactly what she’d dreamed of. In fact, it was all too reminiscent of Carlo. The fact that Rafe was so blatant about it grated on her nerves. She hated that everyone in town knew he was there to keep an eye on her for some reason that neither of them had revealed.

Other than her one conversation with Tony, Gina had refused to discuss Rafe’s presence with her friends or her family. Only Lauren knew part of it—that she had to give a deposition when she got back to New York and that she wasn’t looking forward to it. Cassie, Karen and Emma were studying her almost as intently as Rafe was, but their motive was concern, his was distrust.

He’d been at it for nearly two weeks now, though he’d stayed true to his word and remained mostly in the background ever since that chance meeting at Henderson’s Toy Store over a week earlier. For some perverse reason Gina found that even more annoying and nerve-racking than having to deal with him. She was constantly on edge, continually reminded of the times they’d kissed and just how much she wanted him to kiss her again. For a few minutes in his arms she’d been able to forget why he was here. In fact, she’d forgotten almost everything, including her name.

His unexpected admission that he, too, had been affected by those kisses, had thrown her. Not that it made any real difference. He might be attracted to her, but he wasn’t happy about it. In fact, Rafe didn’t strike her as the kind of man who would violate his own ethical standards on a regular basis. Kissing a suspect, no matter how unjustly accused, was bound to be a breach of those ethics. No wonder he was keeping his distance.

Right now, for example, he was sitting in the booth next to hers at the diner, sipping coffee and pretending to read the morning paper. She knew it was only pretense, because his gaze rarely shifted away from her long enough for more than a glimpse of the headlines. She sighed heavily.

“You might as well come over here and join me,” she said finally. Maybe they could discuss this like two reasonable people and find a way to peacefully coexist, since it was evident that nothing was going to make him go away.

He stared at her, clearly surprised by the invitation. “You sure about that?”

“Lately I don’t seem to be sure about much of anything, but you’re getting on my nerves over there, so, what the heck?”

A grin came and went so quickly she thought she’d imagined it. It was probably a good thing he didn’t smile too often. She had a hunch the effect could be devastating, even more devastating than the rare hint of vulnerability she’d seen on his face as he and Caitlyn had played with the toy trains. Wondering what that was about had kept her awake for several nights, despite repeated lectures to herself that Rafe’s past was none of her concern.

Carrying the paper and his cup of coffee, Rafe slid into the booth opposite her. Gina tried to pretend he was someone who’d come into her restaurant for a good meal, someone deserving of friendly conversation. She’d certainly been forced to be polite to a lot of arrogant, exasperating people over the years. What was one more?

“Still enjoying your visit to Winding River?” she asked politely, as if he were just another tourist instead of a man with an agenda.

“It’s been interesting,” he said.

“Finding much to do?”

He regarded her with amusement. “You know the answer to that, since I’ve pretty much been doing whatever you’re doing. Are you bored?”

“I’m never bored when I’m home, especially with so many of my friends around.”

“If you’re so fond of this place, why did you leave?”

“I wanted to be a chef, a really good one. Tony ran out of recipes.” It was a simplistic answer, but true enough.

“So you left here and went to New York?”

“Not right away. I trained all over at a series of culinary institutes here and in Europe,” she said.

“Must have been expensive.”

She had a hunch his interest in the cost had less to do with curiosity than with his desire to build a case that she’d needed Café Tuscany money to pay off old debts. She leaned forward and met his gaze evenly.

“I was very good. I received several scholarships,” she told him.

“Is that how you met Rinaldi, at one of those cooking schools?”

“Yes,” she said. “But before we go too far along that particular path, let’s agree here and now to save all those nasty deposition questions for New York.”

“It might not leave us much to talk about,” he said, that grin sneaking back.

“Consider it a challenge. You look like the kind of man who thrives on challenges.”

“I do,” he agreed. “Okay then, you pick a nice, neutral topic. What shall we talk about?”

“Let’s talk about you,” she suggested. “Why did you decide to become a lawyer?”

“To protect the little guy from swindlers and crooks,” he said readily.

Gina laughed. “Didn’t take long to get back to your low opinion of me, did it?”

“That’s your interpretation,” he said. “Guilty conscience?”

“Not me.” She regarded him intently. “Tell me something. Why did you take this case? Usually your firm is involved in much more lucrative, high-profile cases. You don’t actually work for the little guys. You work for corporate America. Yet here you are up to your neck in a case that involves peanuts. Even if you recover every missing dollar that Bobby allegedly stole, your cut won’t amount to much by your firm’s standards. And just think of all the billable hours you’re missing while you hang around out here keeping me under surveillance.”

He shrugged. “I was due for a vacation, anyway.”

“But you wouldn’t have chosen to take it here, would you?”

“No,” he admitted. “Probably not.”

“So why did you take a case that was going to cost so much for such little reward?”

“It was personal,” he said, his expression turning grim.

“Oh? In what way?”

“My mother was among those Rinaldi swindled out of their money.” There was a dangerous glint in his eyes. “I imagine you can see why I’d want him caught.”

Gina was taken aback by the admission. She hadn’t thought about Rafe having a mother—or any other family, for that matter—let alone a mother who’d backed Café Tuscany. “How much did she give Bobby?”

“I doubt she viewed it as a gift. She invested a hundred thousand.”

She stared at him, openmouthed with shock. “What? Where did she get that kind of cash? Forgive me if I’m wrong, but I got the impression the other day that your family didn’t have a lot of money. Or were you just trying to play on my sympathy at the toy store?”

“We didn’t. Not when I was a kid. My dad worked two jobs to keep food on the table. It was a constant source of friction between him and my mother. She was used to having the finer things in life, but she made the mistake of falling for a guy working construction on one of my grandfather’s skyscrapers. Needless to say, my grandparents disapproved. They cut her off without a dime.”

He regarded Gina with a bleak expression. “At first I don’t think it really mattered to her. They were doing okay and they were wildly in love. Then I came along, and the finances got a little tighter. When my sister was born, every dollar was stretched to the limit. My grandfather saw to it that my dad was never hired on the best-paying jobs.”

Gina was appalled. “What a mean-spirited thing to do.”

“You won’t get any argument from me about that. It was the worst kind of abuse of power. Eventually it took its toll on the marriage, probably just as my grandfather intended. The fights got louder and nastier. My mother found richer companions. Ultimately my father tired of being humiliated and divorced her. He’s living somewhere in the Pacific Northwest. We’re not in touch, though I did get a copy of the newspaper announcement when he remarried a few years ago.”

“I’m sorry,” Gina said quietly. “His leaving must have made things even more difficult.”

“It could have, but my mother is a survivor. She remarried a little more quickly, within months of the divorce, this time to someone my grandparents approved of. The money began to flow again, so my sister has had an easier time of it, despite the fact that the marriage only lasted a year. There was a hefty settlement.”

His expression turned wry. “Then came another marriage, another divorce, another settlement. Financially my mother has done well for herself, but she’s never found the kind of love she had with my father. While she’s looking for it, she gets mixed up with guys like Rinaldi.”

Gina was surprised by the depth of compassion she felt for him. His motives in going after Bobby and her made a lot more sense now. It also explained why he was distrustful, not just of her, but of all women. “So this is your chance to get even with all the people who’ve taken advantage of her?”

“Something like that.”

She met his gaze with an unflinching look. “I had nothing to do with any of this. Unless she’s been a customer, I don’t even know your mother.”

“You wouldn’t have to in order to benefit from Rinaldi’s con,” he pointed out. “But I imagine you do know her. In fact, I suspect she’s been a frequent diner at Café Tuscany, usually on Rinaldi’s arm.”

Gina shook her head. “Bobby never brought his women to the restaurant. They would’ve distracted him from cooking. Whatever else can be said about Bobby—and at the moment, there’s quite a lot I could say—he was a total professional in the kitchen. Nobody except employees was allowed back there, not even his investors. He gave them a private tour a few days before our official opening, but told them it was off-limits from that moment on.”

There was no mistaking the disbelief in Rafe’s expression. “Are you sure he wasn’t inviting guests in for a little after-hours hanky-panky?”

“If you mean his women, no. We had an agreement.”

Rafe grinned at that. “Yeah, he had one with my mother, too. It wasn’t worth the paper it was written on.”

“But—”

He held up his hand. “Don’t even try to defend him, Gina. The man is a con artist.”

“And you think I am, as well,” she concluded.

“The jury’s still out on that, but at the very least you demonstrated lousy judgment in choosing your business partner. Whose idea was it for the two of you to go into business together, anyway? Yours or Rinaldi’s?”

“I’m not going to answer that,” she said. “Frankly, you should know better than to ask.”

“We’re just chatting,” he said blandly. “Getting acquainted.”

“We’re already acquainted. I think getting to know each other any better would be a risky business.”

“You could be right about that,” he agreed with apparent regret.

Before they could continue, several of Gina’s friends showed up. Radiating indignation, they stood beside the table glaring at Rafe. They might not understand what was going on between Gina and him, but obviously they were prepared to leap to her defense.

“What is he doing here?” Emma demanded. “Is he harassing you again?”

“No. He was here all alone. Since I was killing time waiting for you guys, I took pity on him and invited him to join me,” Gina admitted.

“Why?” Emma said. She gave Gina an apologetic look. “I bugged Lauren till she told me about the deposition. Sorry. He’s not trying to question you without counsel present, is he?”

Rafe chuckled. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Emma drew herself up. “I should hope not. I’d have you disbarred.”

Gina grinned. “As you know, Emma is an attorney.”

“Yours?” Rafe asked. “Did you change your mind and hire her?”

“No,” Gina said.

“But I will be if she needs me, and if she needs a New York attorney, I can arrange that, too,” Emma responded, gaze narrowed. “Does she need legal representation?”

“Not if she’s innocent.”

“Innocent of what?” Emma asked.

“Never mind. I am,” Gina said.

“Back up a minute,” Lauren said. “I thought she was just some sort of witness you were trying to question. Why is there any doubt about Gina’s innocence? Gina has never done anything illegal in her entire life.”

“Not even when Cassie begged her to,” Karen said in an obvious attempt to lighten the tense mood. “She was always the voice of calm and reason.” She grinned. “Not that the rest of us ever paid any attention to her.”

Gina held up a hand to prevent a recitation of the pranks the Calamity Janes had been involved with years ago. A few of them might have skirted the fringes of the law. A clever attorney—which Rafe most definitely was—might be able to use them to suggest a pattern of behavior likely to culminate in this massive swindle.

“Let’s not go there,” she pleaded. “Could we change the subject?”

“In a minute,” Emma promised. “First, I’d like to remind Mr. O’Donnell that sometimes the innocent need better representation than the guilty, especially if some shark is out to get them.” She regarded Rafe pointedly. “Watch your step, Mr. O’Donnell.”

Her gaze shifted to Gina. “Stay away from him,” she advised.

“I wish I could,” Gina told her.

“I’m crushed,” he said.

“Something tells me a freight train couldn’t crush your ego,” she retorted.

“Making judgments about me again?”

She shrugged. “I guess that makes us even, doesn’t it?”

He laughed and slid from the booth. “See you around, Gina.”

“I’m sure,” she said with a heartfelt sigh.

Somehow, though, in the last few minutes she had discovered that Rafe was far more complex and intriguing than she’d originally guessed. That made the prospect of bumping into him everywhere she turned a lot less daunting. She figured that was a very bad sign, given that the man wanted to lock her away.

* * *

Rafe assumed Gina wouldn’t be going anywhere for a while. He had a feeling these friendly gabfests went on and on once the five women got together. Just in case he was wrong, he walked down the block, leaned against the bumper of his rental car and placed a call on his cell phone to the paralegal who was doing follow-up on the case back in New York.

“Have you been able to get into the bank records of Café Tuscany or Rinaldi or Petrillo yet?” he asked Joan Lansing.

“The judge is looking over the paperwork now,” Joan told him. “We should know something before the end of the day.”

“I need those records. We need to see if any withdrawals and deposits match up.”

“I know, boss. I think we made a good case to the judge, though, if you ask me, that money is in some off-shore account by now, not in a personal checking account at the corner bank.”

Rafe sighed. “You’re probably right, but we need to know for certain.”

“Anything else I can do on this end?”

“Stay on that investigator. He should have found something on Rinaldi’s whereabouts by now.”

“Will do. No clues from Ms. Petrillo?”

“None. I’m actually beginning to believe she might not know anything, not about the con and not about Rinaldi’s disappearance.”

“How is that possible? They were partners.”

“We already know the man was a smooth operator. She could have been taken in by him, too.”

“Uh-oh, boss. I think I hear that knight on a white horse charging to the rescue.”

“Could be,” he conceded. “But please don’t tell Lydia. She’ll never let me hear the end of it.”

He glanced up just in time to see Gina and the other women emerging from Stella’s. They piled into Lauren’s fancy sports utility vehicle. Rafe got behind the wheel of his own rental car and started after them. His pulse began to pound when he realized they were heading straight for the small airstrip on the outskirts of town.

Sure enough, Lauren turned in, drove to a hangar operated by a charter company and parked. Blood boiling, Rafe stalked across the tarmac to intercept them.

“Going somewhere?” he asked Gina.

“You followed us?” she countered, her expression indignant.

“Of course I did. It’s a good thing, too. Are you planning on skipping town?”

“Oh, for heaven’s sakes,” Emma snapped. “There is nothing to prevent her from going anywhere, Mr. O’Donnell. Back off.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Then you’ll have to charter your own plane, because you’re not getting on board with us,” Lauren snapped.

Rafe ignored them both and kept his gaze on Gina. “Why the sudden decision to run?”

“I’m not running anywhere.”

“Then why didn’t you mention this trip when we were talking?”

“It didn’t come up. Besides, Lauren was still working out the details. I didn’t know if we were going.”

“Going where?” he asked.

She frowned at him, but she answered with barely concealed impatience. “I am going to Denver with my friends because Cassie’s mother is having surgery. We want to be there to support her. It’s not a big deal. We’ll be back in a day or so, as soon as we know that everything’s okay.”

Rafe caught the unmistakable worry in her eyes, the hint of urgency in her voice. Because of his career, because of his mother’s short-term attention span with men, he was a cynical man. There weren’t a lot of people he trusted. Something told him he could trust Gina, at least about this.

Finally he nodded and stepped out of her path. “Don’t make me regret this,” he warned.

“I won’t,” she promised. Her lips curved into the beginnings of a smile. “Careful, Rafe. Someone might get the idea that you have a heart.”

“They’d be wrong,” he said tightly, then watched her go. As she was about to take the final step into the plane, he called to her. She looked back. “I hope everything goes okay with Cassie’s mother.”

She acknowledged his words with a wave, then disappeared inside the plane. Rafe walked slowly back into the hangar, then crossed to the office.

Inside, he found a middle-aged woman chatting on the phone. She glanced up, murmured something to whoever was on the other end of the line, then smiled at Rafe.

“What can I do for you?”

“That charter you’ve got going out, did the pilot file a flight plan?”

“He sure did. Plus, when Lauren called, she told me where they’re going.”

“Which is?”

Her gaze narrowed. “Are you with the media?”

“No.”

“Because I’m not doing or saying anything that’s going to get that woman’s picture splashed all over one of those supermarket tabloids. When she’s around here, she’s among friends. What she does and where she goes is nobody’s business.”

“Believe it or not, I don’t give two hoots about where Lauren Winters goes, but I do care about her friend Gina. I need to know where that plane is headed.”

Her eyes widened at his fierce tone. “Is Gina in some kind of trouble?”

“That depends on where that flight is going.”

“Denver,” she told him finally. “They’re going to Denver to be there for Cassie while her mom has her surgery.”

Relief flooded through Rafe. Gina hadn’t lied to him. “Good,” he murmured. “That’s great.”

The woman regarded him with a puzzled expression. “You think it’s great that Cassie’s mother is having surgery?”

“No, of course not.” Any explanation he tried to give would be way too complicated and unnecessary. “Never mind. Thanks for the information.”

“Sure thing.”

Rafe felt lighter somehow as he drove back into town. For once in his life his trust hadn’t been misplaced.

Of course, it remained to be seen if Gina actually showed up back in Winding River when this mission of mercy ended. Something told him that until she came back again, he was going to be doing a lot of pacing and worrying.

7

Rafe was not used to having time on his hands. He didn’t like being idle. Worse, he realized that he actually missed Gina, and not just because he couldn’t ask a few more sneaky questions in an attempt to learn something new about Rinaldi and the missing money. He also found it worrisome that her planned two-week trip was now creeping on into its third week with no sign of Gina in Winding River.

“Still in town?” a gruff voice inquired just before Gina’s father slid into the booth opposite him at Stella’s. “I thought you’d be long gone by now, especially with Gina out of town for the last few days.”

“Unfortunately, I haven’t finished my business here,” Rafe said. “Can I buy you a cup of coffee?”

“Don’t mind if you do,” George Petrillo replied, signaling to Stella. “You never did say what your business here is, did you?”

“No.”

George’s gaze narrowed. “Is there some deep, dark secret to it?”

“No, it’s just a confidential matter. I can’t discuss it.”

“Okay, then, let me think. What kind of professions take their secrets so seriously? You don’t strike me as a psychiatrist. And given the way you were kissing my daughter, I doubt you’re a priest. How am I doing so far?”

“Right on target,” Rafe conceded, impressed with the man’s deductive reasoning, if not the suspicion behind it.

“Then I’d say that leaves the law. Are you an attorney, Mr. O’Donnell? And if you are, what business could you possibly have that concerns my daughter?”

“I never said—”

“Let’s get serious,” George said, leaning forward. “Your being here is no accident. You’re not a tourist. Your bumping into Gina way out here, when it just so happens that the two of you live in New York, is no coincidence. The way I figure it, you’re either stalking her or she’s in trouble. Which is it?”

Rafe admired the man’s blunt assessment. He had a feeling that under other circumstances, they could get along very well. “I think you should discuss this with Gina, not me.”

“The only person I’m going to be discussing anything with is the sheriff, if I don’t get a straight answer in the next ten seconds.”

Rafe nodded, accepting the fatherly concern and the determination he saw on George Petrillo’s face. “Okay, then. I’ll tell you as much as I can. I came out here because of your daughter. I’m handling a case involving her business partner. I thought Gina might have some information.”

“Does she?”

“She says she doesn’t.”

“Then go home, Mr. O’Donnell. If Gina says she doesn’t know anything, then she doesn’t know anything.”

“I wish I could do that, Mr. Petrillo, but I can’t. Your daughter is my best link to Roberto Rinaldi. Sooner or later they’re bound to be in contact.”

“And when they are, I’m sure she’ll let you know,” her father said. “Gina’s an honest, law-abiding citizen. That’s the way we raised her.”

“As reassuring as it is to hear you say that, it’s not good enough.”

George frowned. “You’re not suggesting that my daughter is mixed up in whatever this Rinaldi fellow did, are you?” There was a sudden flash of alarm in his eyes. “Did he kill somebody? Gina’s not in any danger, is she?”

“No, it’s nothing like that, I assure you.”

“Then what are you suggesting that my daughter’s mixed up in?”

“I’m not suggesting anything. I’m just saying that I can’t leave here until I know more than I know now.”

George Petrillo sighed. “If this is all about some legal difficulty my daughter and her partner might or might not be in, what the hell was that kiss at the house all about? Was that just some sneaky tactic to try to get her to talk?”

Rafe felt his cheeks burn. He should have known better. Not only had his behavior been unprofessional, but both of those kisses they’d shared had been in plain view of Gina’s neighbors or her family. The very least he could have done was to exercise more discretion.

“Actually, that was a mistake.”

“Which time? At the rodeo or at the house?”

“Both times, to be perfectly honest.”

“Then I suggest you keep your hands to yourself from now on. I don’t want to hear any more about any so-called mistakes. This isn’t New York City, where two people can get away with anything. Around here there are reputations to be considered. Eventually you’ll go on your way, but Gina has to live in this community.”

“I thought Gina lived in New York.”

“This is her home. New York is where she works,” her father said, making the same distinction Gina herself had once made. “Keep that in mind.”

“I’ll do my best,” Rafe promised.

George bobbed his head, clearly satisfied that he’d put Rafe on notice. “See that you do,” he said as he jammed his hat on his head and strolled away, pausing for a minute to share a joke with Stella before heading for the door.

After he’d gone, Rafe muttered a sharp expletive. Why was it that every time he was around Gina, her friends or her family, they wound up asking all the questions? He hadn’t been on the defensive so much since he’d discovered in the middle of a trial that his client had been lying to him about almost everything except his name. And he didn’t like the feeling any better now than he had then.

Nor was he crazy about the fact that he hadn’t even discovered why Gina’s trip had already lasted several days longer than originally anticipated. Just when the query had been on the tip of his tongue, George Petrillo had cleverly distracted him with his own barrage of questions.

The fragile trust Rafe had begun to feel for Gina was already wavering. He’d give her one more day. If she didn’t turn up tomorrow, he was going after her. And heaven help her if she wasn’t where she had told him she would be—at Mrs. Collins’s bedside in Denver.

* * *

For some reason Gina wasn’t the least bit surprised to find Rafe sitting in a parked car just down the street from her house when she finally got back home several days after she’d intended to. She hadn’t been on such an emotional roller coaster in years. A confrontation with him fit right in.

She watched him strolling toward her, a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. One word, she thought. Let him say just one wrong word and she would belt him. After what she and her friends had been through, she was just itching to take her anger out on somebody.

Rafe bent down to peer in the car window. “You okay?”

“No.”

He seemed taken aback by her response. “What’s wrong?” he asked eventually.

“Everything.”

“Are you planning on sitting in there all evening?”

She scowled at him. “I might.”

Rafe shrugged and walked around to the other side of the car, then got in. He sat there, staring straight ahead, seemingly perfectly comfortable with the silence.

“Caleb died,” she finally murmured, barely able to get the words out. “Karen’s husband. He just collapsed and died. It happened while we were in Denver. By the time we got to the hospital in Laramie, he was dead. I’ve been staying with Karen at her ranch for the last few days.” She glanced at him. “In case you were wondering where I’d run off to.”

“Never crossed my mind,” he said.

She almost managed a smile at that. “Liar.”

“I’m sorry about Caleb,” he said.

Gina regarded him with faint surprise. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

“I do. I didn’t meet him at the reunion, but I saw you and the others with him. It was obvious how close you were. It must have been a terrible shock.”

“It was. I don’t know how Karen’s going to manage without him.” Gina hoped she would never experience the kind of loss that Karen was going through. Karen was heartbroken and racked with guilt because she hadn’t been there. Nothing anyone had said had been able to console her.

“She could lose their ranch,” Gina whispered. “That will kill her. It meant everything to Caleb, but I don’t know if Karen can keep it running on her own. I would hate to lose Café Tuscany, but it’s not the same. I love it, but it’s just a business. Even I can see that. That ranch meant everything to Karen and Caleb. And there’s this man, Grady Blackhawk, who’s just waiting in the wings to take it from her.”

She shuddered at the thought. “How can something like this happen?” she asked bitterly. “Caleb didn’t deserve to die. Karen certainly doesn’t deserve this.”

Gina glanced at Rafe to see how he was reacting to her tirade. Not until he reached over and brushed away the tears on her cheeks did she realize that she’d been crying.

“I’m sorry I’m so emotional,” she apologized. “I didn’t mean to dump all of this on you. I just can’t bear the way Karen looks, so lost and alone. She’s one of my best friends. How can I even think about going back to New York in a few days and leaving her here to cope?”

“The others—” Rafe began.

“Will be leaving, too,” Gina said. “Except for Cassie. She’s staying because of her mom. At least that’s the excuse. I think there’s more to it. Her son’s father is here and they have a whole lot of unfinished business between them. Lauren says she can stay a little longer. And Emma may be coming back and forth for a while.”

“See, Karen will have people to look after her.”

“I need to be here,” Gina said firmly. As much as she loved Café Tuscany and her life in New York, nothing was as important as this, as being here when her friend needed her. “I have to call Deidre. Maybe she can go on managing things a little longer.”

Looking resigned, Rafe handed her his cell phone. “Call.”

Gina accepted the phone, but before she could dial, she remembered the deposition. “Rafe, I’m not deliberately trying to avoid the deposition.”

“I know,” he said with something akin to admiration in his eyes. “You’re a remarkable woman, Gina Petrillo.”

Startled, she stared at him. “Remarkable? Me?”

He grinned. “Yes, you. With everything that’s at stake for you back in New York, your first priority is your friend’s well-being. That’s an admirable quality. It makes me wonder how you ever got mixed up with a sleaze like Rinaldi.”

“Just lucky, I guess,” she said wryly.

“Make your call.”

“I could...” She hesitated, then took a deep breath. “I could talk to Emma. Perhaps we could do the deposition here. I know you can’t hang around out here forever.”

“We’ll worry about that later. Take care of your business. After that I want you to go inside, take a shower and then I’m taking you out to dinner.”

“I don’t know,” she protested, though without much vehemence. “I’m beat. I’ll be lousy company.”

“You don’t have to entertain me, Gina. But you do need to eat a decent meal and get some color back in your cheeks. How can I possibly go after you in a deposition, if you look as if you might faint at any second?”

“Oh, I think I can handle you any day of the week,” she retorted, feeling better already at the prospect of a good battle of wits. She handed back the cell phone. “I’ll call from inside. I don’t need you listening in on my trade secrets. Give me twenty minutes.”

Rafe grinned. “Should I call Tony’s and make a reservation?”

“Winding River’s not New York. Besides, Tony always has room for me.”

Rafe regarded her with suspicion. “Not in the kitchen, I hope.”

“No, I imagine he’ll let us sit in the dining room just this once.”

He nodded. “Twenty minutes, then. I’ll be waiting in my car.”

“You could come inside or sit on the porch,” she offered.

“No, thanks. I think it’s probably best if I give your father a wide berth.”

“Really? Sounds as if there’s a story there.”

“I’ll tell you during dinner.”

Gina ran inside, gave her parents a quick report on Karen, then made the call to New York. Deidre was surprisingly reassuring.

“We’ve been packed as usual. The guys in the kitchen are managing. Ronnie’s been amazing. You’d think he’d been running the kitchen all along,” she said with evident pride. “You and Bobby trained them well. The food’s as great as ever. If you need to stay out there, we’ll be okay. You do whatever you need to do.”

Gina thought of the stack of unpaid bills she’d left behind. “Deidre, there could be problems with some of our suppliers,” she said reluctantly.

“I know,” the other woman said. “I saw the bills. Don’t worry. You left me with a stack of signed checks. I’ve written a few to pay some of the suppliers who were starting to get testy, and I’ve spoken to the other vendors. We’ll be okay, at least for a little while.”

Deidre hesitated, then added, “Look, I don’t know exactly what’s going on, but I can tell there’s a problem. If there’s anything I can do, all you have to do is ask. You gave me this job when I really needed one—I owe you. I don’t have any cash to lend you, but I’ve gotten real good at juggling creditors. I’ll keep the hounds at bay for as long as I can.”

“Have I ever told you how terrific you are?” Gina asked.

“At least once a day. Now let me get back to work. I’ve got a line of customers waiting to be seated.”

“Then by all means go. Thanks, Deidre. You’re a godsend.”

Feeling vastly relieved by the news from New York, she took a quick shower, pulled on a pair of jeans and her boots and added a sleeveless gingham shirt.

“Where are you going?” her father called as she passed the living room.

“Out to dinner.”

“All alone?” her mother asked.

“No, Rafe’s waiting.”

Her father’s expression darkened. “I thought I made myself clear to that man.”

Gina regarded him with alarm. “Daddy, what did you say to Rafe?”

“Just that he needs to remember that this is a small town and I will not allow him to ruin your reputation.”

“How terribly gallant of you, but the warning is unnecessary. Rafe and I are just...” She couldn’t seem to think of a suitable word.

Friends certainly didn’t describe it. And they were more than acquaintances. Given the sizzle in the air each time they met, prospective lovers seemed apt, but she could hardly admit that to her father. Or even to herself, under the circumstances. She was pretty sure it was unwise, at the very least, to contemplate getting into bed with a man who was about to grill her. Surely she had learned that lesson after a few months with the suspicious Carlo.

Eventually she just sighed. “You don’t need to worry, that’s all.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” her father grumbled. “Be home by midnight.”

“George,” her mother protested. “Gina’s a grown woman.”

“Maybe so, but there’s not a lot to do after midnight in Winding River except get in trouble, if you catch my drift. Why do you think we have all those shotgun weddings right after graduation every year?”

Gina planted a kiss on his cheek. “I’m a long way out of high school, but I promise that Rafe and I won’t go down to the river and engage in any hanky-panky after dinner.”

But, of course, now that the idea had been planted in her head, that was exactly what she most wanted to do. From the moment she had watched her best friend’s husband being buried, she had desperately wanted to do something—anything—that would remind her that she was still very much alive.

* * *

Rafe promised himself he was going to be on his best behavior over dinner. No probing questions. No sneak attacks on Gina’s credibility. And most important of all, no crossing the line—which meant no kisses, no lingering caresses, no steamy looks.

Obviously, he’d lied to himself. So far he’d managed to keep the questions, at least about Rinaldi, to a minimum, but he couldn’t seem to keep his hands to himself. There were a million and one excuses for touching Gina. After all, he had to help her out of the car, didn’t he? And it was only polite to slip his arm around her waist when they crossed the street, right? And that stray curl that skimmed her cheek needed to be tucked behind her ear, didn’t it? Could he help it if his fingers brushed hers when he handed her the menu or lingered when her hand trembled ever so slightly? She’d had a rough few days. He was only offering comfort.

And pigs flew, he thought in self-disgust.

“Rafe, is there some problem?” Gina asked, studying him worriedly.

“Nope,” he said flatly, then turned his gaze to the selections on the menu. He’d expected little more than pizza and spaghetti and was surprised to find far more intriguing offerings.

“Your friend Tony has quite a menu,” he noted.

“He’s added a few things since I worked here.” She grinned. “I send him a new recipe for Christmas every year.”

“Only once a year?”

“The locals can’t accept too much change all at once. You’ll notice that plain old spaghetti and meatballs is still on the menu. There would be a revolt if he took it off, but once in a while he can talk his customers into trying something new.”

“What do you recommend?”

“The penne arrabiata,” she said without hesitation. “The tomato sauce has a little kick to it. I gave that one to him when I was in here the other day.”

Rafe chuckled. “Yes, I can see why something spicy would appeal to you.” He put the menu aside. “What about wine? Shall we order a bottle?”

“Only if you can settle for the house Chianti. I haven’t been able to talk Tony into starting a decent wine cellar.”

“Chianti it is, then.”

As soon as the waitress had taken their order with a promise to let Tony know that it was for Gina and her friend, Rafe studied Gina. “You look better. How did the phone call go?”

“The restaurant is very busy. Deidre’s holding the creditors at bay. I can stay on here a while longer.”

“But not indefinitely,” Rafe said. “Not if you expect to pull Café Tuscany out of this mess. You’re going to have to go back and face it.”

Her cheerful expression faltered. “I know, but just for tonight can we not talk about it?”

Rafe hesitated. “Look, I know I’m probably the last person you want to—or even should—discuss any of this with, but I’m a halfway-decent listener.”

“I’m sure you are, but how do I know that you won’t take every word I say and twist it? Let’s face it, you’re not out here because you want to get to know me. You’re here because you think I’m guilty of a crime.”

“Not guilty, just involved,” Rafe corrected.

“What’s the difference?”

“I know you’re involved with Rinaldi, and I know that he’s done some shady financial deals.”

“That’s guilt by association,” Gina pointed out. “Because Bobby’s guilty, then I must be, too. That’s what you’re saying.”

Rafe shook his head. “No, I’m trying to keep an open mind where you’re concerned.”

She regarded him doubtfully.

“Okay, maybe when I first scheduled the deposition, I made some assumptions,” he conceded.

“And now?”

“I’m beginning to think my secretary might have been right, though if you ever tell her that, I’ll be forced to deny it.”

“Your secretary?”

“Lydia Allen. She’s a big fan of yours and your restaurant. From the beginning she told me I was crazy for suspecting you of anything.”

Gina’s eyes brightened. “I know Lydia. I should have realized who she was when I first spoke to her about changing the deposition. She’s a regular at the restaurant. And she works for you? How fascinating. You must have some redeeming qualities, then, if you can keep a woman like that on your payroll.”

Rafe winced. “She might not agree. In fact, she says she stays with me precisely because I need someone to keep me honest.”

“You’re scared of her, aren’t you?” she said, clearly enjoying the discovery. “What is she? Five-two, a hundred and five pounds? And you’re scared of her. I love it.”

“I am not scared of her,” he insisted.

“Oh?”

He grinned. “Actually, I’m terrified. She can make my life a living hell. In fact, she takes great pride in it.”

Gina chuckled. “I’ll have to call Deidre and let her know that Lydia’s next meal is on the house.”

“Which won’t do much to help your financial situation,” Rafe pointed out. “Nor will it do a thing to get you into my good graces.”

Her gaze narrowed. “What would it take for me to get in your good graces?”

“Some honest answers.”

“I’ve never lied to you, Rafe.”

“But you haven’t told me the whole truth, either.”

“I will when the time comes.”

His spirits, which had been astonishingly light during their bantering exchange, sank. “And that will be?”

“When we do the deposition,” she said flatly, and turned her gaze to Tony, who was crossing the restaurant, a beaming smile on his face for Gina, a cooler acknowledgment for Rafe.

Rafe couldn’t help the trace of envy that filled him as he listened to the warm exchange between these two old friends. He wasn’t used to feeling shut out, all but ignored, especially by a woman. Nor was he used to the distrust that Tony made no attempt to hide.

After the man had gone to check on their meal, Gina regarded him apologetically. “Sorry about that. Tony’s very protective of me, and he knows about everything that happened with Bobby and that you’re here to keep an eye on me. He’s worried about what’s going on with the two of us.”

“You mean romantically?”

She had the audacity to laugh at that. “Hardly! No, he’s convinced you have ulterior motives, that you’re trying to wear me down so I’ll incriminate myself. He mentioned it after meeting you the other day.”

“And what did you tell him?”

“That you were a lawyer. That seemed to be explanation enough.”

The stereotype rankled. “Your friend Emma is a lawyer. He doesn’t distrust her, does he?”

“No, but Emma grew up here. That gives her an advantage.”

A few minutes later Tony returned with steaming plates filled with aromatic pasta. He served them, cast yet another suspicious look at Rafe, then returned to the kitchen.

“It’s no fun, is it?” Gina asked.

“What?”

“Being regarded with distrust.”

“No,” Rafe agreed.

She smiled happily at that. “Good. Then you know how I feel every time I catch you watching me.”

“Yes, I suppose I do,” he agreed, then leaned across the table, his gaze locked with hers. “But just so you know, sometimes when I’m watching you, it’s because I find you both fascinating and stunning, and I can’t take my eyes off you.”

She stared at him, openmouthed, as he sat back and lifted his glass in a silent toast, then grinned. “Gives you something to think about, doesn’t it?”

“Rafe, I don’t think we ought to go there, do you?” she said, clearly flustered.

“Probably not,” he agreed readily.

Unfortunately, he was pretty sure it was too late to derail that particular train.

8

The ringing phone woke Rafe out of a sound sleep, rousing him from a dream in which he and Gina were entangled on a feather mattress, engaging in some very slow, incredibly provocative acts. Even before he picked up the receiver, he hated whoever was on the other end of the line.

“Rafe, why haven’t I heard from you?” his mother demanded in a petulant tone.

“Good morning, Mother. How lovely to hear your voice,” he muttered, knowing the sarcasm would go straight over her head. “What’s the problem?”

“The problem is that you are not keeping me informed. Am I or am I not your client?”

“You’re one of them,” he agreed, glancing at the clock and groaning when he realized it was barely 6:00 a.m. He and Gina had stayed out late the night before, doing absolutely none of the things he’d wanted most to do, which was probably why his dreams had been particularly steamy.

“The most important one, I should think,” she grumbled.

“Actually you’re the only one who’s not paying me,” he pointed out. “I took on your case pro bono, if you recall.”

“I still think I should be getting an update from time to time. Have you found Bobby? Will I be getting my money back?”

“I haven’t found Bobby. As for your money, we’ll know more about that once I find out where he’s gone.”

“Well, if you don’t know anything, why on earth are you vacationing in Wyoming, of all places?”

Rafe gritted his teeth. “I am not on vacation. I’m following a lead.”

“Don’t you have investigators to do that?”

“Sure I do. They cost quite a bit. Shall I put their expenses on your bill?”

Adele O’Donnell Tinsley Warwick sucked in her breath. “There’s no need to be snide, Rafe.”

“I’m sorry,” Rafe apologized automatically. “Since I have you on the line, let me ask you again if Bobby ever said anything at all about any place he particularly liked, some country or city he might be holed up in now? Is he the kind who’d hide all his ill-gotten gains in a Swiss bank account, or would he head for the Cayman Islands?”

“Neither. When he was with me, he seemed quite content to be in New York. From my point of view, none of this makes any sense. I thought he was happy. I thought we were happy. We were together for five years. Well, most of five years. There was that period when I thought I might be in love with Mitchell Davis, but he turned out to still have a wife tucked away upstate.”

“Yes, I recall,” Rafe said wearily. Obviously, his mother made a habit of deluding herself about the importance of a relationship. He sighed, then asked, “What do you know about Rinaldi’s business partner?”

“Gina? He rarely mentioned her,” she said dismissively. “I got the sense that she was contributing very little to the business, other than a certain flair she had with the customers and preparation of some of the dishes on the menu. Bobby was the money man and the brains behind the place. I always had the feeling she was holding him back, that her thinking was far too conservative.”

“Perhaps she had good reason for being that way, since Rinaldi was so irresponsible where money was concerned,” he suggested.

“Bobby was a genius,” she said at once.

His mother’s criticism of Gina and her admiring tone when she spoke of Rinaldi, even after everything the man had done to her, made Rafe cringe. “Mother, are you anxious for me to find Rinaldi so we can put him behind bars, or are you hoping to resume your affair with him?”

“How can you even ask me such a thing?” she asked indignantly.

“Because I honestly want to know the answer,” he said. “I get this terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach that you want the man back, even after everything he’s done.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. He cheated me out of thousands of dollars. I wouldn’t take him back if he begged me to.”

“Glad to hear it,” Rafe said, though he wasn’t entirely certain he believed her.

“Now, tell me again why you’re in Wyoming. Bobby certainly wouldn’t go there. He hated anything primitive.”

“They do have hot and cold running water here, Mother.”

“You know what I mean. He was a sophisticated man.” She paused, then added thoughtfully, “But that little partner of his wasn’t. Is that it? Is Gina in Wyoming? Is she hiding out there?”

“Gina is not ‘hiding out,’ and she’s every bit as sophisticated as you or I,” Rafe said impatiently, aware the moment the words left his mouth that his mother would seize on them.

“Oh, dear,” she murmured. “She is there. You’re not being taken in by her, are you?”

“No more than you were by Rinaldi,” he said dryly.

“Rafe, darling, do be careful,” she said with a rare display of motherly concern.

“Believe me, Mother, in my profession, there are very few people I trust. And after growing up with your unpredictable serial marriages, there are even fewer women I trust.”

“Well, that’s okay, then,” she said, sounding pleased. Clearly she’d missed the barb directed at her role in his distrust. Rafe sighed at the realization that she was as self-absorbed as ever.

Only after he’d hung up did Rafe realize exactly how pitiful his words were and how very badly he wanted Gina Petrillo to be the person who broke the pattern.

* * *

“Gina, sweetie, the phone’s for you,” Gina’s mother called cheerfully after a tap on the bedroom door.

Gina groaned and rolled over, burying her head under the pillow. She had tossed and turned all night long, trying to escape the dream in which she was running endlessly after a shadow. Bobby’s, no doubt. Not even her subconscious would let her catch him, because apparently on some innate level she knew that killing him was a bad idea.

“Gina, are you awake?” her mother called.

“Yes,” she finally admitted. “I’ll be right there.”

For one fleeting second she allowed herself to anticipate hearing Rafe’s voice on the other end of the line. She was finding it increasingly difficult to keep her guard up around him. Nor was she having much luck with keeping her hormones in check. Dragging on her robe, she picked up her pace as she went into the hallway to grab the nearest phone.

“Hello, doll,” Bobby greeted her as if they’d parted only days before and on the very best of terms.

“Roberto Rinaldi, where the hell are you?” she demanded, shaking with indignation. “Do you have any idea what sort of a mess you’ve left behind for me to clean up? I have an attorney shadowing my every move. I believe you know his mother.”

“Not Rafe O’Donnell.”

“Bingo.”

“Sorry about that. Not to worry, though. I’ll get everything straightened out.”

“How? When?”

“Soon,” he assured her. “Gotta run, doll. I just wanted you to know to hang in there.”

“Bobby, don’t you dare hang up on me. Bobby! Dammit, Bobby!” She realized she was shouting at a dial tone and all but slammed the receiver back into the cradle. “Forget the consequences. If I ever get my hands on him, I’m going to kill him.”

She looked up and realized that her mother was studying her with a horrified expression.

“Into the kitchen,” her mother said quietly, but in a tone that had always meant business. “I think it’s about time you told me what’s going on.”

Gina sighed and reluctantly trailed along behind her. She paused only long enough to pour herself a cup of coffee, then sat at the kitchen table. “Where’s Dad?”

“He’s gone to work, thank goodness. If he had heard you just now, it would have sent his blood pressure into the stratosphere. Whatever’s going on, we’ll keep it between us for now. I don’t want your father upset. To tell you the truth, I’m not sure listening to you talk like that hasn’t shaken me a little bit, too.”

Her mother did look pale. Gina sought to reassure her. “It was just a figure of speech, Mother. I’m not going to kill anybody.”

“It didn’t sound that way to me. What has Bobby done? And does that have anything to do with what Rafe O’Donnell is doing here in Winding River?”

Gina slowly stirred two teaspoons of sugar into her coffee as she considered just how much to tell her mother. She finally settled on the whole truth. By the time she’d finished explaining all of the sordid details about Bobby’s scam, her mother was practically quivering with outrage.

“What an awful man!” her mother declared. “And that was him on the phone? If I’d had any idea, I would have given him a piece of my mind.”

Gina couldn’t help it. She grinned. “As impressive and daunting as I’ve always found your lectures to be, Mom, I doubt they would have had any effect at all on Bobby. He’s pretty much immune to criticism, and I doubt he has much of a conscience.”

“That doesn’t mean he shouldn’t hear exactly what I think of him. Taking money from all of those people...” She shook her head. “It’s a crime, that’s what it is.”

“Which is why Rafe is after him. And me, for that matter.”

“Surely Rafe doesn’t seriously think you could be involved,” her mother said, her indignation stirring all over again. “You are nothing like Bobby.”

“Thank you, but Rafe doesn’t know me as well as you do. He says he has an open mind. At the very least he’s hoping Bobby will contact me.”

“Which he has. You have to tell Rafe,” her mother said. “That will prove to him that you want this resolved as badly as he does.”

“What am I supposed to tell him?” Gina asked. “That Bobby called but wouldn’t say where he was?”

“That’s the truth, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but all it proves is that Bobby knows I’m in Wyoming and that we’re in touch,” Gina said, feeling despondent. She was not nearly as sure as her mother that Rafe wouldn’t take the news of Bobby’s call and somehow twist it to fit his own scenario, condemning her in the process.

“You have to tell Rafe,” her mother repeated. “Keeping it a secret will only make you look guilty if he finds out about the call later.” She gestured toward the phone. “Call him right now. That’s my advice.” She bent down and kissed Gina’s forehead. “I have to get going or I’ll be late. You have a good day. This will all work itself out, I promise. People like Bobby eventually get what’s coming to them.”

“I wish I shared your conviction about that,” Gina said, giving her mother a half-hearted smile. “But I will think about what you’ve said.”

If only her parents had caller ID, she thought, staring at the phone, but in this small, friendly community such high-tech equipment was viewed as both unnecessary and in many ways impolite. No one saw any need to know who was calling before picking up the phone. Heck, half the people in town, her folks included, didn’t even own answering machines. People didn’t have the same desire for being connected twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week that they did in New York. There was a lot to be said for that attitude, but right now Gina regretted it.

When the phone rang, Gina jumped, then scowled at the offending instrument before picking it up.

“Yes,” she muttered curtly.

“You didn’t by any chance wake up on the wrong side of the bed, did you?” Rafe inquired cheerfully.

“Something like that,” she said.

“I know the feeling. My mother woke me out of a sound sleep, which would have been bad enough, but she also ruined a particularly fascinating dream.”

“Oh, really?”

“Just so you know, you were the star attraction.”

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” Gina chided, even though the news was fascinating. “I thought we had agreed that there would be no more crossing the line.”

“Did we? My subconscious must have forgotten all about that. Now then, would I be risking my life if I suggested breakfast at Stella’s in twenty minutes? That’s not crossing the line, is it?”

Gina thought of Bobby’s call and her mother’s advice that she share that information with Rafe. “Actually, breakfast might be good. I’ll see you there. Make it thirty minutes, though. I’m only half-awake, and I usually don’t do mornings. It’ll take me a while to jump-start my brain.”

“I suppose saying that it’s not your brain that interests me would be a really bad idea,” Rafe teased.

Gina laughed, her mood improving considerably. “A really, really bad one,” she agreed. “See you soon.”

As it turned out, it took her closer to an hour to shower, dress and walk to Stella’s. Admittedly, she was deliberately dragging her feet. Every time she thought of Bobby’s call and his refusal to even admit where he was, she felt more and more despondent. By the time she got to Stella’s, she was crankier than ever. Finding that Rafe had finished reading the paper and was drumming his fingers on the table immediately put her on the defensive.

“I thought maybe you’d stood me up,” he said as she slid into the booth opposite him.

“I told you I’d be here, didn’t I?” she snapped before she could stop herself.

His expression turned thoughtful. “There’s that tone again. Did something happen this morning to get your day off to a rotten start?”

“You mean aside from your call?”

He winced but said gamely, “Yes, aside from that.”

Gina waited until Stella had poured her a cup of coffee and taken their orders before answering with the truth. “I heard from Bobby,” she admitted in a rush, before she could change her mind. She didn’t feel one bit better once the words were out.

Rafe nodded slowly. “I see. And what did he have to say?”

“Not much. He wouldn’t say where he was. He wouldn’t answer any of my questions. He just said everything was going to work out.”

“For whom?” Rafe asked. “I don’t imagine he was talking about the people he bilked out of their money.”

“No, I imagine not,” Gina agreed ruefully. “Anyway, I thought you should know, even though it doesn’t exactly give you any new information.”

“Thank you,” he said solemnly. “I know it wasn’t easy for you to tell me about the call.”

She studied his face intently. “You don’t think I’m holding anything back, do you?”

“Are you?”

“No, that’s the whole story. The call didn’t last more than a minute.”

His expression turned thoughtful. “I wonder why. Does he suspect your phone could be tapped?”

“I doubt it,” Gina said. “Bobby never has been big on prolonged telephone calls. Ironically, in his own way I think he just wanted to reassure me.”

“Were you reassured?” Rafe asked.

“Hardly. I was furious. I want more than a patronizing pat on the head,” she said, her fury stirring all over again. “I want answers. I want every penny of that money returned. I want to put this mess behind me.”

For the first time since he’d tried to put her life under a microscope, Rafe regarded her with what appeared to be genuine sympathy. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

“Why are you sorry?”

“Because it must be hell having everything you’ve worked for put at risk through no fault of your own.”

Startled, Gina merely stared. “You finally believe I wasn’t involved?”

He nodded. “I do.”

“Then go back to New York,” she pleaded. “Concentrate on finding Bobby and getting to the bottom of this. Do it for your clients and, unofficially at least, do it for me. Not that I can afford to pay you. My cash, as you know, is somewhat limited these days.”

Unfortunately, before the words were out of her mouth, he was shaking his head. “I can’t work for you. It would be a conflict of interest. And I can’t leave. You’re still my best lead. If Bobby contacted you once, he’ll do it again. Next time we’ll be ready.”

“Ready how? You’re not going to tap my parents’ phone, are you?”

“No, but a caller ID could help. Do they have one?”

“No, and my father will hate it. He doesn’t know what’s going on. I told my mother this morning, but we agreed that he doesn’t need to know. It will only upset him, and his blood pressure is already bad. I mean it, Rafe. I don’t want him involved in any way.”

“Then we’ll find another way,” he said, his expression thoughtful. “Maybe we should both go back to New York.”

“No,” she said flatly. “I told you yesterday, I won’t leave while Karen’s under so much pressure.”

“Then you make a suggestion.”

Gina considered an idea she’d been toying with ever since Caleb’s funeral. “I need an excuse to keep hanging around,” she said slowly. “Karen will hate it if she thinks I’ve put my life on hold because of her.”

“Okay. Any ideas?”

“I could go to work for Tony,” she said with a surprising lack of enthusiasm. She knew it would feel as if she was only marking time, but it was the best she could do. “I’d tell everyone I’m just helping him out for a while. Maybe he’d even take that trip to Italy he’s been promising Francesca.”

“That keeps you in town, but how does it help with pinning down Bobby’s whereabouts?”

“We could put the caller ID on the restaurant phone. Tony would agree. He knows what’s going on, and he’d want to help nail Bobby.”

Rafe shook his head. “That’s only a partial solution. Right now Bobby’s contact number for you is at your parents’ house. He can just keep right on using that. Unless...” His gaze met hers.

Gina’s pulse skipped a beat at the heated look in his eyes. “Unless what?”

“Unless you moved in with me at the hotel,” he said slowly.

“Oh, no,” she said at once, despite the decided leap of her pulse. “That is a really bad idea.”

He grinned. “I don’t know. I think it opens up some fascinating possibilities.”

“You would.”

“Are you saying that you’re not even a tiny bit intrigued by what could happen if the two of us were sharing close quarters?”

“I’m saying that your clients would be horrified to discover that you were getting up close and personal with a suspect. Not five minutes ago you pointed out that it would be a conflict just to unofficially help me out.”

“I could always tell them that I’m keeping you under surveillance.”

Gina laughed at that. “Is that what you call it?”

“Okay, do you have a better idea?”

She considered the question. “I’ll get my own place,” she said eventually.

Rafe seemed completely taken aback. “Your own place? That sounds awfully permanent.”

Gina shrugged. “Who knows? Given the situation in New York, coming back here might be the smartest thing—the only thing—I can do.” Ever since her conversation with Bobby, she felt as though she’d lost the will to fight.

“You’re conceding defeat on Café Tuscany?” Rafe asked, studying her with a shocked expression. “I don’t buy it.”

“I may not have any choice. Deidre’s keeping things going for now, but we can’t keep playing this shell game with the creditors forever. Maybe declaring bankruptcy is the way to go.”

“Surely you don’t believe that! I thought you cared about that restaurant.”

“I do, but isn’t that what you’ve wanted all along, to drive me out of business?” she asked, unable to keep a trace of bitterness out of her voice.

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