LITMIR.BIZ

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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

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