The Calamity Janes: Gina and Emma. Sherryl Woods
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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