The Redemption of Rico D'Angelo. Michelle Douglas
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on earth was he dithering? Helen Clarkson was prepared to sign a two-year contract. Commitment!
He swept the applications up and shoved them back into his folder, then strode out into the outer office. ‘Lisle, can you phone Helen Clarkson and offer her the position? If she accepts she’ll—’
‘I just got off the phone to Helen. She’s accepted a position in Launceston.’
She’d what? What about all her talk of commitment?
Lies. All lies!
Neen hadn’t lied.
‘Fine!’ he snapped. ‘Offer the position to Neen Cuthbert. Tell her she’ll need to come in and sign the contract one day this week.’
‘Roger, Rico.’
He slammed back into his office. He had a mountain of paperwork to get through and grant acquittals to write. Not to mention grant applications. Securing funding for his projects was an ongoing challenge and not something with which he could afford to fall behind.
An hour later he threw down his pen. Too much of this bureaucratic red tape always set his teeth on edge. He strode to the door and flung it open. ‘Did you get onto Neen Cuthbert?’ he barked at Lisle.
‘She was delighted to accept.’
‘Excellent.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘She lives in Bellerive, doesn’t she?’
Lisle flicked through her files. He could have told her not to bother—he’d practically memorised Neen’s file down to the last detail.
Lisle held up the file. ‘Yes, she does.’
He took it. ‘I have a lunch appointment with the manager of Eastlands Shopping Centre.’ He was trying to convince the man—so far unsuccessfully—to sponsor a programme to provide traineeships for unemployed youth in the area. ‘While I’m on that side of the harbour I’ll drop the contract off to Ms Cuthbert.’
Lisle handed him a copy of the contract without a word. She’d grown accustomed to his bull-in-a-china-shop approach long ago. ‘You know Harley’s job is going to be advertised next week, don’t you? You should think about applying, Rico.’
‘I’m more use on the ground, Lisle.’
‘You’re wasting your talents.’
‘I’m happy where I am.’
He was making a difference. A real difference. And happiness didn’t come into it.
* * *
‘Oh, for pity’s sake, Monty, give it a rest,’ Neen muttered under her breath. She reached over and ramped up the volume on the radio in the hope of drowning out the dog’s great booming bark.
She’d get complaints from the neighbours if this kept up, but...
Her hand tightened around the red pepper she’d started to dice. She just needed half an hour to get the worst of tonight’s dinner prepared and then she’d let him back inside. Without her full attention he’d wreck her apartment. Knowing she was inside, however, he was obviously intent on barking...and barking...and barking until she did.
She knew he was lonely. She knew he missed Audra. She knew he simply craved some company. Poor dumb dog. If he could be trusted just to sit at her feet and chew a bone...
She glanced around at her chewed-to-within-an-inch-of-its-life furniture and shook her head. She opened the kitchen window instead. It looked out over the courtyard. ‘Hey, Monty!’
He came charging up. Barking, barking, barking.
‘If you keep up with that kind of nonsense,’ she chided, ‘how will you ever hear what I have to say?’
He quietened for a moment. The radio blared. She dragged in a breath. For good or ill, she had a way with dogs. ‘What we need to work out is the kind of home that would be best for you. Do you have any thoughts on the subject? I’m thinking no small children, as you’ll only knock them down, and—’
He started barking his head off again. She continued to slice the onions, cabbage and red peppers for this evening’s stir-fry.
‘What I was thinking was a lovely big property where you could run about to your heart’s content, and...’
He didn’t stop barking. He no longer looked at her, just barked and barked. Her chopping slowed. She glanced at him again. In fact, he seemed to be barking at a point behind her and—
Her nape prickled. In the reflection of the window, something moved.
Whirling around, she held the knife out in front of her, every muscle tensed and readied.
A broad male figure loomed in the kitchen doorway. Adrenaline flooded her. Her heart clawed up into her throat. She gripped the knife harder.
The figure raised his hands very slowly in a gesture of non-aggression and then he backed all the way down the hallway and out of her house until he stood on the other side of her screen door. Only then did her pounding brain recognise who it was that stood on the other side. Rico D’Angelo. Her new boss.
Her heart didn’t stop hammering. Her hands didn’t unclench.
Rico raised a hand and knocked. She didn’t hear it. Undoing her fist enough to reach out, she turned off the radio. ‘Quiet, Monty!’
Amazingly, the animal obeyed her.
‘Neen, I’m sorry I frightened you.’
She suddenly realised she was still holding the knife. With burning eyes she threw it into the sink. She gripped her hands together at her waist and tried to stop their shaking, tried to swallow the lump lodged in her throat. The lump dislodged itself to settle in her chest.
‘Mr D’Angelo.’ The shaking wouldn’t stop. ‘I...uh...come in.’
He shook his head. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea. I just wanted to drop this off.’ He held up a sheaf of papers.
Monty promptly started barking again and her head throbbed in time with each booming sound. God, how to explain? She pressed her shaking fingers to her temples.
‘How about a walk? I take it that’s Monty, there? It sounds as if he could do with one.’
Gradually, little by little, her heart rate started to slow. ‘I’m sure you’re busy.’
‘I dropped by so we could discuss a few things and to get your signature on the contract.’
The normality of their conversation after her over-the-top reaction finally returned her pulse to normal.
‘I know I should’ve rung first, but I had an appointment in the area so I thought I’d drop by on the off-chance you’d be home.’
She needed to get out of the house. She needed to find a sense of equilibrium again. ‘If you’re sure you have the time?’
‘I have the time.’
‘I’ll just get Monty’s leash.’
She clipped the lead to Monty’s collar, led him through the house and locked her front door. She averted her gaze from the carport opposite and her car, with its four slashed tyres. She hoped her enigmatic employer hadn’t noticed them. She bit back an oath, her hand tightening on Monty’s lead. Mr D’Angelo must think he’d employed an utter fruitcake!
‘I’m pleased you accepted the position of café manager, Neen. I have great hopes for the café and I know you’re the perfect person to head this up.’
His smile was too kind, too compassionate...too knowing. His tone too well modulated. She bit back a sigh. ‘You saw the tyres, didn’t you?’
Monty chose that moment to try and yank her arm out of its socket. Without a word, Rico reached across and took the lead from her. He smelled of cold air and peppermint.