“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.
Chapter Eight
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
