To Catch a Thief - By Sherryl Woods Page 0,68
They left happy men. I still think you might want to call them, though, follow up on their visit, so to speak. I got their business cards.”
“Give me the names,” Gina said, taking them down. “I’ll call first thing in the morning. Thanks again, Deidre. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Are you coming back soon?” Deidre asked wistfully. “I like running this place and I’m good at most of it, but dealing with this kind of thing gives me hives. I’m a wreck.”
“But you did exactly the right thing,” Gina said. “That fib you told was pretty close to the truth, and it got the job done.”
“You didn’t answer my question. Are you coming back soon?”
“Another couple of weeks,” Gina said. “I promise.”
By then Tony and Francesca should be back. With any luck Gina would have sorted through her own options and be ready to deal with the fallout, whichever way she went.
“Okay, I can hold the fort that long,” Deidre said, sounding more optimistic. “By the way, I’ve managed to bring nearly half the bills up to date. If business stays like this for the rest of the fall, they should all be caught up by the time you get here. That’ll just leave the payments to the investors for you to handle. And with the holidays coming and all the parties and catering, you should be in good shape.”
“Business is that good?” Gina said, surprised and pleased. “We have catering jobs booked for the holidays?” There had been a trickle of requests for information before she’d left, but she’d expected word of their financial straits to make most people too skittish to book them for critical holiday entertaining.
“Business is great,” Deidre said. “We have a big catering job for almost every night between Thanksgiving and New Year’s. And Ronnie and I have been able to cut a few costs in the kitchen. Nothing to harm the quality of the food,” she said hurriedly. “We’re just cutting waste.”
“Thank you again,” Gina said with heartfelt sincerity, as an idea began to take shape in her head.
If her sous-chef and Deidre were doing such a great job of running Café Tuscany and the catering staff, maybe Gina could end up having it both ways. Maybe she could work out a partnership with them for the restaurant and the catering business, and divide her own time between Winding River and New York. It was definitely something to consider.
That just left Rafe. She would never have believed it a few weeks ago, but deciding what to do about him was a whole lot more complicated—and more important—than figuring out how to straighten out the mess that Bobby had left her in. She had a feeling that fate had brought him into her life for a reason, and she’d be a fool to let him get away.
No sooner had she said goodbye to Deidre than the phone rang again. She picked it up, still lost in thought. “Did you forget something?” she asked, assuming it was her manager calling back.
“Only you,” Rafe said, his voice low and seductive. “I never should have left you behind.”
Gina sighed and settled back against the pillows. Suddenly space didn’t seem nearly as important as letting the sound of his voice wash over her. “Is that so?”
“Are you through thinking things over yet?”
She chuckled at the wistful note in his voice. Hearing that filled her with an amazing sense of satisfaction. “You’ve only been gone a few hours. I’m just getting started. Are you home now?”
“I’m in New York,” he said. “Funny thing about that, though.”
“What?”
“It doesn’t feel half as much like home as that hotel room did, especially the last few nights.”
“Oh, Rafe,” she whispered. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”
“Why not? It’s true.”
“But it just makes it harder.”
“Makes what harder?”
“Thinking.”
He laughed. “I told you before, stop thinking so hard. This is something you have to decide from the gut.”
“What is your gut telling you?” she asked curiously.
“That what I’ve found with you is too important to let slip away.”
His words were oddly reassuring because they so closely echoed her own thoughts. He hadn’t yet mentioned love. She had a feeling if he had she would have felt overwhelmed and even more pressured. These words simply hinted that what they had should be explored, tested…clung to until they knew exactly what it meant. She could live with that without panicking.
“Call me tomorrow?” she asked.
“Tomorrow and every day after,” he said. “Sweet dreams, Gina.”
If only, she