48

“What about your mother? You said you jumped into this case because of her,” she said triumphantly. “You must care about her.”

“I don’t like to see anyone swindled. That’s why I took the case.” “I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true.”

Before she could probe any deeper, they were joined by Tony, who looked more tired than she had ever seen him. Rafe looked relieved to have her attention shifting away from him and on to Tony, but she had no intention of forgetting about his admission that there was no one in his life who really mattered to him.

“Are you okay?” Cara asked Tony.

“It’s been a busy night. That’s all,” Tony said. “Have you eaten?”

“I haven’t had the time.”

Cara jumped up. “Then you sit right here. I’m going to fix something for all of us. And if anyone else comes in, I’ll handle it. Have a glass of wine. Talk to Rafe. Relax.”

Tony patted her hand. “You’re a good girl, cara mia.”

“And a better cook,” she reminded him with a grin. “I’ll make you two a meal that will make you weep.”

Rafe started to protest, but Cara silenced him with a look. “I need to do this,” she said quietly. “It won’t take long.”

“It will take as long as it takes,” Tony chided, his expression stern. “Good food cannot be rushed.”

Cara pressed a kiss to his pale cheek. “Advice from the master,” she teased, managing to keep a smile plastered firmly on her face as she left the two men to their wine and their conversation.

But once she reached the kitchen, she sagged against the door. Something was terribly wrong. Suddenly her own problems with Bobby, her confusion over her relationship with Rafe, none of it mattered. How sad that Rafe didn’t understand the meaning of such deep and abiding friendships.

But maybe, once she’d dealt with whatever was going on with Tony and Francesca, once Karen’s life was settled again, maybe then she could take the time to teach him.

Rafe studied Tony’s tired face and concluded that Cara was right to be concerned. He might not know the man well, but there was a general air of despondency about him that was unmistakable even to him.

“Cara’s worried about you,” he said.

“And I am worried for her,” Tony responded. “The longer this business with her partner drags on, the sadder she becomes. I don’t like it. If I knew this man, I would wring his neck myself.”

“Join the club,” Rafe said, though he chafed at Tony’s evasive change of topic. Apparently, he really was lousy at this friendship thing. Surely a man with his skills at cross-examination should have been able to get a direct response. He considered his words, realized then that unlike his courtroom style, he’d made a statement, rather than asking a probing question. It seemed like he was even out of practice at being a decent lawyer.

“But I wasn’t really talking about Cara. I was asking about you. Is everything okay?” he asked more pointedly. “Peggy said something earlier about your wife that made Cara conclude that she might not be well.”

If anything, Tony looked even more dispirited. “Francesca grows more homesick day by day. Her only sister, who lives in Rome, is not well. Francesca wishes she were there with her, but she refuses to go back to Italy alone, and I cannot simply close the business and leave.”

“There is a solution,” Rafe said thoughtfully, hating himself for even thinking of it, much less voicing it. He needed to get back to New York one of these days, though amazingly the pressure seemed to lessen with every day he spent right here in Wyoming with Cara. He was beginning to adapt to the slower pace and friendlier lifestyle. And except for court, he was able to keep up with most of his work. Lydia kept his fax machine humming, and what was too lengthy and complicated to be faxed she shipped overnight.

“Oh?” Tony said, his expression brightening hopefully. “What solution?” “Let Cara take over. She’s insistent on staying here for the time being

because of her friend Karen. It would give her something to do.”

Tony seemed startled by the suggestion. “Were you not the one who warned

me not to expect her to work here again?”

“I meant permanently,” Rafe said, then shrugged. “Who knows, though? Maybe I was wrong about that, as well. Cara is not an easy woman to read.”

Tony looked shocked by the assessment. “Cara? She wears her heart on her sleeve. Anyone who knows her can see that.”

“Then maybe I don’t know her as well as I thought.”

“Or perhaps as well as you would like to?” Tony inquired, looking amused. “Or is it that what you see terrifies you, so you pretend not to see it?”

Rafe glanced toward the kitchen, hoping to catch a glimpse of the woman in question, but the door remained steadfastly closed. “It’s possible that you’re right,” he admitted, turning back to Tony. “Maybe I do see things that scare me, even though a part of me wants what she wants.”

“This is a good thing,” Tony said enthusiastically. “I am very pleased.

Admitting what you want is always the first step.” “First step to what?” Rafe asked.

“The future.” He grinned. “Now, what would you like to know about our Cara? Ask, and I will tell you.”

His sudden openness startled Rafe. “Why the change of heart? You’ve been refusing to discuss her with me before now.”

Tony’s amusement seemed to grow. “Because you have changed. As has your reason for being here, I suspect. Now, tell me, what is it about Cara that you do not understand?”

Rafe asked the first thing that came to mind. “Is she a good chef?”

“Of all the things you might have asked, that is what you pick?” Tony said with a sad shake of his head. “Perhaps I was wrong about you, after all. I was expecting something personal.”

“I thought cooking was personal to her. It’s what she does.”

“Yes,” Tony agreed. “But not who she is. Besides, I cannot believe you have never eaten in her restaurant.”

“Never, though my business associates dine there all the time.” Rafe thought of Lydia and added, “And my secretary loves the place.”

“Because Cara has a passion for food. She understands it. She knows what will add to a meal and what will distract. She shares all of that when she cooks.”

“Then why hasn’t she fought harder to keep Café Tuscany afloat? I know she came here for that reunion, but I thought she would go back at once and charge into battle to save the restaurant. Instead, there have been times when I’ve had to wonder if she even cares whether it closes or not.”

Tony looked shocked by Rafe’s assessment. “You are wrong,” he said fiercely. “She cares, too much perhaps. She has tried to distance herself, I think,

out of fear. She is trying not to let it matter, in case she is not able to keep it open.”

When Rafe would have responded, Tony stopped him with a sign. “Wait, there is more. There is one thing that matters more to Cara than food.”

“Her friends,” Rafe guessed.

Tony gave a curt nod of satisfaction. “Precisely. And can you see how that has affected what she’d done these past weeks? She has taken their burdens as her own, but she has not shared hers with them.”

“And she has stayed on because she cares about her friend Karen,” Rafe said slowly. “She will stay on longer because of you and Francesca. If there is another friend with another crisis, she will extend her stay yet again.”

“True, but it is more than that. She has stayed because a man she trusted, a man she believed in and counted on, betrayed her. Bobby Rinaldi is a criminal to you, but to Cara he was a friend. Think about that,” Tony said quietly. “I will go and get us another bottle of wine.”

He left Rafe feeling shaken. Not once had he stopped to consider the impact Bobby’s actions would have had on Cara emotionally. He’d thought only in terms of dollars and cents, only in terms of the business, not the friendship, quite likely because he had never established such deep ties to another person.

Of course Cara had been devastated. To the woman Tony had described— the woman Rafe was only beginning to know—losing a friend would be far worse than losing a restaurant.

Rafe wasn’t entirely sure he could understand that depth of feeling for another person. He didn’t profess to understand love, either, and this was something altogether different, something he’d always assumed would be less intense, less demanding.