So Irresistible (31 page)

“You demolish my game,” Shane specified, his eyes sparkling again. “When you’re around, I can’t even think straight.”

“He certainly can’t keep it in his pants,” Bowser agreed.

The brunette woman chortled. Tardily, Shane introduced her as Lizzy Trent, his assistant. Evidently, Lizzy had a real thing for Portland, brewpubs, and the tattooed pizza slingers who frequented them, which explained Bowser’s happy grin.

“If it makes you feel any better, Gabriella,” Lizzy volunteered, “technically, Shane was
also
testing my loyalty by having me set up the deal with your dad while keeping his father out of the loop. Gregory Waltham and I go way back.”

“Yeah,” Shane grumbled. “I’d still like to know why.”

“Then you passed the test,” Gabriella guessed, feeling weirdly happy that Shane had someone in his life he could trust. “Rather than rat out Shane to his father and Waltham Industries, you set up the deal to have Shane invest in the pizzerias for my dad.”

Lizzy nodded. “Set up, delivered, and almost signed.”

“I still think you have another secret,” Shane went on doggedly. “I think you should tell me what it is. Right now.”

But his assistant only gave an airy wave. “We should have coffee sometime, Gabriella. The dish I can give you on Shane is nothing short of mind-boggling. I promise. It’s the real deal.”

Intrigued, Gabriella perked up. “How about tomorrow?”

“How about getting this deal done?” Decisively, Shane addressed Robert Grimani. “I’m ready to sign. How about you?”

Her dad hesitated. “It’s got to be up to Gabriella.”

Touched, Gabriella put her hand on her heart. “But, Dad, you’re the one who built the pizzerias. They’re yours.”

“They’re
ours
. The Grimani family tradition.”

Their entire quintet
awwwwed at that
.

“All right, all right.” Gabriella held up her hands, putting an end to the outpouring of sentiment. “I guess I
have
to say yes now—now that you’ve made it a matter of Grimani family tradition, Dad.” She aimed a teasing glance at Shane. “That settles it. I can’t possibly mess with tradition.”

“Does that mean you agree?” Shane asked.

“Is that a yes for sure?” her dad pressed.

“Did you two just meet me?” Exasperated, Gabriella gestured at the paperwork her dad had brought. “Break out the pens!”

They did. Pinkie chose that moment to meander into the kitchen wearing whites, her lucky pink kitchen clogs, and a matching pink bandanna, looking dazed and concerned.

“Hey, what’s going on outside?” She hooked her thumb toward the alley. “A police cruiser was leaving when I got here. I could have sworn I glimpsed Frosty handcuffed in the back.”

“It’s a long story,” Gabriella told her cousin as she watched her dad sort papers. “I’ll give you all the details later.”

Her pastry chef shrugged. “Okay. In the meantime . . . what’s going on
inside
?” She examined Robert Grimani and Shane. “This looks like some kind of deal going down. But why is Shane—”

“Making a deal with my dad?” Gabriella asked. “Because he’s
not
really shadowing me. He’s . . . doing a lot more. Later. Okay?”

“Sure.” Pinkie watched as her uncle and Shane signed papers. “If this deal reopens the pizzerias, can I manage one?”

Shane glanced up. “I thought you wanted your own cupcake shop. You couldn’t quit talking about wanting your own shop.”

“Cupcakes. Pizza. Poutine. Whatever.” Pinkie gave a nonchalant wave. “I don’t care what kind of food I’m serving. I just want to boss people around a lot, like Gabriella gets to do. It looks like fun.”

At her overzealous tone, everyone laughed.

“You’ll get your chance, if you want it,” Gabriella volunteered. “I’ll need managers for Reggio, Abruzzo, Tropea, Salerno, and Benevento when they reopen. Plus, we’ll need someone to run the Seattle pizzeria we’re planning.”

Pinkie’s eyes went wide. “Expansion? That must be a hell of a deal, Uncle Robert. Congrats.” She glanced toward the back door again. “I’m guessing Frosty was the one who was sabotaging this place—and now that he’s gone, this deal can happen?”

“Something like that.” Gabriella smiled at Shane.

“I never liked Frosty anyway.” Pinkie tied on an apron. She glanced at Bowser. “Hey, quit sucking face with your new girlfriend and get busy, you slacker. We have pies to make.”

Caught in a clinch with Lizzy, Bowser went pink. Gruffly, he waved his arm at Pinkie. “Settle down, boss. Three minutes in upper management, and you’re already on my case. Just chill.”

“No way.” Pinkie grinned. “Snap to it, loverboy.”

“Argh.” With a lingering glance at Lizzy, Bowser did. He gave her a trailing caress. “See you later on?”

“You can bet your life on it,” Lizzy assured him.

Gabriella watched them both, feeling pleased. At least she and Shane weren’t the only ones who’d fallen head over heels in the midst of chaos and disaster. Bowser and Lizzy had, too.

“There,” her dad announced with a final flourish of his pen. “All done.” He shook hands with Shane, then returned the paperwork to his file folder. He tapped it on the table to settle everything. “Good doing business with you, son.”

Shane nodded at that, seeming inexplicably moved.

Then Gabriella realized what Shane had reacted to.

Son
. Her dad’s casual use of that endearment hadn’t fazed her, but it had obviously affected Shane. Maybe because, by quitting his assignment to “fix” the Grimani pizzerias for Waltham Industries, Shane had effectively severed ties with his own father. Apparently, Gregory Waltham played for keeps.

He’d obviously been merciless enough to try to cut off Shane without a dime. It was fortunate Shane had outsmarted him.

At least it was fortunate for her and her pizzerias.

For him? Gabriella didn’t know.

Right now, she couldn’t deal with sorting it out.

She wasn’t sure when she would be, either. The past few days had been crazy. Gabriella needed time to think, time to regroup, time to figure out her feelings about everything.

“So . . . I have a few things to take care of,” Shane announced. He addressed the pizzeria’s kitchen at large, glancing in turn at everyone. His gaze lingered on Gabriella. “I’m out of here.”

“Now?” she blurted, taken aback by his statement—and by the regretful look in his eyes, too. That look didn’t bode well. “But we have cleanup to do, a pizzeria to open, plans to make.”

“It’ll have to happen without me,” Shane said. “Sorry.” He swerved his gaze to Lizzy. “Everything set, the way I asked?”

Looking surprised, his assistant nodded. “Of course, but—”

“Good work. We’ll talk later, Lizzy.”

Shane held up his palm in farewell. A chorus of goodbyes echoed. After acknowledging them, Shane looked at Gabriella.

“Bye, Gabby,” he said with a nod.

She was too befuddled to do more than nod in reply.

Then Shane took out his keys and left the pizzeria without a single backward glance—leaving the job done behind him, just like the renowned fixer he was . . . and maybe always would be, unless he did something to change it.

Lizzy had been as good as her word, Shane realized when he arrived at his temporary Portland apartment. In record time, his assistant had packed up the few personal things Shane had brought with him. She’d left arrangements for someone to come and take away the furniture and furnishings, the artwork and the books. She’d printed a boarding pass for an outgoing flight from PDX, making his path out of the Rose City evident. She’d even boxed up all the groceries she’d stocked his cupboards with.

Nudging that overflowing cardboard box with his foot, Shane peered to read what Lizzy had written on the box’s exterior.

For donation. Pioneer Square Food Bank
.

Hmm. Lizzy had a soft spot after all. Anyone else would have thrown away all that jam and bread and fruit and coffee. God knew, Lizzy didn’t need it. Shane had made sure his father had left him enough money to pay her salary—far in advance of now, too, so she’d have plenty of time to find another job.

Another job . . .
not
working with him.

Because Shane wasn’t good for anyone. Not even Lizzy. The proof was in the way she’d risked her neck coming to the pizzeria, trying to save him. That had been sweet. But dumb.

Shane knew he had to end their association now, before his assistant became even more softhearted and susceptible to him.

Of course, Lizzy didn’t know that yet, Shane reminded himself as he turned away from the box and headed toward his bedroom to review the rest of Lizzy’s preparations. As far as his assistant was concerned, this was a routine getaway—a typical ending to a typical assignment. Just like usual, they would both clear out of Portland at the earliest opportunity.

It was always best not to hang around after a fix.

Maybe, it occurred to Shane, that’s why Lizzy had abandoned her Bridgetown-indie-girl getup today. Likely, she’d used that persona to snag Bowser—aka Bernie—at the brewpub. Now that their time together was ending, he reasoned, Lizzy didn’t need to use any extraneous trappings with her “boyfriend.” All that kissy-face they’d been sharing at Campania had been a last hurrah. Just like Shane’s final nod to Gabby had been.

He wondered if Gabby knew or cared that he was leaving.

Probably, she knew. If she was smart, she wouldn’t care.

Gabby was nothing if not smart. She was . . . brilliant.

She’d definitely possessed a genius-level talent for making him fall for her, foolishly and completely. But now, Shane knew as he double-checked his empty closets, that was over.

It had to be. Because Shane had never felt clearer on the fact that he wasn’t good for anyone—not himself, not Lizzy, and not Gabby—than he did that morning. Maybe someday, he hoped as he wandered into the living room, he would be good. But he had a lot of work to do redeeming himself before that happened.

You’re not as big and bad as you think you are
, Lizzy had said, standing up to him earlier.
That’s why you’ve been so unhappy lately. Because it goes against your grain to be bad
.

But Shane wasn’t so sure. He’d been
so
good at being bad. Gabby’s willingness to believe he’d betrayed her proved that. Even when he’d been trying to behave himself, he’d been bad.

In the end, he hadn’t been able to resist linking their futures by investing in the Grimanis’ pizzerias. But Shane would be damned if he’d use whatever leverage that gave him. He refused to take advantage of Gabby. Not even accidentally.

She’d needed Shane to save her pizzerias. That was true. But had Gabby needed him to love her? Had she wanted him to? Even now, after all they’d been through, Shane wasn’t sure.

After all, Shane had been the one to pursue Gabby when she’d run. She sure as hell hadn’t broken down
his
door coming back here after she’d left. Or even now, for that matter.

Yes, Gabby was sorry she’d left him. But that didn’t change the fact that she’d done it. It didn’t make him any less alone right now. It didn’t make him deserve that solitude any less.

Maybe, Shane thought as he ran his fingertips over his dining table, fondly remembering Gabby, he could make himself better. Maybe he could follow Casey Jackson’s lead and go straight. Maybe he could atone for the things he’d done.

One of the most regrettable incidents in his past had involved Casey, Shane remembered darkly. Maybe he could fix that. Maybe he could come to terms with Casey and move forward.

Feeling as though he’d struck upon a workable plan, Shane took another look around his luxurious apartment. A lot of good things had happened there. Almost all of them involved Gabby.

Gabby
. Softening again at the thought of her, Shane caught himself. He needed to get the hell out of there before he lost his resolve altogether. Before he gave in to his less noble instincts and took whatever future he could get from Gabby.

And her family, too.

Good doing business with you, son
.

Damn, but that casual endearment had made Shane want to grin with idiotic pride. It had made him want to stay.

He may have screwed up everything with his own father, but the look of gratitude and respect in Robert Grimani’s eyes had almost made up for it all. Gabby’s father
liked
him. He looked at Shane the way he’d always hoped Gregory Waltham would.

But that was in the past now. It was time to move on.

Shouldering the usual carry-on bag that Lizzy had left for him in its usual place near the door, Shane took his usual last look around. He wasn’t sure what he was hoping to see. Or feel.

Accomplishment, maybe? Victory? Satisfaction?

All Shane felt were sadness . . . and that same pervasive sense of discontent that had dogged his steps for weeks now. It had disappeared while he was with Gabby. But now it was back.

Ruthlessly, Shane turned his back on everything. He strode into the kitchen. Partway there, a noise caught his attention.

Instantly hopeful, he stared at the door. That could have been a knock he’d heard. It could have been Gabby.

His cell phone buzzed again from the peninsula, where he’d left it, stuck on vibrate mode and eager for attention.

Hell
. It had been his phone. Not the door.

Although maybe it was Gabby calling?

It wasn’t. Shane glimpsed the display and knew it. He grabbed the phone anyway. “What do you want?” he growled.

Gregory Waltham’s smooth voice came over the line, sounding as if he were standing right there beside the packed boxes.

“Lizzy told me I ought to call you now, if I was going to. She said you’d ditch this phone. She said you’d be in the wind by tonight, and I’d be lucky to ever see you again.”

“So?” All of that was true. “What do you want?”

There was a moment’s pause. Then, “I want to congratulate you, Shane,” came his father’s unnaturally hearty voice. “It takes a hell of a competitor to outwit me.”

Silently, Shane gripped the phone. “You heard.”

“Your assistant made sure I heard. I think she was gloating.” Another pause, this one potentially filled with . . . remembrance? “Lizzy has a very bad habit of gloating.”

Shane remembered her telling him how she’d pickpocketed Gregory Waltham’s wallet “to prove a point.” He grinned. “Only when it’s deserved. Then she doesn’t shut up for hours.”

“I had to fake a migraine to get off the phone.”

“Yeah, that sounds tough.” Shane glanced outside at his view of the overcast sky and the green, tree-dotted hillside of Forest Park. He’d miss that view. “I survived a murder attempt this morning. I’m fine, though,” he added sarcastically when his father didn’t rush to ask about his well-being. “Thanks for asking.”

“I have no doubt you’re fine. You always are.”

That didn’t mean Shane didn’t want a little compassion some of the time. Being tough didn’t mean being impervious to pain.

It only meant he could withstand a
lot
of pain.

“I have to say . . .” His father sounded peculiar. Almost deferential. “That deal you made, outmaneuvering me that way . . .” Another pause. “I respect that. I’m proud of you, Shane.”

Dumbstruck, Shane stared outside. It was raining.

“I’m sorry I lost my temper earlier,” Gregory Waltham was telling him in an uncharacteristically conciliatory tone. “I shouldn’t have said the things I did. I underestimated you.”

Shane still couldn’t speak. This was, almost to a word, exactly the speech he’d always hoped his father would make.

Too bad it had come too late. Now, it didn’t mean much.

Especially when it was missing the “I love yous” he wanted. Most likely, those would always be missing. That was life.

“I want you to stay on with my company,” his father said, filling the gap with authority and certainty. “As a fixer, as a legitimate ‘troubleshooter’ with an office and a salary and an expense account . . . whatever you want. No more freelancing.” He chuckled. “Not that you’ll need to take my offer, of course. I didn’t
really
freeze your trust fund. It was only a threat. You’ve always responded to threats, ever since you were a kid.”

Finally, Shane found his voice.

“Yeah. I ‘responded’ by rebelling,” he said. “By showing you I didn’t need you. By wrecking myself with fixing.”

You got stuck in it
, Lizzy had said,
then you leveraged it into a job, and then you got even more stuck. You used fixing to survive, and it worked for you. But not anymore
.

His assistant—
his friend
—was right.

Shane needed to get out. Starting now.

Gregory Waltham chuckled again. Uneasily. “Well, those days are all behind us now, right? We can just move on from here—”

“No. We’re not doing anything,” Shane interrupted. His gaze fell on the cardboard box full of groceries Lizzy had left. He knew what his first step had to be. “I told you. I quit.”

“Yes, you quit the Grimani job. Understandably. But
this
—”

“Is over,” Shane said. “Bye, Dad. Maybe we’ll talk later.”

Pushing the button to end that call was one of the most satisfying things Shane had ever done. Not because he was angry. Not because he’d bested his father—and Gregory Waltham had admitted it. Not because he had closure or ever would. But just because there was
peace
in that gesture. Just because he’d needed to do it—for his own well-being—and he’d done it.

Shane didn’t know where things would go with his father from here. But he did know where
he
was going.

He was going to turn over a new leaf. He was starting in Portland. He didn’t know where he would end up. But Shane did know that until he did some serious work toward making himself into the kind of man Gabby could love, he couldn’t blame her for letting him leave—or for not following him. He wasn’t going to weaken. He wasn’t going to go back. No matter what it took.

Because Gabby deserved better. And someday, so would he.

 

 

“Yo, Gabriella.” Hypo nodded at the make line, which Gabriella had been busy stocking in advance of first service. “What’s going on with you today? You just put Pinkie’s crème anglaise in the spot where the ricotta goes for pizza bianca.”

Startled, Gabriella looked down. She dipped her finger in the creamy white stuff she’d just spooned into the nearest stainless steel well. She tasted it. Vanilla flavored. Sweet.

She made a face. “You’re right. Argh. I can’t focus today.”

“You’re missing your lucky charm,” Hypo diagnosed. “Shane.”

She
was
missing him. But Gabriella hadn’t exactly been in a position to say so earlier when he’d left. She sighed.

“The man saved my life. He caught the pizzeria’s saboteur,
saved
all the pizzerias, gave me enough money to fulfill all my dreams for Campania, Reggio, Abruzzo, Tropea, Salerno, and Benevento combined, gave me carte blanche to expand to Seattle,
and
made my dad happier than I’ve seen him since the Seahawks went to the Super Bowl in the ’05 season.” Out of breath, she gave Hypo a wry look. “I couldn’t quibble about a day off.”

Hypo thought about that. “Maybe not. But I would have.” He grinned. “If you let your wealthy new big-shot investor ride roughshod over you now, who knows where it’ll end?”

“That’s right.” Scooter passed through the kitchen, agilely carrying a tray full of clean drinking glasses. “You’ve got to start the way you mean to end up with that man.” He winked. “Crack that whip. Make Shane know who’s boss.”

“Who’s boss?
I’m
boss!” Gleefully, Pinkie came in. Hands on hips, she surveyed her territory. “Everyone, work harder.”

“Pinkie,” Gabriella told her gently, “you’re not in charge of Campania yet. Of another pizzeria, yes, soon, but—”

“I’m going to prepare like
crazy
for it, too!”

Everyone else shook their heads. “We’re doomed,” Bowser prophesied, having reluctantly said good-bye to Lizzy so he could begin his shift. “Pinkie has gone power mad. Scooter has gotten
wise
, somehow, the old coot.” He cast the dishwasher a playful look. “Hypo has learned to distinguish ricotta from vanilla custard sauce, which is nothing short of a miracle—”

“Hey,” Hypo put in, “I’m not
all
nervous tics and hypochondria. I have many positive qualities, too.”

“Name one,” Bowser challenged.

“I’m very good at Internet browsing with my thumbs.”

“Hmmph.” Bowser turned to Gabby, a triumphant gleam in his eyes. “
And
, to finish what I was saying, Gabriella here obviously turned her brain into pudding during her chilly little lock-in in the walk-in this morning, because if she hadn’t—”

“Hey!” Gabriella protested. “A little sensitivity.”