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A Daughter's Homecoming
Ginny Aiken


HOME TO STAYGabriella Carlini loves her family. But when she returns to Lyndon Point, Washington, to help save their restaurant, she’s not sure she’s the right person for the job. She’s spent her adult life avoiding her heritage. What she needs is a new chef to take the heat off her. Talented and experienced, Zachary Davenport seems to be the answer to her prayers. But he’s also a handsome complication. Gabi has always put love on the back burner. Will Zach show her that love and family should always be on the menu?







HOME TO STAY

Gabriella Carlini loves her family. But when she returns to Lyndon Point, Washington, to help save their restaurant, she’s not sure she’s the right person for the job. She’s spent her adult life avoiding her heritage. What she needs is a new chef to take the heat off her. Talented and experienced, Zachary Davenport seems to be the answer to her prayers. But he’s also a handsome complication. Gabi has always put love on the back burner. Will Zach show her that love and family should always be on the menu?


Gabi reached for one of the soft, fluffy towels to wrap her shivering charge.

As she handed off the puppy, their hands touched, and in spite of the slippery water on hers, they stood there, the contact unbroken. Once again, with Zach that close, Gabi felt the rush of…of that foreign something she’d never experienced before she’d met him. The light in his gaze seemed to echo what she felt, and his light touch against her fingers brought her the oddest sense of mutual attraction, of loneliness dispelled, of welcome, of coming ho—

She gasped when she realized where her thoughts were going. She couldn’t go there. She just couldn’t. This wasn’t home, and this man was all wrong for her.

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

She had to get away. Now. No matter how many dogs she left behind. As she’d thought a number of times before, her sanity depended on it. No matter what she felt whenever she was in Zach’s presence.


GINNY AIKEN

Born in Havana, Cuba, raised in Valencia and Caracas, Venezuela, Ginny Aiken discovered books early and wrote her first novel at age fifteen while she trained with the Ballets de Caracas, later known as the Venezuelan National Ballet. She burned that tome when she turned a “mature” sixteen. Stints as reporter, paralegal, choreographer, language teacher and retail salesperson followed. Her life as wife, mother of four boys and herder of their numerous and assorted friends brought her back to books and writing in search of her sanity. She’s now the author of more than twenty published works and a frequent speaker at Christian women’s and writers’ workshops, but has yet to catch up with that elusive sanity.


A Daughter’s Homecoming

Ginny Aiken






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


And [I] will be your Father unto you, and ye shall be my sons and daughters, saith the Lord Almighty.

—2 Corinthians 6:18


This one is dedicated to the memory of my late mother, Olga, and to my dad, Juan. Their home is on the Puget Sound, in a small town very much like Lyndon Point. Miss you, Mom. Love you, Dad.


Contents

Chapter One (#ub4a5dd8a-1b0d-5bff-b607-abe34fb5eee2)

Chapter Two (#u8655209e-e06a-5fce-ae2b-9fd7c9e09845)

Chapter Three (#u3f8939bb-9029-5e32-bf98-b46758c09624)

Chapter Four (#u1c0670ec-5ca5-5c96-a63b-29dd0232850e)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)

Questions for Discussion (#litres_trial_promo)

Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One

Lyndon Point, Washington State

With a heartfelt sigh, Gabriella Carlini stood up from where she’d sat for a moment’s break. The top step of the back stoop to her parents’ restaurant wasn’t the finest place to rest, but it had been the best at that moment. She opened the kitchen door to Tony’s and wrinkled her nose when the unpleasant tang struck her nostrils. She’d expected to find all kinds of disorganization when she got to Tony’s, since her mother was at home caring for Gabi’s ailing father instead of running the restaurant. But the actual state in which she’d found the place went far beyond a mess.

Food had spoiled when the teen part-timers her parents employed had refrigerated new deliveries and merely pushed the older supplies behind the new. Now she had bins of potatoes and onions gone bad, loaves of cheese and logs of pizza meats gone well beyond their sell-by dates and straight to spoiled, and the vegetable crispers were full of limp and unusable produce.

She should have come home when her mother called to tell her about her father’s stroke, as she’d wanted to do. But Mama, as she still called her mother, in the old Italian way, had insisted Papa was receiving the best of care and she had everything under control....

How wrong she’d been!

Now, though, there was nothing to do but get back to work—as she’d been doing since nigh unto the crack of dawn. As she stepped inside, a flash of movement to her right in the alley out back caught her eye. When she turned to see what might have darted past the Dumpster, nothing struck her as out of the ordinary in the grubby concrete landscape. The thought of a rat turned her already iffy stomach. She scooted inside and slammed the steel door shut, then went straight to the massive metal refrigerator to throw out more of the old food.

With her hand outstretched to the refrigerator door’s latch handle, she sent a prayer heavenward. “Lord, please don’t let rats have taken up residence in the alley. I still have a number of trips’ worth of trash to haul out before I can seek sanctuary in the kitchen. I’ll clean out foul refrigerators any day, gladly wash sticky shelves, scrub grungy floors, but—ugh!” She shuddered at the thought of an encounter of the rodent kind.

“Hey, Miss Carlini.”

She jumped inches off the ground. “Dylan!” Her heart pounded like a bass drum. “You shouldn’t sneak up on anyone like that, you know?”

“Sorry, ma’am.” The lanky nineteen-year-old with a painful-looking stud through his eyebrow and a map of crooked roadways carved through his quarter-inch-long buzz-cut hair came close. Then he waved toward the kitchen. “I’m so sorry about what happened earlier. I never knew how soon all that food would go bad, plus when the delivery truck brought new cheese and sausage and stuff...well, I guess Kirstie and I didn’t think about using the old stuff up first. If there’s anything I can do...”

Feeling about a thousand years old every time he called her Miss Carlini—or worse, ma’am—Gabi let the fridge door close. Dylan had already apologized five times that morning. “Tell you what. First, call me Gabi. Then you have to remember that sauce spoils in five days, even in a fridge. And then you can make it up to me by emptying the last bin under the counter. We’ll figure out the next step in our plan of attack after that.”

Dylan darted his gaze toward the dining room, the bin and her. Gabi wondered if he might be weighing the merits of bailing on his part-time job. But then he squared his shoulders and gave a tight nod. “I’ll go get a trash bag.”

Thank You, Lord! Although she wished she didn’t need to recruit the teen for the unpleasant task, she had little chance of getting the job done quickly without his help. They had to clean it all up before health department authorities showed up for a random check of the premises, which they were known to do. That could spell disaster. For Tony’s...and for her family.

As she opened the refrigerator, she heard a sound behind her, near the kitchen door. She paused, listened.

Nothing.

“Strange.” She must have imagined it.

After taking—and holding—a deep breath, Gabi opened the crisper drawer.

The faint noise rang out again.

Then yet again.

Ears alert to any further sound, she glanced toward the dining room. Three teenage part-timers were setting up for lunch, so she was on her own in the kitchen. Obviously something had made that noise...but what? Shoulders squared, she closed the refrigerator, then headed toward the back, pausing when she reached the door, praying for protection from rats. The rapid-fire metallic tap-tap-tap, scratch-scratch-scratch started up again.

Braced for whatever she might find, she very slowly pressed the door handle, then yanked.

“Oh, my...”

The sight on the other side stunned her. She never could have envisioned the little dog, part Jack Russell terrier, part unidentified shaggy, with long floppy ears, luminous brown eyes and, as a finishing touch, a thin C-shaped tail, which it immediately tucked between its legs. It shivered.

Even on this hot June morning.

* * *

As Gabi stared down at the filthy, bedraggled mutt, unsure of what to do next, the poor animal shook harder.

She took a step forward.

It dropped, then rolled onto its back, four paws in the air, still quaking without pause. That’s when she realized how undernourished he was. Every rib tented saggy skin that showed blotches here and there, where patches of fur had either fallen or been yanked out. She didn’t want to think along the latter lines, to imagine what kind of altercation might have caused the bare spots.

“Easy, boy,” she crooned. “I won’t let anyone hurt you. Let me come closer, now, to see what’s up with those sores. I only want to help.”

She dropped to her knees, aware that even her five-foot-two height would intimidate the little guy. Scooting closer, inch by inch, she continued cooing softly to keep him calm. After a couple of minutes, once she’d reached him, she noted how even more of the angry red blotches mapped his belly and scrawny chest. A blood-encrusted scrape on his right rear thigh looked like it might be the result of another animal’s bite.

After a silent prayer, she extended a hand, not touching the dog, waiting to see if he would accept her. He froze. The shivers stopped. His brown eyes stared at her with laser focus. As she lowered her fingers to just a whisper away, he reached out and licked her palm.

“Hello there,” she murmured. He licked again. And again.

Then he flipped up onto his four paws and went for her face, apparently intent on returning her show of kindness with a multitude of kisses. She backed up just out of his tongue’s reach, not knowing the state of his health. She did, however, rub him under the side of his chin. He melted again at her touch.

From this close vantage point, he looked worse than before. He was half-starved, filthy, his coat matted beyond rescue by a good groomer, and all the skin she now saw between clumps of scruffy hair appeared red and irritated. She had to do something for the little guy.

“But I can’t take you home with me,” she said, more for her benefit than his. She sat at his side, taking a momentary break in the rubbing caresses. “Mama has enough on her hands with Papa’s recovery, and I’m going back to Cleveland as soon as possible. My landlord made a huge deal on the lease about pets—none allowed.”

The dog nudged her hand with his moist black button nose. From deep in his throat came a string of growly conversational sounds, at the end of which he cocked his head to one side and stared.

When she didn’t respond as he seemed to want, he let out a whiny whimper. His killer stare never let up.

“What am I going to do with you?”

He again nudged her hand, then began to lick fingers she figured stank of the garbage she’d dumped. “You’re beyond hungry, aren’t you? And...you know what? I can do much better than smelly fumes on my hands.”

She settled him back on the floor and headed for the refrigerator. She rummaged inside, grabbed one of the five-pound chubs of hamburger she’d kept front and center after she’d disposed of the spoiled stuff, and verified the expiration date on the plastic wrapping.

“Perfect.” She glanced at her new buddy. “You’re going to love a chunk of this. Trust me.”

In a few minutes, the scent of browning wholesome meat filled the kitchen. A clean, stainless-steel mixing bowl would do well as the pup’s new dish. He piped up, letting out a handful of excited yips as he bounced in the air like a dirty, four-legged bouncy ball.

Gabi marveled at his spirited display. How could a creature as forsaken as this one muster so much energy? He was little more than stretched skin and sharp bone. As she smiled, the word indomitable came to mind.

When the meat had cooked through, she served up the dog’s savory meal, stirred it to cool enough to make it safe for consumption and then set it down on the back stoop. After all, health ordinances did forbid animals in commercial kitchens.

She had to decide what to do with the half-starved stray. The half-starved stray who at that moment was eating hamburger as fast as he could, letting out appreciative grunts as he wolfed it all down.

She sat next to him to think through her dilemma.

“Hey, Miss...er...Gabi— Whoa!” Dylan caught the door he’d flung open to keep it from slamming into Gabi. And the dog.

The dog surprised her when he quit licking the now-empty bowl and scurried into her lap. He then growled a low, deep warning at the teen.

Dylan respected the threat with hands-to-shoulders in the universal sign of surrender. “All right. I got it. It’s okay.” Without looking away from the tiny canine, he spoke to Gabi. “Where’d he come from?”

“He scratched at the door. He’s starving—literally.”

The teen’s look came full of doubt. “I don’t think feeding him’s such a great idea. He might get the wrong impression.” Dylan gave her a questioning look. “Or maybe...not so wrong?”

She shrugged.

He went on. “My mom’s always said once you feed a stray, you’re pretty much stuck with it for life.”

“That better not be the case this time.” She sighed. “I can’t keep him.”

“So what are you going to do with him?”

Her question precisely. “Not sure yet. I’m thinking.”

“The animal shelter’s got a new director.” Dylan fingered the steel ball on the stud through his eyebrow. “He’s supposed to have fixed it up, fired the slackers, hired new people, scrubbed even the ceiling and turned it into a no-kill place.”

“And you know all this because...?”

He quirked his lips. “It was a real big deal in town a couple of months ago. The new director came up from Sacramento with all kinds of new ideas. Some people didn’t like it, others loved it. But everybody had something to say about it.”

“If you’re sure it’s a no-kill shelter, then it’s probably the best place for this little guy.”

“Unless you keep—”

“I know.” She sighed again. She wished she could. Something about the ragtag critter drew her right in. Maybe it was his ready friendliness and overwhelming trust. Or maybe his eyes. “I can’t. I really can’t. I’m going back to my life in Cleveland as soon as things are settled here for my parents, and I can’t keep pets in my rental.”

“That’s too bad.” He gestured at the stray. “He really likes you.”

The dog barked as though he agreed with Dylan. And with Gabi. The unexpectedly likable stray stared at her with his enormous brown eyes beneath that tangle of muddy brown hair. He tugged at her heart, but she couldn’t change reality.

“Okay, then. That’s the plan.” She cradled the scrap of ratty fur and bones in her arms and then stood. “I’ll take him over to the shelter. Can you hold down the fort while I’m gone? It won’t take long.”

After Dylan handed her the purse she kept on a shelf near the back door, Gabi hurried down the street to the old shelter building, stray in her arms. For years the place had been known as a dismal pit, populated with unwanted pets captured by Animal Control. It had been in need of a different kind of someone to take over the reins. She hoped this director knew what he was doing. The pooch in her arms and all the other discards deserved it.

Her little guy’s pink tongue darted out and he licked her chin.

Tears welled in Gabi’s eyes. He was going to make someone a great pal. Too bad it wouldn’t be her.

* * *

For a thirty-year-old failure, Zachary Davenport figured he was finally getting it right. He turned off the water at the steel sink where they bathed the small and mid-size dogs relinquished to the Lyndon Point Animal Shelter and grabbed the towel on top of the tall stack of clean linen. A hint of the crisp, familiar scent of chlorine bleach in the fabric struck his senses, and he smiled in satisfaction.

When he’d first arrived to assume his position at the shelter, the only thing he’d smelled had been ammonia from unkempt animal cages. Shocked to the core, he’d fired every last employee and declared war against the sad conditions. He’d hired a new crew, invited a group of caring volunteers to join their efforts and bought all the commercial disinfectant cleaner he could get his hands on. Armed with scrub brushes and hoses, he and his team had set about to transform the shelter. His furry-haired charges might have been unwanted and mistreated in their previous situations, but now that they were under his care, they would have a much better quality of life.

He wiped up the water he’d splashed and dripped with his used towel before tossing it in the wheeled white-cloth laundry bin. As the managing director he didn’t have to shoulder the minutiae of the rescue’s daily chores, but he loved animals, and if he went too long without contact with the dogs and cats, he missed them.

He loved what he was doing these days.

What he didn’t love were the occasional memories and jabs of guilt that struck when he least expected them. Zach wondered if he’d ever forget, if he would ever put his past behind him and really move on—

“Hey, boss!” Claudia called from the front desk, mercifully dragging him back to the present. “We’ve got a new one—just walked in—and he’s cute, too. But I have to hit the road if I’m going to get to the orthodontist in time for Eva’s appointment.”

“Things are under control here, so go ahead.” He hung up the waterproof apron and snagged an intake folder from his office on the way to the reception area. “Really, Claudia, there’s nothing to worry about. As long as Oscar’s still out back, he and I can handle whatever comes in while you’re gone.” He waved the folder as he pushed through the swinging door. “See? I’m prepared.”

Claudia smiled, slung her bag over her shoulder and walked to the door. “See ya in a couple of hours!”

Another step, and Zach stopped. Oh, sure. The dog was cute. But the woman who held the filthy creature in her arms was much cuter. She stood, if lucky, a couple of inches over five feet, and her dirt-stained pink T-shirt and cutoff jean shorts displayed nicely rounded curves. On her feet, she wore a pair of pink flip-flops, revealing toenails painted hot pink.

She must really like the happy color.

She looked vaguely familiar, but he knew he’d never met her. He wouldn’t have forgotten if he had.

A thin line etched itself between her eyebrows as midnight-dark eyes darted from the neat counter to the clean but worn chairs and finally to him. She nibbled her bottom lip. More than anything else, the riot of curls she wore leashed into a thick ponytail snared his gaze. The sunlight poured in through the glass front door and her inky-black locks caught it, reflecting back vibrancy and life. As he stared, he couldn’t stop a smile.

He held out his hand in greeting, his gaze still on her swinging curls. “Hi. Zach Davenport, the shelter’s director. How can I help you?”

She clamped her lips, then tipped up her rounded chin, arms tighter around the dog, who snuggled into the curve of her neck. Okay. The lady had rejected the handshake. The only thing on her mind was the filthiest Heinz 57 canine he’d seen in a long time. Feeling stupid, he slipped his hand back into his pants pocket and rattled the intake papers.

“Let’s start with—”

“Please promise he’ll get a fair deal here.”

Zach blinked. Talk about direct. Fortunately, in this instance, he had a clear conscience. He smiled again and pointed to the No-Kill emblem on the glass door. “We don’t give these fellows expiration dates, and we do our best for them. We clean them, feed them, nurse them to health if they need it, and do everything possible to find them good forever homes.”

The stiffness in her shoulders eased a fraction as she clung to his every word.

The dog wriggled in her clutches.

She glanced down at her bundle of fur, and a slow, sweet grin revealed a dimple in her right cheek. But then she drew herself back up, squared her shoulders and met Zach’s gaze.

Her brown eyes reminded him of melted chocolate, with their anxious expression. As his gaze latched on to hers, Zach felt a surprising need to reassure her about the dog’s future care, so he took a step closer.

* * *

He caught himself, stopped. As appealing as she was, he was a professional and he couldn’t afford to let this woman distract him from his work. She spoke again with the bedraggled pile of dirty dog held close as though it were Lassie or Benji or even Toto come back to life. He gave her stray another look. Not a chance. This one was scruffy and muddy. Time to get to work. They had a dog in need to deal with.

He stepped closer, ready to take hold of her charge, then took a deep breath—and reared back. Oof!

The dog and his escort had come in on a wave of a strong, offensive odor. Zach knew he and the stray would be revisiting the animal-bathing tub immediately. This newest intake was in dire need of shampoo and lots of water.

Her cheeks colored to a pretty rose. “I’m sorry. He’s a mess, and I’ve been— Well, I was cleaning out some spoiled...stuff. For lack of a better word, we’re both quite smelly.”

For a moment, he wondered about the “spoiled stuff,” but then focused on the matter before him. “I see,” he said in a mild tone. He reached for the scrap of canine in her arms. “So then...about the dog?”

A worried look drew her eyebrows together and her arms tightened the smallest bit.

The pup yipped.

Her deep inhale quivered. “He’s not mine. I found him in the service alley behind my parents’ business. He needs a home.” She visibly pulled herself together again and nailed Zach with that penetrating stare again. “A good home. I’m here to make sure he gets one. And after I leave today, I will come back. To check up on him. As often as it takes to make sure things finally go his way.”

Waving the intake folder, he stepped to her side, smell or no smell. “Let’s see what I can do for you—er...for him.”


Chapter Two

Gabi didn’t get a good look at the man in the shelter until he stood right next to her, a folder tucked under one arm, his intention clear as he reached for her stray. The first thing that drew her attention from the dog to the director, alerting her to his nearness, was his clean, fresh scent. The aftershave he’d used sometime earlier in the day still lingered and offered a spicy hint of woody crispness, a welcome change after she’d spent the past couple of hours smelling a decided...um...lack of freshness.

The shelter director really was attractive. While not an overly tall man, maybe even a hair less than six feet, he still was much bigger than Gabi’s five foot two. The navy blue scrub top he wore lay smooth across a broad chest and wide shoulders, suggesting solid power. His face, not model-handsome, had an outdoorsy bronze glow and exuded strength and character with those rugged lines, a nose with a bump that suggested a long-ago break, and that wide, easy grin. Twin sunbursts of smile creases at his temples bracketed gray eyes, and a shock of streaky dark blond hair brushed his forehead. He didn’t look anything like Gabi would have imagined a man who spent his days indoors caring for homeless animals would look. While she’d naively expected a stereotypical lab tech with dark-rimmed glasses, this man appeared as though he belonged on a ski slope, training for Olympic races, or maybe climbing Mount Rainier, tethered to the rock face by some skinny rope and a handful of flimsy aluminum gadgets. Clearly, the new director didn’t spend all his time inside, bathing dogs and plowing through mountains of paperwork. She wondered what kind of sport appealed to an animal lover.

Or, rather, someone she hoped was an animal lover.

What kind of man would choose this kind of work? What had made him become a shelter director instead of...oh...maybe a Forest Service wildlife biologist? It surprised her to note how this man she’d just met piqued her curiosity.

As her imagination ran amok, his voice rumbled through her. It resonated with a richness that drew her, its calm cadence a welcome invitation to relax. He probably used that comforting approach, that same warm voice to soothe anxious animals.

Then she realized he was waiting. For her response.

Great. She was making a splendid impression, all spaced out like that.

“...don’t you like him?”

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “I...ah...got distracted. You were saying?”

His distinctive gray eyes narrowed a fraction. “I wanted to know why you won’t keep the little guy.”

Gabi glanced at the rascal in her arms, the tug on her heart stronger than ever. She rubbed a finger over his head, and he leaned into her touch. The tug grew more insistent. “I wish I could, but I’m only in town to take care of a family matter. My landlord back home has a no-pet, no-exception rule. If I take this guy back to Cleveland with me, we’ll both be homeless.”

He arched a brow. “Cleveland, huh? Pretty far away. And you have family here?”

A family everyone in Lyndon Point knew. Only too well.

The shelter director’s question revealed how new he was to town. All the longtime residents knew her by sight, definitely by the picture her parents kept behind the cash register at Tony’s.

“I grew up here,” she said, “but I left for college in Ohio. Once I finished my degrees, I found a job I love in Cleveland...and so I stayed. But my family is still here.”

“Do you come back frequently?”

A blush crept up Gabi’s cheeks. “Um...well, not as often as my parents would like.”

Again, his brow rose, but he said nothing. He just studied her, and Gabi felt twitchier by the second. She wished she’d taken the time to clean up. Looking—and smelling—like she must by now from cleaning that mess of a kitchen and hugging a stray dog, he had her at a huge disadvantage. Especially since he seemed to be taking her measure, maybe judging her on even the little she’d revealed.

What would he think if he knew how conflicted she felt about life in Lyndon Point—where she was always surrounded by her big, boisterous family and measured by that yardstick? Viewed through that magnifying glass?

Gabi stiffened her spine. She’d made her choices years ago after much consideration. She had nothing to apologize for. Certainly not to some hunk who worked with a bunch of cute unwanted critters.

Just then, the critter in her arms began to wriggle. In less than a nanosecond, he bailed from her clasp. “Hey, you! Get back here.”

The scamp was no fool. He darted between the shelter director’s legs and slipped past the cracked-open door to the building’s inner workings. Gabi took off after him, embarrassment a powerful motivator. She chased her charge—temporary charge—into a large chamber where a cacophony of barks, yips and howls deafened her. She pulled up short.

A pang pierced her heart as she looked around at all the chain-link jails—well, cages, she supposed. Emotions aside, the room was lined on three walls with kennel runs, which were undeniably clean and large, but the residents still rattled the gates with the force of their efforts to escape. Or did they just want to join her, Zach and her foundling for what probably looked to them like a whole lot of hide-and-seek fun?

Oh, get a grip. Both of those thoughts were crazy. She shouldn’t project her feelings, good or bad, onto the dogs. They probably were simply excited by her unexpected presence in the building. And sure, every animal wanted to run free all the time, but it could pose a real danger to a dog out on the streets. At least here at the shelter, these guys were clean and safe.

A few kennels, however, revealed shy, skittish residents huddled in a corner. Her heart went out to them. The rowdy barking was enough to drive her nuts, so she could only imagine how these poor, scared canines felt about the constant racket. Or maybe her oversensitivity to the noise just showed she wasn’t cut out to be a dog owner, after all. Of course! That was it. The little guy she’d found would be better off in a forever home with someone else. She sighed. Somehow that didn’t comfort her much. Her stray had a quite a gift. He’d known just how to worm his way into her heart.

Setting her melancholy aside, she studied the large area, her attention lingering on the various dogs. The shelter population ranged from exquisite examples of the most popular breeds—a couple of retrievers, some shelties and cocker spaniels, a cute Pomeranian, one gorgeous blue-eyed Siberian husky—all the way to a collection of the typical mixed-breeds, whose only claim to fame was the pull they exerted on the viewer’s heart.

Gabi drew in a deep breath and caught the scent of good, strong disinfectant cleaner underlain with a hint of animal musk. The barking continued, the exuberance somewhat tempered but still begging for attention. She felt still another pang. In spite of the satisfactory conditions, these other guys still had no owner to play with and lavish love on them. Yet.

Again, yearning unfurled inside her, a longing for something just beyond her grasp. She was in no position to help these dogs any more than she could help her own stray. Which thought brought her back from her fanciful imaginings to her present dilemma. Where had the little scamp gone?

When she didn’t spot her wayward charge anywhere, Gabi spun around, plunked her fists on her hips and glared at the shelter’s director. “Don’t just stand there...er...” What was his name? “Um...Zeke—”

“It’s Zach.”

To her intense annoyance, she saw the corner of Zach’s mouth twitch as though trying to widen into a smile. Her mortification grew.

She tossed her ponytail back over her shoulder in an effort to regain the dignity she’d lost the moment she stuck her head in the refrigerator back at the restaurant. And...well, a touch of the bravado she lacked, too.

“Okay, Zach. Are you going to stand there and laugh at me, or are you going to help me find your newest—what do you call them? Residents? Guests?”

He glanced at the noisy canines with a gentle smile on his lips. The evidence of his caring touched Gabi.

“They’re our guests.” He set down the manila folder he’d carried since he’d first walked into the shelter’s waiting room and crossed his arms. “But it doesn’t look like yours wants to join the others.”

She shot Zach a rueful smile. “No, it doesn’t. And it won’t make a difference, since I don’t have much choice.”

He turned slowly, his gray eyes scanning the auditorium-sized room. “I know you said you have a lease issue, but what about your parents? Wouldn’t they like to help you out with your new friend? After all, you did say you found him behind their business.”

Gabi winced. “Any other time, I would have taken him home to Papa, but my father had a stroke four weeks ago, and his recovery has been rougher than we ever imagined. Mama’s hands are full taking care of our cranky patient, who has no intention of slowing down, no matter what the doctors say.”

“I’m sorry.”

The warmth in his expression made Gabi’s eyelids sting. She fought back the tears, knowing full well that the moment she let down her guard the floodgates would open, and then even Noah’s rainstorm would pale in comparison. She didn’t want to bawl like a baby in front of the most dynamic man she’d met in years.

“Yeah, me too. Thanks.” She took a deep breath. “Let’s see if we can catch this escape artist so I can get back to work.”

“Work?” Zach dropped down on one knee to check behind a stack of white five-gallon pails near the back of the room. “I thought you said you work in Cleveland.”

“I do, but I’m helping out at Tony’s right now. Mama hasn’t gone in since Papa had the stroke.”

He glanced over his shoulder. “No wonder you looked familiar. That picture in the restaurant is you.” He studied her for a moment, then he smiled. “So you’re the Carlinis’ Gabi. I’ve heard a lot about you. Everyone who meets your parents does.”

The blush shot straight up to her forehead. “I’m sorry they bored you with all that stuff. No matter what, I can’t get them to stop.”

“Don’t apologize.” He stood. “My mom and dad have been gone for six and eight years now, and I miss them every day. I wouldn’t mind being embarrassed by their pride every now and then, if that meant they were still around. You don’t know how lucky you are.”

Gabi braced against the shudder. Oh, yes. She knew.

Sure, she had some issues when it came to her family—fine, fine, more than some. Still, a surge of fear so intense it knotted her stomach, making it hard to breathe, and strong enough to almost bring her to her knees, had struck when Mama had called to tell her about Papa’s stroke. Her knees had remained weak and her icy hands had shivered for hours after the phone call. Gabi had never felt so vulnerable in her life.

Antonio Carlini was gruff and a tease and as Old Country as they came, but he was also a rock, her papa. In a vague, subconscious way, she’d always known her parents were getting older, but her mother’s phone call had made that reality much more real. It had shaken her that day. It still did.

But as much as she loved her folks, there were some things about their boisterous...oh...Italian-ness that made her crazy. That wasn’t anything Zach needed to know. “Thanks—again. Anyway, no sign of the beastlet over there?”

He chuckled as he stood. “None, but let’s not give up yet. He’s pretty small, and we store mountains of supplies back here. He could hide just about anywhere.”

Gabi smiled back. “And we won’t hear an informant ratting on him, will we?”

She peeked into the corner behind a neat stack of sealed tubs of antibacterial products but found no trace of her escapee. Then she heard a rustle and a crunch from the other side of the room, where fifty-pound sacks of kibble lay in a neat stack about ten high, looking much like a store display—supersize, of course.

She turned, grinned, brought a finger to her lips. “Listen.” More crunches. “I found him. Look over there, at your mountain of dog kibble sacks.”

He quirked up one corner of his mouth and pointed toward their left. “You go that way,” he said in an equally quiet voice. “I’ll go to the right. Maybe he’s so hungry he won’t hear us coming.”

Gabi grinned. “The element of surprise.”

“You got it.” Mischief twinkled in the silver-flecked gaze. “On the count of three. One, two, three...go!”

Quickly and quietly Gabi followed his command.

The munching continued. A few feet away, she slowed, matched her steps to Zach’s. The pup’s hunger appeared unabated, his burger meal notwithstanding.

With her bottom lip between her teeth, she stepped closer, hoping the fugitive didn’t make himself sick eating so much so fast. Time to retrieve him, for his own good. She mouthed, Ready?

Zach nodded. “Grab a bag—I will, too. That’ll flush him out.”

They reached at the same time, yanked two sacks of kibble out of the way. The munching stopped with a startled yip. Sharp claws scrabbled against sleek concrete floor after a second of silence. Then the filthy scrap of canine darted out from the right side of the rest of the stacked bags. Zach was ready for him.

“Gotcha!” The shelter director scooped up Gabi’s find, undeterred by the dog’s filthy coat and strong eau de mutt scent, even though his nostrils did twitch.

“I hate to say it, but I do need to get back to Tony’s.” Her gaze stuck to the little dog. She wished she could—

No. She couldn’t let herself think like that. For the umpteenth time, she reminded herself that she was in no position to adopt a stray. “What do we need to do next?”

Zach narrowed his eyes and tightened his lips. But all he said was, “Paperwork. Let me put this guy in his own guest quarters so he doesn’t get away from us again, and then we can take care of the business end of things. You need to know we’re about to have an adoption fair in a week’s time. He’ll be included in it—all the animals in the shelter at that time will be. Are you sure about this?”

Tears stung Gabi’s eyes once again. No, she wasn’t sure. But she had a lease to honor. And she’d built a whole life somewhere else. She was sure of that. But about the dog...

She swallowed. Hard. “I’m sure.”

She hoped.

* * *

“Pretty girl, isn’t she?” Oscar Worley, the shelter’s most faithful volunteer, asked Zach a few minutes after Gabi Carlini had left.

“It’s a he.” Zach held the still-trembling new arrival close to his chest while the sink filled with warm water. “And I don’t know how you can say he’s pretty. Filthy and a ragtag assortment of dog breed parts? Yes. Cute once I wash him? Maybe. Lovable? Of course. But a pretty dog? No way.”

Oscar tsk-tsked. “Never made you out for a fool, Zach. The girl. That girl’s awfully pretty. She always has been a pretty one, with those big brown eyes and all that dark hair, ever since she was a little thing.”

Even though he fought it with all his might, the blush reached up to the roots of Zach’s hair. “Ah...well, I...um...paid attention to the dog. I did have a job to do.”

Oscar laughed. “Fess up, now, boss. I know Gabi and I know you. She’s pretty, you noticed, and it’s perfectly fine if you are drawn to a girl like her. No shame in that, son. None at all.”

To avoid Oscar’s too-keen gaze, Zach turned off the spigot and plopped his new charge into the warm water. “Now that you mention it, okay—” The pup’s yelps gave him cover, so he cut off his response. He turned to the dog but continued to glance at Oscar as he worked.

“A man could do worse, Zach,” the older man said. “Much worse. She’s a terrific young woman—smart, hardworking, with a heart as big as our Puget Sound.” He winked. “And pretty.”

Zach sent his friend a crooked grin. “I think you’ve said it about a dozen times, Oscar. I get your drift. But I’m the last man who’s looking for a ‘pretty’ girl. Not right now, that’s for sure. I’ve got a lot on my plate—too much.” He cleared his throat. “Remember, I’m new around here. Lyndon Point’s counting on me to put the shelter on solid footing, and that’s going to take up just about all of my time. Maybe a couple of years from now I’ll look around for one of these ‘pretty’ girls of yours. Right here in town, too, okay?”

“Just watch out, son.” The older man ran a hand through his thinning white hair. “The good ones, they don’t come around all that often, you know. If a man’s not paying attention, some other smarter fellow will snap up the one who’s walking by. Right out from under your nose.”

A squirt of canine shampoo frothed into gunky brown suds on the dog’s dirty coat. It was going to take multiple tries to get him clean. “That’s why I’m not looking these days. Right now, my situation’s not one that lends itself to dating. I can’t afford the time, so I don’t look. That way, the one that gets snapped up won’t cause me any heartburn. I choose to focus on the dogs. And the cats.”

Oscar reached for the industrial steel bucket on wheels where he’d mixed hot water and the shelter’s pungent antibacterial cleaner, and headed toward the rear section of kennels. “Just make sure you don’t pass up the right one just because you’re still letting what’s over and done with hold you back. Look around you, son. Smell the salt air. Trust God.” He drew a deep breath. “Otherwise, you could wind up filling your days with a bucket and a mop just to get out of an empty, lonely house. Like me.”

Zach sucked in a rough breath. He couldn’t deny the wisdom in his friend’s words, but although Oscar waited for a reply, he didn’t answer. He knew the older man was right to a point, but he wasn’t ready for a relationship. Not yet. His wounds were too raw.

And they hadn’t even been inflicted by a woman.

From his perspective, a romance-gone-wrong had to be easier to overcome. His failure had been greater, went more to the core than a rough breakup ever could. He’d failed in his career, his dream. Ever since the first time he’d helped his mother knead a lump of bread at the family kitchen table, he’d dreamed of owning a restaurant, of becoming a great chef. And he’d achieved it.

For too brief a time.

No eatery, no matter how elegant or welcoming or appealing, and no chef, no matter how creative, competent or caring, could succeed if diners fell ill. As they had at his restaurant.

Salmonella had stolen in on the produce he’d bought from an upscale organic operation, borne by unsterile fertilizer. Meals he’d prepared with those beautiful but invisibly tainted vegetables had sent people to the hospital. He’d endangered their health, their lives. Any of them could have died. It was a burden Zach would bear for the rest of his days.

No. He wasn’t ready to indulge in the frivolous pleasure of dating a pretty girl.

And, regardless of how Oscar saw her, Gabi Carlini was no longer a girl. She was a woman, a beautiful woman who loved dogs, in spite of her lease requirements, and pink, a color he’d always associated with sassy, lighthearted fun.

Did the association match Gabi Carlini, as well?


Chapter Three

As Gabi walked back to her parents’ restaurant, she couldn’t help but wonder what Zach thought of her. His steel-gray gaze had strayed toward her numerous times as she’d signed all those forms that turned the stray over to the shelter’s care. While she had no idea what he thought of her, she suspected whatever opinion he held didn’t much flatter her. His expressive eyes had said more than the words he’d spoken.

Of course, he didn’t know her crazy family, either, the whole extended lot of them. Even if he did know her parents from eating at Tony’s, which really didn’t count.

Why it mattered to her so much coming from him, she didn’t know. She just knew it did. Besides, she couldn’t stand the thought of any more taunts about Mafia dons or corny Dean Martin songs about pizzas and moons and people’s eyes. It had happened too often and with too many people. In fact, she’d had more than a bellyful of them to color her life in Lyndon Point a negative shade of embarrassment. Really, it shouldn’t matter, since she wasn’t likely to see him again other than to check on the dog, but the scenario had played itself out too often in her childhood and teen years.

She didn’t want it to happen with Zach Davenport.

Oh, good grief. What was she thinking? She had to get back to Cleveland before she let all the ancient history affect her life again. She had to get away from Lyndon Point before her hard-gained individual identity and self-esteem retreated to high school levels. To do that, she had to get Tony’s back on sure footing.

At the restaurant, Gabi put the dog and the shelter’s attractive new director out of her mind and marshaled her troops. With the help of her parents’ teen employees, she scrubbed, dumped, disinfected and still managed to keep the dining room open for hungry customers.

Hours flew by. Her back began to ache and Cleveland loomed even more appealing than before. She missed her routine back in Ohio, her uncomplicated life, her cute home, and especially her best friend and perennial roommate since college, Allison Stoddard.

A half hour later, on her way to the back door at Tony’s yet one more time, the need to touch base with that faraway life got to her, and Gabi paused to place a call. Allie answered with a squeal, and the two women chattered as they always did, about everything and nothing, with the exuberance of close friends. She didn’t, however, stop what she’d been on the way to do, but instead sandwiched her cell phone between her right ear and shoulder as she continued lugging the trash toward the door. This latest bag of iffy ingredients headed to the Dumpster felt even heavier than the others.

“You’d never believe it,” she told Allie. “I’m up to my eyeballs in spoiled cheese and pizza sauce, and such close contact with a Dumpster makes it awful to breathe deep.”

As she stepped out into the dingy alley, she wrinkled her nose in appreciation for Lyndon Point’s fresh sea air as she prepared her approach to the trash container. “It reeks up to higher than the peak of Mount Rainier. You can’t imagine how much stuff can hide in the back of a commercial cooler.”

“Did anyone come down with food poisoning?” Allie asked. “It sounds like you have the—ahem!—perfect recipe there.”

“Whoa, don’t even go there, woman!” Gabi gave her load another tug. “We dodged a bullet on that account.” She explained what had happened. “Fortunately,” she added, “the kids my parents employ served the stuff in the front of the fridge, so no one got sick. When I opened the cooler and started to move things around, though, I caught a funky whiff, and that sent me digging. That’s when I found the expired ingredients. But food poisoning? That spells death for a restaurant.”

Gabi dropped the weighty sack to grab her phone. “Hang on a sec. I need both hands to get this trash bag into the Dumpster.” Moments later, she wiped her hands on the seat of her shorts and picked up her cell again. “I’m back.”

Allie went on. “Why don’t you just close down the place, if it’s in such bad shape?”

“Because Mama and Papa—”

“I just love how you say their names, with that Italian accent. It’s so...I don’t know. Old Country...Tuscan...cultured European.”

“Oh, stop.”

That was all she needed. For even Allie to see her as Old Country. That was her family, not her.

Still, Gabi couldn’t deny she’d always thought of her parents by the old-fashioned names. She doubted she could change, since it happened spontaneously, even now. The best thing for her to do was change the subject.

“Anyway,” she said, her voice firm, her tone deliberate, “my parents can’t pay insurance premiums or co-pays if money doesn’t come in. The bills from Dad’s stroke could clear the national debt.”

With her usual lack of tact, Allie plowed on. “Then put your years of experience to good use and find yourself a chef and a manager, so you can hustle back here to Cleveland. Damon’s not happy about your absence.”

Damon Schuler, Gabi’s boss, wasn’t endowed with patience. “I have four weeks of saved vacation plus another three of personal time. He can handle the office. For goodness’ sake, he’s the one who started the business.”

Allie snickered. “When I stopped there for the files you asked me to get, he had his tie flipped over a shoulder, glasses at the tip of his nose, and his hair looked like a bird’s nest.”

Gabi managed the Cleveland office of Damon’s Executive Placements firm, and before leaving, she’d been converting the hard-copy files of the office’s most high-powered executive clients to digital format. She’d asked Allie to ship those files to Lyndon Point, and planned to catch up in the evenings after she’d finished at Tony’s.

“Oh, please,” she said, using more oomph than she felt. “Did he forget he used to run things before the business grew so big he had to open satellite offices in other states? Of course, he can do it. If not, he can get his wife to help. Irene managed the office before they married.”

“Great minds think alike! When he complained about you abandoning him to all your work, I suggested a temp, but he countered with something about Irene claiming she’s forgotten everything in the twenty years since she left.” She hesitated. “Then he mentioned a Wilma and Florida, and ushered me out of his office. He did sound upset. And who’s Wilma?”

Guilt fought Gabi’s common sense. “Wilma took over after Irene. She retired to Florida when I started. Besides, whose side are you on—Damon’s or mine?”

“I’m on mine. I want my roomie back.”

“Believe me, I’m not crazy about being back in my hometown, but I can’t leave. Papa’s stroke was serious, and Mama won’t leave him for a second. He’s not debilitated enough for a nursing home, but he has to learn to use the wheelchair, and can’t care for himself yet. Therapy should get him there, but it’s been only a month since...”

“I know.” Allie’s voice softened. “I’m just being a brat—sorry. I do understand and would do the same if it was Dad.”

Allie’s mother had died of complications from diabetes their junior year in college. Father and daughter had grown closer than ever in the ensuing years.

Gabi stood and grasped the doorknob. “I should have come home as soon as Mama called that first night, but I foolishly let her talk me into postponing my return. If only I’d been here sooner, I could have kept Tony’s from becoming such a mess.”

“And if wishes were fishes—what is that cliché? I know there is one.”

“Beats me. I’m just a business major—you’re the teacher.” She sighed. “Anyway, gotta go. This place needs me more right now than you need me back there. Or Damon.”

Her parents needed her. She was there for them, no matter what. No matter how much her memories of growing up in Lyndon Point rattled her. No matter what the great-looking guy at the animal shelter might think of her.

* * *

At nine forty-five that night, Gabi walked into the house, more exhausted than she’d felt in years, But she didn’t have the luxury of taking time off, since she had to keep the restaurant afloat for her parents’ sakes. She went to her room, grabbed clean shorts and a T-shirt and hit the shower to wash off the grime of the day. Clean again, she walked down the stairs and to the kitchen. She made a beeline to the refrigerator for an icy can of root beer. Mama always stocked up when she knew Gabi was coming home. As she popped the tab, a note on the table caught her attention.

Her parents had gone to bed already, her mother wrote, and would see her in the morning. The translated message spoke of her mother’s expectation of Gabi’s detailed account of things at Tony’s. But how could she do that? If either of her parents knew how she’d found the place, they’d insist on running it themselves again. That would be devastating for her father. He was in no condition to work. Not yet.

Maybe never again—

No! She couldn’t think that way. His doctors had said Antonio Carlini would recover, and they expected him to return to work soon enough. True, he might never put in twelve hours a day like he had in the past, but they believed he should be able to spend a decent amount of time making the pizzas, calzones and pastas he loved to serve his faithful customers.

If he gave his body the chance to recover.

“Oh, Lord,” she said on a sigh. “Bless him with Your strength, cradle him in the palm of Your healing hand.”

Of course, she couldn’t tell Mama or Papa what she’d found in that kitchen. Besides, while cleaning out the fridge, a germ of an idea had popped into her thoughts and found fertile soil in her imagination. Soon she’d seen the restaurant in a different light.

Now she was sure that with her business know-how, she could help her parents upgrade Tony’s. If, instead of the kitschy pizza place it always had been, she were to turn it into a chic and elegant Italian bistro, surely they’d see reason. She felt certain positive change would inspire them to leave behind some of their more outdated ways. Then, if her parents led by example, maybe some of her other relatives would follow. Maybe the whole famiglia would see that toning things down a notch was the way to go. Never mind that Tony’s would make a lot more money in the process, with an upscale menu and an upmarket appeal. Those medical bills loomed enormous in Gabi’s mind, just as they did in her parents’ minds.

She pulled out a chair, kicked off her flip-flops and sat down to enjoy her root beer. As always, Mama had dimmed the lights in the kitchen, leaving enough illumination so no one would trip if they came down for a midnight snack or something to drink. Still, the low light let Gabi look around and appreciate the warmth and cozy appeal of the efficient space.

Her parents had bought their home when she was small, before property in the coastal areas just outside of Seattle, like nearby Edmonds and in Lyndon Point, had grown prohibitive. True, the house had been practically a wreck back then, but with equal amounts of elbow grease and love, the large Cape Cod–style white cottage had become a jewel. Even the kitchen.

These days, the cabinets were a glossy white, easy to clean and bright even on the Pacific Northwest’s dreariest days. Red-and-white-checked curtains framed the windows, a cheery echo of the red-and-white checkerboard-tile floor. A sprinkling of Mama’s red tchotchkes, her red apron, four sassy red canisters and Papa’s outrageous cookie jar—an enormous white rooster with a scarlet comb—turned the place into the whimsical family hub it had always been.

She smiled. This was the room that came to mind whenever she thought of home. Even though she’d tried, she’d been unable to replicate its feeling in the kitchen of the bungalow she and Allie shared in Cleveland, and that failure drove her crazy at times, since she’d tried so hard to get it right. The cabinets were almost identical in style and color, the curtains yellow-and-white checked, and she and her roommate had spent a whole lot of time shopping for the abundance of clever blue-and-yellow accessories they’d arranged around the room. It was a very pretty kitchen, perfect in every concrete aspect, but even so, that missing something-or-other eluded her.

It needed something special, something that gave it life.

Before she could stop it, the image of the stray jelled in her thoughts. How sweet it would be to have his company right then, to have him snuggle into the curve of her neck again. Gabi could almost hear the sound his claws would make against the kitchen floor as he trotted close.

A knot formed in her throat, and she wondered how the rascal was doing. The urge to hold him again made her sadder than she could have expected.

“You can call to check up on him,” Zach had said before she’d left. “The phone here is connected to my cell, so I can be reached whenever anyone finds a stray animal. You can call me anytime.”

The memory of the shelter director’s words was swiftly followed by the awareness of the lights she’d noticed on in the building when she’d walked past it about a half hour earlier. Was Zach Davenport still there? Would he really answer if she called?

She pulled out the business card he’d given her from the pocket of the clean cutoffs she’d put on after her shower. She stared at it, the need to know growing greater by the minute. Her stomach tightened with apprehension—and a touch of anticipation, too—as she dialed the number on the card.“Hello?” he said after the third ring.

She drew in a breath. “Hi...Zach? It’s Gabi. Gabriella Carlini. I dropped off a stray earlier today.”

It occurred to her to check the red-and-white clock above the stove. Almost ten o’clock. Oh, great. What nutcase called this late just to check on a dog she couldn’t keep?

Obviously, a nutcase like her.

“Gabi...?”

Her breath caught in her throat at the sound of his voice. She barely knew him, but Zach Davenport was a man who left a lasting impression.

She fought to keep her own voice from rising to a higher pitch than normal. “Yes, um...”

Silence came over the line. Then he cleared his throat. “How can I help you, Gabi?”

That voice...that rich tenor voice. A random thought crossed her jumbled mind. Did he sing? She suspected he’d be good—

“Ah...Gabi?”

She blinked. “Yes...well, I, uh, wondered how the little guy has settled in. And I saw the lights still on inside the shelter on my way home. Besides, you’d said the phone would ring directly to you, so I could call whenever. So, um, that’s what I did.”

Oh, no. She sounded like a blubbering fool. She shook herself to try and get it together. “How is he doing? Did someone adopt him?” She held her breath waiting for his response.

Which didn’t come. The seconds ticked by.

“Zach?” she asked.

The silence continued. Then he coughed. “Well, you see, it appears we have a, uh, small problem.”

Uh-oh. “A problem?”

“It appears your little buddy has...well, escaped.”

“No!” Gabi’s stomach tightened into rock. “I can’t believe this. You couldn’t have been so careless with him—”

“No one was careless. If you’d let me explain—”

“It better be a good explanation.” This couldn’t be happening. To think she’d trusted his shelter—him—with a live creature. And then he’d lost it. “You assured me you’d find him a good home. Losing him doesn’t fit that description.”

Again, he hesitated. “After we bathed him, we realized he has a lot of terrier in him. They’re great diggers, especially the smaller terrier breeds like the Westies, the Cairns and the Jack Russells. Because of that terrier instinct, your buddy decided to dig his way out by going under the fence around his run. He’s so small it couldn’t have taken much time or effort to make a big enough hole.”

“But you just said you realized he was a digging breed. Why didn’t you put him in some kind of cage?”

“All our guests have a run. They need exercise, a place to—er, well, go that’s separate from their den—their sleeping quarters. And besides, we’re required to provide it. Besides, I did check the fence. It was secure to the ground. He dug—deep.”

Gabi remembered the dog trembling, and anxiety swamped her. “Have you looked for him?”

“Of course. You saw the lights here at the building. I’ve been searching for the past hour, everywhere on our property and the neighborhood around us. Haven’t seen even a sign of him. Still, I suppose it’s better that you know what’s happened.”

She shouldn’t be this upset. Once she’d relinquished the dog into the shelter’s custody she had no further claim on him, not even on the kind or quality of care he received. The shelter and, by extension, its director, were now responsible for the animal’s welfare, not her. But in Zach’s voice she identified an echo of her concern, and that comforted her despite the crummy incident. She came to a quick decision, following her heart.

“Look, I’m getting Papa’s big flood-sized flashlight and coming to help you look.” She rummaged under the sink. “Aha! Here it is. Two sets of eyes are better than one, you know, especially where this little sneak is concerned.”

She held her breath, hoping he’d agree—and not just for the dog’s sake. She didn’t want to admit it, but deep inside she was curious about Zach, more now that she’d heard the worry resonate in his words. She wouldn’t mind seeing him again.

Even though she shouldn’t care one way or the other.

She wondered what he thought of her. First, she’d shown up dirty and stinky, bearing an equally dirty and stinky stray. Then, like some overprotective mommy, she’d called to check up on the dog she’d relinquished. To him.

Did he think she had questions about his competence? Did he think she doubted his ability to care for the dog?

More important, did she doubt him?

“Are you sure? I mean, it makes sense, two of us looking,” he said. “But it is late, and you must be tired.”

Was that a hint of relief in his voice? Even if she had inserted her feelings into her interpretation, she made up her mind. She headed for the living room, Mama’s old kitchen cordless phone between her shoulder and ear, flashlight in hand. “Yes, I’m sure. I’ll meet you at the shelter, and then we can decide what to do next.”

Without giving Zach an opportunity to object, she said goodbye, dropped the phone on the small console table by the front door and let herself out. The brisk night breeze off the Sound felt good against her face, its balmy touch a pleasant reminder to treasure it, since the capricious Pacific Northwest rains could change things in a flash. The salty tang of the sea tickled her nostrils, and she savored the familiar sense of coming home. The faint echo of the night’s last Edmonds Ferry horn’s blast traveled miles toward her in the quiet hush. Lyndon Point was a gorgeous place, with unique scenes and sounds that tempted the senses to a smorgasbord of experiences.

Ten minutes later, she rapped her knuckles against the locked door of the shelter. Footsteps approached.

“Ready?” she asked when Zach opened up.

As attractive as the shelter director had looked in his scrubs earlier that day, he was even more so in a royal-blue polo shirt and jeans. His hair was rumpled, as though he’d run his fingers through it more than once, and his eyes gleamed with a touch of blue, probably reflected from his shirt. She paused a moment and took in his masculine good looks.

“Let me lock up.” He pocketed the key, then turned to Gabi. “Like I told you, I’ve already searched the yards in the surrounding neighborhood, and I also checked with 911 dispatch. No dogs turned in, and no accidents involving dogs reported tonight, no dogs seen on the loose for them to notify Animal Control.”

She let out a sigh of relief. “I’m so glad. What do you suggest?”

“Terriers are strong-willed, determined canines. It occurred to me he might have decided to make his way back to where you first saw him, to the alley. I would have gone on my own—was about to leave, but...”

In the light of the streetlamp at the corner, Gabi saw his cheekbones redden. A sheepish expression spread over his attractive features.

As he drew out his silence, she prodded. “But...?”

“When I heard you on the phone, I wondered if he might not respond better to you than to me. He could have hidden in any of the yards I checked, but he might not trust me enough to let me see him, much less catch him. It was easy to see how much he liked you.”

She smiled, remembering how she’d felt when the little rough tongue had lapped at her hand. “Well, then, what are we waiting for?”

They set off at a quick pace, giving the vicinity of the shelter another quick search, and arrived at Tony’s a short while later. Dim light from the streetlamp three buildings away mottled the alley. Angular shadows, deep and dark, turned the usually innocuous space into something reminiscent of horror movies. Gabi shuddered, her imagination conjuring scenes from silly films she’d watched as a teen, and which she now wished she hadn’t.

Mama had been right. They’d led to nightmares, even waking ones.

Oh, good grief. How crazy could she get? Scared of shadows in the alley.

As she shook herself to shed the strange mood, she heard rustling near the far end of the alley, daunting in the night.

She glanced at Zach, who bobbed his chin toward the darker depths. She stepped up to the Dumpster, then dropped down to her knee. “Hey, um—” She looked over her shoulder at her companion. “What do I call him? Did you guys name him?”

He shook his head. “Didn’t have a chance. We do give our guests temporary names to make things easier for us while they’re at our facility. I can’t stand to call an animal by something so stark and cold as a number. But you only brought him in a few hours ago.”

“Okay, then.” She scooted closer to the metal trash container, the source of the bad smells that filled the alley, wrinkling her nose as she drew near. “Hey, little guy. I’m back. Did you come to look for me?”

Nothing.

She remembered how he’d listened to her chatter earlier that day. She kept up a running conversation, hoping he would respond that way again. “Did you come for the trash? Are you hungry again?”

Behind her, Zach snorted, more than likely a smothered laugh.

She chuckled, too. “You did have a feast at the shelter, buddy, so I don’t think you came back for the food. Is this where someone dumped you? Do you have a hidey-hole somewhere out here in the dark?”

Gabi continued to croon, inching closer to the Dumpster, dreading what she might find instead of a dog. Fat rats a-mocking pranced through her thoughts.

Then, in the quiet of the night, she heard the faintest of whimpers. It came from the rear corner of the steel container. “Please wait,” she told Zach. “Let me go first. I’ll let you know if I need you.”

“Sounds good to me.”

With a prayer on her lips, Gabi set the flashlight on the ground, then crept slowly on hands and knees, quiet and careful. Inches from the corner, she saw the gleam of the dog’s bright eyes.

“There you are.” To her surprise, he didn’t back away, but neither did he come toward her. He did whine softly.

She continued her approach. “You can’t stay out here, you know. It’s really not safe.”

Gabi didn’t want to think about the threats the pup might face in an empty alley. The image of a large tomcat crossed her mind. One of those could do the small escape artist a lot of harm. Some toms got up to as much as twenty-five pounds. She’d be surprised if this terrier mix weighed thirteen.

She held her hand about an inch away from his nose. “Come on, pal. Let’s get going and get you somewhere safe.”

That’s when she got a good look at the dog’s situation. It appeared he’d gotten wedged between the Dumpster and the building’s back wall, a solid cement expanse. No wonder he’d whimpered. As much as he loved his freedom, this kind of captivity had to terrify him.

“I need your help,” she told Zach. “I’m not sure how we’re going to get him out of where he is. Please hand me the flashlight.”

Although she knew the bright light would blind the dog, it couldn’t be helped. She needed to illuminate the area. Maybe after they had a better view of the whole picture they could come up with a solution.

Zach handed her the light but didn’t back away. For a moment, Gabi froze. His presence at her back was undeniable. His warmth enveloped her, and his breath wafted past her cheek. He was close, very close. She’d never been so aware of another person before.

The dog whimpered again.

“Hang on, buddy.” Gabi swallowed hard as she redirected her attention to the matter at hand. She aimed the flashlight toward the dog. “This might be uncomfortable for a minute, but I can’t help it. Let’s see what we can do for you.”

With the help of the light, Gabi and Zach soon realized the container leaned at a slender angle away from the wall, wider toward the top than down where the dog was stuck. Gabi handed Zach the light while she eased the little guy to freedom.

“There!” She sat back on her heels and nuzzled the dog. “You poor thing.” The pleasant scent of cleanliness met her nose. “Oh! You washed him.”

At her side, Zach chuckled. “He needed it. He was a mess.”

“And then he got himself into a different kind of mess out here.” She flashed him a smile. “Thanks.”

He shrugged and smiled back. “I thought your help would improve our chances of catching him, so thank you.” He tipped his head to the side. “Are you sure you really want to surrender him?”

“He has to go back to the shelter with you.” She blinked hard against the sudden tears stinging her eyes.

With nothing more to say, they sat in awkward silence, the stray who’d brought them together on Gabi’s lap. Seconds ticked by.

Her awareness grew.

Again.

She met Zach’s gaze. Couldn’t look away.

What was this...this crackle between them all about? Why him? And why now? Here in Lyndon Point?


Chapter Four

Gabi wearily pressed the palms of her hands against her eyes. She’d spent the past three hours sorting through three shoe boxes full of receipts. Funny how it had taken an hour per box.

Funny? Yeah, right. There was absolutely nothing amusing about this whole situation.

She’d never expected to find the business records of Tony’s in such a shambles. Worse still, after sorting and separating, adding and even more subtracting, she now had tangible proof that the restaurant’s financial outlook wasn’t particularly stellar. Costs had gone way up with the price of ingredients sky-high in the tough economy, and people weren’t eating out as much as they had even as recently as a few years earlier. Something had to be done to improve the fiscal picture or her parents would be in serious trouble.

And she was the woman to do it. The trick would be for her to find a way to convey that truth to Mama and then not let Papa find out where things really stood. It wasn’t the best time to alarm him, to say the least.

Gabi squared her shoulders. “Mama! Can you come to the kitchen for a minute? I’ve a couple of questions for you.”

Questions, and a whole lot more.

“Sono qui,” her mother answered. Lively steps rang out on the stairs, and a moment later she walked into the cheery kitchen. “I’m here,” she repeated, then went straight to the counter, where the coffeemaker always held at least half a pot full of rich, dark brew, to pour herself a steaming hot cup. “What you want to know?”

“Have you looked at—” she waved at the receipts “—all this?”

Mama took a long drink of her coffee, set the cup down carefully on the matching saucer, then sighed, never once letting her near-black eyes meet Gabi’s gaze. “No. You know your Papa always does this. He and your cugino Ryder take care of accounts.” As though for emphasis, she shook her head, making her short, graying curls bounce.

Gabi fought back a snicker. Calling Lyndon Point’s mayor, Ryder Lyndon, her cousin was stretching family ties a tad far. While the two of them had grown up as the closest of friends, Ryder was actually the son of Mama’s second cousin who-knows-how-many-times-removed. He didn’t even refer to her parents as aunt or uncle. But then, her family was all about...well, family. Sometimes—often—too much.

“This time,” she said, serious, “you don’t get a choice. Papa can’t take care of the business end of things any more than he can run the kitchen. You and I are the ones who have to take up the slack.”

Mama’s gaze flew to the window over the sink, and Gabi didn’t miss the shuddery breath she inhaled. “But he’s better now. Soon, he can—”

“No, he can’t. Not yet, not for a while, and you know it.”

She hated to push, aware how much it would upset her mother, but she had no choice. As long as she was in Lyndon Point she could take on the management, including the bookkeeping and accounting, of the pizzeria. But before she left, and she would as soon as she could, she had to have someone in charge. Mama had run the dining room like a smoothly oiled machine for years, and at all of fifty-two, she was nowhere near too old to handle the expanded responsibilities—no matter how she tried to avoid work she didn’t feel suited her talents. After all, these weren’t normal times.

Although Gabi didn’t doubt her mother’s capability for even one moment, her mother had taken advantage of Papa’s insistence on pampering her over the years. But this couldn’t be circumvented. He needed them to step up.

“You do want to help Papa, don’t you?”

Mama sighed. “Yes, but—”

“Good,” Gabi cut in. “So here’s the deal. I have a good idea what we need to do to turn this around. For one, we have to be careful with costs—”

“Bah! Everything too expensive all the time now. How they want people to live, every time a dollar more here, ten more there?”

Oops! That hadn’t been where she’d intended the conversation to go. “Um, yes, and that’s why we have to be smarter than the economy. It means we need to make a few...ah...adjustments. I have some ideas that should help.”

Mama turned back to her, eyes narrowed. “Ideas?”

“Yes, ideas. We can adjust things a little and jump on current trends. I think we could tweak Tony’s a little and turn it into the perfect Italian bistro. Bistros are everywhere, and doing very well. If we did that, we would bring in customers from Seattle, and we wouldn’t have to count only on Lyndon Point residents. They can only eat a steady amount of pizza.”

“Bistro? Seattle?”

From her mother’s tone of voice, one would think Seattleites were nigh unto Venutians or something. This wasn’t the way Gabi had hoped her suggestion would be received. Before she could press her point, though, her mother scoffed.

“Bah! Tony’s is pizzeria, not bistro. It does fine.”

Gabi turned her notebook toward Mama. “Not so fine these days. Take a look at the numbers. We’re barely making a profit after you pay all the bills. Papa’s medical costs are high, and they could wipe you out if we don’t change something.”

Her mother gave the pages nothing more than a brief glance and a dismissive wave. “But—”

“You know what I’m talking about, Mama,” she said. “Remember that TV show you like so much? The one where the restaurant expert walks into a place that’s about to go under, changes everything that’s wrong, and then opens it up again, only better? That’s what we need to do with Tony’s.”

A momentary hesitation told her Mama at least was thinking about it. Then she said, “Tony’s not failing, Gabriella. We no need the Brit. È troppo—too much, that is. We do make money like we are.”

“Nowhere near enough to keep you and Papa going.” She tapped the open notebook with her index finger. “Here. You have to take the time and look at this. Carefully.”

As her mother read the figures, the color in her face vanished. She shook her head slowly as she continued to stare. Then she snapped the notebook shut and met Gabi’s gaze, her jaw firm, her shoulders stiff.

“Fine. Change what you want, but not Tony’s. It’s a pizzeria. Always was.”

Before Gabi could come to grips with that kind of logic—or lack thereof—Mama stood and marched away, mumbling something about it being time for Papa’s medicine.

Frustrated, she collapsed back into the kitchen chair. Now what?

Reality hadn’t changed, even though her mother had said she could change whatever she wanted. But what could she really do, since in her next breath, Mama had put the brakes on any meaningful change?

Where did she go from here? “Lord...? Is Mama in denial or just stubborn? I think I know what I have to do, but help me out, please. Show me how to reach her, how to win her over to my way of seeing things. Or they could face financial disaster in no time at all.”

The more Gabi thought about the situation, the more clearly she saw only one way out. Change had to happen. Even Mama had recognized that. But the only way to make a significant difference would be if Gabi moved forward with her ideas. Mama would see how much better everything was once the changes were made. Wouldn’t she?

Sure, she would.

After all, Gabi was the one who’d done all kinds of traveling in the past five years. She’d seen a whole lot more of the country during those trips than her mother had in twenty years or more. She knew best.

Calling up all her courage, she came to a decision. She was going to forge ahead. Even after Mama’s declaration. Her parents needed it. They needed her to rescue them.

* * *

“Zach!” Claudia called from the waiting room of the shelter. “Just talked to Ryder. He’s got the permits ready to go for the street. The Adoption Fair’s jelling into place with every minute that goes by.”

He didn’t look up from the shelter’s latest rescue. This one had been brought in with a severe skin condition due to months of neglect of her coat and hygiene, rotten teeth and diabetes. He needed to trim off the worst knots in the matted hair to keep the clippers from pulling too hard when he gave the sad little girl the much-needed buzz cut.

“Have you notified all our foster families?” he asked.

“Letters went out last week,” his right-hand woman answered from the doorway where she now stood. “Email alerts out yesterday, and I plan to call them all the day before the event. That should do it. They should all be at the fair to show off their fosters.”

“Sounds good.” He leaned closer to the stray to look at the hot spot he’d discovered. Poor thing had to be going crazy from the itch and pain. Once he cut off all the tangles that pulled at the root of the hair, she should be able to heal.

Satisfied with his inspection, if not happy with the dog’s condition, he glanced up at Claudia. “Did you ask the foster families to get the word out to their friends and neighbors? We need forever homes for these guys. Just look at this one.”

Claudia knelt at his side, her prematurely pewter hair falling in a sleek cascade close to the dog. She grabbed it back with one hand, and let the rescue lick her other hand.

“If I didn’t already have five of my own, I’d take her home with me tonight.”

He shook his head. “Ha! Don’t even think of it. I like Rick, and don’t want to get on his wrong side.” He grinned at the thought of the burly navy officer. “Your husband’s no pushover, you know? Those muscles don’t bode well for me if I do. Besides, I remember him telling you no more strays after the last adoption.”

Standing, she laughed. “Don’t give me that weakling routine. You’re no slouch, yourself, boss. I’ve seen you keep right up with Rick on that canoe, and let’s not forget you beat his socks off when we went skiing. About the adoptions, he’s said no more of them ever since the first one. Just like he said no more kids after the first one.”

Zack arched an eyebrow. “I didn’t know that. I guess you must have been the one with the...oh, let’s call them wishes for abundance. Five of each is a far shot from no more than one.”

She shrugged, a mischievous grin brightening her smooth, copper-colored skin. “He saw the light after I invested in a lot of prayer, and a whole lot of talking was done.”

“You’re stubborn.”

“Just persuasive.”

The front door’s motion sensor chimed, alerting them to the arrival of a potential rescuer. “Gotta get back to work,” she said. “I hear the boss around here is a tyrant.”

“Get out of here,” he said, laughing. “You run this place more than I do.” With the lightest touch, he picked up the hurting dog and placed her on the grooming table in the middle of the room.

As he worked on her coat, he couldn’t stop thoughts of his last rescue from entering his mind. Gabi Carlini’s terrier mix was one special character. The pup had stolen the hearts of everyone at the shelter with his antics and sweet nature. Still, he kept trying to escape at every turn, even after the shelter staff had fortified his kennel to where the thing rivaled Lyndon Point’s Animal Control truck.

At the oddest moment, they would find him either in the storage room gnawing at the sacks of kibble or stuck under the latest addition to the chain-link fence around his outside run. He was one determined little guy, all right.

Brought in by one determined woman. Gabi had called every single day since the night of the great escape, just to check on her rescue. Zach knew she didn’t intend to keep the pup, but in his mind, he was hers. The dog seemed to agree with Zach.

As soon as she’d appear at the shelter to visit him, the terrier would dance and bark with more enthusiasm than any other dog in the shelter had displayed to date. As soon as he was set free, he jumped à la hoops star, bounding around Gabi until she picked him up and hugged him. Then he returned the favor by licking her face all over.

That dog was hers, no matter what she said.

And she was that dog’s human. No matter what she said.

Anyone could see it. She lit up as soon as she saw the little rascal and even more when she cuddled and played with him as though she’d owned him from birth. Although shelter policy mandated the guests be kept leashed during any and all visits, the escape artist showed no interest in going anywhere but to Gabi’s side when she showed up. Zach suspected they could have gotten away without the leash.

Maybe. He was a terrier, after all. Zach wasn’t about to test the well-known terrier bolting instinct, at any rate.

As he reached for the clippers, he heard a familiar voice out front. At the same time, an equally familiar volley of barks sounded from the kennel side of the building. Gabi had arrived, and her dog knew it.

Even though he shouldn’t, he scooped up the new stray, who’d been shaking since he’d set her on the grooming table, and held her close as he returned her to her kennel. It wouldn’t hurt her to relax a little and, instead, would help her handle the upcoming ordeal much better.

And if he told himself that enough times maybe he’d convince himself he was being strictly altruistic here. Truth was that while it would benefit the anxious dog to calm down before going through the extensive grooming, he wanted to see Gabi again. She didn’t draw only her rescue—she also drew Zach, like a steak did a starving stray.

As soon as his charge had curled up on the hammock-like bed in her kennel, he shook off the worst of the dog hair from his blue scrubs and hurried to the kennel side. He found her inside the playroom, where potential adoptive families had the opportunity to interact with the hopeful adoptees.

“Hey there,” he said as he closed the door behind him. “How’s your buddy doing today?”

She arched a graceful brow. “My buddy? He’s not mine, but yours—temporarily.” She turned away from Zach and stared out the room’s glass wall, as he’d noticed she did every time either one of them mentioned the stray’s ownership situation. “He’s going to be a hit at the Adoption Fair.”

Zach tamped down the flare of irritation. “He sure is, and he’ll soon have his own family loving him like he deserves.”

Although she tried to hide it, he saw her wince. “Yeah, that is what he really does need.” She swallowed hard, squeezed the furry toy in her hand to catch the terrier’s attention and then turned to face Zack. “How are the arrangements for the event going? Is everything all set up?”

“Pretty close. Claudia just heard from the mayor. He signed off on closing the street for the day.”

“Oh, wow! You really plan to do this up, don’t you?”

“I’d like to turn it into a seasonal thing, but I have to prove it’ll be a plus for the town. This is only the first one for us.”

“Sure, but I also know Mr. Mayor quite well.” She grinned. “Ryder’s a lifelong friend, and even my six-degrees-of-separation distant cousin. He’s not dumb. Once he sees how well this goes, he’ll jump right on the bandwagon with you. If he hasn’t already.”

“Well, he signed off on everything I needed.”

She raised her shoulders and grinned. “Told ya.”

Zach was charmed. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from her sparkling eyes and animated features as she played fetch with the dog. It wasn’t just her natural beauty that drew him. Gabi Carlini radiated a vibrancy he’d never encountered before. Even her thick, wavy hair seemed to bounce with that same energy.

He crossed his arms. “Tell me. Am I wrong, or have you been here every single day since you brought him in?”

A rosy tint brightened her cheeks, and she tossed the end of her ponytail over her shoulder. “Um...pretty much.” She jammed her hands into her khaki shorts pockets, then gave him a narrow-eyed stare, a mock-stern expression on her face. “I want to make sure you’re doing your job. Gotta do some quality control where my foundling’s concerned, you know?”

Zach struggled to hide a wince. Anytime anyone brought up mention of doing a job right and quality control, his skin felt itchy. The memories of his restaurant were still too raw and close to the surface, and quality...well, it wasn’t always as easy to control as one would think.

He ran a hand through his hair. “We do try to do our best here, and I think we succeed.”

She glanced back through the room’s glass wall and down the aisle of cages, clean and well kept, as he tried to maintain them at all times. “I’d say your best is excellent. There are some real horror stories out there about animal shelters.”

A flare of irritation burst inside him. “Don’t believe everything you read. I’ve volunteered at shelters ever since I was in junior high. Can’t even remember how many of them by now. I’ve never been in one that resembled any of the atrocities you read about in the media. I know the bad ones exist, but not all are bad.”

“Whoa! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m glad you’ve had such great experiences over the years. Is that why you decided to go into— Are you a vet?”

Great. This was going from bad to worse really fast. “Uh...no. I’m just someone who loves animals, have done every kind of job a shelter could throw at me, and found I was good at running one.”

She didn’t reply right away, and he cringed. Now that he thought of it, his explanation sounded really lame. What kind of idiot just sort of bumbles out of career disaster and into running an animal shelter?

A failed gourmet chef and restaurateur kind of idiot, that’s who. He sighed. “Well, it was great to see you again. I have a new intake who needs a whole lot of attention. See you soon.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her confusion. And who could blame her? They’d been talking like perfectly normal people, and then bam! He’d cut her right off.

“Yeah, see ya.” She picked up the squeak toy again. As he stepped out of the room, however, he saw her glance his way again. “Bye.”

Did he imagine it, or was she as reluctant to say goodbye as he was?

Nah. Couldn’t be. She was a kind, decent person and he was damaged.

He hurried toward the utility half of the building, wishing things might be different. Then he would’ve...

What would he have said to the very unsettling Gabriella Carlini?

* * *

Dumb. Dumb, dumb, dumb.

Why on earth had she gone back to the shelter? Why couldn’t she stay away?

The dog.

She really got a kick out of the stray, but she had to be honest. She’d wanted to see more than the little terrier. She’d wanted to see the shelter director, too.

Zach Davenport was a very attractive man. And more than just in looks. The way he cared for those animals was unexpectedly endearing. A man with such a heart was one Gabi couldn’t resist.

And she hadn’t really been trying to resist him. Even though she should. Gabi had to remember she was in Lyndon Point only to right the sinking ship otherwise known as Tony’s Pizzeria. She couldn’t afford to let her emotions get tangled up with the shelter, much less the shelter’s director.

“You’re here to turn the restaurant into a chic, gourmet Italian eatery,” she reminded herself as she marched back to Tony’s. “And to move Mama and Papa’s way of doing things into the twenty-first century.”

To accomplish any of that, she had to focus all her attention on stopping the restaurant’s downhill slide rather than on the intriguing man she’d just left. The sooner she had everything cleaned up and headed toward a better future, the sooner she could return to her real life, her job and her hard-won independence.




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