Tucked around a table in an off the beaten path restaurant, Raven and I leaned back and moaned at the same time. "Oh my G.o.d," I voiced the sensation we were both feeling.

"I know, right?" Raven agreed after she'd finished her mouthful of the best tasting rigatoni outside of Italy.

"How did you find this place?" I looked around the cozy bistro expecting to see the Italian countryside through the front windows.

"The owner taught a cooking cla.s.s years ago, and I was one of the lucky attendees."

"You know how to cook like this?" I couldn't stop shock from seeping into my expression.

She shook her head. "No one cooks as well as Amalia, except maybe Giovanni, her husband."

"Ciao, bellissima!" An elderly, squat man in a sauce stained ap.r.o.n approached the table. He reached out and pulled Raven out of her seat for a hug.

"Buon giorno, Giovanni, come stai? " Raven responded to his greeting in flawlessly accented Italian. Now, that's beyond enchanting, bordering on s.e.xy.

"Molto bene, grazie. " He p.r.o.nounced "grazie" with an "ah" sound at the end instead of the traditional p.r.o.nunciation. That meant he came from somewhere in southern Italy if I had my dialects correct. "Sono felice di vederti."

"Anch'io." Raven's Italian sounded as delicious as the meal we'd been enjoying. She gestured toward me.

40*

"Giovanni, please say h.e.l.lo to Joslyn. She was just experiencing Amalia's cuisine for the first time."

"Ah, s, s. My Amalia is like a G.o.ddess, no?"

"I think that might be an understatement, and I've only tasted the rigatoni so far."

He beamed at my compliment and bellowed back toward the kitchen, "Amalia!" Other restaurant patrons turned to stare at us as we waited for his wife to join us.

"Raven! You beautiful girl. You sneak in here and do not say a thing?" A shorter, stouter woman with a wild red dye job crowded Raven and her husband until they all bungled into a group hug.

"I know better than to bother you at lunch. Besides, I'm in here so often you must be sick of me."

"Dici sciocchezze!" Giovanni exclaimed just as vehemently as when he bellowed for his wife. "Ti vogliamo bene, Raven."

She kissed his cheek in response and turned to his wife.

"Amalia, this is Joslyn."

"h.e.l.lo." I reached out to shake her hand and found myself encircled by her arms. Basil, garlic, tomatoes, and parmesan caressed my sense of smell while soft pillowy curves enveloped my sense of touch. Raven turned a stifled grin to the side at my surprised expression.

"Did you eat, Joslyn?" Amalia's accent added an extra syllable to my name, Jos-a-lyn, but it sounded singsong coming from this native Italian. She'd pulled back from the hug, anxious for my response.

"We were just enjoying your fare, Amalia. So far, it's been a taste extravaganza."

Giovanni's frame swelled at my compliment while Amalia placed a hand to her heart. "My, how wonderful you are." She gave a pointed look at Raven who was biting her lip to hide the grin now.

"La tua nuova ragazza e bella, dentro e fuori. Siete una coppia bella."

*41 Raven's eyes widened at his words. She grasped his shoulder before shaking her head hurriedly and denying his statement.

The older couple's expressions fell immediately as they turned in unison to look at me. Amalia smiled kindly and asked, "Joslyn, you are not full yet, s? I have special just for you and our beautiful Raven."

"I understand you share your talents with some lucky students, Amalia. You'll have to tell me when you have your next cla.s.s. This food is too good not to attempt to replicate."

"You are very kind. I gave up the teaching. Not enough students put the good energy into it." Her hand slid around Raven's waist and tugged her closer. "I met our Raven; that is enough for me. My work is done."

A bit disappointed, I offered, "If you ever decide to take on students again, I'd promise to be very attentive and clean the kitchen afterward."

Giovanni gave a satisfied grunt with a nod, elbowing Raven and gesturing to me. She shook her head with an exasperated smile. "Sit, sit, you must save energy for eating." He pulled out Raven's chair first then rushed over to pull out mine as well. Once we were seated, he and Amalia headed back to the kitchen, promising to fill us with every Italian delicacy ever invented.

I chuckled, feeling their happiness settle over me.

"Wow, they're something."

"They sure are. They make you feel like family, only better, you know?" Raven watched them disappear through the swinging door then shook her head as if disagreeing with herself. "No, of course not, that made no sense."

"Actually, it made perfect sense. They are all the good parts of a family without any of the destruction."

She turned a curious stare my way, the look softened by kindness. "We must have similar family experiences."

42*

Unable to resist, I added cryptically, "Well, that would make things easier."

Her brow furrowed. "Easier for what?"

"If we have similar family experiences, I'll know how to handle yours when you introduce me as your girlfriend." I tried for a dry delivery, but my undeterred grin blew the joke.

"You speak Italian!" she accused in a delighted voice, realizing I'd understood Giovanni's words about me being her new girlfriend and how we made a nice couple. An endearing red suffused her cheeks. "I can't believe you just stood there and didn't say anything."

"It's more fun that way. I get a lot of mileage out of the invariably embarra.s.sing things people offer up when they think you can't understand."

She shook her head and chuckled. When she glanced at me, her face held hopeful concern. "I hope they didn't make you uncomfortable."

"Not at all," I rushed to eliminate her unease. I wondered if all gay people went through that moment of panic just after disclosing their s.e.xuality. Although I barely knew her, I had an overwhelming wish that Raven had never had reason to worry about that. "It's obvious how much they love you, even without the ability to translate."

"I feel very lucky to have met them." She gave a wistful smile and glanced over at the kitchen door where we could hear Giovanni serenading Amalia.

"Well, thank you for sharing the place with me."

"I figured after putting up with Kurt you deserved a little treat. Of course, once Giovanni and Amalia find out you speak Italian, they'll never let you leave."

"Since I'm working on something that will benefit your company, perhaps we shouldn't tell them right away? I've got twelve interviews scheduled after lunch, and I have a feeling I might have to wade through more medieval references before the day is through."

*43 She laughed that rhythmic half-chuckle half-laugh again.

"I'll tell them next time."

I managed to stop the surprised double-take before it happened. Next time? There would be a next time? The idea pleased me more than I could put into coherent words. I was glad for the diversion that Giovanni and Amalia provided with the shouting announcement of the second course. The food would be a nice distraction from these confusing thoughts.

Chapter 7.

P layful snuffling sounds echoed through the garage as I worked on my prized possession. My dogs were having a wrestling slash jousting match somewhere near the open garage door, amusing themselves while keeping me in sight.

As soon as I surfaced from under the car, they'd no doubt have their snouts wetting my face. I lived for days like this.

In a few more minutes, my 1965 Stingray Corvette would have a new transmission and I'd get to drive it again.

I'd missed driving this lovely piece of machinery, but the winter rain and a shoddy transmission kept me from partaking in a favorite pastime. I could hardly contain my excitement.

Task completed, I slid my dolly along the sunken groove I'd had put into one of the garage bays so I could more easily engage in my hobby of restoring cars. As suspected, the dogs, all five of them, attacked me the second I was free of the undercarriage. Wet tongues, dusty paws, and furry coats a.s.saulted whatever piece of me they could find. By their reaction, you'd think I'd been neglecting them. Sure, I'd been busy with Paul Industries, but since it was a local company, I came home to them every night.

"All right, all right, crazy puppies," I a.s.sured them, crouching over their now p.r.o.ne bodies. None were actually *45 puppies, but you couldn't tell by the way they acted sometimes.

I started toward the house to take a shower and they fell into step with me. I'd never meant to have this many dogs, but I couldn't say that it bothered me anymore. They were great companions and wise teachers when it came to love.

I'd learned a lot from them over the years we'd been together.

After settling the dogs onto their favorite pieces of furniture in the sunroom, I checked my work voicemail as I pa.s.sed by my home office. "Joslyn, Archie here. I got that comparative data you were looking for. I'll messenger it over to you. Thought I'd give you a head start on this information before our meeting on Tuesday. See you then."

"Great! I'm not supposed to be working this weekend, and now, not only will I be working, but you're sending someone to my house?" I have this annoying habit of talking to voicemail as if it were a live conversation.

Thankfully, no one could hear my end of the conversation, or I might find myself fired from this and many other clients.

Now rushing to get my shower done, I stubbed a toe on the way into the bathroom, swearing and starting the water at the same time. If my clients could see what a dufus I actually was, I guessed I might never get another one again.

The hot water soothed my toe, my aching muscles, and the irritation that my client a.s.sumed I'd be working on his project this weekend. With a messenger on the way, I didn't have much time, especially if I wanted to meet him out at the gate. Even though my office was in my house, a box at a postal facility for mail and deliveries allowed me to maintain a professional distance.

Pulling on some jeans, I was just throwing my arms through a cotton blouse when the gate chime rang. So much for hoping to meet the guy at the gate, now he'd have to drive up to the house. I pressed the intercom b.u.t.ton to greet 46*

the messenger. The sound was barely good enough to distinguish the voice as female. It reminded me that I needed to get the failing communication device replaced before the winter rain this year. I stepped into some leather sandals, tangled my lighter-for-the-summer-months brown hair into a ponytail that reached past my collar, and headed outside to accept the package from the messenger.

A green Beemer crunched its way around the bend in the drive and headed toward the front porch. Okay, I'd now be checking the financials to find out how much Archie paid his messengers. "h.e.l.lo," I spoke to the opening door, unable to see inside the car through the tinted gla.s.s. "I'm Jos-"

The rest of my name died in my throat as Raven emerged from the vehicle.

She broke into a wide smile. "Howdy, Jos."

"Raven?" I hadn't meant it to be a question, but she was a complete shocker.

"Uncle Archie didn't mention I'd be coming by, did he?

I guess that makes us even because he didn't mention that he'd be sending me to your house." Her eyes bounced around my property before returning to mine. "I expected to drop this by your office where I hoped I wouldn't find you working on such a beautiful day."

Still a little stunned to find her in my driveway, I barely managed to put together something coherent to say. "So, not only are you the CFO, but your uncle uses you as a messenger, too?"

She chuckled, erasing the tension from the surprise visit.

"Family business, what can I say? Actually, I live close by. I figured you must have an office around here, and I'd get to say h.e.l.lo on my way home if you were working. This place is magnificent, Joslyn. Tell me it's yours, that you're not just house-sitting?"

Pride stretched my smile wide. "All mine. Took a year to build, but it's my dream house."

*47 "I'm just looking at the front of it and it's mine, too. Are you saying you built it yourself?"

"With a contractor, but I spent every weekend and two or three nights a week out here getting in his way, helping out where I could. Mostly it takes being able to make decisions, sticking to them, and being organized. If you can't make decisions, add five months, if you can't stick to them, double the budget, and if you're unorganized, sc.r.a.p the whole project."

She let that uncontrolled laugh loose, and I found myself staring at her mouth, looking for the delightful tone that escaped it. "I've been dying to start from scratch on my lot, but it's a daunting task. Now that I know the secrets, maybe I'll stop dreaming about it and go for it."

"Jump head first; believe me, it's worth it." Because she'd been so enthusiastic and I realized I didn't want her to leave right away, I invited her inside. "Come take a look around."

"Would you mind?" she asked even though her legs were already moving toward the house with me.

Once we hit the front porch, she made appropriate sounds of awe as we looked around the rustic facade and entered the sunlight foyer. Miles of hardwood led in two directions, down a long hallway toward the sunroom at the back and into the living room, kitchen, and dining room off to the side.

"It's exquisite, Joslyn. Honestly, I'd never go outside."

She fingered the mix of antiques and modern furniture of the living room as we walked through.

"I'm often guilty of taking a couple weeks off in between a.s.signments."

From the sunroom I heard the excited scuffles of nails on tile and questioning soft barks from the dogs. I knew they were contemplating vaulting the security gate I had up between their room and the rest of the house. I wasn't a very good disciplinarian. Raven must have heard something as 48*

well because she turned an expectant look my way. "What kind of dog do you have?"

Before I could respond, they made their presence known. All five of them, and like the perfect puppies they were, they dropped anxiously at Raven's feet, waiting for introductions. This part I'd worked on with them so they wouldn't overwhelm any guests.

"Five! You've got five dogs?" She looked from them to me and back to them. She extended a hand without trepidation, allowing each to sniff her scent and accept a welcome pat before they decided if she was going to be a future playmate.

"I used to have eight."

Her head swung up to stare at me. "You're pulling my leg."

I laughed and ran my hands over each dog to calm them a smidge. "Nope."

"Give it up." She beckoned with her fingers. For a second, I didn't know what she was talking about. As I was trying to figure it out, an image flickered through my mind that was so quick all I got from it was the sensation of something indescribably electric.

After what seemed like months just standing there, I finally landed on what she was asking. "Oh, when I decided I wanted a dog, I went by the only shelter in the small town where I lived at the time. It didn't have a no-kill policy, and without thinking, I went to the pen with the two dogs that were slated to be put down that month." I stooped to pat Eras, one of those first two dogs. The other had pa.s.sed away last year. I was still getting over it.

"Four months go by and I get a call from the woman running the shelter. She's got another dog that they'll have to put down the next day if he isn't adopted. I show up to take that one off her hands, and that's when she knew she had me."