So Irresistible (29 page)

Shane’s eyes darkened. She knew he was remembering their erotic encounter in his kitchen—and afterward, in his bed, too.

But then he surprised her. He ignored his usual advantage when it came to sex and went on explaining instead.

“I
did
have a dossier,” Shane admitted, “but it didn’t contain the things Frosty’s contained. No electrical diagrams—”

One of those would have been useful when shutting down her double-decker pizza oven
, Gabriella couldn’t help thinking. Because Frosty
had
had access to the ovens. Heck, she’d caught Frosty alone at Campania after hours herself, on the night she’d nicknamed him. Maybe Frosty
hadn’t
been cooling off in the walk-in, the way he’d said. Maybe he’d been sabotaging her ovens.

“—no tomato supplier info,” Shane was saying, further defending himself. “Anyway, I was busy learning to mop by then.”

Unintentionally reminded of Shane’s boyish pride in that work, Gabriella was forced to tamp down another burst of admiration. She didn’t want to remember the good in him.

“You still could have put that missing tomato shipment in the Dumpster,” she pointed out. “Anyone could have done that.”

“Yes,
anyone
,” Shane agreed. “Including Frosty. As far as the other sabotage goes, I was too busy being with
you
night and day to write hundreds of scathing online pizzeria reviews—”

Grudgingly, Gabriella saw the truth in that. When they weren’t working, they were spending time together. Intimately.

“—and while I still don’t know how the pizza dough blowout happened, it
wasn’t
me,” Shane insisted. “Although I
did
fix it in the end. Remember?”

Suspiciously, Gabriella regarded him. “All my friendly neighborhood pizzaiolos fixed that with their donations.”

Shane didn’t say anything. He just looked at her.

“
You
did that?” Gabriella guessed, too late. She remembered how urgently Shane had tried to keep her from giving up. “You called everyone and organized the dough-donation brigade.”

Shane’s gaze softened with clear vulnerability. He nodded. “It’s what I do. I knew everyone by then, because of spending time with you at after-work drinks down at the brewpub. A few phone calls weren’t too much to ask to keep Campania going.”

Why would Shane have wanted to keep her pizzeria going if he really was the saboteur? This was way too confusing. Although Gabriella’s gut instincts about people weren’t usually wrong....

“You really can fix anything,” she told him. “Bravo.”

At Shane’s wounded expression, Gabriella relented.

“I mean, thank you,” she muttered. It was ludicrous to thank her pizzeria’s potential saboteur, but if she believed Shane . . . well, she
almost
believed Shane. Again. “For that.”

“You’re welcome.” Shane’s beseeching gaze begged her to listen. “But I can’t fix
this
, with you. I’m trying right now, and it’s not working. I
do
need you, Gabby. I do.”

Against her will, Gabriella weakened.

Trying to bolster herself, she drew in a deep breath. “You already admitted coming to Portland to deliberately derail my pizzerias. How am I supposed to deal with that?”

“But I didn’t derail them. I couldn’t.”

“You sure as hell seem to have.” Frustrated, Gabriella waved her arm. “I’ve been on the brink of closure multiple times over the past few weeks! It’s been one thing after another—”

“And I helped you deal with all those disasters.” Shane stepped nearer, his fiery gaze still fixed on hers. “Didn’t I?”

“Yes, but—” This had to be another manipulation. “You had to make your cover story look good, didn’t you?”

He sighed. “Not
that
good. Not saving an already closed pizzeria with a pizza-dough-donation brigade ‘good.’ Not shuttling pies from the bakery next door to stay open ‘good.’ Not helping Bowser and Emeril clean out the tomato supplier’s stand at the PSU farmers market ‘good.’ Not going on the local news to urge people to fight the online attack ‘good.’”

Reluctantly, Gabriella had to admit that was true. Shane
had
helped her keep Campania going. He’d been tough and reliable. When she’d needed him, he’d been there. Until now.

“You were lulling me into complacency,” she tried.

But it was a weak effort at resisting, and she knew it.

So did Shane. “If I’d wanted to scare you, I could have,” he said brusquely. “I’ve had lots of time alone with you.”

He had. That unnerved her. “Why didn’t you, then?”

“Scare you?” he shook his head. “How could I?” Shane’s expression told her the reason for that.
I love you
.

Irrationally, Gabriella wished he’d say it out loud.

“Fine.” She started pacing, moving past boxes and sheet pans full of foodstuffs, trying to think through this mess. “Let’s just say, for argument’s sake, you
aren’t
the saboteur—”

“I’m
not
the saboteur.”

“You still took the job! You still compiled a dossier.” Gabriella rounded on him. Miserably but curiously, she pressed further. “Why would you do that? Why me? Why here? Why now?”

“My father asked me to.” Shane gave a doleful shake of his head. “Hell, he
begged
me to. He said he had a job only
I
could do. He said he needed me.” He spread his arms. “I had to do it.”

“Your
father
is Waltham Industries?”

Shane nodded. “The company is his real baby. The rest of us—me and my stepsiblings—we’re all just also-rans.”

“But why?” Flummoxed, Gabriella shook her head. “Your father has always been so mean to you, Shane.” He’d told her that much. He’d told her about his difficult upbringing and his adopted family. He’d told her his father was the reason he’d seemed so upset over that phone call at the riverfront the day they’d run together, too. “Why help him? Why do that to yourself?”

“Why did you try to save the pizzerias for your dad?”

“Because
my
dad is a wonderful and caring person.”

Shane seemed discomfited. “Well, mine . . . isn’t. Ever.”

“I know! That’s why I don’t get why you’d help him.”

“Like I said . . .” Shane seemed at a loss. “I had to do it. I thought it would help. I thought it would make things better.”

“Better? By hurting me?”

“By making that bastard proud of me.” Shane curled his hands into fists. “Until you, that’s all I had to hope for.”

Sadly enough, that made sense. “But if your father isn’t proud of you for who you are already,” Gabriella felt compelled to point out, “nothing you ever
do
will change that.”

To her surprise, Shane flashed her a grin. “Said the woman who’s been killing herself to turn around a struggling family pizzeria,” he said leadingly. “And
your
family is nice.”

He was right. Gabriella had run herself into the ground trying to make sure her parents forgave her. She guessed no one was immune to wanting to “fix” things. Not even her.

She was bad at it, too. For someone who was
good
at it . . .

“The temptation must have been irresistible to you, after your father asked you to help him,” she mused. “If everything you’ve told me about your reputation is true, you knew you could do it.”

I could have crushed you
, he’d said before.
I didn’t
.

“I
had
to do it.” Shane’s gaze lifted. “I didn’t question it. It was as if I’d waited my whole life for that call.”

He’d already waited years for his dad to care about him, Gabriella realized. With that call, Shane had had his chance.

Finally, she understood. She understood that she and Shane were alike in more ways than she’d realized. It was funny how someone else’s compulsions and mistakes were so obvious when her own just kept on hooking her, again and again.

I had to do it. I didn’t question it
.

“You
had
to do it, the same way I had to try to save the pizzerias. The same way I had to run in here.” Sheepishly, Gabriella looked around at the shelves full of cold supplies and felt chilled for the first time. Running blindly to escape Shane had been a dumb idea. “The same way I always have to run.”

“With much less frostbite,” Shane agreed. “But . . . yeah.”

His was the first genuine smile he’d cracked.

Gabriella met it with one of her own. Then she shook her head. “So after your father called, you took the pizzeria job—”

“And then I met you, and the whole thing imploded.” Shane shook his head. “Pretty much. But I
never
meant to hurt you.”

Gabriella gave him a chary look. She didn’t want to weaken any further. But it was too late. She already had.

Except for one last detail.

“At the brewpub that night,” she said, “did you know it was me? Did you set out to deceive me right from the start?”

Vehemently, Shane shook his head. “I didn’t know. I swear, I didn’t know it was you. I was trying to cut loose, get ready for the pizzeria job.... It was just serendipity I wound up at the brewpub where you and your crew were.” He aimed a wry glance at her. “It almost messed up the job. When I saw you the next day, I was freewheeling it right from the start. My plan fell apart.”

“I tend to have that effect on people.”

Another halfhearted smile. “I’m sorry, Gabby. I know I’ve done some bad things. Hell, if you knew half of them—”

“Hey, I’m no saint, either.”

Shane’s gaze disagreed. “
You saved me
. I’m grateful for that. Without you, I don’t know what would have happened to me.” Shane stood apart from her, his posture as defensive as his sleeping position. “It wouldn’t have been good. I was on a bad path. But that night at the brewpub, I let down my guard. I opened up to you. I told myself it was just for one night—”

“I told myself the same thing,” Gabriella admitted, “when I opened up to you.”
When I made myself vulnerable to you
.

She’d made that decision. On her own. Not Shane.

“But after that, when I saw you again”—Shane shook his head, his face softening—“all I wanted was to be near you.”

“I . . .” Was she really doing this? “Me too.”

In the silence that fell between them, the walk-in’s motor hummed.

Gabriella rubbed her arms, wishing she’d grabbed one of the quilted coats they kept outside for their employees’ use.

“Then, when you left this morning—” Shane’s voice sounded raspy. Heartfelt. He swallowed hard. “When you left—”

His inability to speak reminded Gabriella of something he’d once said. Something important. Something unbelievably sad.

Does a tradition of abandonment count?
Shane had asked her once.
I’ve got that in spades
.

For him to have come here at all must have required a lot more determination and strength than she’d credited him with.

And what had she done? Hurled accusations at him.

Justifiably so, but . . . still. Gabriella regretted it now.

Manfully, Shane tried again. “This morning, I—”

“I never meant to abandon you.” Bravely, Gabriella took a step closer to him. “I was mad. And scared. And freaked out and confused, and all those things make me want to bolt.”

“I know.” Affectionately, Shane’s gaze focused on her face. “That’s why I’m here. That’s why I came after you.”

Gabriella hadn’t thought of it that way. She’d been too busy being wary. But now . . . “Nobody’s ever come after me before.”

“Nobody’s ever resisted one of my fixes before.”

She couldn’t help smiling. “I guess that makes us even?”

“It makes us lucky to have found each other,” Shane said. “No matter how messed up it’s been, I’m still glad it happened.”

Feeling jittery from adrenaline and cold, Gabriella nodded. “Me too. I was clinging to some things that are my dad’s, not mine—”

“Rules, tradition, and the chain of command?”

“—and it wasn’t until you got here that I realized I could let go. You helped me reconcile with my parents—”

“You did that. I was just a bystander.”

“—and you helped me with Campania. So I’m grateful, too.”

Shane took her hand. “I’m sorry it had to end this way.”

Gabriella blinked. “End?”

He nodded. “You must have noticed.”

“Noticed what?”

“We’re locked in,” Shane told her. “The inside release mechanism for the walk-in has been sabotaged, too.”

“
What?
” Boggling, Gabriella gawked at it. The whole device, handle and all, hung uselessly. It was almost as if it had been hacked off with a hatchet, clumsily but effectively. Suddenly feeling colder than ever, she raced toward it. “The safety—”

“The emergency release has been destroyed, too.”

It had. “We have to do something!”

“We are doing something.” Shane gave her an audacious, crooked smile. He spread his arms. “We’re making up.”

Gabriella stared. “You used what were potentially your last breaths to explain yourself to me? To make up with me?”

A shrug. “You have to have your priorities.”

“My priorities are survival! We could suffocate in here.”

“Not for a long while yet.” Assessing the situation, Shane joined her at the walk-in’s door. “Someone will be here soon.”

“It’s way before the first shift. We’ll die!”

“Pinkie will be here early.”

“Not
this
early.” Reflexively, Gabriella’s teeth chattered. Was the temperature dropping in there? If someone had sabotaged the walk-in’s motor or cooling intake vents . . . “We’re stuck.”