The Redemption of Rico D'Angelo. Michelle Douglas

      She bit back a sigh. ‘It was all I could do to stay on my feet when I returned from the supermarket. Monty is always so...so delighted to see me.’ She could have sworn that she’d locked the screen door, but she mustn’t have. So foolish.

      She closed her eyes and hauled in a breath. Ever since she’d received the news that Grandad’s will was being contested, her head had been in turmoil. Not to mention her heart. Her concentration was shot to pieces. It had to stop! She had to start paying attention again. She had to.

      ‘Have you reported the incident to the police?’

      ‘Yes.’ She swallowed and risked glancing up at him. ‘Mr D’Angelo, I’m very sorry for...um...’ Her stomach churned. What if she had stabbed him? ‘I’m a bit jumpy at the moment.’

      She made him stop when they reached the end of the block.

      ‘Monty, sit.’ The dog stared up at her with his big dopey eyes. She made a hand signal. ‘Sit.’ He continued to stare at her. She folded her arms and looked away. Eventually he sat. ‘Good boy.’

      She fondled his ears and then nodded to Rico. They set off across the road and then turned right towards the park and Bellerive beach.

      ‘He’s improving,’ she murmured, more for something to say than anything else.

      ‘Look, Neen, I’m the one who should apologise. I shouldn’t have come in like I did and I’m sorry I startled you.’

      His eyes were dark, almost black. She didn’t doubt his sincerity for a moment.

      ‘I knocked and knocked, and I could see you at the end of the hallway. I called out...’

      ‘But between Monty and the radio—’ and her own too-busy thoughts ‘—I couldn’t hear you. It’s not your fault, Mr D’Angelo. You don’t need to apologise.’

      ‘Rico,’ he ordered.

      The name suited him in one respect, with his dark Italian good looks, but Rico sounded breezy and carefree. She wasn’t sure she’d ever meet anyone less carefree in her life. He was a man on a mission—an important mission. And, like most do-gooding types with a quest to save the world, he carried that world around on his shoulders.

      They might be broad shoulders, but nobody could carry around that kind of weight forever.

      He suddenly stopped and swung to her. Monty strained on the lead. It could pull her completely off balance, but it barely seemed to register with Rico.

      ‘Look, I couldn’t help noticing that yours were the only tyres slashed. Is something up, Neen? Is there something I ought to know?’

      A weight pressed down on her chest when she realised she’d have to tell him—in the interests of his staff’s safety. It grew heavier when it occurred to her that in their interests he might in fact retract his job offer.

      For a moment she could hardly speak. The sun that glinted off the expanse of water in front of them dimmed. Finally she gestured to the remaining distance between them and the beach. ‘Let’s go down there and let Monty tire himself out.’

      When they reached the sand Rico’s hand hovered uncertainly on the lead’s catch. ‘Are you sure he won’t run away?’

      No, but... ‘He’ll stay on the beach,’ she promised. She’d learned that much.

      Without further ado he released Monty and the giant dog charged helter-skelter straight into the water, spraying it in all directions.

      Rico shook his head. ‘You’re going to have sand everywhere when you get home.’

      ‘Sand is something I can vacuum up. And it’s preferable to him chewing the furniture. An hour of this and he’ll be a relative lamb for the rest of the afternoon.’

      He turned to her, hands on hips. She shrugged. There didn’t seem much point in delaying the inevitable conversation.

      ‘The slashed tyres aren’t an isolated incident. The police are aware of the situation but there’s not much they can do.’ She pulled in a breath. ‘Four months ago I broke up with a man who, it appears, can’t take no for an answer.’

      ‘And he’s persecuting you? Threatening you?’

      She lifted one shoulder. ‘I have no proof that today’s tyres are his handiwork.’ But she knew in her gut it was. ‘I’ve taken a restraining order out on him.’

      And she still couldn’t believe she’d left her front door unlocked!

      CHAPTER TWO

      ‘NEEN?’

      Rico touched her arm and Neen started. He immediately backed up, his eyes darkening. She wanted to reach out and tell him it wasn’t him, but...

      But what? Was she going to let Chris turn her into a timid mouse? Was she going to let his behaviour rule her life?

      She leaned across and clasped Rico’s arm. ‘I’m sorry. I was a million miles away.’

      Beneath the crisp cotton of his business shirt, his arm was firm and warm, vibrant, and her fingers were curiously reluctant to release him. For a few precious seconds the solid feel of him reminded her there was more in this world than her worries and troubles.

      And while she continued to focus so closely on her troubles she was missing out on a lot of those other things—on laughter and friendship and...and simply being young. She’d applied to manage Rico’s café hoping it would provide her with some much-needed distraction. Eventually Chris would get bored and give up. She crossed her fingers.

      In the meantime she would not sit around and spin her wheels while she waited to see what the outcome of Grandad’s will would be. She’d get experience, she’d become even better at her job and...

      She swallowed. And she wouldn’t focus on her sense of betrayal. That was what.

      Rico watched her through narrowed eyes that saw too much. She tried to find a smile. ‘It’s been a while since there’s been an...incident. I’ve obviously become careless.’ She frowned. ‘But...’

      ‘But?’

      In the spring sunshine his hair gleamed dark, but she could pick out the deep auburn highlights that threaded through it. While he’d shrugged out of his business jacket, his tie was still perfectly knotted at his throat. She shoved her hands into her pockets to stop herself from reaching out and loosening it.

      ‘Let’s walk for a bit,’ she suggested, because standing there staring at him seemed suddenly absurd. Besides, the sand was packed tight from the outgoing tide. He shouldn’t get too much sand in his beautifully polished leather shoes.

      He fell into step beside her. ‘What were you going to say?’

      She shrugged, trying to replay that moment when she’d returned home from the supermarket. She’d unlocked the door...Monty had barrelled into her...she’d pulled the screen door shut so he couldn’t escape and...

      ‘It’s just that I’m pretty certain I did lock the screen door.’ It was an action that had become second nature.

      ‘How certain?’

      ‘Ninety per cent.’

      A second passed. Rico’s hands clenched. ‘You think someone picked the lock?’

      Her mouth dried. ‘I’m probably being paranoid, that’s all.’ She pressed her hands together and prayed that was all it was. ‘About a week after Chris and I broke up I came home after work one night to find my entire apartment open—front door, back door and every single window. He must’ve still had a key. That was the first time I moved. The second time was after I woke one morning to find the house I’d rented splattered with red paint. I don’t want to run like that again.’

      She would not be turned