Читать онлайн книгу «If the Ring Fits...» автора Jackie Braun

If the Ring Fits...
Jackie Braun
Practical Rachel Palmer’s aversion to risk-taking had led to a marriage—and a life—that just didn’t fit. Now single again, she knows she has to start living a little bit more dangerously, and her first step is taking her jewellery business around the world! For that she needs the expert help from Italian Antonio Salerno…His help with her business soon turns personal. And being in close-enough-to-kiss proximity to a sexy playboy makes Rachel feel she’s taking a flying leap into deliciously risky territory!It's everything she's been craving… but this is a man famous for loving and leaving. Surely falling for him would be a risk too far?


She’d always played it safe. Until now.
Practical Rachel Palmer’s aversion to risk-taking led to a marriage that just didn’t fit. Now single again, she’s embracing her newfound independence—and the first step is taking her jewelry business worldwide! For that she needs expert help from Italian Antonio Salerno....
His business help soon turns personal. And being in close-enough-to-kiss proximity to a sexy playboy makes Rachel feel she’s taking a flying leap into deliciously risky territory. It’s everything she’s been craving...but this is a man famous for loving and leaving. Surely falling for him would be a step too far?
So his favorite jewelry designer was single now.
He couldn’t quite figure out how he felt about that. As time went on, his relationships were becoming shorter and shorter. In each of the past three, Tony had become restless after mere months.
And each ending brought him back to Rachel.
What was it about Rachel Palmer that captivated him so? Part of it, he supposed, was that she remained a puzzle. They’d known one another for five years, ever since he’d walked into her quaint little shop on a whim and had admired a necklace one of the clerks was wearing.
“This is Mrs. Palmer’s design.”
Mrs. Palmer. Tony had never been able to figure her out.
She was very different from the other women he knew, personally and professionally. She was all business all the time. She never let her hair down, figuratively or otherwise. Today, however, he’d glimpsed a softer side, just a hint of vulnerability that left him intrigued.
And there was the not so small matter that she was no longer a Mrs.
Dear Reader,
Every woman knows a Tony Salerno, whether or not he comes with a sexy Italian accent. Charming, handsome men with a bedroom smile who like to flirt and can make a woman feel ridiculously feminine with a simple glance or smile. But do such men make good husbands?
Rachel Palmer is sure they don’t, which was why she married a man like Mal. Staid, predictable, boring Mal, who winds up having an affair with his secretary. So much for Rachel’s theory. So much for playing it safe.
Now she’s left to ponder a question: If she was so far off the mark with Mal, might she also be dead wrong about Tony?
I hope you enjoy If the Ring Fits.... As always, I like to hear what you think. Email me through my website at www.jackiebraun.com (http://www.jackiebraun.com) or become a fan of Romance Author Jackie Braun on Facebook.
Best,
Jackie Braun
If the Ring Fits…
Jackie Braun

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Jackie Braun is a three-time RITA® Award finalist, a four-time National Readers’ Choice Awards finalist and the winner of a Rising Star Award for traditional romance fiction. She can be reached through her website, www.jackiebraun.com (http://www.jackiebraun.com).
“There is something about an Italian accent that just screams romance. But ultimately actions speak louder than words.”
—Jackie Braun
For Andrea Cerofolini and Meredith Fridline. Grazie!
Contents
Chapter One (#ub2bef25c-d333-529e-be90-685b2906cde8)
Chapter Two (#u45405fd9-966e-5a97-aaac-dbdb5c0ceac1)
Chapter Three (#u45531116-fd52-50fc-9577-4649e6ad9ea3)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
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)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE
“I’M divorced.” Rachel Palmer raised her chin after saying so and affected a smile.
Hmm. She sounded defensive. She wrinkled her nose at her reflection in the mirror and tried again.
“I’m no longer married.” This time she added a careless shrug to the mix. It didn’t help.
Hands on her hips, she announced baldly, “That’s right. Mal has been doing the nasty with his secretary, and I was the last to know.”
Sucker.
Maybe she should just stamp that on her forehead and be done with it. If only it were that simple.
As Rachel was discovering, divorce wasn’t an ending. Nor was it a beginning exactly. It was a transition. An emotional, a physical and, certainly, a financial shift of seismic proportions. The problem was she had no idea where she would wind up once the tectonic plates of her life settled down again.
She needed to figure it out and fast. As of yesterday afternoon, her marriage was officially over, decreed so not only by the two parties involved but by the state of Michigan. Rachel Palmer, née Preston, was a single woman once more. She wrinkled her nose again at her reflection. A single woman inching toward thirty-three and past her prime child-bearing years, as her mother so helpfully had pointed out during dinner the previous evening.
Dinner had been Heidi’s idea. Her younger sister said they should go to Maxie’s, the same upscale restaurant where Mal had proposed, and celebrate.
“It will be like erasing the past. A do-over. Come on, Rach. Now isn’t the time for mourning,” Heidi had insisted cheerfully as they’d left the Oakland County courthouse.
Against her better judgment, Rachel had agreed. She’d regretted it as soon as a round of fruit-garnished drinks arrived at their table. While their mother nibbled pineapple off the skewer, Heidi had raised her glass.
“Here’s to the start of an exciting new chapter in your life.”
Exciting new chapter? Her sister should have been named Pollyanna. It fit her perpetually optimistic personality.
Rachel had reached for her water. “Heidi—”
“If you’re free tomorrow night, I have someone interested in meeting you. We can double date.”
“Heidi—” Once again that was as far as she’d got before her sister cut her off.
“Oh, don’t worry. He’s nice and harmless.” The younger woman had scrunched up her face and taken another sip of her overly sweet drink. “Kind of boring, actually, but he’s polite and well-groomed. The first guy doesn’t count anyway. Everyone understands he’ll just be your rebound man.”
“I don’t think this week will work for me.” Or the next, or the next…indefinitely. But Rachel knew her sister. It was best to leave it open and save herself the inevitable argument.
“You haven’t been out in ages, Rach.”
Rachel’s mouth had fallen open at that. “I just got divorced. Today.”
Their mother had made an indelicate snorting noise. “That didn’t stop Mal.”
Heidi had taken a more diplomatic approach. “You and Mal were legally separated for the past year. You even stopped wearing your wedding band three months ago.”
“In part to get you off my back. You kept hounding me about it,” Rachel had shot back.
Besides, the ring represented a promise, one that had been broken. But Rachel didn’t agree with Heidi’s assessment that she needed to get back into the dating scene right away. It wasn’t that she still loved Mal. Oh, she mourned the demise of their marriage and the failure it represented, but she wasn’t pining over her ex any longer. Even so, that didn’t make the thought of dating again any more palatable.
Rachel’s hollow-eyed self gazed back at her in the mirror now. She wasn’t like her outgoing younger sibling, who could strike up a conversation with a stranger in the grocery store and then be invited out for dinner or drinks. She’d found meeting men awkward and intimidating when she was twenty-two. She didn’t delude herself that it would be any easier as a divorced woman of thirty-two.
She turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on her face in the hope of obliterating the dark circles under her eyes. Unfortunately, they were still there after she blotted her face dry with the towel. She did her best to camouflage them with some concealer, and then added mascara to her lashes. They were long and thick and by far one of her best features. Maybe no one would notice the circles if she played up her lashes. After applying tinted moisturizer and a little blusher to her cheeks, she pulled her hair back in a clip. She might not be able to wrap her mind around Heidi’s “new chapter” description, but it was a new day. And it was time to get ready for work.
It was just before eight o’clock when she pulled her car into the nearly empty municipal lot behind Expressive Gems, the jewelry store she owned in Rochester’s charming downtown. Not only did she sell jewelry, five years ago she’d begun to do some serious designing. When inspiration struck, she could lose herself in her job for hours. She’d entertained dreams that went beyond the little shop, dreams that hadn’t seemed realistic or practical while married to Mal. Indeed, he’d discouraged them. He was unhappy as it was that so much of her time was taken up at the shop. But now? New day, new chapter. It was something to think about, she decided as she pulled the lapels of her coat together and hustled across the parking lot.
The weather was turning right along with the leaves. The wind didn’t help. Another week and the trees that dotted the street out front would be aflame in hues of red and orange. Rachel liked autumn, although she couldn’t help dreading the long Michigan winter that would come after it.
She let herself in via the employee entrance, balancing her purse and travel mug of coffee as she unlocked the door and deactivated the alarm. Then she switched off the interior security lights and flipped on the overheads. The aroma of roses hit her almost immediately. She kept a lush arrangement near the display cases in the front. They had another day, maybe two, before they would need to be replaced. Some had started to wilt.
Jewelry shopping was about mood and emotions. In particular, it was about romance. She suppressed the twinge of betrayal she felt thinking about the receipts for a high-end jewelry store across town in Mal’s coat pocket that had led to the discovery of his infidelity. It was bad enough he’d cheated on her, but then he had to go and buy his bimbo jewelry at the store of a competitor who surely recognized his name.
A brisk knock sounded at the front entrance as she finished making a pot of coffee in the shop’s small break room. The sign on the door clearly read Closed. She hadn’t turned it over yet, nor would she for another forty-five minutes. As tempted as she was to ignore the interruption, she went to see who it was.
She had a licensed general contractor coming, though the appointment wasn’t until ten o’clock. Perhaps he was early. Very early, she thought, glancing at the clock. Depending on where the estimate came in, Rachel was hoping to renovate the storage space over the shop and turn it into an apartment. The house she and Mal owned jointly was on the market. Per their settlement, the equity was to be split evenly between them when it sold. She planned to use her half to buy Mal’s investment in Expressive Gems from him. The deed to the shop was in her name, but Mal was a cosigner on the loan she’d taken out to purchase inventory when she’d first started designing her own jewelry. That also was the deal they’d worked out through their lawyers.
While the housing market was slow, Rachel needed to get serious about finding a new place to live—hence the appointment with the contractor. When she’d first purchased the old building, she’d considered turning it into an income property. It had the potential to become a decent studio apartment. Then she and Mal had married and she’d put those plans on hold. Much like her career plans beyond the shop, she thought with chagrin.
When she reached the door, it wasn’t the contractor who stood on the other side of the glass. It was Tony Salerno. The collar of his trench coat was flipped up against the damp breeze. His grin flashed white in his tanned face when he spotted her. The smile she offered in return was as polite as it was automatic. He was Expressive Gems’s best customer, and as such, one of the few people for whom she would open early.
His smile said he knew it.
“Mr. Salerno. Good morning.”
“Buongiorno, carina.”
Despite her best efforts, gooseflesh pricked on her arms. In addition to being her best customer, Tony was hands down her most handsome, with hair the color of espresso and a pair of eyes that leaned toward hazel. His mouth was wide, sensual. When he conversed with members of the opposite sex, it curved into the sort of smile best saved for the bedroom. Add in the sexy remains of an Italian accent—he’d immigrated to the United States from Florence with his mother when he was thirteen—and he was never without female companionship.
Since Tony could afford to be generous, he never was without the need for glittery trinkets to bestow on those women. Hence his unofficial status as Expressive Gems’s benefactor. Thanks to his regular patronage and appreciation for her work, she’d had the resources to devote to her own designs. Still, Rachel never felt completely at ease around him. He made her feel ridiculously feminine and self-conscious. That was especially true on this day, with her sister’s talk of dating echoing in her head.
As he stepped inside, Rachel tucked behind her ears the mousy hair that had fallen out of her clip, and tried not to think about how long it had been since she’d gone in for highlights.
“This is a surprise,” she said.
“A pleasant one, I hope.” Before she could respond, he was chiding, “How many times must I ask you to call me Tony?”
He’d done so on half a dozen occasions already, but Rachel preferred the professionalism a courtesy title lent their relationship, as well as the distance it created. Flirting came as naturally to the man as breathing. She had four employees, all of them women, and all of them completely smitten. Rachel wasn’t smitten. Married women didn’t get smitten. She frowned as the realization dawned anew. She wasn’t married any longer. Which meant it was perfectly acceptable to find Tony attractive and to flirt right back…if she wanted to.
“You are frowning,” he remarked.
“I’m trying to recall the last time you visited Expressive Gems,” she evaded. “It’s been months.”
“At least nine. Much, much too long.” His gaze skimmed down from her face and he murmured, “Che bella.”
Rachel exhaled softly between her teeth. If someone were to bottle up that sexy accent and sell it as an aphrodisiac, they could make a fortune. And that was before his voice dropped to a husky whisper and he asked, “Have you missed me?”
The gooseflesh was back. Or more likely it never had left.
“Of course, I have. After all, you’re one of our favorite customers.”
Not to mention the one whose patronage was going to help fund a good portion of the upstairs renovation.
He chuckled at her diplomatic dodge. “Your husband is a lucky man, carina.”
He’d made that very comment several times in the past. Should she correct him? She kept her smile in place and instead decided to let it pass. She folded her hands in front of her. Tony studied her, one side of his mouth turned up in consideration. While he appeared perfectly at ease, she discreetly nibbled the inside of her cheek. The coffee wasn’t ready yet. In the quiet shop, she could hear the machine still gurgling away in the break room. She would offer him a cup when it finished. For now she said, “Let me take your coat.”
“Grazie.”
As he slipped off the trench, she was determined not to let the conversation lapse again. “You’re out and about early today.”
“Jet lag. I just returned to town yesterday. I could not sleep. I have been up for hours.” His smile turned apologetic. “I saw the lights on while I was on my way to the bakery for bagels and decided to take the chance that you would be willing to let me in a little early. Allora…” He shrugged.
He used that word a lot. She wasn’t sure exactly what it meant, but it seemed to act as the Italian equivalent of “so.”
“I got in early myself. I like to arrive before my employees. I get the coffee going and just relax for a little while.”
“Ah, then I really must thank you for taking pity on me.”
A man such as Tony Salerno inspired many emotions. Pity, however, was not among them.
As Rachel hung his trench on the coat tree next to the door, she caught a whiff of his cologne. The scent was sensual, sexy, sigh-worthy. The conversation she’d had the evening before with Heidi popped into her head.
The first guy doesn’t count anyway. Everyone understands he’ll just be your rebound man.
Tony Salerno would make one heck of a rebound.
What was she thinking?
Rachel tossed Tony’s coat onto a hook and turned back to him with a guilty smile. Her tone was a little breathless when she said, “I’m afraid I have no bagels to offer, but the coffee is almost ready. Would you like a cup?”
“Si, per favora. I take it—”
“Black,” she interjected.
His lips curved. “You remember.”
It was her job to remember the preferences of her best customers. The fact that she couldn’t think how any of her other regulars took their coffee didn’t mean anything. She went to pour them each a cup.
When she returned to the showroom, he was sitting on a tall metal stool in front of the long glass case that held her designs. The heel of one supple leather loafer was hooked on the bottom rung. Despite his claim of jet lag, his appearance was impeccable. No bloodshot eyes. No dark circles. And his hair looked gently tousled rather than ravished by the wind. With his lean build, he wore clothes well, whether the style was casual or formal and sophisticated. Today he had on a toffee-colored sweater—she’d bet it was cashmere—and black gabardine trousers that probably cost more than the shop’s monthly mortgage. He straightened when he saw her, and then stood to take one of the white porcelain mugs adorned with the shop’s logo.
“Thank you, signora.”
Rachel’s understanding of Italian was limited, but she understood courtesy titles. This made twice he’d referenced her marital state. She decided to correct him this time.
“Actually, it’s miss now. I’m divorced.” The words came out with surprising ease. Apparently, all of that practice in front of the bathroom mirror earlier had paid off.
“Signorina.”
Tony said it slowly, almost as if testing the word on his tongue. Then his mouth curved with another of those toe-curling smiles that made her feel so self-conscious. She held the mug of steaming coffee close to her face and sipped, pretending to be unaware of the way he was studying her.
“Should I offer my condolences on the demise of your marriage?” he asked after a moment.
“Condolences? No,” she said honestly. She set the coffee down on counter. In the case beneath it, the gemstones she’d worked into various designs winked as they caught the light. The sight always reminded her of Christmas. The holiday would be here before she knew it. It wouldn’t be her first without Mal. They’d spent it apart last year, as well. She’d been sad then, shell-shocked by all of his deceptions. She was nobody’s fool now.
Next to her, Tony sipped his coffee. “But I gather that congratulations would not be appropriate, either.”
She nodded, surprised he understood, even more surprised when she confided, “My sister claims I’m starting an exciting new chapter in my life.”
“This sister, is she older?”
“Younger. Just out of college.”
“Well, younger or not, she is correct. Am I correct in thinking you do not quite agree?”
Rachel focused on the colorful gems. “It’s all so new.”
“If there is anything I can do…” Tony left it at that.
Several other people—Rachel’s friends, her employees, Heidi and her mother—had made similar offers over the months as Rachel’s attempts to resuscitate her marriage failed and she was forced to accept the inevitable. Tony’s was probably rooted in politeness more so than practicality. They had no real relationship, after all, save for a business one. Even so, she appreciated the gesture.
“Thank you. That’s kind.”
His voice lowered and his gaze turned intense. “I say what I mean, signorina. If you need anything—anything—you have only to ask.”
He laid a hand over hers as he said it. His fingers were long and tapered, and adorned with one simple gold ring that bore a crest of some sort. The design wasn’t hers, but she admired the excellent workmanship. She focused on the ring, afraid to meet his gaze. She wasn’t sure which had her more discombobulated, the heat radiating from his hand or the fact that he clearly meant what he said. Either way, she was being foolish. She had to swallow twice before she could speak and change the subject.
“So, where did your travels take you this time?” As surreptitiously as possible, she pulled her hand free and picked up her coffee mug once again.
Tony wrote features for a travel magazine that catered to upscale tastes. In fact, he owned the magazine, as well as a couple of others, all of which were based in New York and aimed at people who had more money than they could spend in five lifetimes.
He knew his target audience well, since he counted himself among their elite number. From the chatter of her employees, Rachel knew that in addition to an estate in well-heeled Rochester Hills, which he considered home since it was close to where his family lived, Tony kept an apartment in Manhattan, another in Rome and had executive suites on reserve at luxury hotels in both Paris and London.
He didn’t need to work, but he’d once told Rachel that he enjoyed writing too much to sit back and let others have all the fun doing it for him. Rachel respected him for that, even if she didn’t exactly respect his playboy lifestyle. The man went through women the way some people went through napkins. Still, no one could argue he wasn’t generous with them, a fact she knew well since it benefited Expressive Gems’s bottom line.
“I spent most of my time in Milan with trips to London, Paris, Monaco, Berlin and Stockholm.”
“Is that all?” she drawled.
His shoulders rose at the same time the corners of his mouth turned down. The gesture was decidedly European. “I was working.”
“You found some time to play, I trust.”
His smile was quick and lethal. “I always find time to play. I would be a dull, dull boy otherwise. No?”
Dull and boy were two words Rachel would never think to use to describe the man before her. She cleared her throat. “So, what are you writing about now?”
“The best places to stay and dine during fashion week in each city, with a side piece on up-and-coming designers to watch.”
“I suppose you had to interview a lot of models for that.”
His careless shrug was at odds with his Casanova smile. “They have a unique perspective to offer.”
“One model in particular, I’m guessing.”
Again, the smile. “Astrid.”
Rachel pictured a long-limbed and graceful beauty. “And you are here today looking for something special to give her. A token of your affection and appreciation?”
“Pazzesco!” He flashed a smile. “You know me too well.”
Actually, what Rachel knew was his type. Tony was a lot like her absentee father, who’d left her mother when Heidi was barely out of diapers. Griff Preston had popped in and out of his daughters’ lives since then, showering them with gifts that were a poor substitute for his time and affection.
“So, what are you thinking? A necklace? Perhaps a bracelet? Or maybe a pair of earrings?”
Tony never purchased a ring. Too much could be read in to that, he’d told her once, and she thought he had a point.
“A necklace, I think. Astrid has a lovely neck. It will make an exquisite showcase for one of your designs.”
Rachel pulled out a pad of paper to jot down some notes. Already, ideas were flashing in her mind. She loved this part of the process.
“Let’s talk about style. If you want to showcase her neck, perhaps a choker would be best. Something delicate, feminine. Maybe pearls, three or four rows, threaded together with silver wire.”
But he was shaking his head. “A choker sits too high.” He touched Rachel’s neck. “I want something longer that falls about here.” The tip of his finger glided slowly from the hollow of her throat to the lowest point visible in the V of her blouse. Her breath hitched.
“Ah. More of a pendant, then,” she managed.
“Yes. Something to draw attention to her other assets.”
“Why don’t you tell me a little bit about Astrid?” It was standard practice. It helped Rachel with the design process. But she also couldn’t help but be curious about the glamorous women Tony dated.
He rubbed his jaw. Even though he hadn’t shaved, the dark stubble that shaded his jaw didn’t do anything to detract from his appearance. “She’s very interested in astrology and numerology, tarot cards.”
“And her sign?” She said it tongue-in-cheek, but he answered with a straight face.
“Pisces.”
“What does she look like, other than being gorgeous, since that much is a given?”
“Well, she is Swedish. Pale, creamy skin.”
“Blonde?”
“Yes, with eyes nearly as blue as yours. Her lashes are not as lush, though.”
He’d noticed her eyes? Rachel made a little humming noise in the back of her throat before asking, “And how old is she?”
“Twenty-three.”
Ah. That made Astrid just a year younger than Mal’s secretary.
“She’s been modeling professionally since she was fourteen,” Tony was saying.
“Fourteen, hmm. Where are those child-labor laws when you need them?”
“You think she is too young for me.” His expression held more amusement than insult.
“I make no judgments,” she said hastily. Then she exhaled and shook her head. “At least I shouldn’t. I mean, who am I to judge anyone’s relationship?”
“I am sorry, carina.”
Embarrassed by her outburst as much as by the sympathy she saw in his eyes, Rachel got back to business.
“Does Astrid have a favorite gemstone?”
“Diamonds.” His laughter rumbled and he shook his head. “I think a warmer stone would suit her better.”
Tony never went for diamonds. He didn’t have to tell Rachel that, as with the purchase of a ring, too much could be read into that particular stone, as well.
Rachel took the key ring from the pocket of her blazer, unlocked the case and retrieved a black-velvet-lined tray from the bottom shelf. Loose stones of various cuts, sizes and colors glittered under the lights.
“Do you see anything here that catches your eye? Don’t worry about the cut or size. Anything you select I can cut and size to suit. We’re just picking out a gemstone right now.”
Tony settled on an aquamarine—Astrid’s birthstone—in a triangular-shaped or “trilliant” cut that would be set in platinum. He wanted no less than three carats for the stone. As for the rest of the design, including the kind of chain, he left that to Rachel. She was thinking of something that would pull in Astrid’s interest in astrology. She appreciated his trust in her artistic judgment. Some customers were so specific about what they wanted and they insisted on being so involved in the process that they left little room for creativity. In those cases, she was left to craft their vision. She much preferred conjuring up one of her own.
“When would you like to pick it up?” she asked as she wrote up the order.
“I will be in town for the next several weeks. Astrid will be in New York the last weekend in November for a magazine photo shoot. Would that be enough time?”
She did some quick calculations in her head. If the stone he wanted came in quickly from her supplier, it would be more than enough time. She had little else on her plate, professionally or personally.
“It shouldn’t be a problem. Shall we say the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, then?”
Tony nodded as he rose. “Perfect. I cannot wait to see what you create.”
The smile she gave him was fueled by genuine pleasure rather than mere politeness. Not only had designing jewelry paid her bills, during the past several months, it had saved her sanity.
She meant it when she said, “I’m very eager to get started.”
“Until I see you again, bella.”
“Yes. Until then.”
CHAPTER TWO
THE weather outside was every bit as bitter as it had been before Tony had ducked into Expressive Gems. He turned up the trench’s collar once again and tucked his hands into its lined pockets. As he made his way to the bakery, walking headlong into the wind, he started to whistle.
So, his favorite jewelry designer was single now.
He couldn’t quite figure out how he felt about that. Nor could he explain why he hadn’t mentioned to Rachel that the necklace he was having her make for Astrid was intended as a parting gift. He had ended things with the young model before returning to the States. The relationship had run its course.
Astrid was lovely, funny and far smarter than most people gave her credit for being, but they didn’t have much in common except time to kill between fashion events in various European cities. And even there they’d differed. Where Tony gravitated to the classics in art, music and clothing, Astrid followed the trends. She wanted to stay out late and kick up her heels in the exclusive nightclubs, whereas Tony had tired of life in that fast lane years ago. Did that make him too old? Or Astrid too young, he mused? Regardless, he had grown bored quickly.
Indeed, as time went on, his relationships were becoming shorter and shorter. In each of the last three, Tony had become restless after mere months.
And each ending brought him back to Rachel.
He stopped whistling as he waited for the light to change so he could cross the street. What was it about Rachel Palmer that captivated him so? Part of it, he supposed, was that she remained a puzzle. They’d known one another for five years, ever since he’d walked into her quaint little shop on a whim and had admired a necklace one of the clerks was wearing.
“This is Mrs. Palmer’s design.”
Mrs. Palmer. Tony had never been able to figure her out.
She was very different from the other women he knew, personally and professionally. For starters, she was all business all of the time. She never let her hair down, figuratively or otherwise. In truth, Tony had always felt a little intimidated by her. Today, however, he’d glimpsed a softer side, just a hint of vulnerability that left him intrigued. And there was the not-so-small matter that she was no longer a Mrs.
His stomach growled loudly enough to be heard over the howl of the wind. Glancing up, he realized the light had changed back to red while he’d stood there ruminating over Rachel. Pazzesco! Crazy. After a shake of his head, Tony didn’t bother waiting for the Walk sign to appear a second time. He crossed against the light, keeping an eye on the cars. There weren’t that many. It was nearly nine o’clock and the traffic along Main Street was sparse. School was in session and most commuters were at work, starting their day. Meanwhile, he was on vacation.
Between writing a dozen features and putting out fires at the various publications under his control, he had earned a break, a long one, although he would make do with a week of being incommunicado before he checked in via phone at his New York offices. He preferred Rochester Hills to the hustle and bustle of the Big Apple. His mother and stepfather lived close by, as did his sister, Ava, her husband, Bill, and their two adorable daughters. He might not be interested in getting married and settling down, but he enjoyed being surrounded by family. When he was away for too long, he even missed his mother’s good-natured nagging.
Besides, he didn’t need to spend all of his time in Manhattan. The internet made it easy to stay in touch with the staff of his three magazines. Of course, the internet wasn’t just changing his job, it was changing the way the publishing world operated.
The advent of the digital age and widespread access to the internet meant more and more of the people who subscribed to his magazines wanted the convenience of downloading content to the electronic device of their choosing. But others still preferred to receive magazines in the mail each month or pick them up at the newsstand, flipping through the glossy pages at their leisure.
Advertisers, meanwhile, simply wanted to reach their targeted demographic in the most cost-effective way possible. Tony’s job was to keep them all happy while ensuring that the quality of his product never suffered.
Some people, most people, thought he had nothing to lose. Despite his success, they viewed his career as a mere hobby, a rich man dabbling in the publishing world to fill his time and stave off boredom. It was true that the magazines could fold and the greatest casualty for him personally would be his pride. He would get along fine on the trust fund left to him by his late father. But several hundred people worked for him in various capacities in various cities around the globe. They relied on the incomes they earned to raise their children and keep roofs over their heads. So while he believed in enjoying life and indulging his whims, he took his responsibilities as the head of the Fortuna Publishing Group very seriously.
His cell phone trilled just as he reached the bakery. Despite the inclement weather, he opted to take the call outside rather than disturb the customers who were enjoying coffee and pastries at a smattering of tables inside.
“Pronto.”
“You are home?” It was his mother. There was no mistaking Lucia’s voice or the worry in her tone.
“I am. I arrived late last night. I did not want to wake you,” he added, knowing she would chide him for not calling.
She did. Then, “You will come for dinner tonight?” It was as much a command as a question. “Ava and her family will be here. I will make your favorite.”
After months of restaurant fare, his mouth watered at the offer of a home-cooked meal. “Anything you cook is my favorite, Mama.”
“So my job is easy. Come early.” He heard her laugh. He loved the sound, especially since there had been a time after his father’s death when he’d feared he would never hear it again.
“How about if I come by now and bring some pastries with me?” he offered. “That way at dinner I will not have so many questions to answer and we can have a relaxing visit.”
“Suit yourself.”
Despite Lucia’s seeming indifference, he knew she was pleased. He also knew he would be pumped for answers promptly upon his arrival. Most would center on his love life. Not surprisingly, his mother thought he should be settling down. Even as he thought about Astrid and the relationship that had just ended, his gaze was drawn back down the street to where a royal-blue awning yawned over the wide windows at Expressive Gems.
“Ci sono?” His mother’s question snapped him back.
“Yes. Si. I am here. I will see you soon.”
“A presto,” she repeated in Italian before hanging up.
* * *
For the next couple of weeks, Rachel worked late. She didn’t mind the long hours. Besides, it wasn’t as if she had a reason to rush home. The house seemed so big and quiet these days, half furnished as it was. Maybe she should get a dog. Or a cat, since she would soon be without a yard.
“Or maybe I should get a life,” she muttered aloud, rising from her chair to stretch out the muscles in her back.
Her shoulders ached from hunching forward. She was working on the piece for Tony and was pleased with her progress. So, too, was she pleased with the progress the contractor had made on the upstairs apartment in so short a span of time. It helped that it was the off-season for construction and she had been clear on what she wanted. Already, plans had been drawn up and the framework for closets and the bathroom was under way. Overhead, the sound of hammers echoed. It was costing her extra, but she’d requested that the work not be done during regular business hours out of deference for her clientele. Because of the noise, it took her a minute to realize that someone was knocking on the front display window.
Tony grinned at her from the opposite side of the glass. The weather was more hospitable today. He had no need for a trench coat. In fact, he wasn’t wearing a coat at all. Rather, he had on a thick wool sweater that fit snugly over his broad shoulders and chest. He looked plenty warm. Hot, in fact. Rachel broke out in gooseflesh again.
“Mr. Salerno.”
“Tony,” he stressed.
“I was just thinking about you,” Rachel said as she ushered him inside.
Even though it was true, she realized immediately that it was the wrong thing to say. A bedroom smile creased his cheeks and she swore his hazel eyes turned smoky.
“That is exactly what a man hopes to hear from a beautiful woman. Tell me, carina, about these thoughts.”
Briefly, she considered flirting back. It wasn’t only the fact that Tony was a client that stopped her. She was too out of practice.
“I, um, your necklace is almost ready. Did you come by to see it?”
“What if I said I came by to see you?”
She smiled, not sure how to respond. He said things such as this to the women who worked for Rachel, so she knew he didn’t mean anything by it. Still, it had her flustered and tongue-tied. A fresh onslaught of hammering started upstairs and saved her.
“Santo cielo! What is that racket?”
“I’m having some renovations done.”
“You’re adding a second story to the shop?”
She shook her head. “Actually, I’m having the bulk of the square footage turned into an apartment, leaving a small storage attic for the shop.”
“This is an older building with a lot of charm and a good location, especially for a young professional. You should have no problem finding a renter.”
“I already have one lined up.” At his raised eyebrows she added. “Me.”
Tony pointed toward the ceiling. “You plan to live there?”
“I do. As soon as the renovation is finished, which should be before spring.”
“It cannot be very big.” He grimaced. “Forgive me. That was rude.”
“That’s all right. As for the apartment, it doesn’t have to be big. It will just be me.” She shrugged. “And maybe a cat.”
“A cat?” He shook his head. “No. Dogs are much better company.”
“Oh? Do you have a dog?” she inquired.
Tony shook his head. “No. Unfortunately. I am away too much of the time to have one now. But I did when I was a boy in Italy. A Bracco pointer.” At her puzzled expression, he added, “It is a breed of hunting dog that is quite popular in Europe. My father spent months training the dog to spot game birds.”
“So it was a good hunter,” she guessed.
“I do not know.” A shadow passed over his face. “My father died before he was able to hunt with her.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
The corners of his mouth turned down and he shrugged. “It was a long time ago.”
Which she took to mean he didn’t want to talk about it. She understood perfectly. Her father had deserted her a long time ago, too, but time hadn’t healed that particular wound, not completely anyway.
“Well, dogs need a yard and I won’t have one living here. Cats are more independent.”
“Which is why dogs make better pets. That is, if companionship is what you seek.” Just that quickly, his smile changed from charming to seductive.
“I—I—I really haven’t decided on a pet. Just thinking aloud,” she explained hastily.
Overhead, the pounding crescendoed, followed by a thud that shook the rafters.
“Pazzesco! Is it like this all day long?”
“In the evenings only. I’ve asked the contractor to save as much of the noisy work as possible for the off-hours. Construction doesn’t make for good background music,” she added wryly.
“I would have to agree.” He glanced toward the ceiling again before turning his gaze on her. “Will you have a design studio up there or will you continue to work on your jewelry down here?”
Rachel frowned. “I guess I hadn’t really given that much thought.”
Mal hadn’t liked her to bring work home, so she’d never followed through with her plans to turn one of the spare bedrooms of their house into a design studio. But she could do that here. It would be her decision. Her choice. She liked knowing that.
“Would you mind showing me the space? If it would not be too much of an imposition, of course. Just to satisfy my curiosity,” he added with an innocent smile.
Rachel could find no reason not to grant the request. She wasn’t living there yet, so it wasn’t as if she were inviting him into her home. Besides, they would have chaperones. Even so, she hesitated.
“It’s dusty,” she warned with a meaningful glance at his impeccable attire.
Tony, however, was unconcerned and undeterred. “If my clothes get dirty they can be washed.”
More likely dry-cleaned, but she shrugged. “All right. Follow me.”
She led him to the back room. Just to the right of the rear entrance was a narrow staircase that led to the second story. The treads were made of wood and not covered with a runner. The stain’s finish was scratched and worn off completely in the center. Like the rest of the building, they had a lot of years behind them. They creaked and groaned as Rachel and Tony started up them.
“How old is this building?” Tony wanted to know.
“It dates to the late 1880s. It started out as a mercantile, and it was a card shop before I bought it. Rumor has it that the downstairs was a speakeasy during Prohibition.” She sent a smile over her shoulder. Tony was studying her butt. Despite being caught in the act, he smiled.
“A checkered past. I like that. It lends a little spice.”
She nearly tripped on a tread. His hands went to her waist immediately, staying a little longer than she thought necessary. “I s-suppose.”
They reached the top. A heavy plastic tarp cordoned off the work site in the hope of keeping as much of the sawdust upstairs as possible. Even so, the air was thick with it. She sneezed. Tony offered her a neatly folded square of linen from his pocket. It was monogrammed with his initials and seemed too pretty to wipe her nose, but she did so as discreetly as possible. Rachel tucked the handkerchief into the pocket of her pants. She would have it laundered before returning it.
“Of course, the late 1880s would be considered modern in parts of Italy,” he remarked conversationally.
“That’s one of the things I admire about Europe. All of that lovely old architecture and so much of it has been preserved. My goal with this renovation is to keep as much of the original finishes and charm of the building as possible, but safety and modern conveniences are a priority, too.”
“Form and function.”
“Exactly. The previous owner did some updating before I bought the building, but the electrical, plumbing and ventilation systems will need to be modified to accommodate an apartment.”
She reached for the tarp, but Tony pulled it aside for her and waved her ahead of him.
“When the work is complete, the entrance to the apartment will be reconfigured so that it will be accessible from outside the store. The original stairs will lead to a storage unit here.” She pointed to the right where boxes of varying shapes and sizes were protected under more plastic sheeting.
“Eventually, once I no longer have need for it, I plan to rent out the apartment.”
“Any thought on where you would like to live?” he asked.
“Not really. Except that I’ll want a house again.”
“For your dog.” He smiled.
She laughed. “For my dog. Still, this and a cat are a good solution in the interim. And I certainly can’t complain about my commute time.”
In addition to the hammering, a radio blared vintage rock. The workers stopped what they were doing when they spied her and Tony. There were three of them, all of them outfitted in denim and T-shirts whose holes and wear patterns were the result of serious labor rather than fashion.
“Hey, Mrs. Palmer. Sorry we’re making so much noise,” the crew’s foreman, Will Daniels, said after switching off the tunes. “We should be done with the framing by the weekend, if it’s any consolation.”
“Oh, that’s not a problem, Will. My…um, client, Mr. Salerno, was curious about the layout, so I brought him up to see. I hope that’s all right?”
“Yeah. Sure.” He rested a pair of meaty hands on his hips. “Me and the guys were thinking about knocking off for fifteen anyway.”
“Thanks.”
Tony stepped forward and stuck out a hand. “I am Tony, by the way.”
The foreman seemed a little surprised. He wiped his palm on the leg of his jeans before shaking Tony’s hand.
“Will Daniels.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “And these are two of the best framers in the business.”
Tony shook each of their hands in turn before glancing around. “There is much to do here, but I see the potential.” To Rachel, he said, “It is bigger than I thought it would be, even cutting off a portion for storage.”
“The ten-foot ceilings help, as does the fact it is so open,” Rachel said.
“Will it remain that way?”
“Pretty much. It’s going to be a studio apartment when they’re finished.”
“Can you show me around?”
His smile was too charming to refuse. While the workers opened their waters and stood a discreet distance away, Rachel walked Tony through the room, her imagination turning studs and subflooring into a finished, furnished and, most importantly, a highly colorful and textural, home.
“This is going to be the kitchen. It’s small, but it will have everything I, and whoever the tenant is after me, will need.” She pointed to an outside wall. “The sink will be under the window, with cabinetry on either side.”
“The finish for the cabinetry?”
“Cherry. I like the richness of the wood.”
He made a humming sound. “And the brick, will you leave it exposed?”
“In a section of the main living space, yes. I love the look of it, but for insulation purposes, I’m going to have the rest covered in drywall. Otherwise my heating bill will be through the roof.”
“A practical compromise, then.”
“Yes.”
He followed her to the far wall, where a couple of tall windows faced south.
“The light here would be ideal for a work area.” He motioned with his hands as he continued. “It could accommodate a desk here and some storage cabinets there. You could make use of the vertical space by putting in shelving.”
Rachel felt her creative juices begin to flow just thinking about it. She could picture the work area Tony was talking about. She liked it…with a little tweaking, of course. With a finger pressed to her lips, she turned in a semicircle.
Half to herself, she said, “I guess I could skimp on the master closet to free up more floor space.”
“Am I in your bedroom, signorina?”
Ridiculously, she felt her face heat as she watched Tony’s mouth curve. Oh, she knew that smile.
“Actually, you’re in my closet, right about where I was planning to put my shoes.”
He was undeterred.
“Do you have any stilettos, carina? In red perhaps?”
“Sorry. None.”
He made a tsking sound. “You need to buy some. They do wonderful things for a woman’s legs.”
“I’ll take that under advisement.”
“And now?” He stepped toward her, close enough that she could smell his cologne. “Where am I standing now?”
They were where her bed would be. When she said nothing, Tony chuckled softly. “You will look lovely here in the morning light.”
The air backed up in her lungs. It took a moment, but she managed to exhale. Pointing to the right, she said, “The bathroom.”
“Hmm?”
“The bathroom. It will go here.” She stepped to where the construction crew had already framed in the walls with two-by-fours.
Tony wasn’t smiling. In fact, he was frowning. “But there is not enough room here for a proper tub.”
“It will have a shower only,” Rachel agreed on a sigh. What woman didn’t like the indulgence of a long, languid soak?
“You are always welcome at my home. I have a big tub.” That sinful smile spread over his face once again when he added, “Big enough to accommodate two.”
He was just flirting, she reminded herself. He didn’t mean anything by the words. Even so, she wanted to be sure he understood one thing clearly. She didn’t condone cheating. Having been the one cheated on, she wasn’t about to turn around and become the other woman, even if Tony and Astrid weren’t married or, for all she knew, exclusive. She turned to face him and said pointedly, “Perhaps you should be inviting Astrid to join you, then.”
“Astrid.” He studied the ceiling a moment as if considering, then shook his head. “Astrid and I are no longer seeing one another.”
Rachel knew her mouth was gaping open, but it took her a moment to snap it closed after mumbling, “Oh.”
“Yes. Oh.” He tapped her nose.
Was he laughing at her? Rachel decided to concentrate on business. Did he still want the necklace? “Is this a recent development?”
“Not really. We said our official goodbyes in Stockholm.”
“But that was—”
“Prior to me returning to the States. Yes.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.” She flushed even though he hardly looked broken up about the relationship’s demise.
He didn’t shrug, but his words were the verbal equivalent when he said, “We enjoyed one another while it lasted, although never in my bathtub. These things happen.”
“Yes, they do.” Rachel’s tone was sharper than she intended.
This time, it was Tony who apologized. “That was an insensitive remark given your current circumstances.”
“At least you didn’t cheat on her,” Rachel replied without thinking.
“I never cheat, carina. Never.”
She wasn’t sure she believed him. Regardless, he wasn’t the sort of man who settled down. He was…the perfect rebound. She sucked in a breath and tried to shoo away the thought.
“Is everything all right?”
“Fine. I…I’m just surprised about the necklace. I assumed it was for a special occasion.”
“It is. A parting gift as well as a way to wish her luck with her career.”
“That’s very generous of you.” And no doubt it would ensure Astrid went on her way without any fuss or acrimony.
He did shrug this time. “I can afford to be generous. Because that is the case, women want things.”
Rachel frowned. “I’m offended on behalf of my gender.”
“Everyone wants something, carina.”
His level gaze left Rachel to wonder exactly what Tony wanted from her.
CHAPTER THREE
“THE house has been sold?” Stunned, Rachel plunked down in the chair in her office. The leather seat groaned even as she did.
On the other end of the telephone line, her real-estate agent, Flora LaBelle, was saying, “I’m just as surprised as you are. Of course, technically, both you and Mal have to accept the offer in order for the sale to go through, but I think you should. It’s a pretty decent one, especially for this soft market.”
“How decent? Full asking price?”
“Well, no. A little less than that.”
“By how much?”
Flora cleared her throat. “By about ten thousand dollars give or take a few hundred.”
“Oh.” And damn! This was not what Rachel wanted to hear. She’d hoped to get as close to the asking price as possible since she would have to split the equity with Mal. She needed every penny.
Flora wasn’t done. “The buyer also wants you to pick up the closing costs.”
That would be several thousand dollars more out of pocket. “Gee, is that all?”
Despite Rachel’s sarcastic tone, Flora continued. “And the buyer is requesting that all of the kitchen appliances stay with the house.”
“The appliances? They’re brand new.” Indeed, stainless-steel beauties that Rachel had picked out herself just before learning of Mal’s infidelity. “I was hoping to keep those.”
She and Mal had agreed on that in the settlement. Rachel had planned on them for the apartment’s kitchen to keep down the renovation costs.
Flora sighed. “You can buy new appliances, Rachel. I have other listings that have been on the market for months without so much as a nibble. You would be foolish to quash the sale over appliances.”
“Can’t we at least counter the offer?”
“Mal doesn’t want to,” Flora said.
“Mal? You’ve already talked to Mal?”
“I… Yes.”
“And he doesn’t want to at least see if we can get out of paying the closing costs?”
“He thinks the offer is fair.”
Which put the ball back in her court.
Flora was saying, “It could be months before another offer comes along, and even then it might not be as good as this one. It’s hard to say which direction the market is heading, Rachel. In the meantime, you’ll be making mortgage payments and the winter taxes are coming due. And Mal said the furnace is getting old.”
“I get it,” Rachel said, figuratively throwing up her hands in defeat. It was a game of roulette, one with a high cover. She couldn’t afford to take the risk.
“On the bright side, the buyer has agreed to forego a home inspection and take the house as is.”
“Thank God for small miracles. So, what do I need to do now?”
“I can swing by your shop in half an hour for you to sign the purchase agreement. Then I’ll get all of the other paperwork in order.”
“Terrific,” she muttered. “Assuming the sale goes through, how long before we close?”
Flora coughed again. Rachel was coming to dread the sound. “That’s another thing. The buyer is in a hurry to take possession.”
“Well, I’m not in a hurry to leave. My place here won’t be ready for months.” Rachel knew it was too optimistic to hope she had that long. “Any chance I can pay rent until I can move in here?”
“Sorry, but no.”
Rachel cursed silently. “Okay, what are we looking at?”
“Two weeks.”
“Two weeks!” This time she cursed out loud. “I can’t do two weeks, Flora. Two months would be pushing it.”
“That’s the buyer’s terms, I’m afraid. And it’s non-negotiable.”
Rachel kneaded her brow. It was quiet overhead at the moment, but the shop was set to close in half an hour and the work crew would arrive. They’d accomplished a lot in the week since she and Tony had walked through her future home, but it would be weeks, months before the apartment was habitable.
“I know it’s unusual for a sale to close so quickly, but the buyer is preapproved for the loan and everything else is in order,” Flora said. “Of course, any additional costs in expediting the matter—courier service and things of that nature—will be borne by the buyer.”
“It’s about time they offered to pay something,” Rachel muttered.
“I’ll be by shortly with the papers,” Flora said.
Rachel barely heard her. Her house was sold. Where was she supposed to live until the apartment was ready?
* * *
The days ticked by even as she sought an answer to that question. Finally, all that remained between her and a date with a moving van was the weekend. Late in the afternoon on Friday, she paced the house from the all-white kitchen to the quiet bedrooms and then back down the hall to the living room. Out front, the For Sale sign her Realtor had staked on the leaf-scattered lawn bore the addition of a bright red SOLD! sticker. Rachel studied the sign as she cupped a mug of green tea in her chilled hands. As eager as she was to leave, she wasn’t ready to go.
She sipped the tea, swallowing it around the lump of dread in her throat. She’d boxed up some of her things, items she wouldn’t need right away. They were at the shop now, wedged into every nook and cranny she could spare. But that was about all she had accomplished. She hated moving, even if she wasn’t going to miss the house itself. Turning away from the window, she glanced around. Everything here was so beige and benign. All of the rooms were a study in monochromic understatement. She preferred a more eclectic decor—bursts of color, texture and pattern. But none of that was reflected here. She wasn’t reflected here. And that was her fault. She’d demurred to Mal’s sedate preferences to avoid argument and to keep the peace that her parents’ marriage had lacked.
Indeed, the house as a whole was a compromise. If it had been up to her, she and Mal would have lived in a rambling, restored farmhouse just outside of town. He’d vetoed that idea as soon as she’d brought it up, just after their wedding. Too much upkeep and too far from the city, he’d said. No, the newly built story-and-a-half in the Sherwood Forrest subdivision was the way to go. It was in an excellent school district, close to parks and shopping, and, as such, a better investment overall. Knowing what it had just sold for, Rachel wasn’t so sure.
Regardless, Monday would be here before she was ready for it if she didn’t get busy.
“So, what is Plan B going to be?” she murmured.
Her sister had offered the use of her one-bedroom apartment’s futon, and Rachel knew she would be welcome at her mother’s condominium. Neither option held any appeal, even as a last resort.
Taking up residence in the small, pink-walled room that still sported the canopy bed of her girlhood felt too much like taking a step backward. As for her sister’s closet-size apartment, Rachel needed more privacy than a bed in the living room would afford. Heidi’s lifestyle reflected her age and single status. She had a crazy work schedule and an active social life, which meant she came and went at all hours of the day. Besides, Rachel didn’t think her back could stand more than a night on the lumpy futon.
Her cell phone trilled as she made herself a second cup of tea.
“Promise not to hate me,” Heidi beseeched as soon as Rachel answered.
It was never a good sign when her sister started off a conversation that way. Rachel promised anyway.
“I told Dad about your divorce and housing situation.”
“Dad?” Rachel was too busy being surprised to be angry. “When and where did you see him?”
The last time their paths had crossed was two Christmases prior, when he’d moved back to the area after a year of selling real estate in Florida. A perfect occupation for him, Rachel had thought. If anyone could sell undesirable swamp land for top dollar, it would be Griff Preston. He’d promised to stay in touch. He hadn’t. No surprise there.
“Today. I ran into him at work of all places. He came in for lunch and sat in my section.” Heidi waited tables and sometimes tended bar at a private golf club. Even when the course was closed for the season, the clubhouse remained a favorite hangout for the CEO set and other business people. “He didn’t even recognize me at first.”
Her sister laughed. That was Heidi’s way. Live and let live. Rachel, however, fumed on her behalf. What kind of father didn’t recognize his own daughter?
“Was he alone?” she asked before she could remind herself that she didn’t care.
“He was with a woman.”
Again, no surprise. Their father had left their mother for someone else, although he’d never remarried. That initial affair hadn’t lasted long, but over the years he’d never wanted for female companionship. The older he grew, the younger and tackier the women he dated became.
“Let’s see. Thirties and blonde?” Rachel inquired blithely as she dunked the tea bag in a mug of boiling water.
“Nope. A redhead this time, and I think she might be younger than you.”
Rachel shifted the phone to her other ear and began dunking the tea bag more vigorously. Mal, Tony and now her father. Was every man on the planet dating a woman who was younger than she was?
“Any tattoos?”
“A red rose on the back of her neck and some other designs that I couldn’t make out poking from the cuffs of her blouse. I’m betting there are more. Obviously her mother never gave her the lecture our mom gave us.”
“Anything on your hip at twenty will be sliding down your backside at fifty and you don’t even want to know where it will end up by the time you’re seventy,” Rachel recited. They both laughed.
“So, you’re not mad?” Heidi asked.
“I don’t like him knowing my business,” Rachel said slowly. “He lost that right a long time ago.”
Rachel knew that, generally speaking, Heidi agreed with the sentiment, but Heidi’s feeling were that if showering his daughters with gifts or money now and again eased Griff’s guilt, so be it. Take whatever he offered. He owed them that much.
“He’s going to be calling you,” Heidi said.
“Why?” She gritted her teeth to keep from following up the question with the slew of unflattering adjectives popping around in her head.
“He has a friend who owns a condo development. The bank foreclosed on one of the units a couple of months ago and the guy bought it back for a song. It’s sitting empty until they can do some updating and put it back on the market. You wouldn’t even have to pay—”
“No,” she said flatly.
“No? Why not, Rachel? It solves your most pressing problem,” Heidi said. “If you won’t stay with me or Mom, you’ll have to pay rent somewhere else until the apartment over your shop is ready.”
As it was, Rachel just barely could afford the contractor she’d hired, though she comforted herself with the thought that it made more sense in the long run to add an income property than to pay rent. Now, she was going to have to move twice and pay rent somewhere in the interim, too.
Still, Rachel was adamant. “I don’t want Dad’s help.”
“That doesn’t mean you can’t take advantage of it…and him,” Heidi said. “If he wants to help, I say let him.”
“Did he say anything about my divorce?” When her sister remained silent, Rachel prompted, “Well?”
“Just that he wasn’t surprised.” Heidi coughed. “He said he knew from the start that Mal wasn’t the right sort of man for you.”
She hated that Griff was right. She’d known her relationship with Mal was far from perfect even before he was unfaithful, but it had seemed far more perfect than her parents’ marriage. Men like her father cheated. Flashy men who were quick with compliments. Sexy men who were steeped in charm. Tony Salerno sprang to mind. Men like that couldn’t settle down. They liked adventure, variety. They broke hearts along with their promises. But men like Mal? He’d seemed so safe.
He worked as a financial adviser. He wore conservative suits. He drove a midsize sedan the color of sand. He was solid, dependable—boring, according to Heidi. But Rachel had craved boring after all of their father’s drama.
“Like Dad is such an expert on marriage and relationships,” she said drily.
“You know Dad.”
Rachel was far from mollified. “He barely knows Mal. He barely knows me. Or you, for that matter.”
Griff and Mal had met only twice—the day of Rachel’s wedding and that Christmas when her father had popped in unexpectedly, about as welcome as the heavy loaf of store-bought fruitcake he’d brought with him.
“You know what? It doesn’t matter.”
“Rach—”
“I don’t want his help.” Good and worked up now with righteous indignation, Rachel exclaimed, “In fact, I’d sooner strike a bargain with the devil than take it.”
Her phone beeped. Another call was coming in. “I’ve got to go, Heidi. I’ll talk to you later.”
She was relieved to end the conversation with her sister until she heard Tony’s deep voice. The devil, it turned out, was on her other line.
“Good evening, Rachel.”
“Mr. Salerno.”
“Tony.” She heard a soft chuckle. Then, “I apologize for calling after hours and on a Friday no less.”
Rachel gave out her cell number only to select customers. Tony was one of the few, due to the amount of money he’d spent at Expressive Gems over the years.
“That’s all right. Is there a problem?”
“That depends on you. I’ve had a change in my itinerary. I was planning to pick up the necklace on Wednesday. Unfortunately, I need to return to New York before then.”
“So, you want to pick it up early.”
“I do. If it is ready.”
“I finished it just this afternoon. I think you’ll be pleased with the result.”
“That goes without saying. Your work is always exceptional, which is why I keep coming back.”
“Thank you. I can open the shop early tomorrow.” Normally on Saturdays, she didn’t flip the sign on the door until ten o’clock. Expressive Gems was closed on Sundays, as were most of the shops downtown except for the bakery and restaurants.
He made a humming noise. “I was hoping I could pick it up tonight. I will pay you extra for your trouble, of course.”
“Oh, it’s no trouble.” Rachel’s response was automatic, that of a businesswoman. The customer was always right, especially a customer with pockets as deep as Tony’s. But she also thought it might do her good to get out of the house for a while, even if only to go back to the shop where she’d already spent the bulk of her day.
They made plans to meet in an hour, which gave her enough time to change her clothes, freshen up her makeup and do something more flattering with the hair she’d pulled back in a messy ponytail upon arriving home. She settled on a French braid, and traded in the comfortable black yoga pants and a T-shirt for a pair of khakis and a navy blue knit sweater with three-quarter-length sleeves. Tony was waiting in the parking lot behind Expressive Gems when she arrived. He was wearing a tuxedo.
“I feel underdressed,” she remarked on a self-conscious laugh as she unlocked the door and tapped the deactivation code into the security system’s panel.
He glanced down, as if just realizing that he was garbed in black formalwear and French cuffs. “I was at a fundraiser for the Detroit Institute of Art. I was asked to introduce the guest of honor, after which I was able to slip away.”
“It must have just started.”
“I will not be missed,” he replied on a shrug.
She wasn’t sure she agreed. Looking as he did, he would have had the attention of every woman in the building. Add in his charisma and business savvy, and men would have wanted to seek him out, too.
Tony was saying, “I hope I did not take you away from anything too important this evening.”
She almost laughed. Summoning up a bit of self-deprecating humor, she replied, “Important? No. I was at a party. A pity party. Guest of honor. Believe me, I was happy for the interruption.”
“A pity party.” He frowned.
“I was feeling sorry for myself,” she clarified. “Wallowing.”
“English may be my second language, but I am familiar with the term.” He stepped behind her, helping her out of the coat she’d begun to slip off. She felt his breath graze her temple when he continued. “I have a hard time picturing you wallowing.”
“I assure you, I can do a credible job of it when I put my mind to it.”
“Allora… What is the reason for this pity party?”
“My house has sold, and I have until Monday to be out.”
“But the apartment upstairs cannot be ready so soon.” Tony nodded then. “Ah. I see. It is not ready. What will you do?”
“I’m weighing my options.”
Tony studied Rachel. From the way her mouth tightened, he decided none of them was to her liking.
“If I may be so bold, what are those options?”
“Oh, the usual. I can go and live with family. My mother and sister have already made the obligatory offer. I also could…” She shook her head and added resolutely, “No. I won’t even consider the condo.”
“Why is this condo not worthy of consideration?”
Rachel blinked. It was clear she didn’t realize that she’d shared that last part with him.
“Sorry. I was thinking aloud. It’s just that my father, well, apparently he has a business associate who owns a condo where I could live rent-free for a few months.”
“But you will not even consider it. Why?” Tony asked curiously.
She sighed. “It’s complicated. My father and I are not on the best of terms.”
“Ah.” That was all Tony said. He found that the less one prodded, the more some people opened up. Sure enough, after another sigh, Rachel started talking.
“When it comes right down to it, I barely know him—my father.” She snorted out what passed for a laugh. “I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen him in the past half-dozen years.”
“He and your mother are divorced.”
“Since I was a little girl. My sister was practically a baby when he left us.”
Rachel’s tone was matter-of-fact, but her expression was wounded. Interestingly, she appeared more broken up over her parents’ failed marriage than she did her own.
“There was another woman,” Tony guessed.
“That’s right.” Her laughter was humorless. “And I thought Mal would be safe.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Never mind.” She worked up a smile. “That was just a little more wallowing on my part. See, I told you I was good at it.”
Tony wasn’t ready to let her previous remark go just yet. “Instead of trying to remain safe, maybe you need to be reckless every now and then. Take more chances.”
“I’m not a fan of taking chances.”
“I think you are.” He stepped closer. “You are a businesswoman. That involves risk.”
“True, but—”
“And you are an artist. Again, you are putting yourself on the line.”
Her brow furrowed, leaving Tony with the distinct impression he’d struck a chord. But then Rachel was shaking her head. “Let me clarify, I am not a fan of taking chances when it comes to personal relationships.”
He nodded slowly. “It is much harder to put one’s self at risk emotionally, and that is what relationships require.”
“Are you going to tell me you’re speaking from experience?” Her expression was droll.
Tony laughed softly. “I confess. I am a far better teacher than student when it comes to such matters.”
“I hope I won’t offend you, but I don’t think there is anything you could teach me when it comes to relationships.”
He smiled even as she blushed.
“Nothing?” He had the advantage and they both knew it. Tony took another step forward. Her back was literally to the wall.
“Y-your track record with women says as much.”
“Simply because a relationship does not end with me getting down on bended knee, does not make it a failure.”
“What does that make it?”
He shrugged and pushed away the thought that he might be missing something, denying himself something less obvious than permanence.
“I enjoy myself. The woman I am with enjoys herself. It lasts as long as it lasts. There are no hurt feelings. No repercussions.” He leaned one forearm on the wall. He lowered his head, lowered his voice to a seductive whisper. “When was the last time you enjoyed yourself, signorina?”
Her blush was telling, but when she spoke, her tone was so professional that he was left to marvel at her control…and fantasize about breaking it.
“I think we’ve gotten off track here, Tony. Let’s see about that necklace.”
Off track or not, she was finally calling him by his given name. Tony straightened and backed up a couple of steps. Very well. He had pushed her far enough, especially since he had no idea where he wanted her to go in the end.
“Yes, the necklace. I am eager to see it.”
Rachel turned and nearly tripped over a row of boxes that was lined up against the wall on the other side of her office door. If not for his hands on her waist, she would have fallen.
“What is all of this?” he asked once her balance was restored.
He needn’t have asked. The boxes bore labels such as Extra Linens, Holiday Decorations and Board Games.
“Just some items I came across while clearing out my closets. I thought some of my employees might be able to use them.” She frowned as she studied the boxes. “It’s amazing the amount of stuff you accumulate over the years.”
She continued to the safe then. After getting out the necklace, she took it to one of the display cases, where she draped it on a headless black-velvet-covered bust.
Her expression was a mixture of pride and apprehension. Oh, she was a true artist, all right. And from his experience, artists were a passionate lot.
“Well, what do you think?” she prodded, and it occurred to him that he’d been staring, not at the necklace but at Rachel.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/jackie-braun/if-the-ring-fits/) на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.