If the Ring Fits...

“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.”