by Jackie Braun
“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 ex
haled 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.