If the Ring Fits... Read online

  Rachel would be making personal appearances along with her jewelry. Models in her employ would be on hand as well, wearing her pieces and answering questions. Models! Wearing her work! Rachel’s only stipulation to Tony was that Astrid not be among them.

  Rachel didn’t want to know what the budget for everything, including an international advertising blitz, was going to be in the end. Tony was taking care of everything from fronting the bill to overseeing the campaign created by the agency he had hired on her behalf. Rachel would have the final say, but for now she was happy to leave the details to him.

  At her insistence, however, he had agreed to have a lawyer draw up an official contract outlining their partnership and the percentage of profits to which he was entitled until such time as Rachel was able to buy out his initial investment. She felt better knowing that everything was spelled out in black and white and had now been signed, witnessed and dated.

  Of course, their relationship routinely lapped over the bounds set out by that contract. She didn’t mind. Not in the least. All in all, Rachel decided, it boggled the mind how quickly her life was changing.

  At her feet, a fluffy ball of gray and white fur meowed and rubbed insistently against her ankle.

  “In a minute,” she said with a laugh. “You are way too impatient.”

  The cat was a gift from Tony. On Christmas Day, while she had been at her mother’s with Heidi having dinner, he’d popped in at his house and left the cat in a bow-wrapped animal carrier in her bedroom. He’d stopped in earlier, too, on his way to his mother’s from the airport. He’d looked tired, but no less handsome. She’d given him his gift then, a pair of sand-dollar-shaped cufflinks, her design of course, that served as a thank-you as well as a Christmas present.

  “They are wonderful.” He’d immediately swapped out the pair on his French cuffs. “What do you think?”

  “You will be the envy of all your friends,” she’d teased.

  “You say that in jest, but I believe it to be true.”

  He’d left then, telling Rachel that her gift would be delivered later. And it had been.

  The card accompanying the cat read, “I saw him on an internet site for abandoned pets and could not resist. He needs a good home. You need companionship and a muse in my absence. I thought you could name him Fido, since you really should have a dog. In the meantime, he can keep you company during those long days at the shop.”

  It had been mutual love at first site. She hadn’t taken Tony’s suggestion for a name. Instead of Fido, she’d gone with Francis, after the patron saint of animals, since this one had been rescued, and from the looks of him not a moment too soon.

  The cat had nicks on the points of both ears and a bald patch that had yet to fill in on his tail, suggesting he’d spent some time fighting in alleys before winding up at a shelter. The first time she’d petted him, she’d been able to feel every ridge in his spine as she’d run her hand over his back. He’d been that emaciated. He’d put on half a dozen pounds since then, and even though she hadn’t planned to bring him to the shop until she could move in to the overhead apartment, she hadn’t been able to bear leaving him alone all day in Tony’s big house. Francis had become a fixture at the shop and a hit with the customers. He’d also inspired a couple of whimsical designs—a smooth, gold pendant of a cat licking its paw and a ring in which an eighteen-carat-gold cat stretched around the finger.

  The fact that Tony had gone to the online rescue site rather than purchasing a fancy, flat-faced purebred that could double as a show animal came as somewhat of a surprise. But perhaps it shouldn’t have. More and more, Rachel was realizing what a good heart Tony had. A soft one. Packaged in a body that could tempt a saint to sin.

  Rachel was no saint.

  She reached down to scoop up Francis. Once in her arms, the cat started to purr and began kneading her breast with his front paws before settling in.

  “Did Tony teach you that?” she asked on a laugh.

  Francis gazed up at her with eyes that were nearly the same rich hazel color as his benefactor’s. She swore the cat winked.

  CHAPTER TEN

  ONE week together under the same roof. That was all it was, Tony reminded himself, as the hired limousine sped away from Detroit Metro. Surely, he could handle that.

  Besides, it was his fault more so than the contractor’s that Rachel’s move to the apartment was delayed. Back in February, Tony had called Will from Rome and changed the order for the bathroom floor and shower stall, substituting the more economical porcelain tiles she’d selected for Carrara marble similar to what was found in his master bathroom. Now it was late March and his “housewarming gift” remained on backorder.

  Rachel wasn’t happy. He suspected it wasn’t his high-handedness that ruffled her feathers, but the fact that after months of talking on the telephone, they would now be doing so face-to-face. In the morning and at night. For a solid week.

  Santo cielo! What had he gotten himself into?

  “Can you turn down the heat, per favore?” he asked the driver.

  Tony was roasting, and he knew that only part of his elevated temperature could be blamed on the change in climate. Rome’s weather was milder year round than Michigan’s, but winter in both places had turned into spring. The romantic in Tony loved the season for what it represented. Leaves were budding, flowers were starting to bloom, and the male and female of various species were pairing off.

  Meanwhile, he hadn’t paired off with anyone in months. The only woman he was interested in bedding, or being with in any capacity for that matter, was Rachel. He’d turned down some very obvious overtures from some very beautiful women since the previous fall—women who would require no wooing beforehand and seek no strings after a physical affair. To their dismay and his increasing sexual frustration, he’d declined each and every one. He wasn’t interested in what they had to offer. Rachel was on his mind twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.

  In addition to their professional association and growing attraction, which he knew to be mutual, they were moving in to virgin territory, at least for him. They shared a brand of intimacy Tony had never allowed himself to experience with a woman. For that matter, he hadn’t known it existed. Even with his fiancée, Kendra, all those years ago, he hadn’t been this emotionally open or felt this exposed. It was terrifying at times, but addictive. He kept wanting more, craving it as much as he needed it.

  Meanwhile, his self-imposed celibacy was killing him. Would it end soon? He hoped so, but he couldn’t be sure, even if some of their phone conversations became downright erotic at times. Still, he’d promised to leave the decision to Rachel. He’d also promised to be patient. The virtue was in short supply. His gaze skimmed over the passing landscape. He could only hope that if Rachel was not ready, he would have enough patience to see him through not only the week they would be under one roof, but the full month he would be in Michigan. After that, he would be back in New York for a couple weeks before heading to Rome, and then distance would suffice. Distance and more phone conversations, even the tamest of which had the ability to twist him into knots.

  Tony unbuckled his seat belt long enough to shuck off his overcoat. Then he loosened the half-Windsor knot of his tie. To the driver he said, “Maybe you could switch on the air conditioning for a few minutes.”

  During the past several months, as he’d traveled around Europe and jetted between New York and Rome, he’d continued to call Rachel at the shop most days. He knew the status of her design work. That was business and she was a stickler for keeping him apprised of the details. She sent him regular updates via email, as well, attaching scanned images of her sketches. She was still doing them freehand even though he’d bought her some software that he’d thought she might find helpful. She claimed it hindered her creative process.

  He sent her emails, as well. Some business-related, some not. All signed Yours Patiently, which had started out as a poor attempt at humor. Long ago, he’d realized the joke
was on him.

  As for the phone calls when he caught her at his home in the mornings, those centered on more personal matters. He found it surprisingly easy to tell her things, from the silly and mundane—he’d spilled espresso down the front of his shirt during a meeting—to more weighty matters—Moorings magazine’s subscriptions were down along with advertising revenue and he was worried the changeover to internet content wasn’t catching on fast enough to suit readers.

  In return, he enjoyed listening to her days’ happenings, and the latest installment of what was going on in regard to her relationship with her father. Much to her surprise, Griff was still in town and still coming around.

  “Could it be he’s really changed?” Tony had asked during one recent conversation.

  She’d scoffed at that notion, though her denial had seemed more automatic than certain. “Leopards don’t change their spots, Tony.”

  “Everyone changes.” It had been suddenly important that she understood that.

  When she’d said nothing, Tony had added, “Give your father the benefit of the doubt, carina. That is what I did with Paolo when he married my mother. He was a common laborer, not that there is anything wrong with that. But my father, he left our family well off thanks to his hard work and investments. I wondered if maybe Paolo was more serious about my mother’s bank account than her.”

  “Oh, Tony. When I met Paolo at Thanksgiving it was so obvious that even now he is head over heels for Lucia.”

  “Obvious to you, yes. But to a young boy who was still grieving for his father…” He’d left it at that. “My point, Rachel, is that sometimes you have to move forward on faith.”

  Griff might not have changed completely, but Tony was willing to bet that with age he’d learned a few important lessons. The primary one being that his two daughters were adults now. They were no longer waiting eagerly for him to show up and grace them with his presence. They didn’t need him. Griff had missed out on their childhoods. If he was to be part of their life at all, he was going to have to prove himself worthy. That meant coming around, even when his children weren’t happy to see him. With Rachel especially, he would never be able to buy her affection.

  Tony had enjoyed all of their phone calls over the past several months, but they were no substitute for seeing her in person. In the call he’d placed upon arriving in Detroit, she’d sounded eager to see him. He felt the same.

  “Can you go any faster?” he asked the driver now.

  It was just his luck that as soon as he said it, the traffic on I-75 began to back up.

  The house was quiet when he finally arrived an hour later than he had planned. The mingling scents of oregano, garlic and simmering tomatoes greeted him as soon as he came through the door. It smelled like his mother’s cooking. Was Lucia there, or had Rachel decided to show him how well she’d been paying attention to his mother’s culinary lessons? He was hoping for the latter.

  The cat appeared as Tony set down his suitcase and overcoat. The animal eyed him warily before making a pass around his legs. The contact was minimal but still left a trail of silvery-gray hairs on the charcoal gabardine.

  “Hello, Fido. Are you the only one here to welcome me home?” He reached down to stroke the cat’s back. The animal had put on weight since Christmas. Rachel’s doing. When he straightened, she was there.

  “Hi, Tony.”

  She smiled at him from half a dozen feet away. Her hands were clasped behind her back. She was the picture of restraint. Meanwhile, he ached to hold her. He chided himself for the foolish fantasy he’d entertained on the long plane ride home that she would rush into his arms the instant he walked through the door.

  “I see you’ve become reacquainted with Francis,” she said.

  “He will always be Fido to me.”

  He removed his suit coat. It joined his trench on the rail of the curved banister. He shed his tie completely and flicked open the next two buttons on his shirt. All the while, Rachel’s gaze followed his progress.

  “I had hoped you would volunteer to do this for me,” he said quietly.

  “I know. I’d planned to.”

  She moistened her lips. He stifled a groan. “Then what are you doing way over there, carina?”

  “Playing it safe,” she admitted with a rueful shake of her head.

  “I remember a woman telling me she had decided she was not going to do that any longer.”

  “Yes, well that was an easy decision to make at the time.”

  “But not now? Is that what you mean to tell me?” He smiled and knew a moment of triumph when she took a couple of steps in his direction.

  “As if your oversized ego needs any further stroking.”

  “Perhaps not, but I have other parts, equally oversized, that could use a little attention.”

  He expected Rachel at least to smile. Instead, she sucked a deep breath through her teeth before nibbling on her plump bottom lip. If she wasn’t as turned on as he was, she was doing an Academy Award–worthy imitation.

  “I’ve missed you.” Her voice shook.

  “Then come here, carina,” he all but begged. “Show me how much, and then I will return the favor.”

  She took one halting step forward. That was enough for Tony. He closed the distance between them in an instant, propelled by need as much as by impatience. After the first deep kiss, he rested his forehead against hers and fought to steady his breathing.

  “It feels so good to hold you. All of those phone conversations, they were not enough. Never enough,” he repeated in a whisper before kissing her again.

  “Tony, about dinner—”

  “It can wait. I have another appetite I am eager to satisfy at the moment. Tell me you feel the same way.”

  “I do, yes, but—”

  “Basta. Enough. No more words.” He’d had to content himself with those for months. Right now, he wanted to make love. His hands curved over Rachel’s firm bottom. On a groan, he pulled her body flush against his, torturing himself as he imagined what it would feel like to be inside her. The soft moan that slipped from her lips was nearly his undoing. His bed was too far away. He started in the direction of the couch, his mouth still on hers.

  “Let the poor girl come up for air, Antonio!”

  His mother’s voice had him jumping back. He glanced over to find Lucia and the rest of the family standing in the living room. Paolo, Bill and Ava were grinning. His mother, meanwhile, was trying to appear stern and offended. At ages two and four, his nieces weren’t sure what to make of the fuss.

  “Surprise,” Rachel mumbled. Her face was as red as his mother’s famed marinara.

  He recovered quickly, some parts of him faster than others. “Look at this. My entire family. Here. Right now.”

  “You don’t need to pretend to be happy to see us,” Bill said, stepping forward to shake Tony’s hand. “Rachel wasn’t either when we descended on her like a pack of wolves less than an hour ago.”

  That earned Bill a poke in the ribs from Ava, who handed two-year-old Teresa to him so she could wrap Tony in a hug. “Mama thought it would be nice to surprise you with a home-cooked meal. I brought the bread and salad. She’s responsible for the pasta and dessert.” Her voice lowered. “Although I think Rachel might have that covered, too.”

  “So funny.”

  His sister laughed. “It is so good to see you.”

  “The same.”

  Just not right now. Still, Tony managed to shift gears. The other, it could wait. His family would not stay long. He hoped. The look on Rachel’s face told him she was hoping the same thing. He kissed the girls and greeted Paolo, saving his mother for last.

  “Hello, Mama.”

  Her hug was fierce. Her words for his ears only, “I think you are more than business partners and I am not going to believe this friends nonsense.”

  She stepped back and clapped her hands together. “Come on, everyone. Into the dining room. Dinner is ready.”

  To Tony, Lucia said,
“You go wash up.” Clearing her throat, she added meaningfully, “And make yourself presentable.”

  Tony couldn’t remember the last time he’d hosted a gathering of family around his dinner table. Despite his earlier pique over the interruption, he was happy to see everyone there.

  “This marinara is part of a batch Rachel and I made last week. It is good, no?” Lucia said.

  “Excellent,” Paolo agreed.

  Bill and Ava added their approval.

  “What’s marinara?” Maria wanted to know. Meanwhile, her little sister, Teresa, was finger painting with the sauce on her plate.

  The adults all laughed, especially when Lucia gasped in mock dismay and said, “How can your daughter not know, Ava? By this age, she should be able to make it, too.”

  “Both girls will learn eventually. As will their little brother or sister.” The dining room erupted in excitement almost before the words were out of Ava’s mouth.

  Tony glanced around. All of the women’s eyes were moist, including Rachel’s. For the next couple of minutes, happy tears were shed and hugs and backslaps were exchanged all around.

  “Another grandchild.” Lucia had dabbed her eyes with her napkin as she settled back into her seat. “If your Papa were still alive, he would be so happy.”

  Paolo, who was seated next to Lucia, gave her arm an affectionate pat. “Yes, he would be. As am I.”

  It struck Tony anew what a good man his stepfather was. Paolo had been content to raise another man’s children, loving and guiding them without ever trying to take their late father’s place. What a gift it was that Lucia had been loved so deeply not once, but twice.

  He glanced at his sister, intercepting the intimate smile she was sending to her husband of nearly a decade. Marriage, motherhood—both looked good on her. He credited Bill for that. He and Ava approached childrearing and all other facets of their life together as a team. They laughed a lot. No doubt they also fought. Ava was a Salerno, after all, as quick to argue as she was to forgive. Above all else, they loved one another—deeply, unabashedly and unconditionally.