If the Ring Fits... Page 6

  Tony couldn’t see himself settled down with a family either, so it surprised him that her statement bothered him. “I do not seem the fatherly type to you?” he pressed.

  “Afraid not. Nor do you strike me as husband material.” She stopped. “God! I hope I haven’t insulted you.”

  He shrugged. “The women I date all seem interested in marriage…eventually.” Which was why he never let things progress too far. Parting was much easier, not to mention far less messy, when deep emotions weren’t involved. He knew that from Kendra. They’d almost made it to the altar. He would never make that mistake again.

  “That’s because men and women have different agendas where romance is concerned.”

  He smiled in full agreement. “Indeed we do.”

  “Back to that couch. I could keep it. Same with the chairs. But they’re really not my style.” She swung around and poked him in the chest. “Don’t.”

  He held up his hands. “Don’t what?”

  “Don’t ask me why I own furnishings I didn’t want in the first place.” Her expression sobered. “It’s not as simple as that when you’re married. It can’t always be about you and what you want.”

  “Rachel—”

  She looked angry and oddly defeated. “When you’re married, you have to make compromises, Tony.”

  “Did you make compromises, carina? Or did you sell your soul?”

  She gasped.

  “I apologize,” he said, though he wasn’t sorry for speaking the truth. “I will not pretend to understand marriage. I am thirty-eight years old, after all, and to my mother’s everlasting regret, I have managed to remain unattached.”

  “But not without regular companionship.”

  “As I said earlier, I see no reason to deny myself. That applies to women, as well.”

  “Which is exactly why you’re not married.” She laughed, taking the sting out of the accusation. Tony laughed, as well.

  “Is that the chicken or the egg?” he wondered aloud. “I have never been sure if my fondness for women is the reason I am single or if I am single because I like women.” He held up a finger. “For the record, I was tempted to relinquish my bachelorhood once.”

  It wasn’t the sort of thing he admitted to many people, but then Rachel was easy to talk to, and she’d already shared enough of her own private business with him that he felt it only fair.

  Rachel stopped walking. “Really? When?”

  “Long ago. Back when I was young and romantic.”

  “I think you are still full of romance.”

  “Yes?” He smiled encouragingly.

  Rachel rolled her eyes. Little by little, that professional veneer of hers was fading. He liked the woman he spied beneath. She had a sense of humor, a warmth that he found every bit as alluring as those lush eyelashes and full lips.

  “How long were you together?”

  “We met at freshman orientation and dated for all four years of college. She was a fixture at my home. My mother and sister adored her.”

  “That makes it hard. My mother and sister were never very fond of Mal. Can I ask what happened?”

  “Kendra and I had different ideas for our future. I wanted to start the Fortuna Publishing Group. She did not think I needed to work. She gave me back my ring the day I entered talks to buy a small, struggling magazine that has since become Fortuna’s flagship publication.”

  Rachel was quiet a moment. Then Tony felt her hand on his arm. “Her loss.”

  “The same might be said for your husband, no?”

  They reached her car. Rachel turned. Her expression tightened. “He had an affair with his secretary.”

  “How cliché,” Tony replied in lieu of offering actual sympathy. They had been down that road already. She didn’t need or want condolences.

  “Oh, it gets even more cliché than that.” She leaned against the closed car door, arms folded, half of her mouth turned up in a poor facsimile of a smile.

  “Ah. This secretary is blonde and younger than you are,” Tony guessed. He allowed his gaze to skim down to the small but perfect breasts showcased above her crossed arms. “And more…endowed?”

  Rachel didn’t appear to notice the direction of his gaze. “All of the above.” She sighed and dropped her arms to her sides. “And apparently I was the last to know. It had been going on for more than a year when I found a receipt.”

  “For?”

  “Jewelry.” Her voice rose. “He bought her…jewelry!”

  Tony wondered if in that slight hesitation before she’d finished the revelation she’d considered adding an expletive. She certainly would have been entitled. Tony did it for her in his reply.

  “The bastard. At least you have the satisfaction of knowing that whatever your ex bought for his mistress, it was far inferior to anything you are capable of creating.”

  His observation startled a laugh out of her. “Thank you.”

  “You’re gifted, Rachel. I have told you so many times. You need to believe it.”

  “Thank you,” she said again.

  Afterward, she glanced down. Was she embarrassed? He reached over to raise her chin. The idea that had been forming spilled out in a whisper.

  “I could take you places, carina.”

  “E-excuse me?”

  He smiled, aware of the direction her thoughts had taken. That, too, he thought wryly. But for now, they would keep it business.

  “I could introduce you to people who could advance your career and see to it that you have a place, a presence among the world’s top jewelry designers.”

  Adam tempting Eve, he thought again, and watched her eyes widen in interest.

  “You have thought about this,” he guessed.

  “Dreamed about it, more like. I…I don’t know what to say, Tony.”

  “Say nothing, then. Just promise me that you will think about it.”

  “I’ll think about it,” she repeated slowly.

  “Good.”

  He dropped his hand, but not before running his knuckles along the underside of her jaw. He was used to taking what he wanted. For that matter, he was used to having what he wanted offered to him freely. Maybe that was part of Rachel’s appeal, as well. She offered nothing. Yet. He would need to proceed slowly. Eventually, he promised himself, they would be more than what one might call patron and artist. When she was ready, he had no qualms about being her segue back into the dating scene, after which they would part on amicable terms. He and the women he enjoyed always parted on amicable terms. When one made no promises, it was hard to be blamed for not keeping them. For now, he’d given her much to consider.

  “Thank you again for dinner.”

  “You are welcome. The next time, you will order the steak. You cannot have what you want unless you ask for it.”

  She opened her car door, but then hesitated. Turning toward him, she rose on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. If the look on her face when she pulled back had been solely one of gratitude, Tony might not have pressed his advantage. He captured her lips before she could back away, lingering just long enough to make it clear that his intentions were not purely platonic.

  This time, the cool night air mocked him as his breath sawed out, not completely even afterward.

  “Buona notte.” It wasn’t until after he said it that Tony realized he’d slipped into his native Italian. “Good night.”

  “Have a safe trip.” Her smile was polite and back to being professional when she added, “I hope to see you at Expressive Gems when you get back to the States.”

  “Count on it.”

  * * *

  Her man radar was way off, Rachel concluded as she slipped beneath the covers of her bed that night. That was the only explanation for her reaction to Tony’s kiss. He was being kind. He knew she had just come through a rough personal patch. He wasn’t interested in her romantically. Outside of business, they had no real relationship.

  I could take you places.

  Rachel had to admit, the thr
ill she’d experienced when he’d uttered those words in his seductive accent had been completely unprofessional. Indeed, she couldn’t recall the last time she’d experienced that low pull in her belly. The past year she’d lived like a nun as her marriage unraveled and lawyers had picked over the ruins. And, in truth, the past couple of years her sex life had been less than fulfilling, understandable given that Mal had been sleeping with someone else. She might have excused her reaction to Tony based on pent-up need, but it would have been a lie. The truth was she’d always found him sexy and attractive. And, until tonight, off-limits. This evening, however, he hadn’t merely flirted with her. As out of practice as she was, he had seemed interested.

  I could take you places.

  Had he only been speaking to her as an artist when making that claim?

  It didn’t matter. Her career was what mattered. It was what she intended to focus on now. And so the question that festered was: If he was offering to help her in that regard, could she afford to turn him down?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  RACHEL was out of bed early the next day, in part because she couldn’t sleep. She blamed Tony, her own idiocy and more than a year of celibacy for her restlessness. She decided to put her energy to good use and got busy packing even before the sun was fully up.

  She started in the dining room, specifically with the items from inside the china cabinet. She pushed the hair that had escaped her ponytail back from her face and carefully swaddled a blown-glass vase in bubble wrap before placing it in the open box. The vase had been a wedding gift from one of Mal’s work colleagues, but the artist in her decided not to hold that against it. The dinnerware, service for eight rimmed with tiny forget-me-nots, however, could go. A few months back, she might have considered smashing every last piece of it, just to be spiteful. She was more practical than that now. She would sell it. The furniture, too. It was foolish to settle for things she didn’t like or want, especially now that she no longer had to.

  Tony was right. She had sold her soul. Now she was buying it back.

  By noon, she was feeling quite proud of herself. Everything she wanted from the dining room had fit into two manageable boxes. The rest was packed up with the contents carefully listed on the outside of the cartons. She’d called Heidi earlier for help. Her sister was a whiz when it came to selling things on the internet. She’d promised to be over later with her digital camera—Mal had gotten theirs in the settlement—and take photographs of some of the furniture to upload to an online auction site.

  “Bring lunch,” Rachel had thought to add.

  Glancing at her watch now, she wondered what was keeping Heidi. Rachel was starving. The doorbell sounded as she rummaged through the pantry. Eating a handful of cereal right out of the box, she went to answer it.

  “I hope you remembered to pick up diet cola,” she said, pulling open the door.

  Tony stood on the leaf-scattered porch, his expression amused. He spread out his arms. “Sorry. I was not aware I was supposed to bring beverages.”

  “I thought you were my sister.” As if a man as masculine as he was could be mistaken for a woman. “I’m expecting her. She’s supposed to bring lunch.”

  “I promise not to stay long.” A gust of wind sent leaves swirling around his ankles. “Would it be all right if I stepped inside?”

  “Oh! Of course. Come in.”

  Rachel backed up, painfully aware of her disheveled appearance. After rolling out of bed that morning, she’d pulled on the first thing she found: cropped yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt under which she’d never bothered to put on a bra. Tony, meanwhile, was garbed in a cream-colored turtleneck sweater—cashmere, no doubt—beneath a herringbone sports coat. He probably considered the outfit casual since he’d paired it with blue jeans—the designer variety of denim that was only sold in the finest stores and cost a small fortune.

  She set the box of cereal on the console table next to a jumble of magazines and unopened junk mail. As she dusted the crumbs off her hands, his gaze took in the chaos behind her.

  “You’ll have to excuse the mess.” She wasn’t strictly referring to her house.

  “You have been packing, I see.”

  “I have a long way to go yet.”

  “Any progress on finding another place?”

  “Since last night?” She shook her head, not sure what to make of his unexpected arrival. She decided to ask him about it. “I’m surprised to see you. In fact, I wasn’t aware you knew where I lived.”

  “I stopped by your shop and asked the women there.”

  A charming smile accompanied his words. Her employees probably had tripped over one another lining up to give him Rachel’s address. As gorgeous as he was, she couldn’t say she blamed them. Still, she planned to have a word with them on Monday.

  “And here you are,” she murmured.

  “I know it is rude to drop by without calling first. I hope you can forgive me.”

  “It’s all right. I was getting ready to take a break anyway.” She motioned for him to follow her and picked her way through the boxes to the couch.

  “The sofa in question.” He smiled as he took a seat.

  “It will be sold to the highest bidder.”

  “So, you would rather sit on the floor.” He nodded and sounded pleased.

  “Yes.” She cleared her throat then. “I haven’t given your suggestion any more thought, if that’s why you’ve come. I haven’t had the time.” She gestured to the messy room. It was a viable excuse, even if in truth she had been pondering his offer all morning. It was hard not to wonder what the future might hold when she was boxing up her old life.

  “Actually, I have another idea to run by you.”

  Wasn’t the man just full of surprises? “And what might that be?”

  He glanced around the room. “I may have a temporary living arrangement for you, one that will allow you to forego moving in with family or taking your father up on his offer.”

  “You have my attention,” she told him, and got the feeling that was exactly what he’d intended by prefacing the conversation this way.

  “As you know, I’m leaving town again. I will be away for at least three months, possibly longer depending on how long it takes to wrap up my business dealings.”

  “And any personal dealings,” Rachel inserted drily.

  His brows rose. “Those, as well. I usually hire someone to look after my home while I am away. They water the plants, oversee landscaping or, as is the case this time of year, leaf and snow removal.”

  “What does this have to do with me?”

  “You could stay there. House-sit, I believe is the term people use for such an arrangement.” Tony smiled.

  Rachel, meanwhile, wasn’t quite sure she’d heard him right. “You want me to house-sit for you?”

  “It would suit both of our needs, no?”

  Something about the way he mentioned “needs” caused her flesh to prickle. Her reply was automatic. “That’s a generous offer, but—”

  “Generosity isn’t my only motive, though I understand why you would see it that way. I need someone to look after my house. It will be sitting empty. You need a place to stay. It seems a reasonable solution to both of our problems.”

  “But what would you do if I wasn’t in need of a place to stay?” she pressed.

  “I would call a service. Hire someone I do not know.” The corners of his mouth turned down and he shrugged. “But the point is moot. You are in need of a place to stay, at least for the time being. This makes more sense than rushing out to rent an apartment that you may only stay in for a matter of months, does it not?”

  Making sense was beyond her at the moment. But he had her interest. She asked, “And what about my belongings?”

  “You said yourself you plan to sell some of your furnishings. Now you won’t have to sit on the floor until you buy something to your liking. I have a very nice couch.” His lips curved with a smile.

  Again her flesh prick
led. He seemed to have an answer for everything.

  “Yet you say generosity isn’t your only motive.”

  “Ah. You were paying attention.” He smiled again. This time, she shivered. “I like you, Rachel. You intrigue me. I wouldn’t mind discovering exactly why that is when I return.”

  Rachel’s mouth fell open. She knew she should close it, but she sat their gaping at him. She half expected a television crew to pop out from another room and announce this was all a prank manufactured to entertain the masses. No one popped out, though. He was studying her, waiting patiently for a reply. She did her best to wipe the gob-smacked expression off her face.

  “You would find me very boring, Tony.”

  “Do you think so?” he asked blandly.

  Feeling self-conscious, she smoothed back wayward strands of hair and stated the obvious. “I’m not a model.”

  “And I am not as shallow as you apparently believe me to be. I may date models on occasion.”

  “As well as heiresses, actresses and debutantes,” she inserted. “I’ve made them all jewelry, don’t forget.”

  “A highlight of those relationships, as it turns out,” he returned smoothly. “I can assure you, they are not the only sort of women I find appealing.” His gaze was intense and focused on her, giving his words intimacy and impact when he added, “I find you very attractive, Rachel. I always have, but out of respect for your marriage, I never acted on it.”

  She ignored the unsteady thump-thump of her heart. “I’m flattered. Really, I am. But I’m not exactly in the market for a relationship.” She exhaled on a laugh. “Which makes me rather perfect, doesn’t it?”

  “That sounds cynical.”

  “Am I wrong?” she challenged. Tony moved from one woman to the next. Bees stuck around a flower longer.

  Instead of answering her question directly, he replied, “It is said that the first relationship after a divorce rarely proves long-term. Perhaps I am the one who should be concerned.”

  Was he mocking her? Because she couldn’t be sure, she decided it was best to end the conversation. She cleared her throat. “I appreciate your interest, but—”