If the Ring Fits.... Jackie Braun

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СКАЧАТЬ 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 СКАЧАТЬ