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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.”
