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Rafe grinned. “Six months is fine, but you’re welcome to stay for as long as you need. And it’s ready now so you can move in anytime. I can have the key for you in an hour.”
Vittoria spoke up. “And to welcome you here, I will make you something special to eat.”
John Rossi blinked at the older woman’s kindness. “Grazie, signora.”
One by one, the members of the family began to drift away, but Angelina hung back. “After a while you’ll get used to it,” she said. “They’re all a little pushy, but they’ll grow on you.”
“You don’t need to go to all this trouble,” he said, his dark eyes sharp and assessing. “Covelli and Sons’ work will stand on its own.”
Angelina took a deep breath, trying to control her sudden anger. How dare this man accuse her family of trying to buy the bid? That hurt, and she wasn’t going to let him go without knowing the truth.
“I guess they do things differently in New York, but our hospitality is just that. We have no ulterior motive. We believe our work will speak for itself, Mr. Rossi. We’re just being neighborly, nothing more.”
Angelina turned and marched off, praying she hadn’t blown Covelli and Sons’ chance of getting the hotel job. But, after seeing the surprised look on John Rossi’s face, she decided it was worth the risk.
Later that day, John returned to his motel on the edge of town. Inside his room, he tossed his briefcase on the chair and went to the desk. He grabbed the file marked Covelli and opened it.
He’d done his homework, but he’d still been blindsided when Angelina turned up early at the hotel. He hadn’t expected her, and he had desperately wanted to be prepared. One raven-haired woman with intriguing eyes and a sensual mouth had already distracted him, making him forget the reasons he’d come here.
John drew a deep breath, as a picture of Angelina Covelli appeared in his mind. As his grandfather would say, “such a bella signorina.”
He shook his head and brought his wayward thoughts back on track, turning his attention to the file. He knew that Angelina ran the office at Covelli and Sons. And according to Mark, she’d been enthusiastically pursuing the renovation job since Rossi International had purchased the property early last year.
John sat down in the chair. He had to say he was impressed after meeting the Covelli brothers. And they were experts in the field of restoration. The only other person who might have been better at this craft had been their father, Rafaele Covelli. And he’d been killed in a construction accident over two years ago.
John tossed the manila folder on the desk. How many times had he read over the same file the last four months? So many he had memorized it. But he wanted to know everything about the Covellis. More than he needed to know to hire them for the job.
It was how John Rossi did business. He’d learned it was the safest way to make sure people didn’t take advantage of him. Not only in business—but more importantly, in his personal life.
He glanced back at the file. And this wasn’t just business to him, it was personal.
The phone rang. He leaned forward and picked it up. “Rossi here.”
“Buona sera, Giovanni.”
“Buona sera, Nonno,” he answered. His spirits brightened hearing his grandfather’s voice. “How are you feeling?”
He heard a groan over the line. “I’m an old man. How should I feel?”
John grinned. This was the grandfather he knew and loved. But he was getting old, too old to run the vineyard alone. “Then let me get you some more help and you can retire. Come live with me in New York.”
“I’ve grown grapes all my life. A man needs a purpose .”
“But a man needs some relaxation, too.”
His grandfather sighed. “You should take some of your own advice. You’re always working—and always alone.”
John and his grandfather were close. Though he was raised by his father’s parents in America, John had always felt a special bond with his mother’s family in Italy. Nonno Giovanni had been the one who taught John to cultivate the soil, to nurture grapes for the best harvest. And though John had taken over his American grandfather’s business empire, Rossi International, memories of his summers at the vineyard would always bring him happiness. No matter what the distance, John and Giovanni had fostered their special relationship.
But when John had gone to Italy this past harvest, his grandfather had looked more tired than usual.
“How do you know I’m alone? Have you been sweet-talking information from my secretary again?” Donna Charles had worked for Rossi International for over twenty years. She was invaluable and knew all the ins and outs of the corporate world. But she also talked too much to his grandfather.
“A bella woman, Signora Donna. She only tells me what I need to know. One is that you aren’t taking care of yourself.”
“I could say the same about you,” John argued. “That’s the reason I’m glad you’re coming for the holidays.”
“Sì, and we can argue about this again.”
“You are stubborn, figlio.”
“Something I inherited from you, no doubt,” John mumbled. “I’m looking forward to your visit. In fact, I’m planning on being finished here so we can have a long uninterrupted vacation together.”
“I would like that.” There was a long sigh. “We both spend too much time alone. And before I die I would like to see New York again.”
“You’re not going to die for a long time.” Even though his grandfather was seventy-six, as far as John knew the man was in good health. “I have to get back to work. I will call you next week. Ciao, Nonno.”
John hung up the phone and wondered what he’d gotten himself into. For years he’d seen his grandfather’s misery and always wished he could do something about it
Were they so alike? In a lot of ways, sì. They both had trouble with women and relationships. His Nonna Lia had left Giovanni a few years ago, saying he had neglected her for years. That her husband had always belonged to another.
John had survived his own pain. It had been a few years, but the memory burned in his gut like an out-of-control fire every time he remembered Selina’s betrayal. When he’d met her he had fallen hard and he’d thought everything he’d always longed for was within his grasp. He’d have the family he’d wanted since his parents’ death. Then he discovered that Selina only wanted the prestige of being married to Rossi International’s CEO.
Since then John had given up on love; it seemed a steel-coated heart was a family trait. He would concentrate on business instead.
However, for his grandfather, and to be honest, for himself, John wanted to find answers to questions which had been hanging over his family like a dark cloud for as long as he could remember. What he was looking for could be right here in Haven Springs.
The next morning, John carried his suitcase and laptop up the stairs to the second-story apartment. He used the key Rafe had given him to unlock the door. Once inside he was pleasantly surprised at the spaciousness of the place. The gray-blue-carpeted living room had a new sofa and two chairs. The kitchenette had a large table where he would have room for his work and still be able to eat. He examined the new cupboards, impressed by the fine detailing that was the Covellis’ signature. Everything they did seemed to show a little extra care.
He went into the bedroom and found a queen-size bed covered with a navy comforter. The bathroom was large and had been completely redone with all new fixtures, including a double shower.
“Not bad.” John opened his computer case, then found an outlet and plugged in the cord. In no time, he had hooked into the phone line and sat down to bring up his e-mail.
A crash from the outside hall drew his attention. “What the hell?” he said, hurrying across the room and opening the door to find Angelina Covelli on her hands and knees, surrounded by grocery bags.
She gasped. “What are you doing here?”
He leaned against the doorjamb, loving the wide-eyed expression on her face. “I believe I rented this apartment.”
She sat back on her heels. “I meant I didn’t expect you to be moved in yet My grandmother asked me to bring over clean linens.” She pointed to the grocery bag. “And a few staples.”
He eyed her fitted jeans and blue sweatshirt—with Angelina nearby what other “staples” could a man need? Angelina was a sweet diversion from business. But he couldn’t forget she was his business. He knelt down and began to help her gather food back into the sacks.
“You didn’t have to bring me anything. I’m capable of taking care of myself.”
“Try telling that to Nonna,” Angelina said. “She insisted that I was to come here early and make sure the apartment got aired out and bring fresh sheets and towels.”
John picked up the bouquet of dried flowers and caught a whiff of their sweet fragrance. He would forever connect this scent with Angelina Covelli. “Was it Nonna Vittoria’s idea to bring me these?”
She glanced away. “They were from my grandmother’s garden. I just thought a little color would cheer up the place.”
“Thank you. No woman has ever given me flowers before.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Just don’t accuse me of trying to bribe you,” she teased, then turned serious. “I want to apologize for what I said yesterday. I was upset because you thought we were trying to get the job by appealing to your stomach with some home cooking. Rafe and Rick don’t need to do anything like that. I guarantee you won’t find better carpenters to restore your hotel.” She raised a hand. “And that’s the end of my speech.”
John smiled. So Angelina Covelli was not only beautiful, but fiercely loyal.
“I know.” He reached out and took her hand and a shock of awareness shot through him. She looked just as surprised as he did. He helped her to her feet, then reached down and picked up the sacks. Allowing her through the door first, he caught a glimpse of her shapely rear-end encased in jeans. Funny, he’d never thought of denim as sexy before now.
John set the bags down on the table, then they began putting things away. Coffee, milk and orange juice. She pulled out a foil-wrapped package.
“Nonna Vittoria made you some orange sweet bread.”
His mouth watered. “Berlingaccio?”
Her eyes widened. “You’ve had it before?”
“I am Italian aren’t I?” he said, but decided not to elaborate on his taste for Tuscany sweet bread.
“Consider yourself special. Nonna doesn’t make her
berlingaccio for just anyone.”
He found he couldn’t take his eyes off her expressive face. “Be sure to tell Vittoria grazie,” he said, then asked, “Would you share some with me?”
She shook her head. “I really shouldn’t...”
John went to the counter and stood next to Angelina. “Please stay. if only to let me apologize for my rudeness yesterday. I’ve found in my business you have to be careful.”
She nodded. “Okay, but only if I make the coffee. And I can put on the fresh sheets while it perks.”
“I’ll help.”
He finished unloading the bags and she put away a loaf of bread, bacon and eggs. He couldn’t believe all the food. In New York his housekeeper prepared a few meals for the week that he could put in the microwave and heat whenever he got home. “I’m not much of a cook. Being single I usually eat out, or have something sent up to the office. So thanks for all this.”
“Well, you’re thanking the wrong person, because cooking isn’t something I excel at. And it’s got Nonna all worried. She thinks I’ll never find a husband. Of course I’ve told her enough times, I’m not looking for marriage, I’d rather have a career.”
“Can’t you have both?”
He caught a sad look in her eyes before she glanced away.
“I’m just concentrating on my career for now,” she said.
John shrugged. “Sounds good.” How had they gotten on this topic?
His gaze moved over her shapely frame and his body came to life. He had trouble remembering what he was saying. He walked over to the table. “I haven’t found any relationships that last,” he said, wondering if she knew what she was doing to him.
“That’s all I see. My grandparents, my parents, even my brothers, all crazy in love.” She flashed that pained look again, then reached for the stack of towels and sheets, and took off for the bedroom.
He followed her. “So, if it runs in your family, why haven’t you wanted to take the plunge?”
Angelina pulled off the comforter and began spreading the bottom sheet over the mattress pad. “Who said I haven’t?”
Interested, he went to the other side of the bed and grabbed a corner of the fitted sheet He watched as her delicate hands smoothed out the wrinkles. “Can’t believe a guy would let you get away.”
She tossed her long hair off her shoulders and looked at him. “It was a long time ago.”
He stood by the bed, totally enticed by the petite woman across from him. He found himself wondering who this man was that put the sadness in her beautiful eyes. How could any man walk away from her? He ached to run his fingers through her silky hair, touch her flawless skin, to kiss... John shook his head. Damn, he was thinking about something he had no business thinking about. “Sorry, I had no right to pry.”
Angelina couldn’t figure out why John Rossi was so interested in her mundane life. She doubted he had spent many nights alone in New York. Women probably flocked to him. Haven Springs was going to be an awakening.
“I think we should keep focused on business,” she said.
That was all Angelina felt she had left. Unlike her mother and grandmother she’d never gotten to marry the love of her life. Justin had died decades too soon. Now all that remained were memories that she could pull out on those dark, still nights when she ached from the loneliness.
“Then I hope you took me seriously about writing up a proposal on your idea for a pool and a fitness center at the hotel.”
“I’ll have it for you in a few days.” She finished making the bed. “I’ve got to go,” she said, then walked into the other room.
John hurried after her. “Aren’t you going to stay for some coffee and sweet bread?”
Angelina forced herself to stop. Big mistake. John Rossi didn’t, and he ran into her. She gasped as her hands connected with his solid chest. He gripped her arms to steady them both, but it didn’t help. Her breathing suddenly grew labored when she looked up at his dark eyes. She couldn’t move.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
She only nodded.
“I guess I should watch where I’m going.”
His deep voice sent a shiver of awareness coursing through her, warming her body. The feeling excited and frightened her at the same time. She was definitely out of her league with this man. “I need to get home.”
“You promised to stay for sweet bread, remember.”
She felt the searing heat of his hands on her arms. His grip was strong, but gentle. She managed to free herself when she stepped back. “I don’t think staying is such a good idea, Mr. Rossi.”
He leaned toward her. “John...” he corrected.
“John...” Angelina’s heart pounded in her chest, so loudly she thought he could hear it. She swallowed, wishing she could act sophisticatedly in this kind of situation, but the truth was she wasn’t anything more than a small-town girl. She had to get out of this apartment, away from his alluring eyes. “Goodbye.”
Turning, she swiftly headed toward the door, praying he wouldn’t call her back, because for the first time in a long time, Angelina wasn’t sure what she would do.
Chapter Three
Two days later, John stood in the hotel lobby with the security guard he’d hired that morning when the front door opened and Angelina Covelli came into the lobby.
He stopped and stared as she walked across the room. She was wearing a black print skirt that revealed the curve of her hips. A black jacket hung open over a red sweater that didn’t hide the fullness of her breasts. Her silky hair was worn free and bounced against her shoulders with each step. She was lovely.
“Well, good morning, Angelina,” the security guard said.
