If the Ring Fits.... Jackie Braun

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,