She pushed the thought aside. Oh, why was she such a hopeless romantic at heart? No doubt the reason she’d chosen to go into wedding gown creations. Still, mistakes aside, if it wasn’t for Italy and Arabella, La Mia Bella Signora probably wouldn’t exist today.
Most of all, the woman had been a mother to her when she’d desperately needed one…but couldn’t call her own.
“Please, Rose.”
Melody’s voice pulled Rose from memory lane. Just as well. Next she’d be wandering the hospital corridors. And she didn’t want to go there. Even after all these years. It was still too painful.
“I wish I’d seen that picture when we were still designing the dress.” Melody pouted.
As she focused on Arabella’s masterpiece again, Rose breathed in, filling her lungs that still hadn’t quite recovered from Maggie’s announcement of who she’d be having dinner with next Friday night. Maybe she could use this dress as an excuse to get out of the social engagement.
No. Maggie wouldn’t go for it.
Rose examined the image again. That was a whole lot more embroidery work, but she could blend a lot of the design into what already existed on the bodice. “You haven’t forgotten the wedding is in little more than three weeks?” Arabella might be able to do that amount of fine work in so short a time—but her? She’d have to choose her beads and sequins carefully.
“And not a moment too soon.” The countess cast her eyes a little lower than Melody’s waistline before raising her gaze to Rose. “Naturally, we will reimburse you for your time and costs.”
Rose’s eyes flicked from Melody’s flat stomach, to the full glass of champagne. Of course. How long would it be before the press got wind of that story? At least Melody was almost at the church threshold.
She glanced back to Melody’s bodice, and then Arabella’s design. She’d have to take the dress home every night to make the additions, but the endorsements she’d get from the countess and Lady Melody would be totally worth the extra effort.
As would the distraction from thoughts of Joseph Digiavoni and the event happening this weekend. The date haunted her every year with questions and regrets. She’d keep herself super busy until next Friday…and beyond.
She forced a smile to her lips. “I’ll do my best.”
Melody let out a squeal and hurried back to stand in front of the mirror. “Then we’d better pick up where we left off before your phone call interrupted us.”
Rose slid the magazine back onto the table. It shook in her hand before finding calm in the solid wood beneath its glossy cover.
“Are you all right? You don’t look well.” The countess pushed to her feet and slid the powder blue handbag that matched her tailored jacket and pants over her arm—Audrey Hepburn style. “Troubling news from your call?”
“I—” Rose shook her head. “I suddenly don’t feel well. Would you mind if we reschedule this fitting for say, Thursday?”
“I was about to suggest that. The last thing we’d want is you pricking your finger from those trembling hands and all those pins.” The countess glanced at her daughter. “Come along, Melody. You can’t stay in that dress all day. Rose has a lot more work to contend with now. We should leave her to get on with it.” A faux look of sympathy accompanied her weak smile. “Once she’s feeling better, of course.”
Chapter Two
ROSE TWIRLED her hair into a low hung messy bun. Satisfied, she opened the lipstick and glided the flesh-color along her mouth. She smoothed her lips together, ending in a kiss that bounced off her reflection in the bathroom mirror.
Struggling with well-founded fears about the dinner, she gripped the porcelain basin to steady herself. So much for the embroidery keeping her mind off Joseph the past ten days. With every stitch, every bead, every sequin, she had thought of him. And the closer time drew to this evening, the more intense her thoughts had become. She remembered every angle of that chiseled jaw, and the smoothness of it. Every wave in his dark brown shoulder-length hair. The straight lines of his perfect nose. And those dark chocolate-colored eyes that had made all her resistance crumble.
Not to mention his deep voice. She’d tried to steer the sound from her mind, but every old memory that surfaced, had done so accompanied by that irresistible Italian accent wafting to her ears, along with his woodsy after-shave and the way he’d whispered her name. Mia bella Rosa. My beautiful rose.
Mercy. She should stay at home tonight. It was far safer. How was she ever to guard her traitorous heart, if it was already returning to the place of its demise—waiting to fall? Again.
With the lipstick tight in her palm, she returned to her bedroom and dropped the tube into her black clutch bag. She stepped toward her dressing table and eyed the bottles of perfume lining the surface. Which one should she use?
Her hand reached for an old favorite—almost six years old to be precise. One that had sat on her dresser all this time. Unused.
Rose lifted the square gold bottle of Gucci Guilty and removed the lid. Why not? She sprayed the first spurt into the air and took a sniff. Still as good as the day she’d received it. She indulged the pulse points on her wrist and neck with the fragrance, and then slid the perfume in beside the lipstick. Couldn’t fit much more inside the small bag now. Closing her eyes, Rose took a deep breath of the aromatic blends—floral, spicy, fruity, sweet—and drifted to the past…to Florence, to Tuscany.
Would he remember the fragrance, that he was the one who’d introduced her to it?
And would he remember all they’d had to be guilty for?
Heat rushed to her cheeks. Of course he would. Wouldn’t he?
Rose hurried to the bathroom as fast as her stilettos and figure hugging black number would permit. She yanked open the medicine cabinet and her trembling fingers wrapped around a small bottle. The once a year prescription got her through the weeks surrounding May 3rd.
And whenever the black moments overwhelmed her.
Should she take another? It was only two hours since her last dose. She was allowed to take them up to four times a day. One more should get her through the next hour or two.
She popped the white pill into her mouth and swallowed it back with a gulp of water. Clutching the bottle, she returned to her bedroom and tucked it into her purse, just in case the night got rough.
Nerves had Rose seated in her living room almost half an hour early. She crossed her right leg over the left before opening the latest issue of her favorite bridal magazine. She swung her black stockinged leg as she flipped the pages. At precisely seven p.m., the doorbell of her Georgian terraced home rang. Typical Maggie. On time as usual.
Rose pushed to her feet. She draped her coat over her arm and wrapped her fingers around her clutch bag. Ready, she strolled to the door, cool as Florence’s Arno River in January—the cares of her past, her present, and her future floating somewhere on the pond of tranquility. Maybe she’d use the pills until Davis and Maggie’s wedding. She’d stop when she no longer needed to work with fashion icon, JoDi. With a capital D.
At least the evening held two highlights—she’ll get to see both Maggie and Clover again, and meet Maggie’s baron, or viscount, or prince, or whatever he was. The rest of the family had all met Davis, except for her and Clover.
Rose twisted the door knob and pulled the door open.
She swallowed her smile and sucked in a breath.
You’re not Maggie.
Or Davis.
Despite the fashionable, short haircut, and the five-o-clock shadow now coloring the shaped jawline she’d caressed on so many occasions—too many of those in her dreams—the person was unmistakable.
“Joseph.”
She was even more gorgeous than he remembered. Working with her would be harder than he’d envisaged. Not to mention remaining indifferent toward her whilst trying to discover the truth to her actions when she broke up with him, and everything that had followed in the months, and years, since then. What had kept her from being open and honest wi
th him?
Joseph swallowed hard as he stepped inside, closing the door behind him. Why had he thought this was a good idea? Maybe charming the truth out of her would be a better option.
“Bella Rosa.” He leaned closer and kissed her on both cheeks, customary in his country of birth. “So many years. You look…magnifico.”
Rose stared at him with those doe eyes that had captured his heart so long ago.
“You look…different. In a good way.” Reaching up, she touched the side of his hair. “I like the short style. It suits you. And this,” she brushed her hand over his stubbled cheek, “this looks good.”
Not exactly the cold reception he was expecting.
“Shall we go?” Joseph took Rose by the elbow to lead her outside. He stopped and lifted the coat from her arm. “You’d better put this on. The spring air is still cool.”
He stepped behind her and helped her into the warm fabric, resisting the urge to wrap her in his embrace instead. He released a weighted breath. Surely he couldn’t still have feelings for her? Not after what she’d done. She’d broken his heart, and—
“Where are Maggie and Davis? Why didn’t they fetch me?”
Joseph moved to the door. “Davis called me earlier to say they were running late. Asked if I would mind stopping in here on the way to the restaurant. My home isn’t too far from here—and your place is en route.”
Rose cocked her head and smiled. “Really?” She wagged a finger in his direction. “You know what I think? I think they weren’t late at all. I think they’re trying to set us up.” She giggled. “Why else didn’t Maggie call to let me know?”
“Davis said she’d tried, but the calls were going to voice mail.”
Tiny wrinkles rippled her brow before disappearing with her smile. “Of course. I turned my phone to silent when I was measuring a client this afternoon. Guess I forgot to unmute it.” She placed a hand to her mouth and raised her shoulders. Her eyes twinkled. “Oops.”
“I’m certain this is all about business—their wedding. If I know Davis, he probably wanted to give us extra time together to get…acquainted.”
“Not that we need that.”
Joseph cleared his throat. “Perhaps we could discuss some design ideas based on what we know of their tastes. Has your sister indicated to you how her dream wedding dress looks?”
Rose laughed.
How he’d missed that sound—soft and feminine, and yet, full of life.
“Maggie didn’t even think she’d see a dream wedding. Really fussy with her choice in men. And nipping at the heels of her thirtieth birthday, she thought she’d never get married. Maggie and Holly, my sister in Robin Hood’s Bay, they’re the ones married to their careers. Now Maggie has surprised us all. Perhaps there’s still hope for Holly.”
“And you?”
“Me?”
“Are you married to your career?” Of course she was, and he knew it. So why ask the question?
To get a reaction.
“We should go, before we’re late, too. Little sister or not as head chef, we can’t be certain how long they’ll hold our reservation.” She stepped closer to Joseph and suddenly fell against him.
He caught her with one arm.
Was she tipsy? Not only unstable on her feet, she was also acting strange, as if she didn’t have a care in the world.
He took a deep inhale as his arm around her waist held her firm. Not a trace of alcohol, unless the lady had developed a taste for vodka. Seemed unlikely—Rose had been a teetotaler when he’d known her. But then, he’d never dreamed her capable of doing what she had done when she’d broken things off with him, so anything was possible, for sure.
Instead, a smell he loved, that had always reminded him of her, invaded his senses, drawing his thoughts in a different direction. She’d worn the perfume the entire three weeks they’d visited with his best friend, Rafaele, at his family’s villa near Buonconvento, an hour or so from Florence where she’d studied. The same place he’d been the keynote speaker at her graduation function. He’d never forget that night they’d met. With the first stare, he fell in love with his English Rose.
She gazed up at him, making no attempt to push herself away. “I’m so sorry. I’m a real klutz on these high-heels tonight. Perhaps I should change into flats.”
“And create a fashion disaster of that outfit? No, no, no. Not while you’re on my arm. I’ll carry you if I have to, mia bella Rosa.”
Speaking of carrying… As he held her soft brown gaze, the realization hit him—for six years this woman had carried his heart. And as much as he didn’t want to admit it, she still held it. Tightly. No matter how angry he’d been at her, how much he couldn’t understand her actions.
But would he still feel the same way once he understood? Would understanding and clarity bring resolution? Perhaps a new beginning. Or would it result in more heartache—the confirmation of what he feared, but couldn’t wrap his mind around…that Rose Blume was nothing more than a selfish, cold, career-driven woman?
Rose wasn’t the only one holding tight to secrets, though. If he decided to tell her what he’d done, how would she react?
Above the hum of restaurant chatter, small talk dominated their conversation as they enjoyed their appetizers. Rose gave more than her fair share of words and laughter. If only she could have felt this relaxed in Joseph’s company without the help of those pills.
She studied Davis and Maggie over her glass of water. They were perfect for each other. And so in love. Jealousy twinged, and her eyes flicked toward Joseph. Right into those chocolate orbs. Wasn’t the first time she’d caught him staring at her tonight. Her pulse raced. Oh Lord, please get me through tonight unbroken and unraveled. Help me to guard my heart. Me and Joseph…we aren’t perfect for each other. At least she was still in control enough to pray.
What was going through his mind? Heat crept up her neck. Was he remembering their time together in Italy? Questioning their sudden break up…her hasty departure from Florence without so much as a word to where she’d gone? Either she had disappeared well, or he hadn’t bothered to find her.
Would it have made a difference if he had?
If only they’d met and fallen in love at this time of their lives, when they were both established in their careers. Things would have been so different. No more chasing the stars because they’d reached their own galaxies. Owned them, in fact.
He, the JoDi label.
She, La Mia Bella Signora.
They’d both turned out successful. But, oh, the price…
And yet, for her the choice had been more about shame than fame.
“Joseph, I love your jacket. It’s so trendy.”
Maggie’s voice pulled Rose from the edge of the abyss. Her sister fingered the fabric covering Joseph’s arm.
“It’s colorful, too.” Davis shielded his eyes, and laughter broke out around the table.
“At least they’re rich colors, not bright or gaudy,” she found herself defending the garment. Or was it the wearer’s ego she was looking out for?
“You know I’m joking, right.” Davis grinned. “I wouldn’t mind one for myself.”
“Unfortunately, my friend, this bespoke jacket is one of a kind. My father had it designed and made for me for my thirtieth birthday last month.”
Davis turned his mouth down at the sides for a second before breaking into a smile. “I’m officially jealous, but happy belated birthday, nevertheless.” He raised his wineglass. As did Maggie and Joseph.
Rose lifted her tall, square tumbler of water, and they each chinked their glasses with Joseph’s, hers clunking against the fine shaped crystal in comparison to the resonating ping of the others.
“Buon compleanno.” Rose leaned over and kissed Joseph’s cheek. “Happy birthday.”
Maggie clapped her hands. “I’m glad you two are getting along so well. I suspect you’ll be spending quite some time together over the next couple of months.” She pointed a finger their dire
ction and waggled it between them. “Have your paths crossed in the industry before tonight?”
In the industry? No. Privately…now that was a story of its own. Thankfully Maggie had phrased her question the way she had, because Rose could in good conscience answer, “Never.”
Joseph’s gaze pierced. He looked away. “So, Davis, Maggie, have you given some thought as to how your wedding will look? We need harmony between your wedding theme and your outfits. If we know that, we can better come up with design ideas.”
“Well,” Maggie and Davis both began. They stopped and smiled at each other.
“You go first, darling,” Davis said.
Maggie gave a small nod, mouthed an ‘I love you’, and then turned to smile at her and Joseph. “You’re both aware that we’ve decided on an evening wedding on New Year’s Eve. However, the theme we want to carry through the wedding is ‘Spring in Winter.’ So even though the wedding is at a cold, gray time, we want color and flowers to resonate—and we need to bring that all the way through from my gown and Davis’s suit, to the bridesmaids and groomsmen outfits, and the mother and father of the bride and groom. Remember that everything will take place inside Levens Hall, which is centrally heated, so we’ve no need to concern ourselves with long sleeves and furs for the women’s outfits.”
Rose’s eyes widened. She resisted the urge to reach for another pill in her bag. “W–we’re doing the parents’ outfits, too?”
Maggie nodded.
“And h–how many bridesmaids do you plan on having?” Not that she didn’t already know the answer to her question.
Maggie’s mouth tipped up at the corners as she stared at Rose, the small wrinkles between her eyes questioning. “Six, of course.”
With all this work, how many hours would she need to spend with Joseph between now and the end of the year? Did she even have the time to add all this to her schedule? She should just tell Maggie she couldn’t do this.
But how could she not? She’d promised her sister a long time ago.
The table cleared of their appetizer plates, Joseph crossed his arms and leaned on the black tablecloth. He looked at Davis. “I guess that means six groomsmen, too?”
Those Blue Tuscan Skies Page 3
