The Man, The Ring, The Wedding. Patricia ThayerЧитать онлайн книгу.
called out as she approached the dark oak front desk with the intricately carved detail and marble top. Where was he? she wondered. John Rossi’s assistant had told her his boss would be arriving today. Although their appointment wasn’t until tomorrow afternoon, Angelina didn’t want to miss the chance to speak to the CEO before every other contractor descended on the hotel. She was going to make sure she made an impression—and was awarded the renovation job.
Walking along the grimy marble floor, she was careful her heels didn’t catch in the cracked tile. Her attention was drawn to the crystal teardrop chandeliers that hung from the high ceiling, making an elegant pathway through the large lobby and ending at a wide staircase that led to the second-floor balcony.
She climbed the steps cushioned by once-scarlet carpeting, now torn and faded by age. What a shame this beautiful place hadn’t been taken care of. Running a hand along the brass railing, she made the long trip to the top, wondering what it had been like to spend an evening as a guest here in the hotel’s heyday.
Her grandmother Vittoria had told her stories about the society balls held upstairs in the grand ballroom. Women dressed in long satin gowns and men in tuxedos had come from all around. Angelina hadn’t been to a formal dance since her prom. She smiled. She nearly hadn’t had a date that night because her brother Rick had threatened to break Jimmy Hitchcock’s arm if he got out of line.
No wonder men won’t come near me, Angelina thought, then sadly remembered why she was alone. It had been her choice, ever since she had lost the wonderful man she had met in college. Within two seconds she’d known that the handsome man with the warm hazel eyes would be her one true love. They were destined to be together...forever. But that had all changed when he died, leaving her alone. Love had betrayed her—now she was concentrating on her career.
She pushed away any sad thoughts as she turned and started back down the steps, imagining herself in an elegant, floor-length dress, a handsome man waiting for her at the front of the sweeping staircase. Someone like... She caught a sudden movement out of the corner of her eye. She jerked her head around to find a man standing in the shadows.
She gasped as her heart nearly jumped into her throat. The tall stranger had dark short hair and piercing eyes. He was dressed in faded jeans, a denim shirt and work boots.
“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I didn’t know anyone was here.” Who was he?
“What are you doing here?” he asked, as he approached the bottom step.
“I have an appointment,” she lied. “With Mr. Rossi. And you are?”
John Rossi watched as the beautiful woman came down the stairs. She was small in stature, but her body didn’t lack curves. His gaze moved over her charcoal-colored business jacket then lingered on her hips covered by a slim skirt.
“You could say that I work here,” he murmured, taking advantage of his angle to study her long, gorgeous legs.
“Oh, so you’re getting things ready for Mr. Rossi’s arrival?”
Slowly, his eyes raised to meet her sky-blue gaze. “Actually, I am—”
She waved a hand. “I’ll be working for Rossi International, too. That’s why I’m here.”
John stood back as she tossed her long midnight hair off her shoulders, his fingers itching to discover the softness of the silky strands. His body swiftly reacted to this sexy woman. She had flawless olive skin. A small, slender nose. But it was her mouth, her full, rosy lips, that had him distracted. He shook his head, trying to remember why he was here. And why this woman shouldn’t be. How did she get past security?
“So you have a job with Rossi?” he said.
That sensual mouth of hers twitched mischievously. “Well, not exactly. But I’m sure by tomorrow that will change.”
He folded his arms over his chest and leaned a hip against the brass staircase railing. He knew he should tell her who he was, but this conversation was too interesting to cut short. He cocked an eyebrow. “What is it you do exactly—and are so good at—that you know for sure you’ll be hired?”
“Well, I’m good at computers. Excellent, in fact.” She shook her head and her eyes widened. “But it’s not me. It’s my family business, Covelli and Sons. My brothers, Rick and Rafe, are bidding on the renovation job on this hotel.”
John froze, fighting to hide his surprise. So this was Angelina Covelli. They weren’t supposed to meet until tomorrow. “What time is your appointment?”
“Actually I’m a bit early.”
Like twenty-four hours, he thought. “A little eager?”
“I just don’t want to miss an opportunity.” Angelina finished her trip down the steps and began walking around the lobby. “I mean, look at this place. It needs a lot of work by expert hands to ensure it doesn’t lose its beautiful grandeur. Nothing should be changed, just restored. Like the front desk. Keep it just as is, except for installing computers. My brothers can handle that without any problems,” she assured him.
John followed her to the desk and watched as she ran her hand over the marble surface. He quickly grabbed her wrist. “Careful, you’ll get dirty.”
His gaze locked again on her incredible eyes. Feeling the heat surge through him, he released her arm. “This place hasn’t been deemed safe yet. It’s being checked out today by the building engineer. There could be unsafe areas.”
“Is that your job?”
He was ready to tell her who he was. “It’s one of my jobs, but I’m here because—” He paused. “I need to get things ready for tomorrow.”
Her smile dropped. “I was hoping to meet Mr. Rossi today.”
“I believe he’s scheduled all appointments for tomorrow,” John said.
“But I want to see him first. Pitch my outline of ideas for the renovation, one on one. It’s so hard to talk with a roomful of other contractors around.” Her blue eyes met his and a slow smile spread across her face. “Maybe you could help me. Put in a good word for me and my company.”
She opened her thin leather briefcase and pulled out a folder. “We have tons of references. And we’ve been in business for over thirty years. Please,” she said, pushing the folder towards him. “Could you at least give this to him?”
John raised his hands, knowing he had to tell her who he was. “Look Ms....”
“Covelli, Angelina.”
“A beautiful name.”
“Thank you.” She smiled again.
His chest tightened and he found himself taking the folder. “Look, Ms. Covelli, I should tell you that I’m—”
“Mr. Rossi,” a voice called from the door behind him. “There’s a call on your phone. Your office in New York.”
“Please tell them I’ll call them back,” John instructed, then turned back to see the fiery look in Angelina Covelli’s eyes.
“As I was about to tell you, I’m John Rossi, Ms. Covelli.” He held out his hand. “It’s nice to meet you. Mark Learner, my assistant, has been singing your praises the past few months.”
She looked down at his hand then finally shook it. “I apologize, Mr. Rossi. I know I should have waited until tomorrow, but I was hoping to be the first to see you.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “So you were trying to get the advantage?”
She raised her gaze and stared at him. “Whatever it takes. But ask around, Covelli and Sons is the best for the job.” She pulled out a business card and handed it to him. “You will be disappointed if you choose anyone else.” She pivoted on her high-heeled shoes and, with an arrogant tilt of her chin, marched across the lobby.
Unable to tear his gaze away,