Sara Craven Tribute Collection. Sara Craven
extracted the little square box and handed it to her.
Cory gasped out loud as she saw the deep mauve of the amethyst, surrounded by creamy pearls.
She said huskily, ‘It’s—wonderful. And it’s my birth-stone, too. How did you know?’
‘I didn’t,’ he admitted ruefully. ‘It’s a family ring, so this makes you my family for evermore.’
He took her left hand and kissed it, then slid the ring over the knuckle of her third finger. It fitted perfectly.
Her voice shook a little. ‘Does this mean we’re officially engaged?’
‘Almost.’ He kissed her gently. ‘I still have to get your grandfather’s blessing, so it might be better to wait for that. Until then you could always wear it on your other hand, in public anyway.’
‘I’d even wear it through my nose.’ Cory’s smile lit up the world. ‘Just as long as I don’t have to hide it away in its box.’
They spent the evening doing small, mundane things, content to be sharing them with each other. Cory put her roses in water and cooked some pasta, while Rome made a rich aromatic sauce out of tomatoes, bacon, herbs and garlic.
Afterwards, they went to bed, and slept wrapped in each other’s arms.
And, for once, Cory forgot to set her alarm for the morning.
When she eventually opened her eyes, she yelped with dismay.
She was going to be late for work and, granddaughter or no, Arnold was a stickler for punctuality in the mornings.
Rome’s arms scooped her back. ‘You’re running away again,’ he muttered sleepily.
‘Only to work.’
‘Call in sick.’
‘I can’t.’ She wriggled free. ‘You want Gramps to like you, don’t you?’
‘I want you to like me.’
‘I will—I do. This evening I’ll think the world of you, I swear.’ She scrambled out of bed. ‘But now I have to rush.’
Even so, she wasn’t surprised when he joined her in the shower.
‘You shouldn’t be here.’ Her breathing fragmented as he began to soap her, his hands lingering on her breasts and thighs. ‘Oh, God—I don’t—I really don’t have—time—for this…’
Rome kissed her wet shoulder. ‘Really and truly?’
‘Cross my heart.’ Her pulses were going mad, and her knees were weak, but she spoke with determination and he laughed.
‘Then I’ll be good, and make you some coffee instead.’
Cory was standing in her robe, drying her hair, when the door buzzer sounded.
‘Shall I get it?’ Rome called from the kitchen.
‘I’d better,’ she said. ‘It might be the postman, early for once.’ And, ‘All right, I’m coming,’ she called, as the buzzer made another imperative summons.
She went barefoot to the door, pulling the robe more closely round her and tightening its sash.
She’d planned to say, ‘I hope this is a seriously interesting parcel.’ But all words died on her lips when she opened the door and saw who was confronting her.
‘And about time, too,’ Sonia said tartly. ‘Well, don’t just stand there. Ask me in. It’s freezing out here.’
‘Mother,’ Cory said, dry-mouthed, as she spotted a small mountain of luggage piled up in the passage. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I was in New York, seeing friends,’ Sonia said lightly. ‘And I decided to extend my trip and check on my only daughter.’ She leaned forward, air-kissing Cory on both cheeks. ‘So, I caught the red-eye and here I am.’
Well, there was no denying that, Cory thought ruefully, assimilating the pale blonde hair, artfully coiffed, the immaculate maquillage, the close fitting dove-coloured trouser suit that showed off her mother’s slim, toned figure to the best advantage, and the fur jacket draped casually round her shoulders.
As usual, Sonia made her feel as if she’d been swapped at birth.
She swept past Cory into the flat, and looked around her. ‘My God, what a small apartment. How many bedrooms do you have?’
‘Just the one,’ Cory admitted.
Sonia raised her eyes to heaven. ‘In that case, painful as it will be for both of us, I’ll be staying with your grandfather. Is that coffee I smell?’
Cory felt hollow. ‘Yes.’
Sonia made for the kitchen, then stopped abruptly, with a gasp that owed more to genuine surprise than her usual talent for drama.
‘And just who are you?’ she demanded sharply.
Rome continued to pour black coffee into beakers. ‘My name’s Rome d’Angelo, signora. And I’m seeing your daughter.’
‘And she, in turn, is seeing you.’ Sonia’s voice held a distinct edge. ‘About ninety per cent of you, or even a hundred, if that towel slips any further.’
‘I’ll make sure it doesn’t—at least in your presence.’ Unperturbed, Rome handed her a beaker.
‘Thank you.’ Sonia tasted the brew suspiciously, then nodded. ‘You make good coffee. Just one of your many talents, I’m sure,’ she added waspishly.
‘The least of them,’ Rome confirmed, unfazed. ‘And another is to spot when I’m in the way. I’m sure you both have so much to catch up on, so I’ll clear out and leave you to it.’
Cory followed him to the bedroom. ‘Will I see you tonight?’ she asked unhappily.
He hesitated. ‘You may have other obligations. I’ll call you.’ He dropped the towel to the floor and began, swiftly, to dress. ‘I take it this visit was unexpected?’
‘A bolt from the blue. My mother,’ Cory said with some bitterness, ‘is a creature of impulse.’
He slanted an amused look at her. ‘Perhaps that’s something you have in common.’
Cory gave him a troubled look. ‘You realise the cat’s well and truly out of the bag? Sonia doesn’t have a discreet bone in her body.’
‘Yes,’ Rome said with a certain grimness, ‘I realise, and I’m going to deal with it.’ He wrapped his arms round her and kissed her hard, making her senses spin.
‘Don’t let her get to you, cara,’ he whispered. ‘And I’ll see you later.’
As she picked up her ring from the night table and slid it on to her right hand, Cory could hear him bidding Sonia a courteous goodbye.
Steeling herself, she rejoined her mother in the living room.
‘My, my, aren’t you the dark horse?’ Seated on the sofa, legs crossed, Sonia gave her daughter a searching look. ‘And just when I thought you’d settled for being an old maid.’
Cory shrugged. ‘I discovered I didn’t have to settle for anything,’ she returned stiffly.
‘Hmm.’ Sonia studied her frowningly, taking account of her flushed cheeks and reddened mouth. ‘What does he call himself—Rome? What kind of name is that?’
Cory lifted her chin. ‘His.’
‘I see.’ Sonia sounded amused. ‘Well, don’t be so protective, darling. I’m sure your Rome d’Angelo can look after himself, and has been doing so for some years, if I’m any judge.’ She paused. ‘D’Angelo,’ she repeated thoughtfully. ‘You know, that rings a bell. Someone I once met in Miami…’