Ringing in Love

Avon, Massachusetts

Copyright © 2014 by Peggy Bird.
All rights reserved.

This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher; exceptions are made for brief excerpts used in published reviews.

 

Published by

Crimson Romance

an imprint of F+W Media, Inc.

10151 Carver Road, Suite 200

Blue Ash, OH 45242. U.S.A.

www.crimsonromance.com

ISBN 10: 1-4405-7042-6

ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-7042-1

eISBN 10: 1-4405-7043-4

eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-7043-8

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author's imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.

Cover art © iStockphoto.com/8213erika

 

 

When I started this journey as an author I had no idea that one of the benefits would be meeting so many remarkable women along the way. It's about time I thanked them. First, Jennifer, Julie, Jess, and Tara, the editors (past and present) at Crimson Romance who made my dreams come true and my books make sense. Next, my Crimson Romance Sisters. Thank you for friending, liking, sharing, tweeting, posting, voting, reading, and reviewing whenever I've asked. You are the most awesome support group anyone could have. Last, the amazing Lisa at Tasty Book Tours and Amy at Unwrapping Romance. (Dominic is for you, Amy.) Thank you all for your support and encouragement!

“Damn it, Melody,” Catherine Bennett said as she slammed into the dolly loaded with banker's boxes her assistant was supposed to be pulling. “You can't stop like that. This thing has no brake lights to warn me.” As she steadied the pile of teetering boxes, she followed Melody's gaze to see what had distracted her. She should have known. A man. Dominic Russo, to be precise. And he was definitely a distraction. Mister Dark and Dangerous. Man candy. A professional bachelor with a reputation for notching his bedpost with a new name every few weeks. Name a cliché describing a sexy male, and he fit it. Hell, he owned it.

He also owned one of the most successful public relations firms in Philadelphia and was Catherine's biggest competitor.

“Damn is right,” Melody said. “Hot damn.”

Catherine bent and rubbed the shin that had borne the brunt of the collision. “You might want to add an ‘ouch' in there.”

Melody whipped around as quickly as she'd stopped. “Oops. Sorry, Catherine. Are you okay? Didn't mean to hurt you. I was just admiring the scenery.” She returned her attention to the man who was now almost at the elevator bank. “Look at those shoulders! And the way he moves. I bet he's a great dancer—and you know what
that
means. He is definitely sex on legs. Wonder who he is?”

“Your encyclopedic knowledge of Philadelphia gossip is failing you. The ‘scenery,' as you put it, is Dominic Russo. The Russo Group has offices on the fifteenth floor.”

“Of course! Shoulda looked at his face instead of his ass.” Melody started toward the elevator again. “If you'd told me my days in our new office building would be brightened by sightings of the sexiest man in the city, I'd have been happier about moving here.”

“I'd have used it, believe me, if I'd known it would have stopped you from complaining about all the work it took to move the office.”

“You know how much I hate change and loved the old building.” Melody looked across the lobby again. “Although the old building never offered us something like that to look at. On the other hand, now that we're in the same building as our competition, we'll always have to be careful what we say when we're …”

The service elevator door began to close, and Catherine interrupted Melody's latest reservations about the new office arrangements to yell, “Hold the elevator!” to her staffer Tom.

But before Tom could hit the “door open” button, Dominic Russo made a graceful move to his left and grabbed the door.

“Thanks,” Catherine said as she and Melody pushed the dolly into the elevator.

“Happy to help. Moving's hard enough without having to wait endlessly for elevators.” He smiled and the temperature in the lobby spiked. “You're Catherine Bennett, aren't you? I'm Dominic Russo.”

“Of course. We've actually met …”

He nodded. “After you spoke at the business roundtable about your firm's approach to socially responsible marketing and business practices. You had so many people trying to talk to you that day, I didn't know if you'd remember me. I enjoyed your presentation. When you get settled, maybe you'd consider repeating it to my staff. I don't imagine I did it justice when I tried to relay the information.”

Not remember meeting him? Was he kidding? He was impossible to forget.

If the rumors were to be believed, most of the women in the city would agree. Interesting, because he wasn't handsome in a classic, young god kind of way. His jawline was a bit too strong and his nose a bit too aquiline for the perfect image of the divine. The bits of silver beginning to show in his thick, dark hair and the lines around his eyes and mouth put him out of the age range of most Hollywood hotties.

But all that was unimportant compared to the devastating smile currently aimed at Catherine and the deep, dark, espresso brown eyes that seemed to say he knew everything worth knowing about a woman merely by looking at her. Any woman he turned that look on would have her knees melted in two seconds flat with the rest of her quickly following.

And then there was the body Melody had drooled over. Not to mention the wrapping it came in. Even in Philly's humid summer heat Mister Sex on Legs looked cool and unruffled. The dark suit he wore fit as if he had grown it like skin, not had it tailored. The accompanying white shirt was crisp and unwrinkled, the dark gold and black paisley print tie in a perfect knot, the matching pocket square precisely placed.

Catherine, on the other hand, was both ruffled and wrinkled. Her long hair was mostly pulled back into a messy ponytail; her jeans and T-shirt were rumpled and dusty. There were, she was sure, tracks of perspiration running down her neck and arms from helping to load the dolly with the boxes of client records she didn't trust to the movers. To top it off, she must reek; she hadn't showered yet today.

Naturally, Dominic Russo not only looked good, he smelled good. Like a gingerbread man.

Right. The hot guy smells like Christmas cookies. Nice, Catherine. Not some sensuous fragrance. A kid's holiday treat. You're really out of practice, aren't you?

She would prefer to think she was relying on food imagery because she'd skipped breakfast, but in truth she
was
out of practice. Unless he was a client, staff member, or sub-consultant, she hadn't thought about, dated, or otherwise paid attention to any man, sexy or otherwise, for a long time. With a business to grow and a teenaged son to raise, she didn't have time for a social life. At least, that's what she told her family and friends. What she admitted only to herself was she hadn't recovered from having her ex-husband leave her for another woman. She wasn't about to take the chance of having her ego battered again by a man who would use her for what he wanted then move on to the next female who crossed his path.

Although even at her best, she would have known better than to waste her time thinking about Dominic Russo in any capacity except as someone who did the same thing she did for a living. He was like the statues of perfectly formed men in the art museum. She might like looking at them, but they were blind to women like her, used to lots of attention, and off limits to the masses. He wasn't for amateurs.

Come to think of it, though, he
was
paying attention to her at the moment, waiting for a response to his request. Which was what she should be thinking about instead of mentally concocting some weird thought mixture of art museums, marble statues, and Christmas cookies. If she didn't say something soon, he was going to think she was an idiot.

Finally she got out, “I'd be happy to talk to your staff. But you're right; it'll have to be after we get ourselves settled.”

“Not to worry. We'll be here when you're ready.” As he let go of the door, he flashed another of his heat-inducing smiles, which Catherine was sure could not only melt knees but also the hooks on a bra. Lord, even her perfectly straight copywriter Tom was blushing from its high wattage. And Melody was speechless, for the first time in all the years Catherine had known her.

Oh, for heaven's sake
, she wanted to say to her staff as the elevator began to rise to the tenth floor.
We don't have time for this. We have an office to get set up and clients to attend to.

• • •

Dominic hadn't been in his office more than fifteen minutes when Edie Martin, his creative director, stormed in.

“What were you thinking, Dominic, letting The Bennett Group lease space in our building? Do you really think it's wise to have that group of newbie pretenders eavesdropping in the elevator every day when they're the biggest threat to our business?”

“It's Bennett and Associates, Edie. If you're going to complain about them, at least get the name right. And I'd hardly call them ‘newbie pretenders.' They're one of the up and coming PR firms in the city. Everyone in the industry is talking about their approach as cutting edge.”

“Why are you letting them in our building where they can spy on us and steal our clients?”

“It's not ‘our' building. It's my building.” He took the papers she'd been waving around as she spoke. “Catherine Bennett's firm has all the qualifications to be a good tenant, and I've had a hard time filling the space the engineering firm left when it moved. Besides, we already have several other threats to our business, as you describe them, in the building and we've been fine.”

“But the other communications firms aren't—
she's
the one—
they're
the people who've been getting too much of the work we should have gotten.”

“We have more than enough clients to keep us busy. And we're on track to have the most profitable year in a decade. I'm not worried Bennett and Associates will listen in on our plans through the HVAC system and we'll go under.” He could see she was not responding to his attempts to make light of her concerns. “Why don't you think of it another way—now we have all our strongest competitors in one place so
we
can watch
them
.”

Edie's face brightened a bit. “Oh, I never thought of it that way. Maybe you're right. Maybe it's a brilliant plan. I hope so, Dominic.”

“Now, other than to bitch about Catherine Bennett what brought you to my office this lovely Monday?”

When Edie left, the thought of Catherine Bennett didn't go with her. Dominic's morning encounter with Ms. Bennett had been a welcome start to the day. In spite of being a bit sweaty and in clothes miles away from the stylish suit she'd worn the first time he'd met her, she was stunning. Her olive skin and her dark chocolate brown hair and eyes, which didn't fit with her WASP-y name, had intrigued him from the first. Still did, even though now he knew from a little background research that her coloring was from an Italian heritage as deep as his own. And there wasn't a man alive—well, a straight one—who wouldn't fantasize about the luscious curves even moving-day clothes couldn't hide. She wasn't some stick-thin model who served as a hanger for the latest designer's ideas of fashion. She had the body of a real woman. A real woman with considerable ability and the drive to take her firm all the way to success. It was quite a combination.