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“Mother does nothing but call to bitch about something,” he muttered, disregarding her umbrage, disregarding the coolness of his relationship with his mother. “Come on. I want to make sure the ring will fit. I want to see them before the end of the week.”
“It’s Friday tomorrow. When do you want to see them? Sunday? You know they’re always in the Hamptons come Saturday morning,” she mocked.
“Tomorrow afternoon,” he countered immediately, looking at the pearl the attendant had placed on a different cushion to showcase it. Against the burgundy, its luster was enough to catch even his attention… A man more accustomed to being attracted to the sparkle of a large bauble than a delicate piece such as this.
Samantha, sensing his attention wasn’t on her, glowered at his line of sight, then, she froze, her shoulders reared back as she too caught sight of the pearl. “My gosh, it’s beautiful.”
“It’s a vintage piece, ma’am,” the blonde said eagerly, apparently sensing a sale.
“It is? Who did it belong to?”
Josh frowned. “I didn’t think Jacobsons repurposed old pieces.”
The blonde nodded. “It’s something new we’ve been trying out,” she told him politely, her smile bright. “It’s been quite a successful venture for those ladies who wish for something a little more retro.”
What she meant was the ladies who weren’t interested in the flash but the substance.
And though he’d always believed Samantha was the former, he had to admit… she was definitely the latter.
He swallowed at the thought and watched as she reached out to caress the ring. “It’s beautiful.”
“Yes, it is. It’s originally from England. From the Duchess of Keithley’s private collection.”
“A duchess?” Samantha whispered, sounding in awe at the prospect. “It totally suits. It’s like from the Regency or something.”
The attendant beamed. “That’s exactly right, ma’am. It’s from the eighteen-twenties. We have all the original paperwork too.”
“What kind of paperwork?” Samantha asked, her curiosity prickling in a way that enchanted Josh.
And he wasn’t the kind of guy to be enchanted.
“The original goldsmith the Duke hired. His stamp and seal, as well as the information from the gold assay office. It’s all very exciting. It’s the oldest piece we have in the collection at the moment.”
Seeing how taken Samantha was with the ring, Josh murmured, “Would you like to see the rest of the collection? The vintage pieces, I mean?”
Samantha turned rounded eyes his way. “Can I have any ring I want?”
When he nodded, the attendant murmured, “There are some quite unusual pieces in the collection, ma’am.”
Samantha immediately shook her head. “No. No way. If I can have anything I want, it’s this one.”
“You’ve changed your tune,” he murmured, turning to whisper the words directly in her ear. He hated himself, but he purposely did so to inhale her scent once more, to breathe in her proximity. To the attendant, he stated, “We’ll take that one, please.”
“Our goldsmiths can handle the resizing now if,” the attendant coughed, “timing is of the essence?”
“It is.” He shot the woman a narrow-eyed stare, one that had her blanching. Then, he felt an elbow in his side and gaped down at the woman beside him. “What?”
“She’s doing us a service. Don’t be rude to her.” To the assistant, Samantha shot her a smile. “Don’t worry about my fiancé, he’s just a bear sometimes. You know how men can be.”
The woman sputtered, and damn, Josh couldn’t blame her.
He felt like sputtering himself.
Chapter 8
Samantha
Back in her kitchen a couple of hours later, Samantha shot her ‘fiancé’ a look. Erin was on his knee, and they were discussing—in a tone that belonged to a geopolitical debate—Erin’s day at playschool.
