Gia doesn’t love a new blanket. She loves the old one. Make sure you’re on the last flight out tonight. I want her favorite blanket.”

CHAPTER TWO

HE GOT home far later than he intended and by the time he’d arrived, the house was dark and quiet, only a few lights glowing downstairs.

Marco followed the light to the grand salon where he heard Payton talking in a hushed voice. The doors were slightly ajar and he could see Payton curled on the love seat speaking on her cell phone. She was wearing slim hunter-green slacks, a black turtleneck, and a suede green blazer. She knew color, he thought. That shade of green she was wearing—forest with a hint of moss—set off her fiery hair and accented her pale complexion.

She’d always had a good eye for color and design and that was exactly what she was discussing now. Business. She must be talking to someone at work in San Francisco.

For a moment he felt a strange spark of emotion, part anger, part resentment. He and Payton had had their problems but he only had respect for her talent. She was a natural when it came to design. It was almost as if she could see how fabric would drape in her mind’s eye, picture the texture, the color, the cut and with just a few pencil sketches, she’d come up with brilliant ideas.

He’d admired her work. He’d wanted her on his team, producing for him. But once their relationship fell apart, Payton headed back to America and went to work for an Italian designer there.

Payton’s fingers were beginning to cramp from holding the little cell phone so long. She’d called the office just to check in but her assistant wouldn’t let her off the phone.

“When are you coming back?” her assistant demanded, already sounding rattled for eleven o’clock in the morning. “I swear, you’re the only one who knows what’s going on.”

“Well, somebody else better figure it out soon,” Payton answered lightly, thinking that if her being gone two days was a problem for Calvanti Design, then they were really going to be thrown for a loop when she announced that she was taking a leave of absence on her return.

She was just hanging up when she heard the wooden floor creak. Turning, Payton spotted Marco standing outside the tall gilded salon doors. “When did you get home?”

“A few minutes ago.” He gestured to the phone. “I didn’t overhear anything I wasn’t supposed to hear, did I?”

“No.”

He walked toward her, shedding his coat en route. “I heard you design for Calvanti under your own label now.”

“Yes.” Payton warily watched him approach.

He’d been livid when she took the position with Calvanti on returning to San Francisco two years ago. Calvanti was a small Italian-American design firm that had shown stunning poise and creativity for a small upstart fashion house. Payton had been thrilled at the prospect of having her own label and yet Marco had said they’d only hired her to capitalize on the d’Angelo name.

“You’ve given up working on menswear then?” he asked, dropping his coat on the back on a chair.

She felt a muscle pull in her jaw. He’d never thought much of her as a designer. Early in their marriage she’d shyly shown him her work and he’d been less than impressed. Actually he’d been far more blunt than that. “I still collaborate on menswear and the sportswear collection, but in the future I’ll be focusing more exclusively on my label.”

“You’ve been successful.”

“Surprisingly so, yes.”

“I guess it doesn’t hurt being a d’Angelo after all.”

She felt her face grow hot. She couldn’t speak for a moment, formulating silent protests, wanting instinctively to defend herself but it would do no good. Marco wouldn’t believe she’d kept his name for the girls’ sake. All Payton had wanted was to keep Gia and Liv’s lives simple.