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  Designing Hearts

  R.W. Shannon

  Copyright © 2011 by R.W. Shannon

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including but not limited to: printing, photocopying, faxing, recording, electronic transmission, or by any information storage or retrieval system without prior written permission from the authors or holders of the copyright.

  This book is a work of fiction. References may be made to locations and historical events; however, names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination and/or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), businesses, events or locales is either used fictitiously or coincidental. All trademarks, service marks, registered trademarks, and registered service marks are the property of their respective owners and are used herein for identification purposes only.

  Published by

  Beautiful Trouble Publishing, LLC

  PO Box 61

  Colfax, NC 27235

  www.beautifultroublepublishing.com

  Cover Art: Shara Azod

  Editor: Cindy Davis, http://www.fiction-doctor.com/

  Proofreader: Novellette Whyte

  http://authorgurunovellette.blogspot.com/

  Formatter: Jim & Zetta, http://www.jimandzetta.com/

  E-book Conversion: Jim & Zetta, http://www.jimandzetta.com/

  ISBN: (e-book) 978-1-61788-198-5; (print) 978-1-61788-199-2

  NOTE ABOUT EBOOKS

  eBooks are NOT transferable. Re-selling, sharing or giving away eBooks is a copyright infringement. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the author or Beautiful Trouble Publishing.

  CAVEAT

  This work of erotica contains adult language and sexually explicit scenes, which are smoking hot. This book is intended only for adults, as it is defined by the laws of the country in which the purchase is made. Keep this book out of the hands of under-aged readers.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Rhodes, Greece

  Stephano Guccelli sighed heavily. He ran his fingers through his shoulder length, dark blond hair and rose from his desk. Shoving his hands into the pockets of his dark denim jeans, he strolled to the window. With a scowl, he stared at the empty field that stretched behind his business, the Welcome Inn. His head pounded from crunching numbers all morning. While the inn was turning a profit, he wasn’t as far along as he’d hoped. He still wasn’t able to pay his father back for the loan to buy the bed and breakfast.

  The pages on the desk rustled behind him. His youngest sister, Gina, was looking at them. She had earned her degree in accounting from Duke University in America and he’d asked her to help figure out how to make the Welcome Inn better.

  “You need a consultant,” Gina said in Italian.

  Stephano looked at his baby sister. “No.” “You have to do something,” Gina stressed. “You have nothing to lose.”

  “Maybe—”

  “I read about this person in a magazine. She can help you.”

  “She? Who?”

  “She’s called the restaurant whisperer.”

  Stephano moved away from the window and strolled to his office door. “I don’t know. She sounds expensive.”

  From his office door, he could look into the dining area. It was full. The patrons seemed to enjoy the food and the atmosphere of the stone inn that was built in the 1200s. The six rooms he reserved for overnight guests were booked through the week. So what was the problem?

  “At least talk to her.” Gina moved behind him. Taking his hand, she turned him to face her. “Stephano, you need matching furniture. And curtains. A sign on the door. She can help you with that.”

  Stephano stepped into the hallway. He turned right and walked into the dining area. Of course, Gina would turn this into an opportunity to marry him off. Since their brother Evander—the fourth of the seven siblings—tied the knot, everyone was looking at him to do the same. The thought of being with a woman longer than one night made Stephano cringe. At six-one with an athletic build, intense green eyes and tanned skin, Stephano had his pick of lovers. At thirty-two, he wasn’t ready to be tied down. And he was sure no woman would make him change his mind.

  Stephano moved through the lobby then outside. The Welcome Inn stood in a village about forty-five minutes south of Lindos, where he lived. The restaurant that was his pride and joy. He added the inn when tourists kept asking if there was a place to stay in the village.

  Across the street was the bar owned by his childhood rival, Mikeli Stavros. Crossing his arms, Stephano stared at the crowded sidewalk tables of the Venti Vicci bar and snorted.

  “If anything,” Gina said, coming to stand beside him. “You’ll bring Mikeli to his knees.”

  Stephano smiled. Nothing would bring him more pleasure than to drive his competitor out of business. As if on cue, Mikeli emerged from the bar. He was a tall, thin man with olive-toned skin, brown hair and an athletic frame. Women fawned over him, but Stephano couldn’t understand why. Mikeli waved at Stephano. Stephano rolled his eyes. Perhaps, the cost would be worth driving his former friend out of business.

  “Fine,” Stephano relented as he turned to go back inside. “Call her.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  New York, New York

  Veronica Chamberlain breezed through the door of her Park Avenue office, Chamberlain Designs, with her Yorkshire terrier Guido tucked under her arm. Her assistant Tammi rose to her feet, but Veronica silenced her with a raised finger and the shake of the head. It was only 10:30 a.m.—much too early to talk business before her first—or fifth—cup of java.

  She settled Guido into his custom-made leopard print bed beside her glass desk. She yawned as she pulled off her three hundred dollar sunglasses. Sunlight streamed through the floor to ceiling windows. Blinking at the harsh light, she took off her coat and hung the faux fur trimmed black coat on the rack behind the door.

  A gold framed mirror leaned against the wall to the left of the door. She paused to check her appearance. It was a blistery October day but not a strand of her long, dark brown ponytail was out of place. While her caramel cheeks were flushed with color, her bright, brown eyes sparkled and didn’t give away the fact that she hadn’t gone to bed until three that morning.

  Veronica scowled at her outfit. Did the red belted sweater, black skirt, and black thigh-high boots suggest both her business and creative natures? She sighed. While she didn’t have any client meetings today, she wanted to be prepared in case one dropped by, and since she was the most sought after restaurant designers in the world, one often did.

  Strolling to the desk, Veronica dropped her purse at her feet. This office was her sanctuary. Its exposed brick walls, hardwood floors, and modern industrial furnishings were the first thing she planned while a student at Columbia University’s School of Design. At first Veronica had wanted to be a residential interior designer, but those plans changed when she took her first industrial design class and immediately found her calling.

  This career path allowed her to combine her love of food with her love of shopping, though she couldn’t cook her way out of a paper bag, as her mother often pointed out. At twenty-seven, Veronica had to work hard to prove herself in this cynical business. When her first three restaurant makeovers turned profits in the millions, she was given the title “the restaurant whisperer” by the press. Professionally, her life was booming. Privately—well, she didn’t want to dwell on that black spot in her life.

  Tammi appeared, carrying Veronica’s favorite red mug. Steam rose from the rim and drifted toward Veronica when she took it from Tammi. Hiring the twenty-three year old New Yo
rk University graduate was the best thing Veronica ever did. Now, if she could get Tammi to stop wearing those thrift-store finds.

  “Thank you,” Veronica muttered.

  “Late night?” Tammi asked.

  “Yes. I had a date.”

  “Ooh! With that lawyer?”

  Veronica took a sip of her coffee. She nodded. While her date was tall, handsome and rich, Veronica had found herself bored out of her mind. They went to the best restaurant in the city, one she had designed, followed by drinks at a trendy spot in Greenwich Village. It was a nice time, but there was no spark.

  “So, I went home right after that.” Veronica recounted the evening for Tammi. “Then, I stayed up watching movies until the wee hours.” Veronica drained her cup and handed it to Tammi for a refill.

  The movies were sappy love stories where the heroine goes to a foreign country to recharge and ends up falling in love. Veronica knew she shouldn’t have watched them. She pouted. Why couldn’t that happen to her?

  “Why don’t people fall in love anymore?” Veronica asked wistfully.

  Shrugging, Tammi turned to leave. “They must still be,” she called over her shoulder. “Or else, how are all these people getting together?”

  Veronica frowned. “But, it’s not the same. People don’t meet and fall instantly in love any more.”

  “Jared and I did.”

  “Of course,” Veronica mumbled, snatching the mug from Tammi and taking a swig.

  “Give it time. You’ll meet your soulmate.”

  “Sure,” Veronica replied, rolling her eyes.

  While Veronica was happy for the couple, it also sickened her. Where was her knight in shining armor? All these eligible bachelors in this damn city and she had yet to meet just one. Sipping the coffee, she opened her email account. Many were junk but one caught her eye.

  It was from a woman named Gina Guccelli in Rhodes, Greece. The woman had read a four page article on Veronica in an international magazine. Her brother’s inn needed ‘sprucing up’ and the woman hoped Veronica could help him. Veronica raised her eyebrow. While she took on international clients, she’d never been to Greece.

  “The owner of Lush called,” Tammi said. “He doesn’t like the red walls you picked out.”

  “Tell him shove it. He’s been nothing but a pain in the ass since this job started.”

  The Lush project should have ended months ago, but the owner of the bar has been holding up construction by vetoing every idea she threw at him. Veronica read through Gina’s email a third time. While she was flattered, Veronica wrote that she couldn’t take on the project. Her plate was full. Veronica hit Send and opened the next email.

  “He’s considering pulling out,” Tammi said.

  Veronica looked at her assistant. “You can’t be serious. After all the shit, he’s put me through?”

  “I know. But, I think he’s serious this time.”

  With her eyes closed, Veronica counted to ten and pictured her happy place—her in a black bikini, on a beach surrounded by turquoise waters and white sand with a hot guy lying next to her. In her hand was a drink with an umbrella. She realized she desperately needed a vacation. It had been a year since she’d been anywhere. Sighing, she opened her eyes.

  “Get him on the phone,” Veronica said. She paused to drain her mug and held it out for a refill. “Let me talk to him.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  It was just past ten in the evening when Veronica returned home. She locked the door and then set Guido on the floor. After turning on the lights, she put her purse on the counter and yawned. Her stomach growled. Without taking off her coat, she ordered some Italian food and moved into the bedroom. The light on her house phone blinked that she had two messages. As she stripped, she pressed the Play button. The first was from her date from last night, asking for another night out. No. The second was her brother asking to borrow money. That answer was also no.

  Veronica changed into a pair of gray sweats, and then padded barefoot into the living room.

  She turned on the television. Her internet was connected to the flat-screen. While she waited for her work email to load, the door bell rang. From the kitchen, she pulled a few bills from her purse and looked through the peephole. A man, dressed in a T-shirt from the eatery and black hoodie, smiled at her. Recognizing Chip, she opened the door.

  “$25.09,” he said, in an all business tone.

  Veronica handed him the money, plus tip, and took the bag. “I order from you guys every week, Chip. You could at least give me a discount.”

  Pocketing the money, he shrugged. “Dad doesn’t do discounts.”

  When Chip left, Veronica shut the door. Maybe she should learn how to cook. It would be better than wasting her money on takeout.

  Finally, she settled onto the sofa to check her email. The woman from Greece had replied to Veronica’s email. Inside was a note asking Veronica to reconsider. Gina included pictures of the place. Veronica picked at her ziti dinner and frowned. If rustic charm was what the owner was going for, it was all wrong. Leaning forward, she set her takeout container on the table and strolled to the television to get a closer look.

  Veronica loved the exposed beams on the ceiling. The dark wood trim around the door. Mismatched chairs were distracting from the ambiance of the dining space. Picking up the remote, she clicked to the next picture—one of the guest rooms. Ordinary linens adorned a much too small bed. The only good feature was natural light streaming through the window.

  She shook her head. Was she crazy to consider taking on this project? It would be a big job and renovations moved slowly in Europe. Plus, she’d have to get permits. Find contractors. Lost in thought, Veronica nibbled a thumbnail. It was too much work to do long distance. And, she still had to deal with her other projects. No. She couldn’t do it. There had to be a designer in Greece who could take on the challenge at a fraction of her cost.

  Moving back to the sofa, she brought up the on-screen keyboard to type a reply. Her Smartphone rang. Veronica didn’t recognize the number that flashed but noticed it was an international exchange. She ignored it and typed an email saying she was sorry but couldn’t help them, then hit Send. Her phone chimed. The tinkerbell tone announced that she had a voicemail. Curious, she pressed the Play button. Picking up her cold food, she stood and headed for the microwave.

  “Hello.” The male voice on the message was a rich baritone with a thick Italian accent. Veronica stopped. “My name is Stephano Guccelli. My sister Gina contacted you about my inn. She said you wanted me to call you.”

  She frowned. No, she didn’t and how did they get her personal number? There was something about his voice that kept her rooted in place. “Please call me back at this number.” Stephano recited the number, but Veronica didn’t write it down. “Thank you.” There was a pause, and then, he said. “I love your greeting. That’s my favorite Jay-Z song.” Rapping a few lyrics to ‘Empire State of Mind’, Stephano laughed and hung up.

  Veronica’s heart fluttered. She made her way back to the sofa. A Greek man that could rap and owned an inn? Intrigued, she picked up her phone and played the message again. This time she wrote the number down. Quickly, she dialed before nerves got the better of her. She wasn’t taking him on as a client. But, she was simply calling him to—

  Why was she calling him? To hear his sexy voice again. Stiffening, her hand shook as she waited for the call to connect.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Still rapping the lyrics to “Empire State of Mind,” Stephano set his phone on the kitchen counter of his two-bedroom condo in Lindos. Bobbing along to the melody that played in his head, he turned to gather ingredients to make an omelet for breakfast. It was still very early and he had time to indulge in at least one of his passions before work. Since he was alone at the moment, his other ‘hobby’ would have to wait.

  His place could also use some sprucing up, but he simply didn’t have time. While he loved his condo, he wished that he lived closer to the inn. Th
ere were times when he didn’t stop working until three or four in the morning and just crashed in his office instead of driving the half hour to Lindos.

  Stephano sliced mushrooms, peppers and onions for the filling. Fresh from the shower, he wore only a beige towel wrapped around his slender hips. Strands of wet hair stuck to his forehead. He swiped them out of the way, and then, expertly cracked eggs into a bowl.

  It was strange this ‘restaurant whisperer’ would want him to call so late in the evening. It would be about eleven thirty her time. In Rhodes, it was five thirty in the morning. But if this woman could help him generate enough of a profit to pay his father back, he would be grateful.

  While he grated the cheese, the phone rang. The sound of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony filled the air. Abandoning the block of white cheddar on the cutting board, he answered in Italian without looking at the screen. Stephano assumed it was one of his siblings.

  There was a long pause. While, he waited for the person on the other line to speak, he added the vegetables to the hot skillet with a drizzle of olive oil. The thinly sliced veggies sizzled. He smiled. There wasn’t a sweeter sound in the world. Except, maybe, that of a woman climaxing.

  “I’m looking for Stephano Guccelli,” a woman’s voice finally said.

  Stephano didn’t recognize the voice. But the number that flashed on the screen was the one he’d just dialed. Was this the whisperer? In any case, she had a sexy voice.

  “I am Stephano,” he said in English. “Am I speaking with the amazing restaurant whisperer?”

  The woman laughed. “My name is Veronica Chamberlain.”

  “I like that name better.”

  Her pause led him to believe that she was smiling. Adding the eggs, he jiggled the pan and waited for them to set. When they did, he tossed in the cheese. While it all melted together, he fixed his coffee. His machine was broken, so it would have to be instant until he got to the inn. He carried the mug into the living room. Because he didn’t have a table, he set it on the floor. Stephano went back into the kitchen area.