Tempted in the City (15 page)

“Until Vito came by.”

Tony could instantly feel his face flush. “It had nothing to do with him. I'm embarrassed I haven't been here before. We can continue with the tour. I promise to be good.”

“Oh, I know exactly how good you are. Let's go. I really do want to finish the sconces.”

“Is that all?”

She grinned. “As if you haven't been thinking about it since you fell asleep on me the other night.”

He checked the stairwell, and then pulled her close into a kiss. He didn't linger, though. “You're right. I haven't stopped thinking about you for days.”

“Believe me, it's mutual. And while I'm feeling brave, I wanted to ask you if you'd consider being my date at the World Health Organization banquet. It's not until next month, but—”

“Yeah, sure.” He felt an odd kind of relief, as though he'd subconsciously been waiting for her to ask. “Count on it.”

“It's black tie.”

“No worries. So, home or tour?”

“Home,” she decided. “I want to kiss you properly.”

He took her hand and pulled her down the stairs, not really bothering to keep too much distance between them. The rumors would come, regardless, although when he got closer to her block, he'd be more careful.

He resented it. Again. Even though it had all been his idea. What he wanted was to just say fuck it, and kiss her right in the middle of Mulberry Street teeming with pedestrians. But thinking it through, he knew there would be consequences, and he'd do anything he could to make sure this amazing woman didn't get her heart broken.

16

T
HE
SCENT
OF
citrus came first, seconds before the light behind his closed eyelids stirred him from a very sound sleep. That Catherine's head rested on his chest and her arm lay across him a few inches down made him hum.

Waking to a naked Catherine was a damn fine thing.

“I like this,” she said, and he felt her warm breath on his skin. “You're a very comfortable body pillow.”

“Glad I could oblige,” he said, his voice sleep-filled and rough. “I don't want to move. Maybe not ever again. Would that be okay?”

“Absolutely. We have everything we need, right? Wine. Cookies. Yep, that's it.”

“Sounds great,” he murmured. “Although if we could turn off the light, that would be better.”

She rubbed her foot up his calf and pressed her body closer. “Uh, I don't think that's possible.”

“No?”

“I haven't been able to control the sun in ages,” she said. “And I don't have blackout curtains.”

Tony stilled. Then opened his eyes. “Shit.”

“Um, I can always buy some.”

“No. It's not...” He turned his head just far enough to see the clock on her nightstand. It was a quarter to eight. In the fucking
morning
.

“I know what. Let's have a quickie, then shower, then go get breakfast at Katz's.” She kissed him on the shoulder. “I want eggs and bagels.”

“I can't.”

“Oh?” Catherine raised her head to look at him. “Something's wrong.”

“We fell asleep.”

“Well, yes. We had very vigorous sex and then we both conked out.”

The bells from the church on Mott rang out, and he knew he had to get up now. Right now. He kissed her forehead. “I've got to get going.”

“But it's Sunday.”

“Exactly. It's my turn to take my folks and Nonna to Mass. I'll barely make it in time. I'm going to take a quick shower, if that's okay. Or, no. Wait.” He hated to do it, but he had to untangle himself from Catherine. “I'll call Luca. Maybe he can take them.” At least Tony's jeans weren't far, just on the floor next to the bed.

Damn it. This was not good. As he hit the speed dial button for Luca, he realized he had no choice but to wear the clothes he'd worn yesterday. No way that would escape the eyes that always seemed to be on him these days.

“No answer?”

He shook his head. “Dom's not even around today, or I'd have him go. I can't not take them. And later I have to...” He shook his head. “Nothing. Just family stuff.”

Catherine sat up, pulling the sheet over her breasts as she leaned against the headboard. “I'm assuming the unfortunate part is you having to leave my house in broad daylight?”

“Everyone's going to church, and a lot of them walk. It's not very far from here.”

“I'm sorry. I know you've wanted to avoid this. I imagine it won't do your business any good if this gets around.”

He stood, slid on his jeans. “I'm not worried about me. Or the company. It's you I'm concerned about.”

“Me? I don't care. Let them talk. They'll get bored with me eventually.”

He sighed. “You don't understand.”

She frowned, looking confused, maybe a little hurt, and it bothered him that he couldn't stay. But he had to be on time; his mother had a thing about being late for Mass. But there was no way he was leaving Catherine like this. He sat back down on the bed, leaned over and kissed her. “It's fine. Honest.”

“You know, if people are busy getting their kids and themselves ready for church, I bet they don't even notice you,” she said.

“You're probably right.” So many people and all those windows? Not a chance in hell. But he knew she was trying to make him feel better, and he smiled. Her expression told him he'd missed the mark. “Damn it, I hate abandoning you like this.”

She opened her mouth, but she must have changed her mind because she closed it again, and gave him a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered, brushing the back of his fingers across her pale cheek.

“It's okay. Go. In fact, how about I call you a cab? Less chance that you'll be spotted.”

“Good thinking. Thanks.” He kissed her one more time, then grabbed his shirt off the chair against the wall, his socks and shoes, and hurried into the bathroom.

It wasn't just getting his family to Mass. He'd drop them off, go home to shower and change, then go back to the church to take his father home. There'd be another run to the church later. His mother and Nonna helped in the kitchens in the afternoon, with their women's group, making food for the Bowery homeless shelter and meals for the housebound members of the congregation. It was that gathering of women he was most concerned about.

If someone saw him leave Catherine's, which he knew was highly likely, that was where they'd talk. But would they talk about him when his mother was right there?

What was he thinking? Of course they would. They lived for this kind of bullshit. They'd be filled with false sympathy. Poor Theresa, whose oldest boy couldn't keep away from the
medigan
and was making a fool of himself in front of everyone. And with a client, no less. Hell, even if no one brought it up at the women's group, word would spread. His father would be disappointed. And so soon after Tony had taken over for him.

Oddly, none of that mattered to him half as much as the blowback Catherine would suffer. If his mom had to put up with the gossip, that was her problem. She wasn't shy about speaking her mind; she could tell them to mind their own damn business. As for his father, Tony was handling the office just fine.

But Catherine had no idea that this kind of talk could be what drove her out of the community she wanted so much to embrace her. He'd seen it happen to people who weren't nearly as invested in belonging.

He finished brushing his teeth with the only thing he kept at Catherine's, ran his fingers through his hair, kissed her, then headed downstairs. Leaving Catherine this way was shitty. He'd make it up to her, though. Somehow.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the cab waiting at the curb. But he couldn't stop thinking about how awkward it had been between them.

* * *

A
S
C
ATHERINE
WALKED
down Grand, she couldn't stop thinking about what had happened with Tony. He'd finally spent the night at her house, something she'd wanted for a while. But his brushing her aside with the quick and generic excuse of having to do “family stuff” made her uncomfortable. She'd already met them—what was he trying to hide?

But the real heart of her problem was his certainty that something terrible was going to happen because he'd spent the night.

There were a couple reasons she could think of that might explain his irrational fear. It was possible that rumors had caused him a lot of grief before. Something to do with his ex-wife, perhaps? It certainly seemed as though his precious community thought their divorce was a horrible mistake.

That, or else he believed that some of the neighbors were so vicious that he'd lose customers over sleeping with a client. That seemed extreme, especially given how highly regarded Paladino & Sons were in the community. Still, she supposed it could be what was worrying him.

She wasn't going to confront Tony. Being the temporary woman in his life didn't give her that right.

For another long block, she tried to make peace with the fact that, by tacit agreement, being the temp was what she'd signed up for. If she didn't like it, she could call a halt to the whole thing.

The thought left her feeling incredibly sad.

By the time she reached Broadway, it occurred to her that there was nothing to be gained by sitting back and letting things happen to her. She'd never been that person. If she wanted something, she needed to take action.

Perhaps she'd been remiss in not introducing herself to her neighbors, assuring them that the noise coming from her house was temporary and she wouldn't be ruining the neighborhood. It seemed likely that no welcoming committee was forthcoming, and she couldn't blame anyone for that. The longer the situation went on, the more difficult it would be for even those with the best intentions.

The ball was in her court.

Hailing a taxi, she asked the driver to take her to the Lady M Boutique in Bryant Park, where she bought two mille crêpes signature cakes. Half an hour later, she had one beautifully boxed cake in hand as she knocked on the door of her neighbor Mrs. Masucci.

Someone else opened the door. A woman in her early thirties, with a cute bob haircut and a pretty sundress. Catherine recognized her. They hadn't spoken but they'd nodded to each other, and the woman she assumed was Mrs. Masucci's daughter had smiled.

“Hi, I'm Catherine Fox. Your next-door neighbor.”

“Yes, I've seen you.” She stepped back, opening the door wide. “It's nice to meet you. I'm Deanna Alberti. Please, come in.”

The house was much more modern than Catherine had expected. It had an open floor plan, a beautiful wooden staircase, and the kitchen was large with two ovens, a chef's range and a double fridge.

Catherine held up the cake box. “I'm sorry it's not homemade, but I'm afraid my kitchen is still under construction.”

“That's very kind,” Deanna said. “Lady M? I've only been there once, but I'll never forget that éclair.”

“I love it too much,” Catherine said, shaking her head. “You have no idea how many miles I've clocked on the stationary bike because of that evil place. I think I've pedaled across the Atlantic already.”

“I hear you. I was thinking of having a coffee. Can I tempt you to join me?”

“I'd love that, thank you.”

After leading her to the kitchen, Deanna went about fixing a pot of dark roast. Catherine had thought a lot about what to say on her way over, so after taking a seat at the big marble island, she dived right in. “I'm so sorry I haven't introduced myself before now. My work schedule has been heavy, and then there's been all the construction. I'm sure you all hate me for the noise. But I promise the loud part will be over soon.”

“I know what it's like to remodel. This whole floor was redone two years ago, just before my family and I moved back from upstate. We live on the ground floor, and my mother's suite is on the top floor. We share this space, and try to cook and eat as a family, although we're all so busy, dinner is hit and miss.”

“It must be wonderful, though, when you manage it.”

“Your family isn't here?”

“No. They're in Europe. I don't get to see them that often.”

“That must be lonely.”

“I have work friends, which is nice. I figure it'll take me some time to find my place here. Although it'll be a lot easier once the house is finished.”

Deanna seemed puzzled, but she turned away to get two mugs down from the cupboard. “I didn't realize you were staying,” she said.

“Yes, everyone assumes I'm going to flip the house.”

“Well, there's a lot of that happening around here now. Everything's changed so much since I was a kid. Little Italy had a real presence then, not just a few blocks.”

Catherine nodded. “I've seen pictures and heard a lot about the neighborhood from the fifties through the eighties. Did you know the Calabrese family that used to live next door?”

“All my life. But after their mother died, the kids all wanted to go in different directions.”

“That's how I came to the house, actually. You knew Belaflore, then?”

“Ah, the grandmother.” Deanna shook her head. “I know of her, but she had already gone before I was born. I think she left the country to work for a diplomat or ambassador. Something along those lines.”

“My family. She was my nanny. The person I was closest to in the world. She used to tell me stories about when she lived here. When the house came up for sale, I had to have it. It felt as if I already knew the neighborhood. Probably because I associated it with Belaflore,” Catherine said, feeling nostalgic. “We moved around so much I never really had a place that I could call home, and this felt right.”

“Oh, God. I feel terrible that I didn't go over and introduce myself. We thought you'd sell it and be out of here.”

“It's fine, really,” Catherine said, although she couldn't deny the relief she felt over realizing she hadn't been snubbed.

“Well, I'm glad you came over.” Deanna handed her a mug of coffee. “Cream? Sugar?”

“Sugar, thanks.”

After Deanna sat down, she opened the cake box. Her smile lit up her face. “This is their famous cake, right? The mille crêpes? It's like eighty dollars or something.” She brought out a cake plate, but as she opened a drawer of utensils, she stopped still. “That was tactless of me. I'm sorry. It's just that I have two kids—I'm sure you've heard their big mouths—so I never dreamed I'd be getting a taste of this. Now, Twinkies I'm familiar with.”

Catherine laughed. “No problem.” She liked the woman even more.

“Would you like a slice?”

Catherine shook her head. “It's all yours. Go for it.”

Deanna took her seat once more. Catherine was so pleased about how things were going she wanted to kick herself for not doing this sooner. “I know it sounds silly, but my view of the house, of the whole neighborhood, was very romantic. Belaflore should have been a writer. She told the most wonderful stories. It wasn't until I started looking into the history of the place that I discovered some of what she'd described. Now I can't get enough of the beautiful artifacts from the twenties and thirties. Fortunately, my contractor is helping me tremendously. He's very well acquainted with restoration.”