Tempted in the City (5 page)

She'd given thought to renting out her own basement floor space. The last owners, Belaflore's family, had run a popular resale clothing shop. Catherine had bought some things there before she'd purchased the building. One of her favorite dresses, in fact. There was still time to change her mind about using the entire two-story building with the bonus basement as her home. If she did decide to rent out the lower level, it would be only to help her fit in more with the community. But she doubted she would. She didn't need the money, which was pure luck, having been born to a wealthy family, but more important, she wanted enough space to have children someday. Space was an extraordinary luxury in Manhattan, and wouldn't it be something to pass down a family home like hers?

Her slice of Lafayette was an anomaly. But one she wanted to preserve.

“Hey, Tony.”

They turned to a portly man standing in the doorway of an electronics store. He was smiling as he gave Catherine a once-over.

“Hey, Pete,” Tony said.

“How's your old man?”

“Hanging in there. Driving my mom crazy.”

“Tell him he still needs to come to the merchants' meetings. No excuses.”

“I will, Pete. Thanks.” Tony kept walking, although he didn't seem to be in any rush to move on. “Be warned,” he said, leaning closer to her so he could be heard above the street traffic. “That's going to happen a lot.”

“I'd already figured out you were very popular among the citizenry.”

“If by popular you mean everyone wants to know my business, then yeah.”

“Does your business include you walking down the street with me? With your hand on the small of my back?”

His hand disappeared the next second. “Damn. Sorry.”

“I didn't say I minded.”

He looked at her, a little puzzled. “It's not so simple. None of these goombahs will stop to think you might be a client. They'll jump the gun and assume we're a couple. So if, you know, you're engaged or anything...”

“That would be bad.”

“It would.”

“Good thing I'm not, then.”

He turned to look across the street just when she'd wanted to see his expression. Wouldn't her mother be surprised at her brazen reply. Even in London she'd probably have been more circumspect. Maybe this was part of her becoming a New Yorker. Or maybe it just had to do with the man. He made her feel bolder, whether it was getting her hands dirty polishing old sconces, or buying pastry in the hopes he'd stay a little longer this time.

Of course, her mother would be appalled by all of it, but her mother would have been much happier if she'd been born in the Victorian age. Her father was more progressive...sort of. Then again, the man wore a suit, tie and waistcoat to work every day, and to dinner, even.

“See that,” Tony said, pointing to a stoop that had a gorgeous railing alongside its five steps. The railing matched a lantern that was so much more elegant than the utilitarian light fixture she had now.

“May I get a closer look?”

“Sure.”

At first she thought he was going to take her hand, but after checking for traffic, he simply gestured for them to cross.

“Oh, this is lovely,” she said, running her hand over the intricate work, the curlicues that weren't at all overdone, just beautiful.

“Tony Paladino. You haven't been by in a hundred years.” A tall trim woman with short brown hair stood in the doorway of a store next door.

“I don't think it's been quite that long, Mrs. Collette. But it's nice to see you.”

“How is your father?”

“Doing better, thank you.”

“Good to hear it.” She eyed Catherine, though not in a rude manner. “And who's your friend?”

“Catherine Fox, this is Mrs. Collette. I think you'll like her store. There are quite a few antiques that could fit in well with your renovations.”

Catherine had already spotted a console table near the door that appealed to her...before she'd been distracted by Tony's clever way of saying-without-saying she was a client. She smiled at Mrs. Collette. “I'd love to come back when I have enough time to really explore. Are you open on the weekend?”

“Saturday. You come back then. If you like real antiques, that is. Not like that
avanzo
Caliguiri sells.”

“I'll be here the first Saturday I can manage. Thank you.”

“My pleasure. And Tony, I don't think we've spoken since you and Angie... I was sorry about that. She's a nice girl. I thought you two were made for each other.”

“Yeah, well, take care, Mrs. Collette,” Tony said, as he moved the two of them forward. “The second stoop is the next block over. Then what do you say we head to your place? These pastries are calling my name.”

Catherine was curious about Angie, but she would never ask him. “Absolutely.”

He put his hand on her back as they crossed the street, but dropped it again as soon as they were on the sidewalk. He wasn't kidding around about this discretion business, although she'd liked the protective touch even if it was just a guy thing. Three other people asked about Tony's father, and Tony was courteous to each one, despite the fact that they barely slowed to talk.

The second stoop was also gorgeous, and it made her very excited about the possibilities for her home. But by the time she opened her front door, she was thinking more about the evening that lay ahead than the prospects for her stoop.

“I'm going to make coffee,” she said. “And while we wait, why don't we go up to the roof? You can take a look at the setup and I'll talk you through my initial plans.”

“I think that's a great idea.”

“Great, huh?”

“Well...” His voice dipped as his mouth curved into a heart-stopping smile. “I figure anything that ends in cannoli is bound to be something special.”

God, she hoped that was innuendo.

The idea that she didn't know made her nervous, but maybe not being able to read Tony was part of the thrill?

It didn't take long to get their coffee started, and then they went through the attic exit to the rooftop.

The sun had set, but the lights she turned on illuminated the space adequately for the purpose. “I'm thinking six raised beds,” she said, waving her hand across the breadth of the roof. “We'll have to do something about that horrendous air-conditioning unit, but that shouldn't be too challenging. And I'd like to have some hedges and a few good, sturdy conifers that will make winter more appealing. A pergola perhaps, over a deck where people could sit, eat, enjoy the view, the change of seasons. And then I was—”

Her words froze as Tony took her by the arms and turned her around to face him. She had the advantage of the light, and she thought, for a moment, that the look in his eyes was want.

He pulled her close, opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. Instead, his right thumb brushed her cheekbone as his gaze swept across her face. A faint smile lifted the corners of his lips. It vanished just as quickly, as if he'd come to his senses or something equally disappointing.

And then he kissed her.

Kissed her as if he'd wanted to for ages.

She'd been unprepared, even though the brush across her cheek had been a substantial clue. Her response, though, was slow. She simply let him go on kissing her, trying and failing to make sense of anything but the way he moved his mouth. Wider, tighter, gentler.

A groan escaped and she parted her lips, kissed him back, touched his side with her hand before grabbing on to his shirt.

When he pulled back, he studied her expression, his gaze moving rapidly. When she smiled, she felt him relax before he stole her breath with another kiss.

Somewhere, a door slammed. The sound didn't come from her roof, but close. Tony froze as if it had been a gunshot, and he backed away from her as quickly as he could. “Jesus, I'm sorry.” He shook his head. “The plans for the garden are great,” he said, moving toward the door. “I'll write it all down before I call the designer I have in mind. I really am sorry.”

“Tony—”

He held up a hand. “Won't happen again. I promise you.”

And then he was gone.

She heard his shoes hit the first few steps of the attic stairs, then nothing.

She, on the other hand, stood there blinking. Wondering how she'd been caught so off guard, when she'd been flirting with him from the moment they'd met at the bakery. She wished she'd told him to stay. That he didn't need to be sorry. That they were supposed to have dessert downstairs.

What the hell was it about Tony Paladino that turned her knees weak and her mind to mush? He wasn't even the type of man to whom she was usually attracted. This. Him. Her. Nothing made any sense at all. But she hoped like crazy that he'd break his promise because she really wanted to kiss him again.

5

T
ONY
HAD
BEEN
up at the crack of dawn. Not because of work, but because he'd been awake most of the night.

It wasn't that he'd kissed her. Well, yeah, that was part of it. But hell, he'd wanted to do that for a while. But his exit? Clumsy didn't come close. He'd acted like an idiot. Left her standing alone on her rooftop. He'd practically flown down the stairs, and when he made it to the street, he'd grabbed the first cab he saw to take him home. He didn't even live that far away, but he was afraid he'd walk in the wrong direction or take the wrong train.

Jesus.

He'd had a couple drinks first thing upon arriving at his place. Stopped himself from having several more. Oblivion would have been welcome, but the hangover would not. That kind of reckless behavior would have been borderline acceptable before he was boss, but now he had to toe the line.

Which would have been a clever thing to think about
before
he'd kissed a client.

All he'd had to do, if the situation was so desperate, was ask Luca to take over for him until George was free. Instead, he'd listened to her garden plans, of which he couldn't remember one single detail, behaved like an imbecile and fled as if he'd been set on fire.

At least the humiliation had stopped his burgeoning erection. By the time he'd climbed into the cab, he was reasonably sure he'd never get hard again.

Which turned out to be yet another stupid assumption.

Despite swearing that he would think only of Rita as he shook one off in the shower, the moment he'd touched himself, Rita hadn't crossed his mind again. Christ. And she could be coming back through town anytime.

Maybe sex with Rita was the answer.

God, wouldn't that be great, if it worked?

Although, at around three this morning, he'd found himself with his hand on his dick once again, and yeah, it was all about Catherine in that black skirt and white blouse.

At least he'd come up with a plan. Which was why, at just after one in the afternoon, he was standing outside the United Nations visitors' entrance, typing in a text.

He tried to imagine where Catherine was. What her office looked like. What she did. Luca said something about her being a translator. But Catherine hadn't said and Tony hadn't asked. So much for avoiding personal questions and staying professional. Here he was, with no idea if she was even in one of the buildings he faced. Was she in the big tower or the general assembly? Already out to lunch?

After hitting Send, he walked for a bit. Paced, actually, iPhone in hand. When he caught an older man staring at him, he stopped. Bad place to look suspicious.

His phone beeped and he opened the reply.

Hi. I'm just leaving. I'll meet you out front.

He thought about texting back, but that seemed lame. She was on her way. He hadn't asked her to lunch. Not yet. He wanted to speak to her in person. See what kind of reaction she'd have at his surprise appearance.

Maybe five minutes later, he caught sight of her. Catherine wasn't alone. Her companion was a man in a suit. Who looked like he belonged next to her. As they got closer, Tony wasn't all that crazy about the way Catherine laughed at something suit-guy had said. Shit. He might be a delegate. Clearly someone important. Elegant.

Very much in keeping with Catherine's sophistication. She always seemed to hold her back straight, her head high. Her honey-blond hair was pinned up, her blouse almost the color of her blue-gray eyes, and her pants an invitation to look slowly from her flat stomach down her long legs.

At least Tony had pulled himself together before she spotted him.

He should have called her. Her voice would have told him so much more than a text. Maybe she'd have given him a heads-up about the guy. Boyfriend? She'd told him she wasn't engaged, but that didn't mean she wasn't seeing someone.

More than likely, she was pissed at him. The stunt he'd pulled last night was unforgivable. He hoped she'd give him a chance, though. If he swore he'd keep his distance.

The thought of never kissing her again wasn't pleasant, but he pasted on a casual smile as Catherine and friend stopped right in front of him.

“What a nice surprise,” she said. “Are you working in the area today?”

Huh. No introduction. “I have an appointment later, so I thought...”

Catherine turned her head to her friend. “Victor, this is my contractor, Tony Paladino. Tony, my coworker, Victor Bardon.”

Oh, Victor didn't like that intro, but at least he wasn't trying to prove his manliness via a handshake.

She glanced at her companion. “I'll see you this afternoon,
oui
?”

“
Oui
. Nice to meet you, Tony,” he said, showing off his French accent.

Tony had been spot on about Monsieur Bardon. Judging by the look he gave Catherine, Vic didn't want to be just her coworker. At least he didn't dawdle. He kept walking down First Avenue toward Forty-Sixth. Once he was out of earshot, Tony turned his attention to Catherine. “Were you planning on eating lunch?”

She nodded, smiling, looking as if the awkwardness of last night's kiss had never happened. “I was going to go to the house. I have some leftover tuna fish in need of eating.”

“As delicious as that sounds, how would you feel about me taking you to the best pizza parlor in New York.”

“The best?”

“Hands down. Also, not something I share with many. So, I'll have to invoke the no-repeating rule. I have a feeling the pizza chefs in Little Italy would object. Probably using tar and feathers.”

“Wow, Little Italy really is old-fashioned. But yes, that sounds much better than my rather dull salad.”

“Good. It's not too far from here.” He nodded toward Forty-Eighth Street and they started their walk. “Do you always go out for lunch?”

“No, not usually. I was in a stuffy meeting all morning. It feels good to get some fresh air.”

Tony choked out a laugh. “In this city?”

She laughed with him, the early afternoon sun glinting on her hair, picking up different shades of gold. Her teeth were perfectly white and her creamy skin was flawless. Somehow she seemed to keep getting prettier every time he saw her.

“Look, I should warn you, there might be a wait,” he said “but we can always catch a taxi for the return trip.”

“We? I got the impression last night that you liked to cut and run.”

Thank God he didn't blush. “About that,” he said. “The real reason I asked you to lunch.”

“I thought it might be.”

“You don't sound angry...”

“I'm not. Curious. Puzzled. Not angry, though. Which is lucky for you,” she said, weaving her way around a sudden influx of pedestrians that pushed between them. When she got close again—almost touching—she went on with her sentence as if it had never stopped. “Because I know two of your secrets. Imagine what I could do if my feathers were ruffled.”

“I walked right into that, didn't I?”

“Yes, you did.”

He touched the small of her back, his hand acting on its own before he'd remembered his mental vow not to do that again. Catherine didn't seem to mind, though, so he figured a sudden retreat would only make things worse. They turned the corner to an equally busy street. “It's just down there. The one with the sandwich board outside.”

“It's a storefront?”

He nodded. “There are a few tables inside, but I wouldn't hold out too much hope of getting one. See all those folks standing near the street? Eating?” Everyone was leaning forward as they ate so they wouldn't get any grease on their business clothes.

“I do. I'm starting to believe you're not the only person who thinks this pizza is the greatest.” She curled a hand around his arm. “Let's hurry and get in line.”

Tony felt the soft warmth of her palm pressed against his skin.

He grinned all the way to Sunday.

* * *

I
T
WAS
BY
far the best slice of pizza she'd ever had. She wasn't sure why. Totally worth eating standing outside, trying not to interfere with the pedestrian traffic. The pizza didn't appear to be anything special. But that first bite. She'd made a sound that was absolutely obscene, but was fortunately masked by several other people doing the same.

Even Tony, who'd clearly eaten there many times before and was into his third or fourth bite, groaned in a way she hoped would be repeated while doing things other than eating a slice of cheese pizza.

She leaned close and whispered, “Someone should set up a microphone out here. The porn industry would probably pay a lot for the free background noise.”

Tony coughed. He took a quick sip of his soda, upon which he'd been balancing his plate, then coughed again.

Catherine placed a hand on his back, prepared to offer assistance if the need arose.

His face turned an interesting shade of red as he tried to swallow. But at least the coughing had subsided. And so had the stares.

“Yeah, I shouldn't have said that.” After giving him a smile, she lowered her lashes and her hand. “Sorry.”

He cleared his throat and started laughing.

She took a small bite and chewed like a perfect lady.

“Want another slice?” Tony asked. “Before the line gets longer.”

She wanted more than that. A large pie to go would be great, even though she'd have to empty out her small fridge. “Not for me, thanks. But I don't mind waiting if you want another.”

“Are you kidding? I don't think I can ever eat pizza in front of you again.”

“Oh, come on. It was sort of funny,” she said, and took her last bite.

“It was very funny. Just unexpected.”

Catherine smiled again. “Finish eating and I promise not to say another word.”

Tony lifted one dark brow at her and the way he did it was kind of sexy. She wasn't sure what it meant, but who cared?

The thought stopped her. For someone who made her living reading people, that last thought was like blasphemy. But the truth remained, she continued to miss all but the most blatant signals. Last night, for instance...the way he'd left her on the rooftop had really floored her. And now this...

She truly hoped this lunch wasn't merely an attempt to save face for his family's business.

“So, was this a social call or did you have something to report on the restoration?” she asked, tossing her napkin and paper plate into the trash.

He thought about it as he finished chewing. “Both, I guess,” he said, and got rid of his trash as they started walking back. “I called George this morning, and you'll have to wait another week for him to finish the job he's on. As for the garden, I'd recommend Luca taking over the project. He's brilliant at design and he's on his way to finishing his architecture degree, so you'd luck out with him.”

She slowed to a stop, causing the man behind her to cuss her out in Castilian Spanish. “So you're—”

Tony held up a hand, and the tight ball in her chest eased into something that allowed her to breathe.

“I've never done anything like that before. Kissing a client is completely unprofessional. And pretty crazy.”

They started walking again. Well, he did, and she scurried to catch up.

“And to leave the way I did? I feel like every kind of fool.” He stopped. Forcing her to piss off more New Yorkers. No one seemed to be mad at him, though.

“The worst thing is I'd do it again. I want to do it again right now. I'm very attracted to you, and I was reasonably sure I was getting the right signals back, but what I did was not cool. So, whatever happens, I wanted to make sure you knew I was sorry.”

Catherine wasn't sure she heard everything past the part where he'd said he wanted to kiss her right now.

Tony studied her. “I thought we were doing okay today, but maybe I misread things again,” he said, when she didn't respond. “Look, I can get you a cab, send you back to work. Then you could let me know, whenever it's comfortable, what you want to do.”

“Or I could tell you right now.”

He blinked. “Now would be great. But...there's more. Even if Luca took over and we started hooking up—whatever that entails—you'd still be a client and that makes things tricky.” They stopped at the intersection and he lowered his voice even more. “Little Italy is a small community, and it gets even smaller when you try to keep people out of your business.”

“Is that it?”

“Pretty much. Yeah.” His eyebrows drew together in a suspicious frown when she stepped closer to him instead of following the crowd when the light changed.

There were far too many people around for this conversation, so she pulled Tony up against the window of a copy store, away from foot traffic. “What if I just fired you?”

He let out a sigh. “Shit. Seriously?”

“It would solve just about everything, right?”

He deflated. Briefly laid his head back against the brick and studied her. Her teasing gaze must have given her away. He straightened and narrowed his eyes. “Hey, this isn't easy. I've never kissed a client before.”

“Sorry. That was a joke,” she said. “I'm actually wondering why we can't do both.”

“Both...?”

“Why can't we continue to work together?”

“And the other thing would be...”

“I think you know.”

Tony grinned, looking just too damned adorable for words.

“There's no rule, is there? I mean, you won't be expelled from the contractors' guild or anything?”

“No. There's no rule. But give me a minute, okay?” he said. “My heart nearly exploded when you said you'd fire us. I was already trying to figure out how to explain that one to my family.”

Catherine smiled big. Nice to know he would've chosen her over the job. “I wasn't trying to get even, but I do want you to stay involved in the restoration. Nothing against Luca...”