Tempted in the City (8 page)

“Okay.” He laughed at his own embarrassment. “Before you ask, the split was amicable. No kids involved. It's all good. You want to see more of the place?”

“Of course I do.” Smiling, Catherine stretched up and brushed her lips across his mouth. But when the kiss got heated she backed off. “Show me.”

Deciding to let her get away with the dodge for now, he led her down the long hall, stopping at the guest bedroom with its en suite, and another smaller bedroom. Then they walked back into the large open space that was a living room, dining room and kitchen all in one.

“This space is out of this world. I love the art, by the way. Gaudí is a favorite of mine.”

“There was an exhibit of his stuff at the Met. I liked it a lot.”

They walked past the big dining table, one he'd built when he was twenty, then into the kitchen, with its wide island and stainless appliances.

“This is a total chef's kitchen,” she said. “I recognize the brands of the stove and the fridge. Do you cook often?”

“Not really. I can make a decent omelet, a steak and pasta. Everything else I bring in. Including tonight's dinner. I didn't even make the salad.”

“No harm in that. I think I want to steal your entire kitchen for my place, though. It's stunning.”

“This was all my ex-wife's doing. She's the one who chose everything even though she was a terrible cook. I've been able to figure out how to get around in here for two years, though, with no problems. So if you want this configuration, we can certainly accommodate that.”

He got the lasagna out of the oven, pulled down a couple plates and cut them each a big piece.

“I'll never be able to eat all that.”

“I don't know. You're living in Little Italy now. It's not a meal until you've eaten twice your weight in pasta.”

“Damn. I guess I'll have to join a gym.”

“It's inevitable,” he said, getting them both forks. They didn't even move to the table. Just leaned over the island and dug in.

She took a bite and her eyes widened almost comically, then she took two more bites in quick succession. “Tony,” she said, as if she was about to impart some huge news. “This is the best lasagna I've ever had. Your mother is an amazing cook.”

“She learned from my grandmother, who lives with them. When my brothers and I were growing up, every day was like a cook-off. It was actually pretty insane.”

“That must be tough on—”

She stopped talking when the elevator dinged.

Tony groaned. “Oh, shit. I'm sorry about this,” he said, walking across the room. He knew who it was. The only other person to have a key. His brother Dom. Because he was still in school, he lived with their folks, but he liked to crash in the guest room from time to time. He usually called before he came, though.

“Yo, Tony,” he said, walking in like he owned the place, his gym bag in hand. “It smells like Ma's lasagna. Thank God, I'm starving.”

“Why didn't you call?”

“I left two messages.”

“And my not returning them didn't give you a clue?”

Dominic looked him over, finally noticing that Tony was in his bathrobe, barefoot. Then he obviously caught sight of Catherine. “Oh. Shit. Sorry, bro. Seriously. Hey, how you doing?” he said, over Tony's shoulder. “Sorry to barge in.”

“It's fine,” Catherine said, but Tony could hear that it wasn't.

“So?”

Dom winced. “You think maybe you could cut me a couple slices before I leave? Ma's pissed at me, so I'm gonna have to stay at Mikey's, and he never has anything to eat.”

“Go. Away.”

“You know what?” Catherine said. “I was just about to leave myself. You don't have to go. It's getting late. I'll just be a few more minutes.”

Tony turned to see her hurrying toward his bedroom. “Goddamn it, Dom. Get your food and get the hell out.”

Dom's free hand went up in surrender. “Hey. I'm really sorry. I had no idea you wouldn't be alone.” He leaned in closer. “And with the Fox, no less. Whoa.”

Tony held himself back from punching his little brother into next week. “It isn't what you think and you will never bring it up again. Are we clear?”

“Like she spilled something on all her clothes? After she came over to talk about restoring fireplaces?”

“Dom. I swear to God...”

Dom got down one of the big dinner plates, took almost half the damn lasagna in one messy scoop and then covered it with aluminum foil. He spotted the open bottle of wine and raised his eyebrows at his brother.

All Tony could do was point to the door. “Last chance, or I push you out the window.”

“Fine, fine. Don't get all bent. I'm leaving.” Dom hurried to the elevator, but as the doors were closing, he said, “Sure I shouldn't go say good-night to your—”

Thankfully, the door shut on his big mouth.

Now, damage control. Tony hurried down the hall, not surprised to see Catherine's clothes and shoes missing, and the bathroom door shut. He tapped on it. “You okay?”

“Of course,” she said, as she opened the door. She looked elegant as always. Too bad he couldn't help imagining her without the dress. He'd wanted to do so much more.

“Sure you can't stay? You barely had any dinner.”

“No, I'm going to go. I'm sorry. It's probably worse for you that we were caught.”

“Dom won't say anything. I swear. He knows I'd kill him if he even suggested that you were here.”

She walked closer, touched the bare skin above his collarbones. “I had a wonderful time. Truly I did. But I think I need to think this thing through. Okay? How about we give it a day or two—”

“I planned on coming by tomorrow night.”

“Maybe...call first, okay?”

“I can't tell you how sorry I am. This is the best night I've had in I don't know how long. I'd very much like to try again.”

She kissed his cheek. “We'll see.”

“I'll pack up some lasagna and cake to go,” he said, attempting to keep his voice light.

“Don't worry about it,” she said, walking out of his bedroom. “Enjoy the cakes. I don't think you tried all of them yet.”

He followed her, and after she put on her jacket and got her purse, he pressed for the elevator. Gently pushing a stray hair off her temple, he leaned closer. “I'll do whatever you like,” he said. “I never wanted to make you feel uncomfortable. But for what it's worth, I feel like tonight was just a tiny taste of what could be a great time for both of us.”

She smiled. But when the door slid open, she stepped inside without another word.

8

F
INALLY
, C
ATHERINE
WAS
EXCUSED
. She'd just finished interpreting a speech for members of the UN Security Council, which wasn't technically her job any longer. The real reason she'd been asked to translate was to pick up any signals from the body language of the speaker. She'd spent over a week steeped in research, watching tapes over and over again, until she had a solid sense of his style, his use of colloquialisms, his nervous tics.

She walked from the Security Council Chamber to her office. She'd have just enough time to log in and check her email before she had to meet Victor for lunch. She knew he was going to ask her out again, and while she didn't want to date him, she also didn't want there to be tension between them.

Pity she wasn't attracted to him. He was her mother's dream for her, but Catherine just didn't feel a spark. Victor was too much about presentation and not enough about the things that really mattered to her: wit, kindness, keeping an open mind and being comfortable with all manner of people. At times he could be witty, but otherwise, he was, frankly, a snob.

Tony had all the qualities she admired, but while he wasn't a rube, he was dramatically different from the type of man she usually dated. That fact held a lot of allure.

She'd decided to give the two of them another shot. After two days of talking on the phone—teasing each other and laughing lots—she'd caved, anxious to see him again. Tonight there would be some work on the downstairs fireplace that would hopefully transition to some one-on-one time in the bedroom. This time with no brothers dropping by.

She'd just put her purse in her drawer when her boss, Eugene Tinibu, stopped her. “Could you please come with me to the delegates' lounge? Ambassador Adolphi's wife is having some difficulties with her Russian dress designer.”

“Seriously? I've just left the—”

“I realize. But I would appreciate you taking a few moments.”

“A few? You know Ambassador Adolphi's wife never uses two words when ten will do, and now you're adding a Russian dress designer to the mix?”

“It's you, or I have to dig up two translators, and all I want, dear God, is to meet my wife for her doctor's appointment. Our first ultrasound of the baby.”

Catherine checked her watch. “That's low, Eugene,” she said, teasing him. “Using your wife like that. But fine. Go see your baby. And bring back a copy of the picture.”

He squeezed her shoulder and dashed off. Of course, she could have mentioned that her lunch plans were at the delegates' dining room, which was near the lounge, so it wasn't really that big of a deal. Although Adolphi's wife was a nightmare.

When Catherine reached the lounge she saw the two women right away. Mrs. Adolphi, a beautiful Italian woman with extravagant tastes, was staring daggers at another beautiful woman who was staring right back. Before Catherine could get a word out, Mrs. Adolphi started speaking to her in Italian and the designer joined in in her native Russian. As the daughter of two career diplomats, Catherine had no trouble shutting them both up. Not five minutes later, she'd figured out that the dispute was based on a simple misunderstanding.

After setting a date and location for the first fitting, both women thanked Catherine and invited her to have drinks with them at an exclusive Manhattan private club.

She declined, of course, in spite of their insistence. Even if Catherine hadn't been meeting Tony later, she'd have had no interest in going to a club with those two. At least she didn't have to rush to make her lunch date.

She arrived five minutes early, but Victor was already waiting for her. As usual, he looked the picture of sophistication in his charcoal-gray suit. They were seated quickly at a quiet table, and they both ordered without having to look at the menu. Catherine told him about Mrs. Adolphi, and Victor listened attentively, his gaze a little too intense for her liking.

They managed to get through most of Catherine's Cobb salad and Victor's fish before he brought up the World Health Organization banquet a month away. “I was hoping we could go together,” he said.

“Thank you, Victor. But I'm actually seeing someone, and he's going to be my date for the banquet.”

Victor looked surprised. Very surprised. “I had no idea.”

“He doesn't work here.”

“I see. He must be a fascinating fellow for him to have caught your interest.”

“He is,” she said. “But I can't imagine there aren't a dozen other women out there hoping you'll ask them to the banquet. I know you, Victor. You're a scoundrel.”

“Is that really what you think?”

“I do. But it looks good on you. God—I'm sorry, but I've got to get going. Mrs. Adolphi stole my valuable email-checking time. And I believe it's my turn to spring for lunch, yes?”

“Fine,” he said, although he didn't look happy about it. “If I'd remembered, I would have ordered something more expensive,” he teased.

She smiled and put cash in the bill holder, then stood up, knowing Victor would, too. The guy had impeccable manners. He didn't need to know that she really wasn't in a rush to get back to work. She'd left her afternoon open in case the Security Council meeting ran long. She kissed him on each cheek, and said, “Next week, why don't we make reservations at Kurumazushi?” They both knew it was one of the most expensive restaurants in New York.

“All right, as long as we ask for separate checks,” he said with a charming smile.

“Not a chance. See you later.” She felt his gaze on her ass all the way across the room. When she arrived back at her office, she couldn't stop thinking about how she'd told Victor that she was seeing someone. Because she wasn't. Not really. The last thing she could ever ask Tony to do was go with her to the banquet. It wasn't even a matter of being seen together. He would hate it, she was sure. It was silly to consider it at all.

Although he'd surprised her the other night. She hadn't expected that luxury apartment or the posh furnishings.

She started reading an article, but realized she couldn't concentrate one iota. Whatever else happened between her and Tony Paladino, she had to stop thinking about him as often as she did. It was interfering with her life. Just when her dreams were taking root and her life was falling into place.

Catherine sank back in her chair and sighed. But after that taste of what he was like in bed, what hope did she have?

* * *

F
IVE
MINUTES
LATE
, and Tony knew his mother was going to give him grief about it. Was it his fault there'd been an accident on Fifth Avenue? Besides, there was nothing urgent about this doctor's appointment. It was his dad's regular checkup, that was all. Tony was there to make sure his mom would get all the information straight. Either he or Luca, or sometimes Dom, accompanied her to each appointment.

Only, when he opened the door to the cardiologist's office, Dom was there. Sitting next to Mom, not talking. And Mom looked pissed.

“Tony. You came,” she said. In the voice that used to make him break into a cold sweat when he was a kid.

“Accident on Fifth. I told you I'd be here.”

“Well, your father's already in with the doctor. We'll just have to wait until he calls us in.”

“That's fine,” Tony said, taking a seat next to Theresa. She was wearing one of the dresses she reserved for church and important meetings. And she'd pinned up her salt-and-pepper hair, which, he knew, was her version of donning armor.

There were only two other people in the reception area, not including the women behind the desk. He opened his mouth, but before he said anything to his mother, he leaned forward to catch Dom's eye. “What are you doing here?”

“What, I can't be here when you are? I was worried about Pop, what do you think?”

“Yeah, okay.” Tony wasn't about to engage in any of Dom's bullshit. “It's all going to be fine. We know that. This appointment is just a follow-up.”

“I know that,” his mother said, folding her arms over her black purse. The damn thing had been with her for so long he couldn't remember a time before it. It always reminded him of an old-fashioned doctor's bag. “I know a lot of things.”

Here it was. The real reason she was giving Tony the evil eye. “What's that supposed to mean?”

His mother shrugged. God, she had that move down. It was okay, though. She was scared. She'd told him, when they were waiting for Joe to get out of surgery, that she felt guilty because she'd fed him terribly all those years. She should have given him plain food. Salads. More vegetables.

Tony let his anger drop like a used tissue. “Ma, just tell me what's wrong.”

She turned to face him. “I have to hear from the neighbors you have a girlfriend? You can't tell me these things?”

He felt the beginning of a cold sweat. He was going to kill his brother. He leaned back this time, willing Dom to look his way. When he did, his brother held up both hands, his eyes agape as he shook his head.

“What are you talking about?” Tony said, keeping his cool. “What girlfriend?”

“Connie Busto said you were walking around with a woman. Just walking around, holding a box of cannoli like you were going to a picnic. I heard the same thing when I stopped by to see Father Zavala this morning. At church, I hear from Maryanne Di Vitis that you were holding hands. Holding your girlfriend's hand on a street where you know everyone! And I have to look like a fool because I know none of this.”

“What...? She's a client. And we were not holding hands. I was showing her some porches the company had remodeled. There's no girlfriend. Holy Mother of God, this neighborhood is going to drive me insane. Why didn't you ask me about it?”

“I just did.”

“Before you believed those vultures? All they care about is gossip. They're worse than the tabloids, and you fall for it hook, line and sinker, every time.”

“I do not. When I heard that Dom told Felicia what's-her-name that she should jump off a bridge, I said he wouldn't say that. I know my boys.”

“When did that happen?” Dom asked.

Theresa waved his question away. “What difference does it make? The point is I knew better.”

“Ma—”

“Besides. Everyone said you were laughing. And happy.” She was still frowning and darting looks at the door to the exam rooms. “You get that happy with all your clients?”

“Everyone, huh?”

“Never you mind. I don't remember you taking any other clients for strolls to show them porches.”

“Ma—”

“So, this
client
. What's her name?”

Tony rubbed his eye. “Catherine Fox. Dad and I were talking about her restoration job the other day in the office.”

“See, I knew you were talking business.”

Tony just shook his head and sighed.

“You should bring her to dinner on Friday night.”

“What?”

“If there's nothing for me to see, bring her. I'll tell you then if there's nothing to see.”

“There's no way I'm bringing a client to dinner.”

“Aha!”

“No, Tony,” Dom said. “Mom's got a point. Bring her. She's new to the neighborhood, right? Maybe she wants to meet someone besides you and Sal.”

Tony closed his eyes, not believing the words he was hearing. Not Dom's idiocy, because he was a complete jackass, but from his mother. Bring Catherine to a family dinner? Not a chance. God, he could just imagine the field day his family would have with her. Besides, it would send the wrong message. He wasn't about to take her to meet the folks.

After just one of his family dinners, she'd regret ever moving to Little Italy. His parents would treat her reasonably well; that wasn't what worried him. But Catherine would sure as hell find out what kind of neighbors she had. A bunch of gossips, especially the two old ladies on either side of her. There was nothing subtle about that pair. It wouldn't surprise him at all if they'd been snubbing her. But if she heard something they'd said from his mom and grandmother, she'd move out of that house so fast, it wouldn't be funny. At least she could flip it for a hell of a profit, but...

She'd also run from him. And he definitely didn't want that. In fact, he'd been thinking about her so often, it was getting a little out of hand.

Maybe it would be a good thing, letting her see what she was in for. She'd hold her own. She wasn't just beautiful; she had a striking presence, and she evidently read people as if they were open books.

But letting her see the truth could also break her heart.

No. He wasn't going to ask her to dinner. Not now. Not ever. The arrangement they had was great. He had no desire to rock the boat.

When he opened his eyes again, he cut the whole conversation off. “She's not my girlfriend. She's a client. Listen. As long as Dom's here, you gonna be okay if I take off? I've got work up to my eyeballs.”

“You're leaving because maybe there is something between you and this client.”

“I'm leaving because I have work to do.” Tony kissed his mother's cheek, flipped Dom off behind her back and left the office, which was four blocks away from the UN complex. As he walked down the staircase, he dialed Catherine, which might not have been the best idea, but he didn't care.

“Tony.”

“Hey, Catherine,” he said. “I'm in the neighborhood. I know it's not lunchtime or anything, but I was thinking about that tour you were talking about.”

“Now?”

“I knew it was a long shot. It's okay—”

“No. Now is fine,” she said. “Give me ten minutes and I'll meet you at the visitor center.”