by Jo Leigh
The old-timers were stuck in the past. Most of them railed against any change at all. They wanted the customs of their childhoods, the shops and open-air markets. Half the people living in these older buildings, which they’d had no compunction turning into twenty-first-century, easy-living units, still hung their laundry out their windows. But they weren’t friendly to people they considered interlopers.
Should he tell her now? Make sure she understood what she was getting into?
His gaze moved down to her book of dreams and he knew he couldn’t. Maybe her restoration would make the difference. It could happen. And he wouldn’t be the one to take that opportunity away.
Something buzzed. A tone he didn’t recognize. Catherine’s cell phone. She got up to find her purse, and Tony looked at his watch once more.
His heart sank like a stone. Two hours had gone by. Two hours, which had felt like fifteen minutes. He pulled out his cell phone and saw four texts he’d missed. One was from Gina, the others from Rita.
He could tell by her well-chosen, very succinct words Rita was beyond pissed that he’d stood her up. No way she would talk to him even if he did call. But at least he could text her an apology. And beg for forgiveness. He knew Rita. Despite everything, she’d be willing to hook up at the next opportunity.
When Catherine walked back into the room, he understood exactly why time had flown. It was a shame he wouldn’t be able to work on the restoration with her. Although it was probably for the best.
Catherine Fox was a client. An important one. This was no time to get distracted. Not when his family was counting on him. And sadly, odds were she’d be packing up soon enough. Catherine would never belong here in Little Italy.
* * *
“TO MAKING THINGS OFFICIAL...boss.” Luca held up his icy beer as he looked at Tony.
“Just don’t take that title too seriously, but yeah,” Dominic said. “To the new boss.”
Tony clicked his glass to theirs and looked pointedly at Luca. “Thank you.” Then he turned to face Dom. “And don’t you start getting any crazy ideas in your head. Everything’s going to be just like it has been. Well, there’ll be a few changes, but Pop went out of his way to accommodate your website design and marketing plans, and—”
“Shut up,” Dom said. “I’m a Paladino, too. I’m not about to neglect my duties. Chill.”
Their waitress arrived with their dinners, and as she served them, Tony gave his youngest brother a hard look. Dom wouldn’t do anything too crazy. All the kid wanted was to test out his natural gifts. He was a hell of a charmer, could sell almost anything to virtually anyone. Dom didn’t want to stay in the neighborhood, Tony knew, and he would do everything in his power to make sure the kid could fly the coop. Eventually. When things were a little more stable, and after Dom finished getting his master’s degree in marketing.
Tony got busy fixing his baked potato and shifted his attention to Luca. He had dreams, too. He’d make a hell of an architect once he went back to finish his apprenticeship. Their dad’s poor health had temporarily turned everyone’s life upside down.
“So,” Luca said, “what did you think of Catherine Fox’s newfound love of restoration?”
It had been a couple days since he’d met with Catherine and he’d thought about that visit far too often. “I think she’ll make the place a stunner.”
“Dad said she wanted to restore everything she could get her hands on,” Dom said. “If this plan of hers comes together, she’ll make a fortune flipping that house.”
“That’s the thing,” Tony said, as he cut into his steak. “She doesn’t want to sell it. She wants to live there. Permanently.”
Luca put down his almost empty beer. “Seriously? She’s got blond hair and blue eyes. I know some Italians do, but I got the impression she’s medigan. And she wants to settle there?”
Tony shook his head. “I thought about saying something before she gets too invested. She’s got the Masucci clan on one side and Pia Soriano on the other. Those old ladies are so goddamned determined to keep out anyone who isn’t certified Italian, it’s a crime.”
“I don’t think we have any room to throw stones,” Luca said. “Isn’t that what the Paladino Trust is all about?”
“Yeah, but we’re trying to do exactly what Catherine’s doing. Preserve what was already there. And you have to admit, Little Italy is a far cry from what it was. If she’d bought a place a couple blocks over, she’d have been fine, but—”
“Maybe she does have some Italian in her.” Dom signaled the waitress with a nod and one of his guaranteed-to-dazzle smiles.
Tony shrugged. “I’m willing to be surprised.”
“Even if she’s not, you shouldn’t tell her a damn thing until the job is done. Capice?”
“Ah, you’re such a cynic, Dominic. Why is that?”
“Because I live in a family of saps. Someone has to have a level head.”
Both Tony and Luca burst out laughing.
“What?”
“Sell that to someone who doesn’t know you,” Luca said. “Tony, I can go back and give the house another look if you want.”
“That’s okay,” he said. “I’ve got it covered. Besides, I’m waiting for George to call me back.”
“He’d do a good job. But he’s booked for weeks.” Luca shrugged. “If you want I can—”
“I got it.”
Luca was staring and not eating. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” Tony stared back at his brother. He swore to God, sometimes he wished he had sisters instead. “What?”
“Why are you... You like her.”
“Yeah.” Tony switched his focus to eating his overcooked broccoli. “I like her. She’s nice.”
Dom turned away from the waitress, who was already making eyes at him. “So if she’s not Italian, maybe she wants a little Italian in her, huh?”
“Nice,” Tony said. “Real nice. You’d better start going to Mass with Nonna. You’ll never finish confessing your sins if you live to be a hundred.”
Both his brothers laughed, and then still looking at Dom, Tony added, “By the way, she remembered Luca’s name but she couldn’t remember yours.”
Luca elbowed his younger brother. “Must be losing your touch, hotshot.”
Dom’s look of disbelief was almost comical.
Luca said, “By the way, how’s Rita?”
Tony rolled his eyes. “Look, Catherine’s interesting, okay?”
“I’d changed the subject already,” Luca said, grinning. “But if you want to talk about Catherine, then yeah, she’s very attractive, in her own way. But a little aloof. You know what I mean?”
“No, actually, I don’t. She’s very—”
Luca smiled at him.
“Shut up and eat your fish.”
Dom took a bite of his T-bone, but still said, “Hell, she’s got to be loaded to buy that house and do all those renovations. Maybe she’s an heiress or something.”
“Dad mentioned she works at the UN,” Luca said. “As an interpreter or something like that.”
Tony shrugged, ready to drop the topic of Catherine Fox. Yeah, he’d thought a lot about her in the last couple days. And she wasn’t off-putting or anything like that. He could see why someone might get the wrong impression, but only because of the way she moved. She stood and sat like a ballet dancer, or a model or something. Smooth as silk.
He couldn’t get over that damn little twirl she’d done when she’d forgotten her coffee cup. It wasn’t exactly stroke material, but it kept playing in his head, like an ear worm, but one he could see.
Which was stupid. He couldn’t afford to give her so much real estate. He had a company to run now. And Dom was right about her having enough capital to become a very profitable client. There was st
ill time to take Luca up on his offer to take over until George was free.
But Tony knew damn well he wasn’t going to do the sensible thing.
3
FINALLY, THE ELECTRICIAN was gone. He’d been the last of the day crew to leave. She knew Sal’s team was working very hard to give her the house she wanted, but today that had meant moving wiring that displaced her temporary kitchen and living room. After a good deal of consideration, she’d decided not to move into a hotel until the restoration was done.
Although she was beginning to doubt it would ever start, let alone finish.
Tony had sent her the contract amendment, worded so that she’d have an out if the cost became too high. Along with it was a note assuring her that he was following through with hiring a restoration expert, but the one he had in mind might not be available for a couple weeks. She’d hoped Tony would’ve delivered the envelope in person, but she had something more important to consider. Whether to wait and put the renovation on hold if his man was unavailable? Or settle for second best?
All she needed for this first phase was someone who understood the history and architecture of the 1920s and ’30s. Her goal was to make sure she caught everything in the inventory of objects to restore. Any moment now, Fred, a man Tony was sending, would arrive to excavate while she cataloged his findings. She’d already changed into her casual clothes and was impatient to find out what treasures lay in wait.
The bell rang when she was halfway down the stairs. She hurried the rest of the way down and swung open the door.
Tony.
He wasn’t supposed to be here.
And yet there he was, making her blush, somehow forcing her head to dip so she had to look at him through her eyelashes. As if she were a schoolgirl. Actually, she’d been way too sensible in her teens for that kind of display.
She stopped that nonsense in the next heartbeat. “Tony,” she said, making it almost a question, but in truth, it was a challenge.
“Hey. I hope this is all right. Me, instead of Fred. I can assure you that I know what I’m doing.”
“No. I mean, yes. It’s fine,” she said, carefully keeping her response neutral. “Of course.” She stepped back. “Please, come in.”
He stood close after she shut the door. It would have been polite for her to back away, but once she caught the scent of something woodsy and masculine she didn’t want to move. Odd, since she was very protective of her personal space. Tony just looked too damned good in his chambray shirt and a pair of worn jeans.
If she’d known he was coming, she would have put on something other than the old khakis and knit shirt she’d thrown on. She certainly would have put on a little more makeup. Done something more flattering to her hair—
Good Lord, what was happening to her?
“Turns out George and Fred are both tied up with other projects. We really can’t afford to wait. The domino effect could put us too far behind.”
She smiled. “That’s not what I’ve been led to believe about contractors. Aren’t they legendary for making people wait?”
“Not Paladino & Sons. Well, okay, sometimes delays happen, but we try to give realistic estimates, and let our customers know ahead of time if there might be a prob—” His eyes warmed with humor. “You were joking.”
She nodded, caught by the way he was staring at her. No noticeable blinking. Relaxed grin. His hand had recently pushed back his dark hair, and, oh, God, she’d seen that exact same look in dozens of romantic films. “It’s nice to see you again,” she said, thankful she’d been trained from birth to keep everything she felt to herself. “May I get you anything? Coffee? Wine?”
He shook his head, but his gaze didn’t budge.
“It’s a very nice cabernet from a great vineyard in Italy.”
“Well, as good as that sounds, I am here to work.”
Catherine felt the heat creeping up her neck. “Of course,” she said, turning away. “I wasn’t thinking.”
“But as long as the vineyard’s in Italy... I wouldn’t turn down a glass after we’ve finished for the evening.”
“The offer stands.” Leading him upstairs, she allowed herself a foolish grin, but kept her pace steady. Deciding not to dwell on the the fact that he was probably checking out her ass, she said, “I’ve done a little sleuthing on my own,” she said. “I’d planned on getting a good chunk of the inventory done by myself, but I was foiled by the mystery of what’s hiding underneath the paint on the fireplace mantel.” She pointed to the south wall.
Tony frowned. “Did you try to remove any paint?”
“Not really. I read that there was a good chance the paint had lead in it. I didn’t have the right safety gear, which I’ve since taken care of. But I did scrape a bit. It looks like it’ll be worth the work, at least to see if it’s cast iron.”
“That’s great. Good thinking.” He pulled out his cell phone. “Are you interested in doing some of the restoration work yourself?”
“I am. Nothing too taxing. I’ve never done anything like it. I’m not all that good with my hands, but it would be nice to know I had a small part.”
Tony met her gaze, and from where she was standing, he looked pleased. Although it could have been the light.
Then, he went right back to typing something on his phone.
“Are you texting Fred or George?”
“No. I’ve got an app where I keep all my notes and plans. I’ve already put in the basic layout of the house, so I’ll be able to mark it up as we find pieces we want to investigate.”
Tony pulled out a Swiss Army knife from his back pocket, went to the fireplace and crouched by the side of the unit. Catherine crouched next to him, watching what he did. The first thing she noticed was he scraped a lot harder than she had.
His next move was to cut the linoleum that butted up against the painted surround. A moment later, he found something that made his face light up.
“What is it?”
“Tile. I can’t promise all of it will be intact, but all we really need is one.”
“You can get it duplicated?”
“Again, it’s costly, but yes, we can.”
“Okay, one thing you should know. You don’t have to be concerned with the budget. While I appreciate your warnings, I think it will make things easier for both of us if we just wait until the full estimate is complete. Then I’ll make my choices. Okay?”
He nodded as he stood up, and once again they were standing too close for politeness’s sake. It wouldn’t have been a problem if they were in Tokyo. But New Yorkers needed at least a thousand square feet of personal space to be truly comfortable. No, this was Manila close.
“You’ll have to show me your safety gear. I’ll let you know if everything comes up to code,” he said, those damnable dark eyes capturing her own once more.
The sentence was benign, the look wasn’t. Seconds ticked by as heat circled through her while he stared. It grew stronger when he let out a breath that reached her, minty fresh. Maybe this whole thing was all about scent, but then why had the swirling heat started the second she’d opened the front door?
None of this was okay. It was bad enough she couldn’t read him, but now she couldn’t even make sense of herself.
After he inhaled—something that should have given her a hundred clues—he stepped back. Walked to the other side of the room to inspect the crown molding.
Great. Now she was making him uncomfortable.
Catherine shook herself out of her trance. “Would it bother you if I had a glass of wine?”
“Not at all.”
She made sure she downed half a glass before she rejoined him. She also promised herself that she would focus on learning about her new home, not her general contractor.
It was an education, walking through
each room with him. He welcomed her questions, even though she knew she was going a bit overboard. But with each move, he stepped in closer. First, just their shoulders touched. A brush. Insignificant, but for how aware of it she was. The rooms were small. The physical contact would have happened between any two adults. But by the time they hit the downstairs powder room they squeezed into the tight space as if they were old hands at this touching business.
“I’m pretty sure that if you want to enlarge this bathroom we can keep to the original aesthetic,” Tony said, his voice a couple notches above a whisper. “But I need to know more about the plumbing before we can make any decisions.”
“I don’t mind this bathroom being small, if it allows me to open up the living and dining rooms.”
Tony continued to look directly into her eyes. His lips parted as if he was going to say something. But he didn’t, and it was all she could do not to lean those few inches forward. Unlock his words with a touch of her tongue.
A honking horn out on the street brought her back to reality and she gained control quickly and moved out of the powder room. “It’s the bathroom upstairs that has me worried.”
He added a few more notes to his app before they climbed back up the old staircase. He went to the fireplace and picked up her wineglass. “That covers the big things,” he said. “But there are lots of details that we haven’t cataloged.” His gaze skated over the mess, where before there had at least been chairs. Then he took a sip.
She cleared her throat, not minding that he’d taken a sip of her wine, but worried he’d feel embarrassed. “Sorry about the accommodations. The only place I seem to have left for company is the staircase or my bedroom.”
Tony blinked at the wineglass, a brief look of shock on his face. “Uh, it’s no problem,” he said. He put the glass back on the mantel, a slight blush warming his cheeks. “Sorry about that. Look, I’ve got something I have to do tomorrow evening, and I’m sure you’ll want some peace and quiet on Sunday, but I could come back Monday. After the others have left.”