by Jo Leigh
“Technically, you didn’t ask, but it would be rude for me to point that out.”
“Wouldn’t want to be rude.”
Tony smiled. “There aren’t many things here I don’t like. But their cannoli are very good.” He leaned closer, so close that his breath tickled her ear. “Better than my mother’s, to be honest, but I would never tell her that. Ever. In fact, I need you to swear that you won’t ever speak of it again.”
Catherine crossed her heart, which remained inconveniently fluttery.
“Have you been here before?” he asked.
“Yes. Too often. I have a problem with pastries. I like them too much.”
“As much as Chinese food?”
Letting out a laugh, she narrowed her eyes at him. “You don’t need to speak of that again, either.”
“Guess we’re even,” he said with a wink.
She had no idea what to do with that. It wasn’t a flirty wink; at least she didn’t think so. Not many men had winked at her before. She kind of liked it. Her heart sure was getting a workout, though.
Luckily, the line moved again, putting them face-to-face with the counter girl. “Four cannoli,” Catherine said as quickly as possible, anxious to make this her treat, not his. “Two lobster tails and two panfortes.”
While she’d been faster on the draw with the order, Tony already had his wallet out. “Put that away,” she said. “You’re the one helping me out when you don’t have to.”
“I’m an Italian man in a bakery where they know me. You want everyone in town to talk about how I let you pay for my dessert?”
“Well, that’s incredibly chauvinistic. Please tell me you don’t mean it.”
His shrug said an awful lot.
“I lived in Italy,” she said, “and no one was that ridiculous.”
“I think you’ll find there are many anachronisms in our little village. We’re losing so much territory to the soaring encroachment from every angle, I think the old-timers are doing their best to keep everything old-fashioned even when it doesn’t make a damn bit of difference.”
“Fine,” Catherine said, when he pulled out some bills. She thought briefly about mentioning what she’d overheard, but dismissed the idea. “You buy them this time. But just the once.”
“I’ll even carry the box,” he said.
When the girl came back with his change, she barely looked at Tony. Instead, she was checking out Catherine as if there’d be a test. It didn’t surprise her at all when the young woman said, “See you later, Tony. And tell that brother of yours I saved him a slice of cheesecake.”
“Sorry,” Tony said, touching the back of Catherine’s blazer with his broad hand, steering her toward the exit. “I doubt I’ll see Dom anytime soon.”
“Maybe she meant Luca.”
Tony laughed. “Nope. Dom. Guaranteed.”
Once they were on the street, it wasn’t a long walk to her house, and the lowering sun made everything look golden and beautiful. She thought again about how he’d so recently taken over the business from his father, and yet, he kept showing up after hours. “You do know I can wait for Fred or George,” she said. “The list of things to be restored is daunting and I’m positive you have a great deal on your plate.”
“I don’t mind,” he said. “It’s been good for me to keep my hand in the game. I’d been doing more of the managing before my father finally retired. It’s all about delegating.” He slowed to a stop. “Would you mind a small detour? I know Sal’s going to be working with you on your front stoop, but there are two you might like to see. Both designed by the metalworker I told you about.”
“I’d love to see them.”
They turned at the next corner, and she realized that while she’d found places like the bakery and the dry cleaners, she really hadn’t spent any time at all exploring the side streets. Most of the buildings were old remodeled tenements. Five, six, even seven stories high. Almost every ground and basement floor was occupied by a retail business, everything from restaurants to art galleries to delis.
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 Cat
herine, 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
TONY 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?”