by Jo Leigh
She lowered her gaze to her plate, having no idea what had been said while she’d been comparing the men. Theresa was still talking about where to get the best wine, so Catherine couldn’t have been out of it for too long.
She took only a small portion of each dish, because she’d seen the table in the kitchen. After the first glass of prosecco was downed, the conversation got a lot livelier. Of course, most of the focus was on her, and she explained why she was so interested in art deco, answered more questions about her parents and then explained again why she wasn’t going to flip the house.
Along with the third course, which was a small serving of angel hair pasta with wild onions, and yet another kind of wine, came the gossip. It was even thicker than the ragout. Word on the street was that Mrs. Whatever was having an affair with a man half her age, which was scandalous because she was the bookkeeper at the church. Also, another landmark building, one both Theresa and Joseph had visited all their lives, was being turned into a Ruth’s Chris Steak House, which was deemed a desecration. It went on like this. Something terrible after something else terrible that would ruin everything.
It reminded her of the parties her parents had thrown. “You know, I really do think I’ll fit in around here,” she said. “I’ve attended scores of cocktail parties filled with dignitaries and celebrities and political leaders, and all they do is gossip. It’s like the game of telephone. By the time the information would hit the wire services, the original message was garbled beyond belief, and far more salacious than when it had started.”
The silence at the table let her know immediately that she’d had too much wine. She felt heat creeping up her neck and infusing her cheeks.
Theresa finally broke the silence. “We don’t gossip in this house.”
It didn’t help at all that Tony and his brothers burst out laughing.
Their mother glared at them. “It’s not gossip if it’s true.”
“Oh, no, I didn’t mean to imply...” Catherine couldn’t do a damn thing about the blush spreading across her face. She just smiled. “It’s very kind of you to fill me in on the neighborhood. I haven’t met many people. I know I’m an outsider, but I have great respect for the culture I’m moving into.”
More silence.
This time Catherine kept her mouth shut.
Then Nonna finally spoke. In Tuscan Italian. “Questa figa pensa che she’s going to get him to the altar.”
Of course Catherine understood. Being called a scheming tramp wasn’t exactly what she’d been hoping to hear from Tony’s grandmother, but the woman looked to be a hundred. What she didn’t know was if Tony had told the family she spoke the language, and it was only the grandmother who’d forgotten.
Or maybe there was another explanation—a not-so-friendly warning, perhaps?
* * *
TONY COUGHED TO cover his curse after his grandmother’s comment. He hadn’t heard every word, but he’d caught the gist. Not that Nonna was to blame. He hadn’t remembered to tell the family that Catherine spoke Italian, and she’d mentioned only the UN official languages when she’d talked about her job.
Her diplomacy was front and center, as she asked his mother about a recipe, but all he wanted to do was grab Catherine and get her out of there. This had been the worst idea ever. He should have known. Hell, he had known, but he’d chosen to ignore the warnings all the same.
His appetite had vanished, so he just pushed his food around on his plate, polished off his wine and poured another glass. They still had the cheese course and dessert left.
He didn’t jump at all when he felt Catherine’s hand on his thigh. When he looked at her, she smiled. It was nothing like her smile when they were alone. What else would he expect? She was classy as hell, not like his... What did she even see in him? Was she slumming by hanging out with him?
He thought about the atmosphere at the UN. How easy it was to tell those who belonged there from the tourists.
“What was your favorite birthday dinner?” Catherine asked.
He’d clearly missed an entire conversation. But it didn’t matter, as his brothers supplied the answer—in unison. “Fettuccine Alfredo, with chocolate ice cream and cannoli for dessert.”
“My sons,” Theresa said. “They love my cooking. And Nonna’s, too, of course. Do you cook, Catherine?”
“A bit. I’ve always admired people who can, who have that gift. My mother worked when I was growing up, and she wasn’t good in the kitchen. I picked up what I could over the years from Belaflore, our housekeepers and the occasional personal chef. But there’s nothing in my small repertoire that comes close to what I’ve had tonight. I’m already full, but I can’t seem to stop eating. Everything’s simply too delicious.”
His mother preened. One point in favor of the outsider. But it wasn’t nearly enough. Tony didn’t want to be angry at his family for being who they were. That wasn’t fair. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t looking to get serious with Catherine. He liked her, respected her. But all his old-fashioned mother and her mother cared about was that she wasn’t one of them.
“So, Luca,” he said, “how’s that new kid working out?”
“Gina’s nephew? He’s not thrilled about this golden opportunity, and it shows. Not that he’s been a flake, just, he’s got a band and he plays the guitar and that’s in his head all the time. I heard them once, and they’re not bad. But they’re not the next big thing, either.”
“Better he learns how to make a living than waste his time on useless dreams,” Joe said. “A band. He expects to find a wife like that? What woman’s going to want a guitar player for a husband?”
Luca shook his head. “He’s still a teenager. He’s not thinking about marriage yet.”
“That’s what’s wrong with all of you young people.” Joe looked at Catherine and waved his fork as he spoke. “None of them married. No grandchildren. By Dom’s age, I was already with their mother. Did I complain that I had to be an apprentice to my father? Never.”
Catherine ever-so-wisely put a big piece of steak in her mouth as she nodded sympathetically.
“You wanted to be like your father,” Theresa said, “and you still complained. Tony, come help me with the cheese, huh?”
He hated leaving Catherine alone, but the summons wasn’t negotiable. “Sure, Ma.” It also wasn’t about the cheese.
She took him past the table where the cheese course was set out on a big platter, all the way to the basement door. “I told you something was up with her.”
“What?”
“Only a client? I don’t think so. The way she looks at you isn’t just being a client.”
“I’m not going to talk to you about this.”
“Okay, fine. But you be careful, huh? She’s smart, this one. She’ll have you wrapped around her finger before you even know what’s what. Take my word for it.” Theresa touched the side of her nose with her index finger. “I’m not wrong about this.”
“Do you want me to take the cheese to the table?”
The stare she gave him meant he’d hear more about it later. When the outsider was gone. He didn’t care. The sooner this stupid night was over, the better.
“I have to clear some of the table first.”
“I’ll give you a hand,” he said, grateful for the distraction.
She shrugged. “Do what you like. That’s all you do, anyway,” his mother said, and walked out.
He heard Catherine offer to help, which was the third time tonight. Like the other times, she was turned down.
Could he even go back out there and be pleasant? None of this should have been a surprise. But he hadn’t realized how much he wanted his family to see Catherine as someone special. So maybe he was getting a little serious about her. Hell, he didn’t know.
Stupido.
Bu
t he’d go back, finish the meal. Make conversation. And hope that when the night was over, she didn’t tell him to get lost.
11
“I’M SORRY,” TONY said the minute they’d left the house and were on the street.
“What for?” Catherine studied his expression, but as usual she was having difficulty reading him. Of course she realized his apology had something to do with the evening, but there were quite a few things he could mean.
“I should have realized it would be uncomfortable for you. My grandmother didn’t mean to be rude. I neglected to tell them you spoke Italian. Not that it would’ve excused what she said. I just wanted you to know she wouldn’t have deliberately tried to hurt your feelings.”
“It’s fine. Truly, I don’t mind. I’ve hardly met anyone from the neighborhood yet. But tonight was a good beginning. And I like your family.”
“Why? My parents are living in a past that never really existed. It’s as if they’re stuck in a time warp. It’s not just them, either. All the old-timers, they want everything to be the way they remember, but their memories are fairy tales.”
“Wow,” she said, walking toward the subway. “I think you had a much worse time than I did.”
He shifted the heavy bag of leftovers to his other arm. “Where are you planning on keeping this food? You’d have to buy a whole new fridge.”
She latched on to the change of subject eagerly. “I was hoping you’d take it to your place, then bring some of it tomorrow night.”
“Ah. About that.”
She slowed, not liking the hesitation in his voice one bit. “What is it?”
“I know dinner ran late. But I’d like it if we could be together tonight.”
The tension eased out of her shoulders. “Well, I suppose that would mean going to your place because of the food, but I’d have to get up super early to go back to mine before work in the morning.”
“You’re right. It’s stupid.”
She started walking more quickly. “Not stupid. In fact, I have an idea. Why don’t we get a cab, which will take me by the house to gather my things, then we’ll go to your place. As long as Dominic isn’t planning to make a surprise visit.”
“Dominic knows if he does that again he’ll be banished forever. No worries.”
“Good,” she said, waiting for the cloud that was hanging over him to lighten. But it didn’t. “Are you sure about this?”
“Yeah. Why do you ask?”
“You puzzle me. I can’t tell if you were truly bothered by your family, or if you’re upset because you think I was bothered.”
He hung his head, but just for a second. “Let’s find a cab at the corner. And if you don’t mind, let’s not talk any more about my family tonight.”
“Deal,” she said, and hurried along with him to the cross street.
* * *
IT WAS A quarter to ten by the time they reached Tony’s place. She was pleased that despite his subdued mood he still wanted her to spend the night with him. It took them forever to put the food away, but only because Tony couldn’t seem to keep his hands off her.
“Okay, I think that’s it,” she said, closing the fridge door and turning just as he caught her around the waist.
“I wasn’t finished.”
“With what?” she asked, all innocence, his hungry look and low raspy voice exciting her.
“Kissing you,” he said, pulling her close. The way he took her mouth, possessive and demanding, accelerated more than her heartbeat. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he thrust his tongue between her lips as if he meant to stake his claim.
It was thrilling. Her breasts brushed against his chest, her hardened nipples sensitive enough to make her breath catch. She squeezed her legs together as tightly as she could, needing the pressure, wanting so much more.
His hands tightened on her waist, and he lifted her up onto the center island. Their eyes were level now, and she could see the black of his widening pupils.
“Christ, you’re beautiful,” he whispered, then kissed her as he slid his hands underneath her dress, moving them up her thighs, which seemed to part of their own volition. “I’ve been thinking about this since the last time you were here,” he said. “Except this time, I intend to finish what I start.”
She pulled back, needing to breathe for a moment. The way he skimmed his fingers in circles between her legs, knowing what he planned to do, threatened to make her hyperventilate.
He let her mouth go and studied her for a long moment as one of his hands slid up to her hip.
“What’s this?”
“Panties.”
“Really?”
“A different kind.”
“Have I ever told you how much I like the way you think outside the box?”
“What a lovely way to say I’ve got a thing for fancy underwear.”
“Yeah,” he said. “That, too.”
She bit on her lower lip as he studied her undergarments by touch alone. In the meantime, though, she unbuttoned his shirt, stopping when she reached his pants. She ran her hands over his chest. She liked that he had the perfect amount of chest hair. She’d never been a big fan of shaved chests. Besides, the hair was soft and his flat nipples stood out.
“Can you wait just a second?” he asked, his voice lower still.
“Why?”
“Reconnaissance mission.”
She’d barely nodded when he lifted the skirt of her dress.
“You do like to make me work for it, don’t you?” he said with a grunt.
“Not my intention, but it’s kind of hot, watching you solve this puzzle.”
“I was going to go caveman style and rip them off, but they look so pretty I think I’d rather watch you take off the dress.”
“Huh,” she said, feeling her blush, but not minding it. “Sounds as though you might have a thing for fancy underwear, too.”
“Not until you I didn’t.”
“Don’t tell me you haven’t been turned on by ladies in their intimate wear,” Catherine said with a seductive smile.
“I have. But not like this. Tell you what. I’m going to switch gears.”
“How?”
“Just relax. It’ll be fine.”
His teasing fingers slid down her thighs until he was outside the dress. As he leaned in to kiss her again, this time softly, just lips brushing lips, those same fingers moved to the buttons on the top part of her dress. She actually had to chase after his mouth when he leaned back.
He pushed open the bodice, his eyes darkening as he caught a glimpse of her bra. It was the same silk as her panties, white, with lace on the sides and straps. It was one of her favorite sets, and she’d debated wearing them with garters and stockings, but she’d finally decided to go without. Now, she was sorry. It would have felt wonderful to have him remove them.
His hands went to her breasts, the cups that almost hid her nipples. It was obvious that she was aroused, but that was nothing compared to the havoc he caused when he bent down and sucked her right nipple into his mouth, silk and all.
She moaned at the feeling of his hot breath, the way he wetted the material. She’d always had sensitive nipples, but her body was going into overdrive.
She shivered when he moaned with her in his mouth. She tried to wrap her leg around his hips, but the way he was bent made it impossible. “I’m having trouble sitting still.”
“Mmm. Wiggle some more. I like it.” He gave her other breast equal attention. She touched the wet spot over the breast he’d just left, sliding the material across and around her ever hardening bud.
“Well, shit,” he said, standing up straight. “I can’t...” He took hold of her and lifted her, making it easy for her to wrap her legs around his waist, loop her arms aro
und his neck. She got busy as he walked, nuzzling that strong jaw of his all the way through the apartment until he reached the master suite.
He put her down next to the bed, kissing her quickly before he pulled down the comforter. Then he walked backward several paces. “Please,” he said.
It was exciting, taking her dress off for him. She did it slowly, starting with the belt. “I think me taking off my dress means you need to get down to your underwear, too.”
“I’m not wearing anything special.”
“Doesn’t mean I won’t like it,” she said, teasing him by lifting up her skirt partway—just enough to give him a glimpse of the white lace at the bottom of her satin tap pants.
His cock jumped enough for her to see it through his trousers.
“Come on,” she said, gyrating her hips while she rubbed the still-damp silk over her nipples. That she felt sexy as sin in her La Perla high-wasted culotte and matching bra, despite the fact that they hadn’t turned off the lights, made her bolder. As did his dark eyes, his rapid breathing and the sound of his zipper going down. The best part, though, was the visual connection between them. It was so intense she refused to blink.
He dropped his pants, and yes, he’d worn navy boxer briefs. She liked them very much, and let him know by pulling her dress up and off, letting it puddle on the floor. He let his shirt fall, leaning forward as if his body was ready to mutiny and take her as she stood.
“My God,” he whispered.
“I love it when your voice gets all smoky.”
“You do, huh?”
She nodded. “And when you narrow your eyes like you’ve got some big master plan going on inside that head of yours.”
“Only one thing going on up there,” he said with a husky laugh, his gaze roaming the front of her. “I’ve never seen anything like that.”
“Really? That makes it extra nice.” She held her arms out, and when she figured he’d looked his fill, she turned around, giving him a view of her behind while she reached back and unclasped her bra.
She heard his sharp inhale when she let the bra slip from her shoulders. Then, in a very Vargas pinup girl move, she looked at him over her shoulder and raised a fingertip to her lips.