Caterina

by Patricia Paris

Monday morning, Liam pulled off the road that led to his latest project, and onto the construction site. He maneuvered his truck over the frost-hardened ruts left behind by the flatbeds that had delivered the framing materials the prior week.

  Three other pickups were already there, parked in a row in front of the yellow safety tape perimeter. He pulled up next to his brother Burke’s—big, bad, and bright red. It was a beast, and Liam gave up a little jealous drool every time he saw it.

  He grabbed the coffee thermos off the passenger seat and got out. He was a stickler for punctuality, from his employees and himself, but some things were more important than the clock. Riley was one of them.

  He saw Burke standing next to the foundation, reviewing the construction docs with Elliot, one of their regular crew members. His brother’s last project had ended a couple of weeks ago, and the permits hadn’t come through yet for the next one, so he’d been putting in a few days a week on the Bonavera job to fill the gap. He looked up as Liam approached, and then tapped his watch.

  “It’s a shade past eight, bro.” Burke rolled up the drawings and slid them between two of the frame’s studs. “We’re ready to start giving this baby some skin.”

  “Yeah, I know. Couldn’t be helped. It was Riley’s first day at the new preschool.”

  Burke nodded. “I forgot that was today. How’d it go?”

  “Fine, I guess. By the way, I need to cut out early one day this week to take her to the doctor. She needs to get a physical, and I need to pick up her shot records. The daycare owner told me they need a copy by next week, or Riley won’t be able to return until I provide one.”

  “I can stay late on Thursday if you want to shoot for then.”

  “Thanks, I’ll see if I can get an appointment in the afternoon.” Liam raked his fingers through his hair. “I wanted to stick around a bit, make sure she was okay. You know, strange place and all. None of the other kids cried or anything when they got dropped off. I figured that was a good sign.”

  “Yeah, probably means the staff’s not smacking them around too much after their parents leave.”

  “Bite me.” Liam scowled. “It’s her first time in daycare. It might take some getting used to.”

  “I’m sure it will—for you.” Burke slapped him on the back. “Relax, Liam, Riley will be fine. You know how much she loves being around other kids. I’ll bet she hasn’t thought of you once since you left.”

  Liam shrugged. He’d been torn about what to do after Mrs. Trent had told him she was moving to Florida to be closer to her daughter and grandchildren. She’d been Riley’s nanny since Sylvie’s death. He trusted her, Riley adored her, and since the woman had lived next door, the arrangement couldn’t have been more convenient.

  Becca, his brother Shawn’s wife, had convinced him it might be better for Riley if he enrolled her in a preschool program rather than hiring another nanny. She’d said Riley would enjoy having other kids to play with, and it would help her make the transition into kindergarten the following year, where most of the children would already be used to a more structured environment.

  Instead of being nervous or upset, his daughter had been excited about, in her words, getting to go to school like the big kids. Burke was probably right; the transition would be harder on him than his little girl.

  He knew he overthought things when it came to Riley, but she was the most important thing in his life. As a single dad, he wanted to make sure whatever decisions he made that impacted her were good ones. Yeah, he’d screw up from time to time, but hopefully not with the big stuff.

  Telling himself Riley would be fine, Liam turned his focus to the job. It didn’t take long to fall into the rhythm of the morning as familiar sounds surrounded him—the hum of the generator, saws buzzing, nail guns popping, and Daryl’s radio pumping out a steady stream of classic rock.

  The crew broke for lunch at noon. Liam sat down on the plywood subfloor, stretched out his legs, and took one of the ham sandwiches he’d made that morning out of the dented, green metal lunch pail that had seen him through every construction job since he and his two brothers had stepped into their father’s shoes and gone into business together.

  He leaned back against a framing stud and looked around as he ate, mentally envisioning how things would come together. He had to hand it to Antonio; it was one hell of a beautiful design. Aside from the annoyance of having to work with a certain someone he’d rather not ruin his lunch break thinking about, he was excited to have landed this job. The finished product would be something else and would look good in the company’s portfolio.

  Sun streamed down through the open rafters, forming geometrically balanced grid patterns over the plywood subfloor. Something glinted in the sun several feet from where he sat, drawing his attention. Liam angled his head, squinted, but couldn’t make it out. After finishing his sandwich, he poured some more coffee from the thermos, stood up, and walked over to see what had caught his eye.

  Frowning, he stooped down, picked it up, and turned it over in his palm.

  “That meddling little—”

  He should have known he wouldn’t be able to make it through a week without having a run-in with Caterina Bonavera. Talk about a control freak. She dropped by the site whenever it suited her fancy, poked her nose where it didn’t need to be poked, and questioned him why they were doing this or that, wasting his time with things she had no understanding of.

  She was a disruption he didn’t need, sashaying around in those ridiculously high heels she wore, distracting his crew, and darkening his mood.

  Liam rolled his jaw. He’d met her demand for a work outline every two weeks, even though he considered it unnecessary since he and Antonio gave her and Lucia status updates on a regular basis. That wasn’t good enough for the woman, though. And now, it appeared she’d taken to snooping around on her own after he and his crew left for the day—something they’d all agreed she and her sisters wouldn’t do at this point, for obvious safety reasons.

  He dropped the evidence into the pocket of his flannel shirt. Client be damned. Like it or not, this was one area where she’d have to do things his way.

  “Where are you going?” Burke asked when Liam stomped past him on the way to his truck a few minutes later.

  “I’ve got a bone to pick with a certain Bonavera sister.”

  “What did she do now that’s got you spittin’ nails?”

  Liam got into the truck and slammed the door, not bothering to respond. As he backed out, he looked in the rearview and saw his brother, standing with his hands on his hips, shaking his head.

  Burke and Shawn thought he needed to lighten up when it came to Caterina, but they weren’t the ones who had to put up with her interference or the unreasonable expectations on a weekly basis. They also didn’t know some of the things he did about the woman, things that didn’t speak well about her character.

  He couldn’t disagree with them that she was a knockout in the looks department. He’d be lying if he did. But strip the pretty wrapping, and you would expose another shallow, self-absorbed princess who thought she could do whatever she damn well pleased, and tough shit if someone else had to pay the price for it.

  “FINE! TELL HIM I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

  Caterina dropped her head backward and groaned. “Just what I need to set the tone for the rest of my day. Mr. Macho himself. Man of a million moods. None of them good.” She placed her index finger against her temple. “Ptshoo,” she said, mimicking a gun going off.

  She got up from the chair where she’d been flipping through a restaurant supply catalog and went into the bathroom to brush her hair before going down to reception where himself waited…expecting her, no doubt, to stop whatever, to rush down at his beck and call.

  “Humph.”

  She applied some lip gloss and a little mascara and then changed out of the black leggings and oversized, long-sleeve T-shirt she’d slept in, into a pair of dark chocolate skinny jeans and a white, blousy tunic.
She pulled on a pair of brown suede over-the-knee boots, then secured a wide leather belt low around her hips, so the tunic draped softly around it.

  She didn’t care if she looked good when he saw her. Changing clothes and putting on a bit of makeup had nothing to do with his unexpected arrival. She’d been planning to get dressed and run some errands when Lucia called up to tell her Liam was in reception. Now, she could just leave after he got off his chest whatever had his boxers in a bind.

  Liam showing up without a scheduled meeting forecast an unpleasant encounter. He never came to the winery to talk to her unless they had an appointment, or he had a problem with something. Since they didn’t have anything scheduled, then—

  Caterina rounded the corner into reception more than ten, but less than fifteen, minutes after Lucia’s call. A perfectly acceptable time frame, to Cat’s way of thinking, when someone dropped in without notice. She stopped just inside the wide doorway from the hall.

  Liam stood across the room, leaning against the antique mahogany break bar. He was flipping through one of the brochures from the spinner rack that they stocked for guests. He wore a gray and white plaid flannel shirt and a pair of well-worn jeans. His floppy, dark blond hair hung down across one side of his forehead. He looked reckless and a touch dangerous.

  Eliana thought he was gorgeous, in that raw, purely sexual way some women found attractive. Fortunately, her sister had decided after their first meeting that he wasn’t her type, and she was content to just ogle him covertly. A wise choice, Cat thought, to avoid a man like him—a man who expected you to accept whatever he said as gospel, got annoyed if you dared to question him about anything, and treated you like little more than an annoyance that had to be tolerated.

  She digressed. Mitch had done that, and it still stung when she thought about what a horrible judge of character she’d been. It probably wasn’t fair to attribute all her ex-boyfriend’s failings to Liam, but in some ways, he treated her as if she was just as unreasonable and bothersome as Mitch had.

  Liam’s behavior baffled her. She’d given him no reason to dislike her, at least not in the beginning, when they’d first met. After three months of his sneers and condescension, she’d given up trying to play nice. Why should she?

  She noticed he’d taken his boots off and left them by the front door, so as not to track dirt over the floor. Apparently, his mother had instilled some good manners.

  He had on thick, navy socks. The one on his right foot had a hole on the side of the big toe. Did he know?

  She looked up. He hadn’t noticed her come in, but now he had, and he stood watching her. His eyes traveled down the length of her body, skimmed back up, and settled on hers. Caterina swallowed, hiking her chin.

  Liam frowned. “I thought we had an agreement about you and your sisters not being at the work site when neither my crew nor I am there.”

  “Hello to you, too, Liam.” She walked over to the front desk, glancing down at her sister Lucia, who regarded her with a look of caution. Cat leaned her hip against the edge of the desk and gave Liam a false smile. “Can I take it from your tone that you’re not here to thank me for the chocolate chip cookies I dropped off for your crew last week?”

  Lucia—the proverbial peacemaker and soother in the family—cleared her throat in what Caterina took as a gentle warning. Cat didn’t like conflict either, but Liam had set the tone for their relationship.

  His green-changeling-blue eyes narrowed frostily. Cat tasted his dislike, raining over her from that sea-glass glare. She wished she could say it didn’t bother her—it did—but she was done trying to please men in the hope that they’d treat her better.

  Lucia stood up and came around the desk. “I haven’t had anything to eat yet. Since you’re here, I’m going to go grab something from the kitchen. I won’t be long.” She leaned close to Caterina’s ear and whispered, “Behave. And be nice.”

  “I’ll try,” Cat said.

  When they were alone, Liam put the brochure back in the spinner rack and crossed his arms over his chest. “You were at the construction site snooping around sometime this weekend after my crew and I left Friday.”

  “I’m not sure what you’re talking about. Did someone tell you they saw me snooping around the site?”

  “No one had to tell me anything. I know you were there.”

  “Really? What makes you so sure? Do you have some magical power that can pick up traces of a person’s presence?”

  He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled something out. “This look familiar?” He extended an open hand.

  The diamond stud earring she thought she’d lost winked at her from his palm. Cat strolled over and plucked it up. “I wondered what happened to this.”

  “So you admit it’s yours.”

  “It’s mine, but it doesn’t prove anything. Maybe I lost it when I dropped by Thursday afternoon with the cookies.” She put the stud in her ear, making a mental note to go back upstairs for the other one before she went out, and returned to stand by the desk, putting some desired distance between them again. “You weren’t there. Daryl said you had to run an errand. I might have lost it then.”

  “We didn’t put the subfloor down until Friday morning. And I swept it clean before I left for the day, like always. That little rock you just stuck in your ear wasn’t there then.”

  Cat realized he had her. She rolled her eyes. “Okay, so I stopped by Friday night to look at the progress. I don’t know what the big deal is. It’s not like I sabotaged anything.”

  “The big deal is that it’s an active work zone. And aside from there being OSHA standards I’ve got to try to comply with, as I’ve explained before, it’s not safe for you to be poking around on your own. What if you’d gotten hurt?”

  “I didn’t,” she countered and saw the muscle in his jaw twitch.

  “You could have. I don’t want to get slapped with a lawsuit because my client’s too—” He snapped his mouth shut, jerking his glance away.

  Cat stiffened. “Too what? Foolish?”

  “You said it, not me.”

  “It’s what you were thinking, though. I’m not a fool. I don’t consider wanting to stay on top of what you and your crew are doing foolish. I think it’s smart. Maybe you’re used to getting carte blanche from your other clients, but that’s not how I operate. I want to know what’s happening, and I think I have a right, since I’m paying the bill. Don’t you?”

  His expression hardened, and she wouldn’t have been surprised to hear a low growl. In his current mood, he looked almost feral. Angry much?

  Well, too bad, she didn’t like being called foolish. Maybe he hadn’t said the word, but it had been on the tip of his tongue.

  Liam started toward her, his eyes boring into hers. If they were swords, she’d be bleeding all over her beautiful white tunic. He stopped less than a foot in front of her.

  Cat tensed. He was big, strong. He could probably hurt her with minimal effort.

  Maybe she should move around to the other side of the desk, put a barrier between them. Her feet remained rooted where she stood.

  Liam reached up, cupping her jaw. Caterina felt a moment of fear, but surprisingly, his touch remained light. His fingers didn’t grip. She could easily bat his hand away if she chose. His eyes locked on hers. She held her breath, trapped between indecision and fascination. The wiser woman in her head urged her to retreat, to step away, but Cat ignored her, giving in to the curious one intrigued about what would happen next.

  “You’re right; you’re signing the checks. You have every right to see what you’re paying for.” He spoke softly, but she sensed a hardness just below the surface of his words. “You want to check out the site? Ask. We had an agreement. I told you and your sister that anytime you wanted to tour the site, I’d arrange for myself or one of the crew to show you. I’ve held up my end. I expect you to do the same. It’s called trust, Caterina. I hope I can count on you to honor it going forward.”

  He dropped hi
s hand and stepped back. Before she could respond, he turned and walked to the door.

  Caterina shivered. What had just happened?

  She felt stunned, like he’d immobilized her with the simple touch of a hand. And what he said made her feel guilty, but why should she? It was her project. She had a right to expect certain things. She had a right to know what they were doing. She had a right to inspect the site and…and he’d given her that, hadn’t he?

  She wrapped her arms around her waist. She felt unsteady and unbalanced as she watched him tug on his boots. When he finished, he straightened back up and faced the door.

  “What did I ever do to make you dislike me so much?” Caterina asked, putting forth the question she’d asked herself so many times in her head.

  Liam glanced back at her. He reached up, rubbed the back of his neck, and then walked out without answering.

  CHRIST! WHAT THE hell had he been trying to prove in there? Getting in her face like that—her space—and putting his hands on her. He should have known better. Should have known, when his fingers started to twitch, that he’d entered dangerous waters.

  Liam got into his truck and stared out across the vineyard. He rubbed his hands over his mouth, blew into them, pushed them up through his hair, and held them there a few moments before slamming them down against the top of the steering wheel.

  “You idiot!”

  He smacked the wheel again.

  He could’ve just gone in there, returned her earring, and explained to her, again, that it wasn’t safe for her to poke around an active work site by herself. That there were laws about that kind of thing, and he had an obligation to adhere to them. He could have told her, again, that he would give her, and any of her sisters, a walk-through if they requested one. They need only ask. He could have done it without turning it into a confrontation, without baiting her.

  He could have done it without giving in to the temptation that had lured him to touch her.

  He hadn’t been prepared for the surge of lust. If he had been, he’d have been better able to resist the urge. It caught him off guard—a sucker punch.