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“That’s what your father told me,” she said, leading him to the couch, where she sat across from him in the one uncovered chair. They were really close, their knees inches apart. “But he also told me that he would make sure to amend the contract before the renovation crew made their final decisions about plumbing and the electrical system.”
She tugged her skirt down, then met Tony’s gaze again. “Before you ask,” she said, “I’ll still want the rooms to be larger. One thing I disliked about living in Europe were all the tiny spaces. I’m five foot nine, and I felt like Alice after she swallowed the growing potion.”
Tony grinned, glad to see she had her sense of humor back. He’d been right, then. She was concerned about the cost—and of course, the contract amendment—but there was nothing he could do but give her an honest appraisal. She’d probably been screwed before and was wary. He couldn’t blame her.
He checked his watch again, careful to leave himself enough time to shower before he saw Rita, but there was still time to banish Catherine’s worries. “There’s no reason for you not to have all the space you want. Most of the remodeling we do on these old houses is combining rooms. It seems everyone wants open-concept floor plans these days, so we’ve gotten pretty creative about them. It’s a nice surprise to have someone who wants to preserve the history of the building. I actually have someone in mind who’ll be a very good fit for the restoration.”
“So you won’t be doing the work?”
“Not personally, no. Not now that I’ve taken over the office. But I’ve worked hands-on with all my crews, and they don’t last unless they’re the best.”
“Taken over? What about your father?”
Tony hadn’t wanted to say, but he supposed there was no secret as to what had happened. He just didn’t want her to think he was second best. “Dad’s had some health issues. His doctor advised him to step away from work. Some guys have all the luck, huh?”
His attempt to lighten the mood had fallen flat. Her lips were parted, but she didn’t rush to speak. And again, he watched this chameleon of a woman change before his eyes. The unmistakable look of sympathy made her brow crease, her deep blue eyes darken. “I’m so sorry.”
“He’s fine. Really. It’ll take him a while to adjust, but he’s gonna be around for a long time. And he’ll still make sure we don’t do anything he wouldn’t approve of.”
Catherine leaned forward just enough that he could see a few millimeters of her creamy skin where her blouse showed off her long neck. “Please don’t think I was questioning your ability.”
He cleared his throat, which gave him just enough time to remember the thread of their conversation. “Nope. It never crossed my mind. The business has been in the family for generations, and we’ve made it this long on referrals.”
“I swear I’m not making up this restoration amendment.”
“Catherine.” Leaning toward her, Tony nearly reached for her hand before he caught himself. “Ms. Fox—”
“Catherine is fine,” she said, with an unexpectedly shy smile.
He nodded. “I didn’t believe for a single second that you were lying.” What had thrown him was that he’d almost made the mistake of touching her. “I meant what I said about your budget. You’ll be in charge all the way. Well, the state and the city have a lot of sway here, so they’ll win most of those battles.”
She nodded, looked past his shoulder, then closed her eyes for a moment.
Catherine was an attractive woman. If he had to guess, he’d say she was in her late twenties. But that was based on her confidence and the way she carried herself. There was something about her face that made her look younger and, while not innocent, exactly, protected. That was why he’d almost screwed up. If he’d touched her she might have fired him on the spot and no one would have blamed her, least of all him. She was a client, for God’s sake.
Shit. He’d never done anything like that before. It wasn’t like him.
He needed to stop staring. It didn’t help that her clothes affected him almost as much as her face. But...a black skirt that skimmed her thighs down to her kneecaps. A starched white blouse. How was that so hot? And yet...
She looked at him again, and when her fingers brushed her blond hair back, leaving trails in their wake, he was mesmerized.
The coffee gave one last loud gurgle, and she stood up so quickly he jerked back and jarred the whole couch. He took the opportunity to take a few heartening breaths before he followed her. Whatever the hell was going on with him was nuts. He didn’t know her. She wasn’t the kind of woman he typically went for.
Not that he was looking to go for any woman at the moment. Except for Rita. Safe, fun, comfortable Rita. That was who he should be thinking about. So, Catherine Fox? Transference. That was all this was. After tonight things would go back to normal.
Before he reached the kitchen, he checked his phone. He always turned it to Vibrate when he was with a client. So far, no messages, which was a good sign.
Joining Catherine at the counter, he bumped her shoulder as she turned, and she dropped a teaspoon.
“Sorry,” he said, and bent to pick it up, but so did she and they almost collided.
“Oh.”
He heard her breath stutter, a little gasp right in his ear. Instead of picking up the spoon, he steadied Catherine, his hand on her shoulder. The exact wrong move he’d just lectured himself about.
Her eyes widened and she made a sound. It was a blend of a squeal and a whimper, setting off a chain reaction that went all the way down his body.
He lowered his hand and they both straightened. He caught a glimpse of pink-splashed cheeks before she turned away. He stepped back, stealing a second to adjust himself and will his dick to knock it off.
“Cream? Sugar?” Her voice was completely controlled. Not what he’d expected.
“Uh...”
“I’ve also got honey, but that’s more for tea.”
Okay, so she wasn’t quite as unruffled as she’d sounded. Coffee, though. Something to do with his mouth instead of sticking his foot in it. “Black is fine, thanks.”
She got a new spoon, poured and added a packet of raw sugar to her cup. No more pink on her cheeks. Just silky smooth skin, pale and perfect.
“I’m used to living in major cities,” she said, and he tried to remember the last thing they’d discussed, but came up blank.
“My last apartment was in London and that was ridiculously expensive. Worth it, though. I loved living there. I almost kept it, but that didn’t seem very practical. I think New York is a better fit. There’s a rhythm to the city that revs me up. I like the bustle and the sounds. The smells could be improved, but all in all, I’m glad I moved.”
Europe, London, New York? He wondered what she did for a living. Something glamorous, he imagined. Definitely high up the social ladder.
They were back at the couch again, and her calm speech had relaxed him enough to gather his wits. “Listen, I have some time before my next appointment. Why don’t you tell me more about what you’re looking for in your overall plan?”
“Oh.” She put her cup down on the end table next to her chair. “Please. Take a seat,” she said, nodding at the couch. “I’ve collected some pictures.”
“Ah, good.”
“You don’t mind?”
“Nope, the more I learn about what you like, the easier it will be to make your wishes come true.”
She gave him a smile that made him grin back, and then she was gone. She returned quickly, holding a thick binder.
He’d moved over so she could sit beside him on the couch. Before she joined him, she twirled around before she found her coffee cup on the small table by the single chair.
“Don’t worry,” she said, “you don’t have to look at everything. I’ll just give you an idea of what I like, so that we don’t have to go into a lot of detail until we catalog what I’ve got. Does that sound all right?”
“Excellent.” Crazy, but that twirl of hers had thrown him off. He wasn’t worried about her design book, just making a fool of himself. “I’m all yours.”
She flipped open the cover of the binder. He immediately saw a slew of colored tabs labeled with black markers. At first, it wasn’t easy to pay attention to the pictures, or the conversation, when all he really wanted was to watch her expressive face. Inhale her exotic scent. But her enthusiasm won in the end.
Her taste was eclectic—there were styles from Shaker to Asian, although he could see her heart belonged to art deco. But as she described the rooms, he could see how the styles would fit together into something uniquely hers.
There was a whole section on Little Italy alone, and while she refilled their coffee cups for the second time he looked at the pictures of the different buildings he’d either visited, studied or worked on. So much had changed in the last sixteen years. He knew that the changes had begun a long time before that, but ever since he’d started at NYU, he’d really paid attention.
Just like the rest of the city, Little Italy real estate had been hit with skyrocketing prices. Most of the people his folks had grown up with had moved to Queens, New Jersey or somewhere warm.
With each turn of the page his old appreciation for the history of his neck of the woods was reawakened. It could be an amazing place, if one landed on the right street, in the right building.
“What drew you here?” he asked. “I mean to this neighborhood. This house?”
Catherine absently ran her hand over a picture of a white bedroom suite. “I was familiar with the building. And I know how rare it is to find any single family homes here.”
“You already have a buyer in mind?”
Her eyebrows drew down. “A buyer? No. This is my house. I want to live the rest of my life right here.”
She wasn’t flipping the place? She’d make a lot of money, especially once it was remodeled. Unfortunately, she hadn’t moved into the right building at all. Not with those two neighbors on either side of her. He loved the neighborhood for the most part, but it was a tight community. It would be different if she’d settled on the fringes. As it was, the old ladies who’d kept their single family homes for generations would never make her feel welcome.
“Tony? Is there something wrong?”
He relaxed his shoulders and his attitude. “No. I’m just used to people making the old tenement buildings into either commercial properties or multiple dwellings. The prices just keep going up, so there’s a lot of flipping, especially now that the old Little Italy is becoming an extension of Nolita on one end and Chinatown on the other. From what you’ve told me, you’d make a killing after the restoration and renovation. So I assumed.”
“No. This is the house for me. I only lived in London for a year, and I knew it wasn’t permanent. I’ve never really had a home of my own. Can’t imagine a more wonderful place to start. It’s why I’m being so picky about everything. I’m only sorry I haven’t met any of my neighbors, or even had the chance to truly explore what’s around me. But I’ve got time. Assuming the renovation doesn’t do me in.”
He smiled, but the mood that had carried them away while looking at her dream book turned sour in his gut. She might love this house, make it into a showplace of what could be done to combine the new sensibilities with the old craftsmanship. But damn, she was facing an uphill battle.
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 still 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.”