Tempted in the City (10 page)

“Dom,” Tony said. “Or Dominic.”

The smile dimmed, and Tony wished Luca had been there to witness it.

“And this way is the kitchen,” he said, mentally crossing his fingers that this whole thing wasn't the worst idea he'd ever had. His mother turned as they stood at the arched entrance. Her smile looked genuine, but her eyes were working overtime. He wasn't sure how she did it, but she could give a head-to-toe once-over to anyone at all without them having a clue.

“Catherine Fox, this is my mother, Theresa.”

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Paladino. The moment I walked into your house I nearly swooned from all the delicious smells.” Catherine walked over and held out the bouquet of roses—pink, white and yellow, a traditional favorite for happy occasions in Italy. “I wasn't sure what to bring, but I've always loved roses, and I hope you like them, too.”

The smile that had looked genuine became genuine as his mother accepted the bouquet. Without turning at all, she said, “Tony, bring out the big vase.”

He hesitated for only a second, but there was enough goodwill so far that he felt comfortable going down to the cellar and leaving Catherine on her own.

10

C
ATHERINE
WAS
A
little worried about Tony's disappearance, but she tried not to let it show. Theresa was a fascinating woman. If Catherine wasn't a trained professional, she'd never have noticed Tony's mother checking out every inch of her. She'd thought long and hard about what to wear, and decided that a retro dress from the 1950s would be just the thing. Now that she'd seen the house—a throwback to a different era, with a velvet couch, flocked damask wallpaper and family photos on practically every surface available—she knew she'd chosen well.

“So, tell me, Ms. Fox, who recommended my husband's company to remodel your new home?”

“Practically everyone,” she said. “And please, Catherine is fine.”

“Okay, good. Everyone, huh?”

“I don't know if you knew the Calabrese family, but when I bought the place from them, they swore by Paladino & Sons.”

“I knew them,” she said, just as Tony arrived with a gigantic vase. “Do me a favor, Catherine. Stir the sauce while I put the flowers in water.”

Catherine obeyed, of course, and stirred the rich ragout while Theresa fussed with the roses and told Tony to get another apron from the drawer.

He brought back what looked like a handmade red checkerboard apron that would cover her well. At first Catherine thought Tony was going to put the apron on her, but at the last second he realized his mistake and handed it to her.

“Joseph never told me how you knew the Calabrese family. I didn't think the house was even on the market.”

“Belaflore, William and Carlotta's grandmother, was my nanny from the time I was six. She became my de facto grandmother and dear friend until she passed two years ago.”

“I remember her name, but I only knew her children.”

The tone, just shy of outright disapproval, gave Catherine every bit of information she needed.

“They wanted to move to Queens or New Jersey or something, but the father said no because they lived above their store.” Theresa dried her hands with a lime-green towel while eyeing Catherine. “Are you keeping a store?”

“No, I'm not. At least I don't think so. Although I have to decide very soon or Sal's going to walk out on me and leave all his equipment behind.”

“Sal's a good boy, but he gets impatient. He wants everything up front, like his mother. Which is good because if he took after his father, he'd be drunk half the time, and the other half an idiot.”

“Ma,” Tony said, “I've already warned Catherine about the rampant gossip around here. You're just proving my point.”

“She's going to be a neighbor, right? So why shouldn't she know something about the people she's going to live with?”

Tony sighed. “I'll put the flowers in the dining room and take Catherine out to see Pop and Luca.”

Catherine wasn't going to argue, but after she handed over the spoon, she said, “Whatever I can do to help, just let me know. My kitchen is all torn apart so I've been living off takeout. I can't thank you enough for inviting me to dinner. It's very kind of you.”

“You're a client. And a neighbor.” Theresa waved a hand. “Of course, you're welcome anytime.”

Tony herded her out of the kitchen, dropped the roses off in a very large dining room and then led her to another door in the enormous house. She'd thought the front of the place had looked like every other brownstone in the older area, but now she was beginning to see that it was a single-family home, a lot like hers, in fact, but bigger. “This is all one unit?”

“Yep. Been in the family since my great-great-grandfather came over to work in America. He lived in a tenement for several years, but worked his way up to foreman in a construction company. He scrimped and saved and put every penny he could into real estate. The tradition has carried on.”

“Which explains your place,” she said, her voice low, so she wouldn't blow the facade. It was quite uncomfortable, not being free to touch him. To kiss him. And she gathered, by the way he yanked her into a bathroom, he felt the same.

He shut the door and then pulled her straight into a desperate kiss. She melted against him, the feel of his body soothing her nerves, although it didn't help her in the wanting-him department.

“Now I know why this wasn't a great idea,” he whispered right before he kissed the line of her jaw, all the way up to the base of her ear.

“They say absence makes the heart grow fonder,” she said, running her hands down his back.

“It also makes me harder, which isn't a good thing.” He gave her one last kiss before stepping back. “Okay, we can't do this. Not here. Just dinner. Just a client. Nothing else.”

“Except for the gossip.”

“I warned you.”

“It's okay. I'm glad I'm here, even though I'm frustrated, as well. How about tomorrow night we deal with this situation? Can you come to my place?”

“Just tell me when.”

She had to kiss him one more time before they rejoined his family. “Let's go back. I'm looking forward to seeing your father again. And dinner. It really does smell amazing.”

The kiss had ended too quickly, but it took him a minute to get his pants to lie straight. Then they went out onto a back patio that overlooked a small but lovely garden. There was Joe, the first Paladino she'd met. He opened his arms to her and gave her a hug.

“You look great,” she said.

“That's supposed to be my line.”

“I'm just glad you're feeling well. For what it's worth, your son Tony is doing a great job. I imagine almost as good as if you'd stayed with the project.”

“For that, you can eat my dessert that I'm not allowed to have.”

“Deal,” she said rather quickly, and laughed along with Tony and his brother.

She shook Luca's hand and made a fuss over the steak, which was very familiar to her, even though she made sure not to let it show. They talked about the pleasant weather they'd been having, then Joe steered the conversation to the progress of her renovation, but the topic of business was swiftly shut down by his two sons. Soon it was time for dinner.

As they were seated, the true scope of the banquet became clear. “Are you planning on a second round of guests after we finish?” Catherine asked.

Everyone at the table, with the exception of Nonna, who looked as if she'd fit in on any side street in Tuscany, laughed.

“This,” Tony said, “is all for us.”

“You're a tiny thing,” Theresa said, bringing out yet another dish.

“Don't let that fool you,” Catherine said, earning her a smile of approval.

“Oh, great,” Dom said. “I'm depending on a lot of leftovers.”

“Is that a nice thing to say to our guest?” Theresa gave him the evil eye across the table.

“I love you, Ma,” Dom volleyed, with a dazzling grin that made Catherine chuckle.

Joe rolled his eyes. Tony and Luca shook their heads.

Nonna just kept staring at Catherine. She tried her best to ignore the older woman's frown of suspicion, as if she was waiting for Catherine to stuff all the family silver into her purse.

* * *

C
ATHERINE
WAS
NOT
only enjoying the food, she loved listening to the Paladinos talk, and watching the family dynamic. Theresa gave her the lowdown on where to shop for groceries, bread and wine near her home, and while she listened, she couldn't help but keep glancing at the three brothers.

All of them were very good-looking with their dark hair and eyes, but there were definitely differences among them. Luca wore his hair longer, pushed back. His eyes were large, and his aquiline nose gave him a great profile that made him look slightly bookish.

Dom could have stepped straight out of an Abercrombie & Fitch catalog. He had perfectly symmetrical features and a contagious smile. Of course, Tony's face was her favorite. Not to mention the rest of him. He took after his father in the eyebrow department, which she loved, and had a strong chin, a classic profile.

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?

* * *

T
ONY
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.”