TALL, DARK AND DAMN

Meet Little Italy’s best-kept—and hottest—secret: bachelor Tony Paladino

Little Italy is a part of Tony Paladino. The noise, the food, the people—it’s in his blood. Now he’s taken over the family contracting business, trying to keep the community as vibrant and beautiful as it used to be. But the bitch about small communities is everyone knows everyone...

Which is why newcomer Catherine Fox is pretty much screwed. There isn’t enough cannoli in the world to convince the old-school neighbors to accept an outsider. As Tony helps Cat restore the old home she bought, however, the chemistry between them is sizzlin’ hot. And suddenly this sexy bachelor—who’s oh-so-good with his hands—is not about to say Ciao!

“I wasn’t finished...”

“With what?” Catherine asked, all innocence, his hungry look and low raspy voice exciting her.

“Kissing you,” Tony said, pulling her close. The way he took her mouth, possessive and demanding, accelerated more than her heartbeat.

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.”

Dear Reader,

I’m back writing about my favorite city in the world—New York! In this gently reimagined tale of Little Italy, five generations of the Paladino family have lived in their house on Mulberry Street since 1910. Now, they’ve got a thriving construction firm where three hot brothers, Tony, Luca and Dominic, work, live and love in the shrinking, old-fashioned world of close Italian families who seem to specialize in gossip.

In Tempted in the City, Tony Paladino meets a woman who is most definitely not one of their own. Catherine Fox works as a translator at the United Nations. After growing up in Europe, the daughter of diplomats, she’s finally found the home she’s always dreamed of in the heart of Little Italy.

Unfortunately, the Old Guard—a bunch of nosy neighbors who should know better—objects to this stranger remodeling one of the few single-family homes in the neighborhood.

Tony, on the other hand, loves everything about Cat. From the moment she hires his family to do the remodel, the two of them click in every way...especially in the bedroom.

It’s supposed to be just a fling—until they finish the house. But life doesn’t always follow a blueprint.

I hope you all fall in love with the Brothers Paladino in the hot NYC Bachelors series! I certainly have.

Ciao,

Jo Leigh

Tempted in the City

Jo Leigh

www.millsandboon.co.uk

JO LEIGH is from Los Angeles and always thought she’d end up living in Manhattan. So how did she end up in Utah in a tiny town with a terrible internet connection, being bossed around by a houseful of rescued cats and dogs? What the heck, she says, predictability is boring. Jo has written more than forty-five novels for Harlequin. Visit her website at joleigh.com or contact her at joleigh@joleigh.com.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Extract

Copyright

1

“WHERE THE HELL have you been?”

Tony Paladino stopped in his tracks as Gina, his cousin and the office manager at Paladino & Sons, came at him waving a wad of pink message slips. He held his hand up to stop her as he checked the text on his cell phone.

Sure enough, Rita wanted to meet later, after work. She was in town only for tonight, and he wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of seeing her. He hadn’t had sex in too damn long, and Rita was just the ticket. Uncomplicated, didn’t even live in New York, and she wanted nothing from him but some hot action with a wave goodbye after. Perfect.

He answered her text in very few words, and the moment he hit Send, Gina pounced.

“You were supposed to be here two hours ago. Alex, the plumber on the Ortega job, says the whole system needs replacing from the ground up, and that was not in his budget, so he wants his money up front.

“Also, Sal is going crazy at Catherine Fox’s house. He says she’s insane and if you don’t call him back right away, he’s going to pack it up and go home.”

“Well, that’s just great.” Tony shook his head. The hits just kept on coming.

“I’m not finished,” Gina said. “The mayor’s assistant is trying to get hold of your father to ask him to dinner as thanks for the remodel of his offices. And Leo’s truck broke down in Park Slope so he hasn’t gotten to the Walkers’ brownstone yet. There’s a bunch more, but those are the calls you need to get to right away.”

“Sounds about right after the morning I’ve had. Thanks, Gina.”

She put a hand on her hip and gave him the stink eye.

“Hey, I told you I had to go to Aunt Miriam’s house.”

“You were there this whole time?”

“She made me physically verify every item on her final punch list while the project manager drank coffee and ate biscotti, because suddenly I’m the only one she trusts.”

“Oh. Well, it wouldn’t have killed you to text me back.”

“I forgot to turn my cell phone back on. But you’re right. I’ll try not to do that again. I tell you, Miriam is—”

“A lunatic with too much time on her hands.” Gina gave him one of her best “all is forgiven” smiles when she handed him the messages. “I thought maybe you weren’t so anxious to get here. This being the first day and all.”

“Nah, why delay the inevitable?” he said, shrugging, though anxiety had tightened his chest a few times.

“Congratulations, Tony. You’re going to do your father proud taking over the company. I left some files on his desk but that’s it. I didn’t touch anything. I figured you’d want to fix things up yourself.”

“I don’t think that office will ever feel like anything but Dad’s. I’ll do my best and we’ll take it one day at a time. And by the way, let’s stop with the pink slips, huh? We can do all of this on our tablets.”

“Thank God,” she said. “Chasing down you and your brothers is like herding cats. This way, I won’t get blamed when the three of you screw up.”

“Gee thanks,” Tony said, slowly making his way past the reception area. “But I’m pretty sure we’ll find a way to blame you, anyway.”

Gina laughed. It made her look younger, prettier, although that might have been the result of her new hairstyle. It used to be dark and big, and now it was lighter and smaller. He liked it.

“Do me a favor? Call Leo. Make sure he’s got his truck taken care of and see if Dom can get over to the Walker’s place?”

She nodded, already dialing her cell phone.

Once in his office, Tony sat down in his father’s black leather chair behind the massive oak desk and looked around the room. Everything about it reminded him that he had large shoes to fill. Joe had run Paladino & Sons Construction and Renovation for so many years the office still held a hint of the Aqua Net hair spray he swore he didn’t use.

As the eldest son, Tony had been with the company since he’d graduated from NYU back in 2004. Unofficially, he’d been with the company since the minute he could walk. It wasn’t the work that felt daunting. What scared him was being in charge of the Paladino legacy. Their name meant something. You wanted a job done right, on time and on budget, you called the Paladinos. They kept their word. They also kept the heart of New York’s Little Italy intact in more ways than anyone who wasn’t immediate family knew.

They’d looked out for the people in the nine blocks on the Lower East Side. Had done so since 1912, when the first Paladino had come over from Sicily.

At least—thank God—his father was still with them after last week’s scare. Joe’s second heart attack had been a near miss. But even with strict orders from his doctor to retire, Joe would probably sneak into the office from time to time. Not that Tony would blame him. Construction ran in the Paladinos’ blood.

He called Sal, an old friend and one of their best project managers. He’d handled a lot of difficult clients in the past, so what was making him nuts about the Fox project?

“About time you called,” Sal said after one ring. “Your client is insane.”

“Why?”

“Okay, so she says we’re supposed to avoid damaging anything that might be original to the house. Art deco, she says, that was the agreement. She wants it all restored, from tile work to crown moldings. First of all, there’s nothing like that in the contract. Second, how are we supposed to know what the hell is original in this place? It was built in 1902. Look, Tony, I’m sorry to put this on you on your first day as boss, man, but you know the schedule we’re running here, and there’s a list of jobs a mile long waiting for me. So what do you want me to do?”

Tony opened his eyes. He hadn’t even realized he’d been cringing. The Fox contract had been one of the last his father had done. He’d started making mistakes a couple months before that, and while Tony had caught most of them, he hadn’t paid much attention to the Fox job because he trusted Sal. But this was a big project, a complete remodel from foundation to roof, and not something he could fix over the phone.

“Look, just keep working in the areas that aren’t in question. I’ll contact Catherine Fox and find out what she’s talking about and get back to you, okay?”

“Okay. But, Tony, this needs to be settled by tomorrow. I have another job right in back of this one, and we’re supposed to be taking down walls as soon as we get the nod from the inspectors.”

“I know. I’ll handle it.”

“Yeah. And, Tony. I’m sorry about your dad.”

“Thanks, Sal. He’ll be okay.” When Tony hung up, Gina stood at the edge of his door. “What about the whiteboard?”

The huge board was in the main office. It listed every job, its current stage and who was in charge of the operation. Joe hadn’t been big on tech. He’d done things the way his father and grandfather had. Those methods had taken them through a lot of rocky financial years, kept them, their relatives, employees and all the regular subcontractors working when a lot of other companies had gone belly-up. Tony wasn’t going to make too many changes at once.

“Why don’t we leave it for now.”

“So your dad will feel better when he sneaks back to visit?” Gina said, her fondness not hidden by the teasing words.

“Actually, yeah.”

“Good thinking,” she said.

“Hey, were my brothers here?”

Gina nodded.

“See if you can reschedule our meeting for tomorrow.”

“Already done. Luca will be here for sure. Dom hasn’t texted me back, but he’ll make time. They were disappointed you weren’t here, so they couldn’t make a fuss out of you moving over to your dad’s office. Dom brought doughnuts.”

“Don’t tell me he actually paid for them.”

Gina laughed. “He got them from that silly Carveccio girl.”

“Of course he did,” Tony said, more to himself than Gina. He looked down at the other pink slips on the desk. The top message was from Angie, his ex-wife. He could put that off, but not for long. Better to get the last of the financial settlement over with, even if things would be tight until they got more caught up with their receivables. The Paladinos had always adjusted the family salaries to make their payments, and never thought of touching the money in the trust. Tony wasn’t going to change that now.

The remaining five messages, everything from job snafus to a request for a radio interview, didn’t need his attention today. He still had to call Alex, but first he had to get in touch with Catherine Fox and make sure they met ASAP. He had one chance to see Rita tonight, and he wasn’t going to miss it.

* * *

“LITTLE ITALY, PLEASE, Grand and Lafayette.” Catherine settled in the backseat of the yellow cab, reminding herself she had no control over the heavy New York traffic. To go from the United Nations building to her new home was exactly 5.3 miles, but it took at least twenty-five minutes to get there. If she was lucky.

She wasn’t lucky today.

The whole construction debacle had come as a shock. Not just that the project manager had acted as if he knew nothing about her revised restoration plans, but that she’d accepted a verbal agreement in the first place.

It had been completely out of character, but there’d been something about Joseph Paladino that she’d trusted immediately. At the same time, she wasn’t naive enough to think she didn’t need the amendment in writing. This home meant everything to her. What had she been thinking?

God, she could just scream.

Now, instead of hashing things out with Joseph, she had to deal with his son. Everything about it smelled rotten. This major snafu had caused her to be late returning from lunch, which meant she’d need to go back to work later. Worse than that, it felt like a bait and switch, which she was going to nip right in the bud. Despite all the recommendations and exceptional reviews of Paladino & Sons, they were not going to play her for a fool.

There were other contractors, though she really hoped this was a mix-up and she hadn’t been taken in by the very sincere-seeming Paladino, Sr. She of all people should be able to spot a con artist. Her job was dependent on her ability to read nuance and body language. But just in case, she’d already started to compile a list of alternatives.

They turned on Grand and she spotted Tony Paladino right away. Tall, dark haired and trim, he carried a black satchel and wore dark jeans and a white oxford shirt with no tie.

After paying the cabbie, she straightened her skirt as she approached where Tony stood facing her front door. The outside of the three-story town house was redbrick and beautiful, although there was definitely work to be done on her front stoop. Whether it would be done by this guy’s company remained to be seen.

He turned upon hearing her heels on the uneven sidewalk. “Hello,” he said, holding out his hand. “Tony Paladino.”

She met his chestnut-brown eyes and her heart started beating harder. “Catherine Fox,” she said, noting the strength of his handshake. “I must admit, I’m disappointed that your father couldn’t be here.”

“He would have been if he’d been able, I assure you.”

She took out her key and slid it into the lock. It gave her the moment she needed to think about something other than the fact that Tony was an unexpectedly good-looking man. Catherine turned the key just as a distasteful thought occurred to her. This might be exactly what she’d feared. Was Mr. Charm here supposed to distract her long enough for them to renege and have her sign off?

The hell with that. They would finish the job, all right. Exactly to her specifications. Just as Joseph Paladino had promised.

A moment later they were inside. The ground floor was where most of the building supplies were spread out, so they had to make their way past scaffolds, tarps and exposed pipes. The focus so far had been on the foundation, electrical and plumbing, basic work about which she wasn’t concerned. She led Tony up to the small suite she’d made her home base. It took up only a quarter of the second floor—which would eventually become her master suite and one guest room—but it was large enough for now.

Even though the work was loud and messy during the week, she hadn’t been around for most of it, leaving her to get used to the old place on the nights and weekends. She had a makeshift bedroom, bathroom, kitchen and small sitting area where she could watch television.

She put her purse on the table by the entrance, reminding herself to keep her cool. Smile. Act as if nothing was wrong—at least nothing that a polite conversation couldn’t fix. Drawing in a deep breath, she turned to him. “I have wine, coffee and tea. What can I get you?”

He truly was handsome. Not flashy, not a pretty boy. No, his looks leaned more toward the rugged side. But it was clear he was one of those guys who’d be as comfortable wearing a tux as he was wearing a tool belt. It didn’t hurt that she found his thick eyebrows over his striking eyes very sexy. Her gaze kept floating back down to his lips, though. They were both masculine and lush. A wonderful combination. And now, they were moving.

“If it’s no trouble, coffee would be great.”

She turned away quickly, not sure if she’d been caught staring. “No trouble at all. Have you been here before?”

“No, I’ve been working on a job for the mayor.”

“Ah.” She smiled at the way he’d worked in that little tidbit. Was she supposed to be impressed? She worked with heads of nations on a regular basis. He’d have to try harder.

“But I think you’ve met my brothers.” Tony had followed her to the kitchen, which consisted of a hot plate, small fridge, microwave, coffeemaker and sink. The area was a bit tight and she hadn’t expected him to move in this close. Just near enough to make her pulse quicken.

Which simply wouldn’t do.

“Yes, of course, Luca and...” She drew a blank. “Forgive me. I don’t remember your other brother’s name...”

“Dom,” Tony said, lips twitching.

“Ah, right.” She couldn’t imagine what he found so amusing. “Dom,” she said. “But it was your father with whom I had discussed the changes to my original contract.”

Something flickered and died in Tony Paladino’s eyes before she had a chance to interpret it, which was odd, because she could read most people in seconds.

“I understand,” he said slowly, with a fair dollop of condescension.

That had to stop, as well.

“Look, I know my father is the best in the business, but he trained me from the time I could hold a wrench. I’m not just taking over the work, but our commitment to excellence. If there was a misunderstanding we’ll fix it.”

Giving him a once-over she wasn’t shy about, Catherine couldn’t decide if she believed him or if she wanted to believe him. The company did have a good reputation. And while she didn’t think they meant to scam her, they were most likely booked up to their eyeballs and couldn’t afford the extra time for the restoration. Tearing down something and then slapping something else back up was quicker, easier and cheaper.

She opened up the coffee canister and started scooping the grounds into the pot. But her thoughts went straight back to Tony.

She guessed him to be in his early thirties, and his looks made it hard to believe he was all work and no play, but he was here and so far hadn’t made any slippery moves. If she didn’t count that sexy mouth of his. Well, it wasn’t as if he’d picked it out of a catalog.

“From what I understand, you and my father talked about restoring as much of the original building as possible?”

That he’d cut straight to the heart of the matter startled her. She nodded, and almost lost count of the scoops. “Yes. The last time we spoke, I explained my wishes explicitly. He said he’d type up the notes and add them to the original contract, and that he’d find the right person to supervise the project. I’ve fallen hopelessly in love with the art deco and art nouveau of the 1930s, and I know there are remnants all over the building.

“Your father pointed out the dumbwaiter, fireplaces, crown molding, old tile patterns, the staircase and some of the door arches. And that was just a cursory look. I’ve seen wall plates and drawer pulls that I want to keep.” She dumped in the last of the grounds and glanced back at him. “Don’t get me wrong, I do want modern conveniences, of course, but if we could bring back the glamour of the bronze and silver accoutrements,” she said, using the French pronunciation of one of her favorite words, “I’d be thrilled.”

Tony looked around the room for a moment, then settled his gaze on her. He didn’t speak, though, and it was becoming a little awkward, but she made it a point not to turn away first.

“All right,” he said, finally, with a mysterious little smile. “I’ll look for his notes, but even if I can’t find them, I’ll make sure you get what you want.”

Catherine sighed with relief. While she was fully prepared to stand up for herself, she didn’t enjoy confrontations. And if she were to be completely honest, she would’ve hated for Joseph or his son to disappoint her. Part of what had drawn her to this small community was the people and their culture. One she’d come to love because of her late nanny.

Belaflore Calabrese had grown up in Little Italy, and had started working for her family as a housekeeper when Catherine’s parents lived in New York. She’d traveled with them to Europe and had practically raised Catherine. Belaflore had told her stories of this very house and Little Italy that Catherine still recalled with great fondness.

“The first order of business will be to take a full inventory of all the architectural details,” Tony said. “We’ll do that while Sal finishes up with the structural repairs. We’ll see what we can find. Not everything hidden is going to be a gem.” Tony frowned, took a quick look at his watch. “My father didn’t give you a quote, did he?”

All her hope and faith vanished in an instant. This was where they had her all tied up in a neat little bow. They could name any price they wanted. A figure so great they would dissuade her from the project, or make a sizable profit even if they had to push back other clients.

Catherine sighed. Much as she hated the thought, it seemed the charming Tony Paladino and his father would disappoint her, after all.

2

TONY WASN’T SURE what had just happened. A few seconds ago things were warming up between him and Ms. Fox, but then she seemed to deflate.

Money. It was always about money. But she had to know that if she wanted to go all out on the restoration, it wasn’t going to be cheap. “I won’t be able to give you a full estimate until after you’ve made your decisions. My father must have mentioned this kind of restoration could be costly.”

Her nod was cool. Brief. “Yes. I understand.”

“Hey, I’m not trying to discourage you,” Tony said, really paying attention. Wanting her to smile again, the one where her blue eyes crinkled at the corners. “You might have to do some nipping and tucking, but we’ll find a way to stay within your budget.”

“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.”

Tony met her gaze, and from where she was standing, he looked pleased. Although it could have been the light.

Then, he went right back to typing something on his phone.

“Are you texting Fred or George?”

“No. I’ve got an app where I keep all my notes and plans. I’ve already put in the basic layout of the house, so I’ll be able to mark it up as we find pieces we want to investigate.”

Tony pulled out a Swiss Army knife from his back pocket, went to the fireplace and crouched by the side of the unit. Catherine crouched next to him, watching what he did. The first thing she noticed was he scraped a lot harder than she had.

His next move was to cut the linoleum that butted up against the painted surround. A moment later, he found something that made his face light up.

“What is it?”

“Tile. I can’t promise all of it will be intact, but all we really need is one.”

“You can get it duplicated?”

“Again, it’s costly, but yes, we can.”

“Okay, one thing you should know. You don’t have to be concerned with the budget. While I appreciate your warnings, I think it will make things easier for both of us if we just wait until the full estimate is complete. Then I’ll make my choices. Okay?”

He nodded as he stood up, and once again they were standing too close for politeness’s sake. It wouldn’t have been a problem if they were in Tokyo. But New Yorkers needed at least a thousand square feet of personal space to be truly comfortable. No, this was Manila close.

“You’ll have to show me your safety gear. I’ll let you know if everything comes up to code,” he said, those damnable dark eyes capturing her own once more.

The sentence was benign, the look wasn’t. Seconds ticked by as heat circled through her while he stared. It grew stronger when he let out a breath that reached her, minty fresh. Maybe this whole thing was all about scent, but then why had the swirling heat started the second she’d opened the front door?

None of this was okay. It was bad enough she couldn’t read him, but now she couldn’t even make sense of herself.

After he inhaled—something that should have given her a hundred clues—he stepped back. Walked to the other side of the room to inspect the crown molding.

Great. Now she was making him uncomfortable.

Catherine shook herself out of her trance. “Would it bother you if I had a glass of wine?”

“Not at all.”

She made sure she downed half a glass before she rejoined him. She also promised herself that she would focus on learning about her new home, not her general contractor.

It was an education, walking through each room with him. He welcomed her questions, even though she knew she was going a bit overboard. But with each move, he stepped in closer. First, just their shoulders touched. A brush. Insignificant, but for how aware of it she was. The rooms were small. The physical contact would have happened between any two adults. But by the time they hit the downstairs powder room they squeezed into the tight space as if they were old hands at this touching business.

“I’m pretty sure that if you want to enlarge this bathroom we can keep to the original aesthetic,” Tony said, his voice a couple notches above a whisper. “But I need to know more about the plumbing before we can make any decisions.”

“I don’t mind this bathroom being small, if it allows me to open up the living and dining rooms.”

Tony continued to look directly into her eyes. His lips parted as if he was going to say something. But he didn’t, and it was all she could do not to lean those few inches forward. Unlock his words with a touch of her tongue.

A honking horn out on the street brought her back to reality and she gained control quickly and moved out of the powder room. “It’s the bathroom upstairs that has me worried.”

He added a few more notes to his app before they climbed back up the old staircase. He went to the fireplace and picked up her wineglass. “That covers the big things,” he said. “But there are lots of details that we haven’t cataloged.” His gaze skated over the mess, where before there had at least been chairs. Then he took a sip.

She cleared her throat, not minding that he’d taken a sip of her wine, but worried he’d feel embarrassed. “Sorry about the accommodations. The only place I seem to have left for company is the staircase or my bedroom.”

Tony blinked at the wineglass, a brief look of shock on his face. “Uh, it’s no problem,” he said. He put the glass back on the mantel, a slight blush warming his cheeks. “Sorry about that. Look, I’ve got something I have to do tomorrow evening, and I’m sure you’ll want some peace and quiet on Sunday, but I could come back Monday. After the others have left.”

“You?”

“Or Fred,” he said, taking half a step back.

“No, that’s... While I’ve got you here, there are a few more pictures I wanted you to see, if you have time...”

“I’ve got a few minutes.”

She went first to the kitchen area and poured him a glass of his own. Then she handed it to him as she segued into her bedroom. Her queen mattress barely fit in the space, but at least they could sit side by side. She picked up her binder, which was lying atop a box of hardbacked books.

Tony stood at the door.

“Come. Sit,” she said, patting the bed. It wasn’t a problem. They’d have the whole binder between them. “I know we’re trying to save as much of the old as we can, but when we were looking at the staircase, I was underwhelmed.”

As they discussed alternatives, Catherine reminded herself it would be wise to remember that Tony wasn’t part of her dreams for this house. Even if the spark she felt was reciprocated, which seemed unlikely. She’d never been attracted to a man like Tony before, and she had no idea if it was against any rules for them to have anything but a working relationship.

“There’s a metalwork artist in Connecticut that does meticulous work on railings and more. In fact, I planned on asking him to come down and go over the fireplaces, anyway.”

“Perfect,” she said, as her stomach rumbled so loudly it made him choke back a laugh.

“Sorry,” she said. “I haven’t had dinner. I’m probably going to order something in. Would you like to join me?”

His head tilted about five degrees to the right, and his gaze moved from hers to his lower arm, where, she realized, she was touching him.

“That’s very nice of you, but—”

She moved her hand away with lightning speed. “Since I seem to be monopolizing your time I figured I should at least offer...”

“No problem.” Tony nodded, staring just past her left ear.

She stood up, aware he’d know what an arm touch meant. “I’ve been wanting some decent Chinese, is all. No big deal.”

“There’s a great place not too far from here.”

Her grin must have looked ridiculous. Jesus. Seconds after she’d just finished thinking he was off-limits. And probably married. Not all men wore wedding rings. Especially those who did construction work. “Really? I don’t know much about the local hotspots. Too much work and not enough time for exploring.”

“I can help out with that,” he said, standing up himself. Taking a step closer to her. “At least steer you away from some dubious choices.”

She blinked at him. Was he this helpful to all his clients? If so, that would explain why his company had such a great reputation.

He did something on his cell phone, and then handed it to her. On the screen was a menu for a Szechuan restaurant at an address she wasn’t familiar with.

“They’re a little slow on the delivery, but they’re worth it. I’ve never had a bad meal from them. I think you’ll be pleased.”

“So, was that a no to joining me?”

“Don’t think I can.”

“Okay, but the thing I wanted to talk to you about. It’s kind of a big deal.”

“Shoot.”

“I’m considering a rooftop garden. A decent-sized one, maybe one some of the neighbors could use, as well.” She flipped to the back pages and handed him the binder. While he glanced at the sample gardens, she grabbed her iPhone off her dresser and called the restaurant. Her order was large, but that was what she got for waiting until she was this hungry.

Or Tony could change his mind. No, she had to stop that sort of thinking.

By the time she’d finished giving her address, Tony was seated again, and watching her, a slight smile tugging at his mouth.

“What?”

“You must really like Chinese food.”

“I do.” She laughed. “I even like it for breakfast.”

His brows rose. “Good thing.”

“Don’t knock it until you try it.”

“Hey, I’m the same way. I’ll eat the stuff any time of the day—” He’d been about to say more but stopped himself.

She’d wager anything she’d surprised him. Which wasn’t a bad thing.

Not a bad thing at all.

With her own secret smile, she sat down again. Too late, she realized it might’ve been better for her to have remained standing. They weren’t sitting indecently close or anything—she’d left some space between them—but she could feel the warmth of his body pulling at her, distracting her from the point of the conversation.

She cleared her throat. “I volunteer at the community gardens at the UN,” she said, relieved her voice sounded normal. “Where I work. Obviously, this wouldn’t be as large, but my roof is flat and I’m pretty sure there’s room enough for what I have in mind. What I don’t know is if it’s possible.”

“That’s...a big job. A very... There’s a lot to consider. We’ve done a few, all on restaurant rooftops.”

“I know. I saw on your website.”

He hesitated again and got that inscrutable look on his face. “There are so many things that all have to work for it to be possible. The weight of a garden can be tremendous. We’d need to call in a structural engineer to begin with. Then there are permits, including using a crane on a street that isn’t very wide.”

“I understand. But I’d like to find out if it’s possible before I fall too far in love with the idea.”

“I’ll look into it.”

Something was clearly bothering him. She didn’t think she should ask. It was just as likely to be her imagination. But when he abruptly got to his feet, she knew it wasn’t.

“But now, I really do have to leave.”

Disappointed, Catherine accompanied him downstairs, and when she opened the front door, there was a kid sitting on the bottom step of her stoop. She couldn’t imagine what he was doing there.

He jumped to his feet and looked at Tony. “Hey, Mr. Paladino. Nonna wants you to come over. She’s got something wrong with—” his face, pale under the unflattering outdoor light, scrunched with thought “—something in the kitchen.”

Tony frowned. “When did your grandma send you over? It’s almost seven o’clock.”

The kid, who looked to be around ten, shrugged. “I dunno. She and my mom were arguing about something. Then I was supposed to come here. Wait to catch you before you went home.”

Tony turned to Catherine. “Sorry. This is Ricky Alberti. His grandmother is your neighbor.”

She smiled at the boy. “Nice to meet you.”

When Tony stepped outside, his frown looked even more doleful in the bad light. “You tell your grandma that she should call Gina for an appointment. No. Have her call me. I’ll tell her myself.”

Ricky shrugged again. “’Kay.” Then he was off like a shot.

“I’m sorry about that,” Tony said, sounding irritated despite the easy smile. “He shouldn’t have been hanging around your stoop.”

“It’s no problem. I find it kind of charming, actually. The sign of a tight neighborhood.”

The brief glance toward the neighbor’s house indicated he didn’t agree. Huh. “Well, I’m not thrilled at being at everyone’s beck and call. Anyway, I’ll be going now.” He took two steps down before turning to her again. “Hope you like the dumplings. They’re my favorite.”

Grateful the tension had vanished, she almost asked him to stay and have some of hers, but she stopped herself just in time. “Good night, Tony. Thank you. For tonight.”

He smiled, nodded, but didn’t look at her again. He just hurried away.

She closed the door, and wished very hard that he’d forgotten something. His cell phone. A jacket. To kiss her.

4

BY MONDAY AFTERNOON, Tony had finished transferring what he needed to make his father’s old office feel like his own. He’d also gotten more comfortable with being the boss, although there were a few decisions he wished his father could have made.

He heard a low voice in the reception area, one he’d recognize in a blackout. Well, at least the old man had lasted almost a whole week without coming to check up on his empire.

Tony was delighted to see that his mom had come, too, and that Joe was wearing a Hawaiian-print shirt, one he was allowed to wear only on vacations. They were both chatting with Gina as if their separation had been years instead of days. Tony joined them, giving his mother a kiss on the cheek. “Worried the place was falling apart?”

Joe gave him a scowl. “You think I don’t trust you? I trust you. The real question is do you trust you?”

“I’m working on it, Pop. I don’t know if I’ll ever figure out how you kept Luca and Dom in line.”

His mother frowned, although he knew the look was more for effect than anything. “All three of you were no picnic, believe me.”

“I know.” Tony grinned. “Honestly, though, they’ve both been fine. Luca, a little finer than Dominic. You know how he is. The kid thinks he’s Sinatra or something, and he’s tone deaf.”

“Sinatra was from Jersey,” Gina said. “Dom wants to be the king of Little Italy.”

“It’s a small kingdom.” Tony walked over to the whiteboard without really looking at it. “Getting smaller by the day.”

“We’re not going to talk about work,” his mother said. Theresa was really the boss of the family, and everyone knew that. She didn’t mind leaving the details to her brood, but anything big was Ma’s domain.

“All right,” Tony said. “Is this a stopover visit on your way to rehab?”

Joseph cursed in Italian the same second Tony’s mother said, “Yes. This stubborn mule of a husband thinks he’s wasting his time. You’d think the second heart attack would have gotten through his thick head.”

It actually felt good, hearing the two of them bicker. Like home.

Tony had to take a phone call, so he went to his office. It was Dave, the metalworker he’d called about Catherine’s staircase and fireplaces. Tony gave him some preliminary measurements and Catherine’s number.

Just as he ended the call, he realized his father had entered the room. He was looking at all the things Tony had changed. Slowly. Making a mental tally. The expression on his face broke Tony’s heart. Made him wish he’d never changed anything at all.

“It’s good,” Joe said. “You taking over.”

“It’s necessary,” Tony told him, walking around the desk to sit on the front corner to free up his pop’s old chair. “We need you to stick around as our dad way more than we need you to run this place.”

“I know the reasons. There’s just so damn many hours in the day. Even with three meals and a visit to the torture room, I’ve still got too much empty space.”

“Ma hasn’t put you to work?”

“Stupid things, sure. A real project, like painting that spare room? She thinks I’ll die on her Persian carpet.”

“Have you tried going to the park like we talked about?”

“I don’t like the way they changed the park. Too many strangers and kids.”

“They’re only strangers until you talk to them. You like chess. They play chess.”

“I like playing with people I know.”

“And what do you mean you don’t like kids? That’s not true.”

“I want grandkids,” Joe grumbled. “Not strangers’ kids. You and Angie should’ve had two bambinos by now, instead of getting divorced.”

Tony’s insides coiled into a knot. “Come on, Pop, we’re not going to talk about that.”

Joe shrugged. “So, I hear you’re working personally with Catherine Fox.”

“How do you know that?”

“I got ears that work. She’s got big pockets, that one. Very deep. She has some crazy ideas, but they’re not so crazy if you think about them.”

“You mean the restoration?”

“The value of the house will go up, you know that. Along with making the upgrades.”

“She wants a rooftop garden.”

Joe’s eyes widened. “No kidding.”

“What’s worse? She wants to live there. Full-time.”

Joe moved across the room and settled into his old black chair.

Tony smiled to himself and took one of the guest chairs.

“She could make a fortune selling that place. When she gets done with it, garden or no, it’ll be a jewel on that street.”

“I know. But she doesn’t want to go.”

“With those old ladies she’s got for neighbors? She’ll want to.”

Tony knew more about those two than he’d like. They’d both called him in the last couple days. Asked every question in the book about Catherine. He’d cut them off, refused to discuss his client with them. When all he’d wanted to do was tell them both where to go. But he was his mother’s son, so he’d been nice...ish.

Speaking of his mother, she walked in right at that moment and made her famous whimper of exasperation while throwing her hands up in the air. As if the world itself was ending.

She slapped Tony’s shoulder. “You just let him take over? The first time we come to visit you start talking business?”

Shaking his head, Tony held back a smile.

“What business?” his father said, gesturing expansively. “I’m sitting in my old chair. Is that a crime?”

She put her hands on her hips and glared at him.

“Fine. A little about business, but I was just making an observation. That’s not work.”

“Is that true, Tony?”

“That’s true.”

“Why am I listening to you?” she asked. “You’re your father’s son. We have to leave now, but next time I see you, Anthony Paladino, I expect you to be more careful with your father. He’s not a healthy man.”

She was right, although Tony couldn’t see cutting him off from the business cold turkey. But he’d try to make both his parents happy. Which hadn’t been possible in thirty-three years, so why he should keep trying was anyone’s guess.

“Try the park again,” Tony said, as they were leaving. “Play some chess.”

“And you...go make me some grandkids.”

“Stop it.” His mother bumped his dad’s shoulder. “What’s the matter with you? He’s divorced.” She glanced at Tony and shook her head. “Don’t listen to him. Angie was a nice girl, but she was too modern.”

He didn’t say a word. Angie was from the neighborhood. His parents had known her parents for years. She wasn’t a great cook, but that meant she wasn’t competition for the crown of Tony’s Favorite, which actually made his mother like Angie even more. She was exactly the kind of girl everyone had imagined for him, but the marriage hadn’t worked out. At least they’d parted amicably.

When his folks had left, he had to make two more phone calls, and then pay a visit to a new customer in Chinatown.

After that, he knew exactly where he was going.

Exactly where he shouldn’t.

Where he couldn’t wait to go.

* * *

THE LINE INTO Ferrara’s bakery was long, but it seemed to be moving pretty quickly. Catherine had been there several times, and loved their pastries, but this evening she was buying for two. Tony was coming over.

They were going to take a look at her rooftop. Sal was still in charge of the renovations, but Tony had decided to supervise the restoration and the garden project. He’d told her he’d be there around six thirty, after dinner with his parents. She hoped he hadn’t had any dessert.

The line moved again, this time allowing her a great view of the glass display case. Everything there looked wonderful, but she’d already decided what she’d get for this evening: three different pastries she could vouch for personally. He was bound to like at least one of them.

Two women a few people in front of her caught her attention because they were speaking in Italian. She thought one of them might be her neighbor. Catherine had seen the woman standing on her front stoop the other day. It was obvious they hadn’t noticed her because they didn’t bother to lower their voices, or consider that she might speak Italian.

“That one has workers all day, making so much noise I’m not getting a bit of work done.”

She strained to hear the other woman’s response but couldn’t.

“For all I know,” her neighbor went on, “she’s turning that beautiful place into apartments.”

The conversation stopped when the person in front of them left.

Catherine watched them place their orders with the woman behind the counter, torn between wishing she’d heard more and glad she hadn’t. Of course they were upset with the noise. And she hated for anyone to think she would turn the beautiful home into apartments, but now wasn’t the time to clear the air.

The women paid and left without any sign they’d noticed her. Thank goodness. Once the construction was over, she figured things would all work out.

“Great minds really do think alike.”

Catherine spun around at Tony’s voice. His smile was broad, his eyes crinkling at the edges.

“I was going to pick up dessert. For us,” she said. “For later.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

“Hmm,” she said, feeling awkward and pleased at the same time. Why she should feel tongue-tied around Tony when she could face off with Vladimir Putin, she had no idea. “Well, maybe it’s a good thing you’re here. I won’t have to guess what you might like.”

“What were you going to get?”

She shifted a bit to her left so he could move in closer, letting people pass him more easily. “No fair. I asked you first.”

“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 Catherine, 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.

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