Tempted in the City (9 page)

9

C
ATHERINE
'
S
HEART
STARTED
beating more quickly as she caught sight of Tony at the entrance. He'd already been through Security, so that made things simpler, and she knew just where she was going to take him. Nowhere out-of-bounds, of course. But he'd get a kick out of seeing the lobby of the General Assembly Building even if he couldn't see the hall. If there was time, she'd take him to the Secretariat Building, where her office was located, but that wasn't as impressive.

His smile, when he saw her, sent a shiver through her. Unfortunately, she'd have to keep her distance while he was here. Something she wished she'd thought of before seeing him in person, looking unforgivably hot in a sea-foam-green shirt that brought out the gold flecks in his eyes.

“Hey,” he said, still smiling as they met in the middle of the busy floor.

Catherine held out her hand, and of course, he met the challenge flawlessly.

“Thank you for making time for me today,” he said. “I don't want to steal you away from work, though.”

“You aren't. But it can't be a full tour. Not this time. This is the best building to see, though, anyway.”

He looked around, his gaze stopping for a moment on the soaring glass wall split into strips by gold pillars. Then, naturally, he looked up at a hanging artifact. “Is that...?”

“Sputnik. Well, a model of it. It goes with the rest of the fifties decor.”

“I thought I was getting a
Mad Men
vibe.”

“Follow me,” she said, finding it difficult to blot out the image of him naked from her mind. The way his black trousers fit so perfectly made her want to slow down and walk behind him so she could enjoy the view. Lord help her, maybe this wasn't such a good idea. “I'll let you peek into the delegates' lounge. You'll love it. They refurbished everything—the chairs, the couches, the carpet. It's wonderful. I love to walk around the complex when I can, just enjoying the different buildings, with their international designs. We've got everything here. You could spend a whole week just checking out the amazing spaces without even setting foot inside the General Assembly Hall.”

“You'll let me know when you have a free week?”

She laughed. “Come on.”

“I probably should be better dressed. All these men are in suits and ties.”

“You're fine. Better than fine. I'm a big fan of vintage shirts, especially in that shade of green.”

“Thanks. Not that I'd admit this to just anyone, but I'm a big fan of the feel of silk.”

“It's sinfully soft.”

“So are you.”

She blushed. But kept her tour-guide face on. She walked him around the sculptures and pictures that were liberally placed throughout the lobby. It was clear he found all of it as fascinating as she did.

Eventually, they made their way to the delegates' lounge, which wasn't a stop on any official tour. She wasn't even supposed to be in there, not without an invitation. She hoped she wouldn't run into her boss.

The coast was clear. After she'd finished pointing out the finer points of the restoration, she told Tony about her impromptu translation session between Mrs. Adolphi and the Russian designer.

“That's a real gift you have,” he said. “Though I don't know if you speaking fluent Italian is going to do you any favors in the neighborhood.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it depends on how thick your skin is, but sometimes it's better not to know what people are saying.”

“I real—” Catherine spotted Victor and grabbed Tony's hand. She led him very quickly around the closest corner.

Tony glanced at their joined hands and she released him as if he'd scorched her. “What's wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing. I just saw someone I didn't want to talk to.”

“A coworker?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes.”

Tony leaned in close to her and lowered his voice. “I don't need to read people as well as you to know you're uncomfortable. I can leave right now, no problem.”

“No. I mean, well, that would probably be best. Let's just make our way back to the visitors' entrance.”

“Won't that be taking a chance you'll run into that person again?”

“I don't think so. Come on,” she said, no longer holding his hand, but wishing she was. “I had lunch with him this afternoon and he asked me to go with him to a World Health Organization banquet. I know that he was honestly asking me for a date, and I don't want to change our relationship, so I sort of lied and told him I was going with someone else.”

“Wait—is he the French guy?” Tony asked with a knowing smile. “Victor?”

She nodded. “How did you know?”

“I met him the other day, remember?”

“Oh, right.” She shook her head. She'd forgotten all about Victor the moment she'd seen Tony. “I told him I was seeing someone. All I honestly wanted was for him to think I'm off the market. So don't worry. It has nothing to do with you.”

Tony gave her a half grin that made her feel better instantly. “Let me tell you a little story,” he said, and proceeded to recount his experience at the doctor's office as they walked to the elevator.

“Dom. That's his name. I keep forgetting that. You really believe he didn't tell your mom about us?”

“Yeah. I thought so at first, but he wouldn't do anything like that. He didn't need to, either. That simple walk we took has now basically become our engagement announcement. I warned you.”

“They were pretty darn quick.”

“Faster than the speed of sound. That's your neighborhood for you.”

“I think I can handle it.”

They were standing at the exit, and she got the idea that he didn't want to leave as much as she didn't want him to. If only she could have kissed him or something...

“I'll actually be seeing you very soon,” she said.

“That's true.”

“No pastries tonight. And I don't have anything for dinner, so eat before you come.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

She smiled and felt her cheeks get warm. “I'm sorry this couldn't have been a better tour.”

“Best ever. Wouldn't trade it for the world.”

She searched his eyes and wished, just for a moment, that they were more than what they were.

Tony stared right back, studying her face every bit as closely. “You know, if you wanted, you could come to a family dinner Friday night—”

Surprised, she blinked. “I'd love to. As long as it doesn't go too late, because I have to work Saturday morning.”

He stopped. Raised his eyebrows. “Wait. You really want to come? After what I just told you?”

She nodded. “Clearly, you don't want me to go, though. So why did you ask?”

“Honestly?” he said. “I have no idea.” He glanced around. “Look, it's not that I don't want you to meet them. I just don't want them to chase you away.”

She thought about how it would be with her own parents. Oh, God. “That's it?”

“That's it,” he repeated.

“Well, I wouldn't want to go if you'd be uncomfortable. But I am a client, so it might quell some rumors. And I've already met your father—” Her cell phone rang, and she took it out of her pocket. “This is Catherine Fox.”

After hearing that she was needed back at her office, she put her boss on hold for a moment. “Sorry, I've got to go.”

“Sure. Of course. I'll see you later,” Tony said, looking a little shell-shocked.

Catherine hurried on her way, not just because she was needed, but because she was afraid he'd stop her and tell her he was just kidding about the family dinner. What she'd said was true, though. It might actually help matters for her to meet his family.

Or make things exponentially worse.

* * *

B
Y
THE
TIME
Tony got to his mother's house he was in a state. It didn't help that he hadn't seen Catherine since he'd met her at the UN complex. A plumbing emergency in Queens involving a subcontractor had ruined Wednesday night, and something to do with her job had put the kibosh on Thursday. Not only was he frustrated that the two of them hadn't had sex again, he also hadn't been able to connect with her to lay down some groundwork for tonight's meal.

Of course, his mother had gone nuts the moment he'd told her Catherine was coming to dinner. From the condition the kitchen was in, he knew that she and his grandmother had been cooking everything they could think of, from
arancini
to
zeppole
. At least he'd had the good sense to bring the entire selection of wines that would go with each course. He deposited the heavy box on the hutch and went to look for the wine opener.

“Tony, help your brother set the table.”

“Dom can set a table all by himself. He's a big boy now.”

“Don't argue with me when I've got a big wooden spoon in my hand, young man.”

“Young man,” he said, joining his mother near the stove. All four burners were occupied, as were the double ovens. And there was the table, the big one they brought out when the extended family came over, bowing under the weight of...oh, God. “Who are you planning to feed with this, Ma? There's enough for the entire neighborhood here.”

“What's left over you kids can take home. I'm sure Catherine doesn't have anything decent in her refrigerator.”

“Her refrigerator is tiny. She's in the middle of renovations. She doesn't have anywhere to put anything.”

“So you boys all take extra, and bring her a little each time one of you goes to work at her house. See? Simple. Now go help your brother.”

Tony just shook his head. No point in arguing. “I'm going to get the wine ready. Tell Luca to help.”

“Luca's out back with your father at the grill.”

“Of course you're making the
bistecca alla Fiorentina
.” It was a huge cut of porterhouse steak, wood-grilled rare, and a show-off dish if there ever was one. They usually had it only on special occasions.

“Your father told me she's loaded. You want her to think we don't know good meat?”

“No, Ma. I don't want her to know you're nuts.”

“Hey, watch your mouth.”

He was still too fast for her. The spoon just missed his knuckles. “Where's Nonna?”

“Resting. She cooked all day.”

“Nuts,” Tony said under his breath as he went over to the box and pulled out the red wines. After he uncorked those, he put the already chilled whites in the patio fridge, which was, as always, full.

“Hey, Pop,” he said, deeply inhaling the scent of the
Fiorentina
. He clapped his dad on the back and nodded at his brother. “So you're helping with the steak, huh? Interesting way to help.”

Luca held up his half-empty glass of white wine. “I've had a tough day.”

“Funny guy. I was with you for most of it. And no, I don't want to talk about it.” They'd had trouble with a newer client who wanted to change things in her remodel after almost everything was finished.

“I like that you invited Ms. Fox to dinner,” his father said. “She's nice. I was sorry I couldn't keep working with her. Not that I worry you aren't doing a good job. Just, she was nice. A little old-fashioned, I think.”

“Only with her taste in restoration,” Tony said.

“I'm not sure that's true. But what do I know.” He looked at his watch. “She'll be here soon?”

“Yeah. Any minute. I heard about what the doctor said.”

His father scowled and poked at the steak. “They're making a dinner fit for a king, and I've got to eat like a pauper. I ask you, what good is living a long life if I have to eat salad all the goddamn time?”

“You can eat other things. Just in moderation. And you know we all need you, so don't mess around. I'm still wet behind the ears. What would I do if I couldn't call you for advice every day?”

“Just what you're doing now,” he said, then closed his eyes for a moment. “But I appreciate you asking all the same.”

As Tony smiled, the doorbell rang. He hustled back into the house and went to get the door before Dom or, God forbid, his mother got it.

Catherine looked beautiful in a dress that was belted at the waist, with a pleated skirt that hit just below her knees. With the ballet slippers and her little sweater, she reminded him of pictures from the old scrapbook his mother kept.

“Welcome,” he said, reminding himself that kissing was off the table for the night, “to my family home.”

“It's a beautiful place,” she said, stepping inside and glancing around. “It looks like—hmm.”

“The house from
Moonstruck
, with Cher, right?”

“Yes. I guess I'm not the first to notice.”

“They did some filming on this block,” he said. “I suppose that big bouquet isn't for me?”

“No. But then I didn't know you were so fond of roses.”

“My mother will love them. She's in the kitchen. Don't be surprised at the fuss she'll make, okay?”

“Remember,” Catherine said, leaning close so no one would overhear, “I've lived in Italy. And I had Belaflore in my life. I'm well prepared.”

It occurred to Tony that he never should have worried about prepping Catherine. He should have been worried about his family. “Good. They'll like you, anyway. Don't worry.”

She walked with Tony into the formal dining room, the one they didn't use except for company. The table was set, despite Dom having to do it all by himself.

“Hello, Catherine,” Dom said, giving her one of his most disarming smiles. Tony would have cared if she hadn't kept forgetting his name.

“Good to see you again—”