Tempted In The City

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“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.