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