Читать книгу Seduced In The City - Jo Leigh - Страница 13

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THE EMERGENCY AT the NoHo renovation turned out to be corroded pipes inside inadequate PVC tape. Evidently the plumber hadn’t wanted to go to the trouble of swapping out the pipes themselves, so he’d resorted to cosmetic changes. Dom was more than a little steamed, but Eric, their project manager, had things under control.

Good thing, since Dom had a full day. He needed to stop by the office and have a look at the blueprints for the SoHo apartment complex. Hopefully Luca would be there and they could go over the plans for Tony’s bachelor party. Then Dom had an appointment for a trim before his interview at Edelman PR, which he was looking forward to. The great thing about working at such a large firm was that they had offices all over the world. The downside? He’d be a small cog in a huge machine.

Half a block ahead of him, he noticed a dark-haired woman wearing jeans and a tucked-in T-shirt. It took all of a second to be certain it was Sara. He’d memorized that curvy behind.

He noticed the canvas bag she was carrying and had a hunch she was going to the same place he was headed—Met Foods. Walking faster, he made sure he didn’t get too close. It would be a shame to let this opportunity pass him by. She still owed him an answer, and while she’d dodged him the other night, he wasn’t going to be so quick to let her off the hook this time. Two minutes later he followed her into the store.

After grabbing a bottle of water and a pack of breath mints, he scoped out a couple of aisles before spotting her in the produce section. He planted himself across from her and tried to look engrossed in the nectarines.

“Stalking me now?”

He looked up, pretended to be surprised and said, “Hey.”

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Um...the same thing you’re doing?”

The way she looked at him was like being x-rayed at LaGuardia. She was probably deciding what to say to make a quick escape. Then a glance at his selections made her laugh. “Water and breath mints. I’m actually surprised you don’t have cases of mints on hand at all times.”

“Meaning?”

“I think you know.” Her voice was like rich honey, easy, flowing, made even sweeter by the sly smile that turned up the edges of her lips.

“Dominic?”

The voice came from behind him. Definitely feminine, not completely familiar. Turning, it took him a second to realize it was Danielle Orteaga, a thirtysomething woman he’d met a few times at his gym. She was in great shape, pretty, not afraid to ask for what she wanted. And she was married. Which was enough for Dom to keep her at arm’s length. He nodded at her with a noncommittal smile and turned right back to Sara.

“Well, I better get busy so I can make it to the restaurant before the lunch rush,” she said.

The drop in temperature only made Dom more determined not to let this serendipitous meeting go to waste. But if he just came out and asked her what he’d done to piss her off, she’d be gone before he could take a second breath. He went around to her side before she could get away and looked in her cart. “So this stuff is all for pizza?”

“And the pasta dishes. Salads. Appetizers. Come on, you know our menu better than I do.”

“It threw me when I didn’t see any pineapples.”

That made her smile change. No trace of sarcasm, which he considered a victory. He wasn’t even sure why he was trying so hard. She was hot, of course she was, but if that was all it took, he’d have actually lived up to his reputation.

Sara pushed her cart over to the lettuces, several of which she carefully selected, then on to the radishes. He trailed along, not even trying to make up an excuse, although with everything she had in that cart, he wondered if she’d have to take a taxi back to Moretti’s.

Britney Addleson, one of the waitresses from the diner near his apartment, stopped him midstride with a hand on his chest. The move surprised him—it was more forward than he appreciated—but he happened to catch Sara’s reaction, and okay, it was worth the intrusion to see that spark of outrage.

“I didn’t know you came to this store,” Britney said, making sure he was aware of her prominent breasts, snug in her white T-shirt.

“I was just passing by. I have to be at the office in about ten minutes, so I’m going to have to get a move on or be late. See you at the diner.”

Britney’s shocked expression wasn’t satisfying, except that it let him extricate himself without doing too much damage. It wasn’t a surprise to see her blush and walk away. The clock, though, had been ticking this whole time, and he couldn’t wait much longer to choose his endgame. Confrontation? Or gentle persuasion?

* * *

WHY SARA WAS taken aback by the women so blatantly flirting with Dom made zero sense. This was a pattern she’d seen for years, up to and including her own sister.

Just because Sara had hidden her crush successfully didn’t mean she was guilt free. Of course, all she’d gotten for her efforts was lethal doses of private and public humiliation. Hard to forget that, even when the conversation seemed so easy between them. Beneath that suave visage, she knew he still had questions, and until she answered him or convinced him the past didn’t matter, he’d wear her down. And how she could equate that to sex and be thrilled about it was just plain sick.

For now, though, the smart move was to keep shopping, pretend he wasn’t even there. Right behind her. So close that she was feeling slightly giddy. Without a glance his way, she continued going up and down aisles, adding to her cart.

Of course she couldn’t help noticing that he looked great. Slim dark dress slacks, a tailored shirt that showed off his physique and what looked like a silk tie. He seemed taller, broader, just since the other night, which told her she’d better get her feet planted and her head out of the clouds.

Sara hadn’t realized she’d stopped until he almost rammed into her from behind.

She grabbed the first thing she saw—a can of olives.

“I’m surprised you don’t buy that sort of thing in bulk,” Dom said.

“Thanks for your concern. I’m shopping for the house, too.”

“Ah.”

“Why are you still here?”

“Am I making you nervous?” He flashed a smile. “I apologize,” he said, taking a step back.

“Make me nervous?” she said with a snort. “I figured you’d go trailing after one of your girlfriends.”

“You must have me confused with someone else. No girlfriend.”

“Well, whatever you call it,” she muttered, and swung around to the next aisle.

He switched to walking beside her. “It?”

Sara sighed loudly and tried not to let his pleasant masculine scent distract her.

“There is one way to get rid of me.”

“Yeah? Name it.” She bit down on her lip. He’d baited her, and she’d snapped at it. No doubt he was waiting with a smile. She’d be damned if she’d look.

Oh, hell, she should just let him ask his question. Get the whole thing over with.

Somehow her cart headed straight for the checkout. Without any prompting from her. She insisted he go through first. Before she could sigh with relief, he paid for his water and mints and waited at the end of the counter.

Until she started unloading, she hadn’t realized she’d overbought by quite so much. She stared at the groceries, trying to think of an elegant way to tell Mr. Stein she wanted to put half of it back. No dice. She was stuck with all of it.

None of it was stupid stuff. Just more than they needed. She’d never be able to walk it all to the restaurant, and she hated spending money on a cab when she should have had two bags, max.

Mr. Stein had already filled her canvas bag and another larger, paper one, and he stared over the top of his thick black-framed glasses at the groceries he had yet to ring up. Bending over slowly, he brought a large box out from under the counter. He scanned the remaining items and packed them into the box.

Sara had her credit card ready when the older man gave her the total.

Mr. Stein lifted a corner of the box, testing the weight. “Sara,” he said, “how are you going to carry all of this to the restaurant? You have a cab waiting?”

Dom coughed. Or laughed, it didn’t matter.

She slid in her credit card with the utmost lack of concern. “Why should I do that when I’ve got free labor?” She inclined her head at Dom, without so much as a glance.

Mr. Stein looked over at him. “He’s going to ruin his good shirt.”

“I’m sure he has more.”

No mistaking Dom’s laugh this time.

Finally, after she signed the chip machine, she looked at him and smiled. “Although I’ll understand if you need to pass. I’m sure it’s pretty heavy.”

Okay, she deserved the eye roll. When he actually lifted the box, her gaze went straight to his biceps, and she had to swallow real quick, because yes, the guy really did work out. Shit. He’d always had a good body, but now he was even sleeker with broad shoulders and narrow hips.

Aware she was staring, she grabbed the canvas bag. With an amused gleam in his eyes, Mr. Stein glanced from her to Dom, then held out the paper sack for her.

“Lead on, Macduff,” Dom said.

Sara opened her mouth, but before she could correct him, he said, “Yeah, I know it’s not the original quote, but it was fun watching your nose twitch.”

“It did not,” she said, shifting the bag in her right arm to a more comfortable position. “Besides, I was going to say I was joking. I can take a cab if you would just help me get the box—”

He laughed and walked out of the store.

She had little choice but to catch up with him.

This whole thing had slipped out of her control. Not in a terrible way, but she most definitely wasn’t in her comfort zone. “I thought you had to be somewhere,” she said, as they stopped at the corner of Prince Street.

“I do, but not until my one-thirty interview.”

“What for?”

“A public relations firm. Oh, and I need to get a trim,” he said, straining to get a look at his watch. “Gotta make a good impression.”

“I think you’re going to do fine in that department,” she said, as they reached the end of the block. Any PR firm in the country would be nuts not to hire Dom on the spot.

“Hey, was that a compliment?” Dom said. “Better be careful—you don’t want me getting a big head.”

“Too late for that.”

Dom waited until she met his gaze. “Was that nice?”

His eyes weren’t as dark with the morning sunlight bringing out tiny gold flecks. But they were still warm and full of life. She remembered him smiling a lot as a kid. Though why not? He’d had it made even before he’d uttered his first word.

Something else she noticed—he wasn’t smiling now.

“I was joking,” she muttered and started to cross the street.

A loud honk nearly shattered her eardrums. She’d almost walked right into a passing cab.

She stepped back onto the sidewalk, grateful she hadn’t dropped the bags.

“Do me a favor,” Dom said.

“What’s that?” Reluctantly, she looked at him.

“Get that for me.” With a jut of his chin, he glanced up.

A lock of dark hair had fallen across his forehead.

Oh, God.

“What do you want me to do with it?”

“Just push it back.” He frowned at her as if she was being a twit, which she totally deserved. “Here, give me one of those.”

“It’s okay. I got it.” She shifted the bags until she had a free hand, at least for a few seconds, and swept back the dark silky strands.

She was touching Dominic Paladino’s hair. With all the aplomb of a geeky, awkward fifteen-year-old.

The stubborn lock fell forward again.

“Don’t be so gentle. Just push it all the way back.” He ducked so she could reach the top of his head, and she combed his hair straight back until her fingers were buried completely in the thick mane.

“You should put some stuff in it,” she murmured, their faces so close she could feel his warm breath on her cheek. “You know, to keep it in place.”

“Like a gel?” He straightened, frowning, and her hand fell away. Just as the bag cradled by her left arm almost did. “Nope. Never gonna happen. I just need a trim.”

Foot traffic had picked up in the last few minutes, probably because it was close to lunchtime. And while they weren’t blocking the sidewalk, several people sighed dramatically as they skirted them. Others smiled and said hello to Dom.

Sara gasped. Lunchtime!

She glanced at Dom’s slim gold watch. “Shit.”

“What?”

“I need to hurry. The lunch crowd will be coming in soon.” She was already on the move, and Dom had no trouble keeping up with her.

When they turned the corner, she spotted the Spicy Meatball food truck parked almost directly in front of Morretti’s. Her blood pressure shot through the roof, and before she knew it she was holding on to her bags for dear life and rushing toward the interlopers.

“Hey, Sara. Wait.”

She heard Dom, but she didn’t have time to stop and explain. He’d see the problem soon enough. Already two people were standing off to the side waiting to order, as the scumbag prepared for the lunch crowd.

“Hey,” she said, moving in as close as she could to the truck window. “Again? You have to park right in front of our entrance? That’s just taking things too damn far. Come on. Why can’t you just go back to where you used to park?”

The guy, who must have been in his midthirties, scruffy and already sweating even though it wasn’t that hot out, barely glanced up before he went back to ignoring her.

“I should have you arrested,” Sara said. “They’ll take your damn license. I bet it’s not even legitimate, probably black market.”

The man and woman waiting to order moved closer to the window and stared at her, as if they were watching a reality show. Sara didn’t care about that, but she wished they’d go away so she didn’t have to watch her language. “I’m talking to you,” she said, adding, “asshole” at a lower pitch. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? There’s a whole city for you to sell to. This is how my family makes our living. Don’t you have any conscience?”

“I’d like to know that, too,” Dom said, suddenly right by her side. His voice was raised, although not quite as loud as hers had gotten.

“Look, I got a right to park here,” the guy said. “You do what you gotta do. I do what I gotta do. But if you don’t let the customers get to the window, I’m gonna call the cops.”

Dom leaned in closer to Sara. “I thought you were going to do that?” He paused to study her, then whispered, “Is he parked legally?”

“What he’s doing is wrong, and it’s no accident he’s parked right here. I’ve asked him nicely. He ignored me. But this is the third time...”

Dom looked at the guy. “Come on, man. You can clearly see her point. There are other places to park around here. Why do you have to poach on a neighborhood restaurant?”

“Get lost, Popeye. This ain’t your business.” He turned to the people behind Sara.

“How about you get lost?” Sara muttered a curse. “Why do you have to be such a prick?”

Three more people had gotten in line, and Sara was so angry she was ready to stab all of the truck’s tires, but that would only keep them in front of the restaurant longer.

“Listen,” Dom said, keeping his voice low, and backing her up from the center of the fray. “Why don’t you go inside? Put the bags down. Maybe ask Carlo to come get this box. Let me see what I can work out with this schmuck, huh?”

Sara was about to tell him she didn’t need to be rescued, but then she saw the second person in the truck. A woman who was staring at Dom as if she’d like to order him for lunch.

“Fine. But if he doesn’t budge, I’m going to look up every single possible violation I can call on this guy and I’m going to make him sorry as hell.”

“Good idea. Now go. We’ll get this straightened out.”

With one last vicious glare at the guy and his Dom-struck sidekick, Sara walked inside the restaurant, desperately wanting to drag the growing line of customers behind her. Instead of going to the kitchen, though, she stood at the window. Watching.

A moment later, Jeannette was at her side. “Look at the coglioni on that guy. He keeps this up, it’s gonna put a big dent in the week’s revenue.”

“My parents are on their first vacation in forever, and he decides to stake a claim outside our door.”

Jeannette took one of the bags, then turned around to the counter and shouted for Carlo. One of the other waitresses, Natalie, was taking phone orders.

“What’s Dom doing?” Jeannette asked.

“Trying to work something out. Notice the woman who can’t take her eyes from him.”

“That could work,” Jeannette said.

“Maybe.”

Carlo rushed past them, out the door, took the box from Dom as if they’d planned the maneuver, then hurried back inside.

Dom didn’t even lose a step. For a minute it looked as if the food truck owner was going to do something drastic. In fact, he flicked something at Dom, who stepped aside, shook his head, then kept on talking, looking calm as could be, as if nothing had happened.

Not two minutes later, the owner, the woman, Dom and several customers were all laughing.

Sara exchanged a look with Jeannette, who just shrugged. Then they looked back at the silent show. A few more words, a nod, followed by a handshake.

A goddamn handshake?

Several people at the end of the line peeled away to follow Dom, who held the door open for them. They all seemed pleased to be following their new guru, and surprisingly, she didn’t recognize a single person.

Jeannette hustled to get behind the counter, where they really needed Sara, but she couldn’t leave yet.

“Okay. We’ve settled things, and Rocky won’t be coming back to this spot again.”

“Rocky?”

“I gave him a tip on a better location,” Dom said, shrugging.

The relief was instantaneous but riding on its back was a slice of resentment that Mr. Big Shot was able to swoop in and save the day. He just fixed everything with his smile and that ridiculous charisma. Must be swell to be Dominic Paladino.

“Wait,” he said. “Did I do something wrong?”

Well, no, how could he?

She closed her eyes, ashamed that she’d let anything other than gratitude show. That she’d lost her temper in front of him. In front of anyone. And that in the end, the biggest shame of her life—the article she’d written—was but a fleeting memory for him. Even though it had haunted her for years.

“No,” she said, pulling it together. “You haven’t done anything wrong. I’m very grateful this mess won’t have to trouble my parents when they get back. Thank you.”

“It wasn’t a problem,” he said, but the tone in his voice had changed. So had the way he was looking at her.

She didn’t blame him. Especially when she noticed that his shirt had a big splotch of tomato sauce on the sleeve. The shirt he was supposed to wear to his interview.

“Next five pizzas are on the house,” she said, trying to ease the strain.

“I didn’t do it for the pizzas,” he said, turning to leave.

She caught his arm. That big, muscular arm that tensed even more beneath her hand. “I mean it,” she said. “What you did was really kind.”

“No sweat,” he said, although the easy camaraderie they’d had on their walk had vanished as if it had never existed.