Ringing in Love (2 page)

Dominic had wanted to get to know Catherine Bennett ever since he'd seen her give her presentation. Mostly he'd wanted to see if she was as smart and interesting one-on-one as she'd sounded on the dais. And he wouldn't mind finding out if she was as sexy in a more intimate situation as she was when she walked across a room in her pencil skirt and stilettos. He was bored to tears with the business dates he'd been stuck with for what seemed like an eternity. Catherine Bennett looked, sounded, and acted different.

And it wouldn't hurt to size up the woman who was making such a splash in his industry. Mixing business and pleasure was what he did on a regular basis. Most of his recent social life, including the women he escorted to the theater or dinner, had been more about marketing his business than about anything personal. At least if he were doing the mixing with Ms. Bennett, he might actually enjoy what he felt he had to do to keep his company on top.

A fixture in public relations and advertising in Philadelphia for more years than Dominic cared to think about, The Russo Group was the biggest, the most highly regarded, most sought after communications firm in the city. Catherine Bennett had only been on the scene for a half dozen or so years, but she'd made a name for herself in a niche he'd never thought about—marketing and advertising for socially responsible companies who wanted to do more than make a profit at any price. He admired someone who could find a new facet to a business he thought he knew cold and owned outright.

He'd told Edie the truth about how he viewed Bennett and Associates—there was plenty of business for both of them. But the fact was, relocating to the building where the big boys played meant Catherine Bennett was moving up in his world. It wouldn't hurt to keep an eye on her.

Or was he making business excuses to do what he wanted to do for personal reasons? And did it matter anyway?

• • •

“Ah … Catherine, someone's here to see you.” Melody's voice sounded confused or nervous. Something. Certainly not like her usual self.

“I don't have anything on my calendar, do I? Who is it?”

“He's not on your calendar. And he's on his way back now.” The call ended abruptly. Very unlike her usually efficient office administrator. And why was she working the phones anyway?

Catherine put down the phone and looked up as Mister Sex on Legs sauntered into her office. That explained it.

“Mister … ah … Dominic. What a nice surprise. What can I do for you?” Catherine tried to be more calm and collected than Melody had been. All she could really be was grateful she had an important client meeting later in the day and had worn her favorite cobalt blue suit, the one she knew was flattering to both her figure and her coloring. Because to hold her own in the same room with this visitor who always looked like he'd stepped out of
GQ
took the best she had.

Dominic Russo must have a closet the size of Rhode Island. In the two weeks she'd been in the building, she couldn't remember seeing him in the same suit twice. Not that she was keeping track. Okay, yes, she was keeping track. She didn't know why, but she was.

Today's suit was a navy pinstripe number with a white dress shirt and a light blue patterned tie that looked like a William Morris print. A white pocket square peeked out of the pocket over his well-toned pecs. The man knew how to dress. And call attention to his assets.

Oh, for God's sake. Pay attention to something other than his body, Bennett. What is wrong with you, anyway? You don't behave like this.

She forced herself to stop staring at his chest and glanced around the room, hoping her office made a good impression. It looked tidy, at least. Although her artwork hadn't been hung yet, all the furniture was in place: her glass-topped desk and small conference table, the cozy little couch covered in a bright red fabric, the Herman Miller Aeron chair for her, and a visitor's chair next to her desk.

“I wanted to make sure you'd gotten settled,” Dominic said. “Although from looking around, I'd say you've done more in the past two weeks than many people manage to do in a month. Your artwork in the reception area is stunning, by the way, especially the image of the woman. I like it. Local artist?”

“Yes, a woman named Jamie Lutz. Thanks for noticing.”

“I hope everything about the space was the way you wanted it to be when you moved in.”

His interest puzzled her. “Does the building owner hire you to check on all the new tenants this way?”

“You didn't know I'm the building owner?”

She was sure her surprise was visible. “I thought the owner was DR Investments Limited.”

He said nothing, seeming to wait for the penny to drop.

Which it did. “Oh, DR. Dominic Russo. Dear God, how could I have been so obtuse.”

“You're anything but obtuse. I'm sure there are other tenants who don't know. The management company that handles all the transactions doesn't advertise it, and neither do I.”

“But if I'd done my due diligence, I'd have found out. I didn't dig very deep, obviously. When the agent showed me the space and told me the price, I was so excited I didn't do much other than talk to some of your other tenants. All of them, by the way, raved about the building and the management, in case you wondered.”

“Good to hear. And I'm happy you're settling in so well.” He motioned to the chair next to her desk, which she took to be asking if he could sit.

“Please. Sit. I'm being rude.” She returned to her desk chair. “It's been a pretty smooth transition. It's a great building. The location is perfect and the layout very creative. Did you have a hand in designing it?”

“Can't take credit for it, but it is what attracted me to the space. The original developer had gone bankrupt, and it was being sold at a good price when I was looking for new offices. My staff was working in such close quarters, I was beginning to think I'd have to insist they marry each other.”

“We were almost there, too, although on a much smaller scale.”

“You've come a long way in a short time, haven't you? I've admired your work and how fast you've become such an influence in the business.” His killer smile was back, which almost distracted her enough that she missed the compliment he'd paid her.

“It feels like a long time and a short way, but thanks. I'm flattered.”

“Not flattery. Just the truth.” He rose from the chair and extended his hand. “I won't keep you any longer. I only wanted to make sure everything was as promised. I know you've met the building manager—if you have any problems at all, let him know.”

When she took his hand, a pulse of electricity went up her arm, startling her enough she had to swallow a gasp. It warmed her all the way to the base of her neck and down her chest. He clasped her hand with both of his, his eyes holding hers in a look so warm she wanted to turn up the air conditioning. She also wanted to keep the conversation going so she didn't lose the connection with him.

“Uh … yes … the building manager.” She swallowed hard. “He's been great. About getting movers in and out, I mean, stuff like that.”
Stuff like that?
Where was her skill with words when she really needed it?

Dominic didn't say anything right away, seeming to be as reluctant as she was to break the contact between them. Finally he released her hand. “I'm glad he was helpful.” He moved toward the door. “But let me know if you have a problem he can't solve. I'm sure I'll be seeing you around the building.” And he was gone.

Catherine sank back into her chair feeling like all the life had left the room, along with most of the air in her lungs.

Catherine certainly did see Dominic around the building, almost every day. If he wasn't at the coffee stand where she went first thing for her caffeine fix, he was strolling in the front door as she waited for the elevator. They rode together to their respective floors most mornings. She'd get off at the tenth floor with the faint smell of his body wash or aftershave or cologne or whatever it was in her nose. It was an extremely pleasant if sometimes distracting way to start the morning.

He always seemed happy to see her, chatting, making her laugh with some gossip from the building or their industry. Over the weeks, they exchanged bits of personal information. They had a mutual passion for the Sixers, a mistrust of the new coach of the Eagles, and an interest in art. She talked about her son. He passed on stories about local politicians, many of whom he'd done election campaign work for. It was amazing what one could learn in the time it took to walk across the lobby of a building, wait for an elevator, and travel ten floors. For all his reputation as a high-profile player, he never came on too strong, never pushed to make their conversation anything other than casual. Although he made a couple joking references to having lunch someday, he wasn't serious, she was sure.

She started to think of their morning chats as the beginning of a lobby-and-elevator relationship. She'd never had anything like it before. It was fun, but more importantly, it seemed simple and safe.

And if there was anything Catherine Alessandro Bennett needed at this point in her life, it was something that was both. Between her rapidly growing business and her equally fast growing teenaged son, she had enough complications and risk in her life. More, in fact, than at any other time in her thirty-eight years.

Though she'd been a stay-at-home mom after Noah was born, when he'd entered kindergarten she'd been eager to return to work at the PR firm where she'd been an account exec. Andy, her then-husband, had said he wanted her to continue focusing on their child. After a tough negotiation, he'd grudgingly given in to the idea of her taking on a few clients as a freelancer. Developing public relations and advertising campaigns for a client or two would not only help her keep up with the world she'd left when she'd become a mother, but also give her a creative outlet for her talents.

It was all that and more. The freelance jobs she picked up from her old company increased with every month. Then she started attracting clients on her own. She had to hire an assistant—which was how she met Melody Mason—to keep it all going. Then a second creative type. And another.

Her business model changed as she became interested in, and acquired a reputation for skill at, developing effective marketing and community engagement campaigns for socially responsible companies. She was subcontracting more and more with freelancers she wished she could hire full time. But she didn't have a place for them to work. Proper office space was obviously what she needed.

The month she moved her business out of the basement was the same month her husband left her. While she was juggling home, child, and business (effectively, she thought), he was even more effectively juggling home, job, and mistress. The affair had been going for several years. They'd been so careful hiding it, no one, including Catherine, had suspected.

It took over eighteen months to negotiate the divorce. Noah was ten by the time it was final, and he was not happy to have his father gone. It showed in his behavior—he acted out at school, let his grades drop, refused to take seriously the detentions he earned. The only thing he did well and regularly was play soccer.

Which left Catherine overseeing the growth of a business, now the main source of income for her and her son, as well as helping Noah come to terms with the divorce. It took a while, but by the time they celebrated his thirteenth birthday, he seemed to have settled into their new life. His grades improved. She stopped getting phone calls about the classes he'd cut.

Now, after what felt like a long time and a lot of work, all parts of her life seemed to have fallen into place. Well, two parts of her life. The third part, a personal life, didn't really exist. Catherine went from home to office and back again in a pattern that hadn't varied in years. Her extracurricular activities were family events with her mom and sisters.

Not that she'd been looking for any sort of serious relationship. She wasn't sure when she'd be ready to trust a man to get that close to her again. But she was beginning to think some male company might be nice. Maybe it was time to take her personal life off the back burner. A pleasant, safe, lobby-and-elevator relationship with the sexiest man in Philly seemed like the perfect way to practice her rusty skills. The ones she'd been using so infrequently she thought he smelled of gingerbread instead of something a little less domestic and a bit more dangerous.

• • •

Thanks to a long and complicated history with women which included a brief marriage in his twenties as well as a relationship in his thirties that had turned out almost as badly, Dominic Russo was a cautious man, but his patience was beginning to wear thin. He couldn't remember when he'd worked as hard to get a response from a woman as he had to get one from Catherine Bennett. Usually, when he showed interest in a woman, she responded in some manner, even if it was to turn him down. Catherine hadn't. She was friendly enough in the elevator, but she didn't react as he expected. She either didn't get the hints he dropped about having lunch with him or she chose to disregard them, although that seemed unlikely. Not that he was vain. Well,
that
vain. He was experienced, however, and knew what it was like to be brushed off. There had been no cold response or quick turndown from Catherine. Hell, the problem was she'd had no reaction at all to his attempts to move their conversation out of the elevator to a table for two in a nice restaurant someplace.

He knew she was seven years younger than he was, but he doubted age was a problem. He didn't think she knew his. He only knew hers because of the paperwork and background check he did on all prospective tenants. He also knew her credit history, where she lived, how old her son was, and what her income had been last year. There were distinct advantages to owning the building and having people work for you who knew how to do a thorough background check.