Ringing in Love (3 page)

Among the things he didn't know, however, was whether she had a man in her life other than a son and an ex-husband. Boyfriends didn't show up in the kind of search his management company conducted for a lease agreement.

He'd checked out social media, but that hadn't helped either. The only Facebook page and website he could find connected to her were company pages. So, although he'd never seen her enter or leave the building with anyone but a young boy he assumed was her son, it was possible she had a boyfriend. But if she did, why hadn't she told him when he'd hinted at lunch?

Of course, it was also possible, God help him, he was losing his touch with women. He shuddered at the thought. But he had to face the fact he wasn't a kid anymore. He was forty-five, not thirty. No, he refused to go there. It had to be something else.

With enough time, he'd always been able to charm anyone. It was one of the reasons for his success both with women and in business. He was sure all he had to do was figure out a way to get her in a longer conversation, and he'd be able to persuade her to have lunch. Maybe even dinner.

The most likely place for a conversation was the coffee bar in the building lobby. He knew she went there every morning when she came to work. Occasionally she was there in the afternoon, too. He'd seen her a couple of times when he'd been coming in or going out of the building. All he had to do was figure out when she'd be there in the afternoon, when she'd be more likely to sit and talk, and “accidently” run into her the same way he “accidently” ran into her most mornings in the lobby.

• • •

“Here,” Melody said as she handed Catherine a brightly colored envelope. “A bunch of cards for free lattes came from the coffee place downstairs. Nice way to end the week.”

“Thanks.” Catherine took the envelope and started to put it in her desk drawer. “I'll use it next week.”

“Don't put it away. You have to use it today. Between three and four.”

“How weird. I've never heard of anything like that.”

“It's probably some promo for new tenants. And they want us to use the ‘get out of paying' card when they're not too busy. Then if we like their stuff, we'll come back.”

“Why would they have to worry about us buying our coffee there? It's five blocks to the next nearest place. Who'd go out in this heat when we can stay in air-conditioned comfort and still get our caffeine fix?”

“Well, then, maybe it's a welcome to the building. Whatever it is, a free latte is a free latte. I was hoping you'd go get one for me as well as for yourself. The ISP guy will be here soon to sort out the glitches in the router system they installed.”

“Yeah, we need to get it fixed. It's so unreliable right now it's a pain in the neck. I'm ready to go back to our old provider if they can't make it right.”

“Exactly what I told him. So, bring me back a decaf.”

• • •

There she was. His deal with the coffee bar owner had worked. Dominic closed his laptop and watched, unobserved, as Catherine made her way from the elevator with two other people from her office to where the barista waited to take their orders. Today, instead of one of her business suits, she was wearing black pants and a cream-colored shirt. A heavy gold chain and gold hoop earrings were the only accessories she wore. Simple, good taste, nothing overdone. Dominic liked simple, good taste.

He also liked the black heels she wore, which must add three, maybe four, inches to her height. No, not liked. Loved. Shoes like that probably hurt like hell to wear, but they sure made some interesting changes to a woman's body and to the way she walked. On Catherine Bennett they looked marvelous, emphasizing a very nice butt and what he knew, from the days she wore skirts, were shapely calves on legs that were long even without the extra inches from her stilettos.

Allowing her colleagues to go first, she finally got to order lattes with two of the cards he'd paid for. The barista looked over Catherine's shoulder at him, and Dominic nodded. Something in the interchange must have caught her attention because she turned and, when she recognized him, acknowledged him with a smile. He waved her over to where he was sitting.

“Did you get one of these mysterious free latte cards, too?” she asked as she approached the table.

“No, I didn't. You must have hit the coffee jackpot today.”

“Maybe it's some sort of deal for new tenants. Although if it was, you'd know about it, wouldn't you?”

“Not necessarily.” He indicated the chair across the table from him. “Do you have time to join me while I finish my coffee?”

She hesitated for a moment, but when she glanced over at the two people she'd arrived with, they were waving goodbye as they left. “Okay. Sure. I guess I have a few minutes until my lattes are ready.”

“So, what's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?” he asked. “Oh, wait, you already told me. You're here for the free coffee. So maybe the line should be, ‘do you come here often?'”

“Do those lines still work? They're awfully old—or at the very least well used.” She was smiling, but the sting was still there.

“Ouch. A not-so-subtle reminder either of my impending old age or the rut my creativity is in. Guess I need to up my game to talk to you.”

“Sorry, just trying to be funny. But apparently being insulting instead. No offense meant.”

“None taken, then.” He sipped at his coffee. “Let me try something else. The other day you mentioned having problems with your Internet provider. Have you gotten them taken care of?”

“Not really. I hope when I get back upstairs the service guy will be there to get it fixed.”

“Want some help? The provider you mentioned does a lot of business in this building, and I could probably get their attention pretty quickly.”

“If this doesn't get it taken care of, I may accept your offer. It's been the only glitch in our move. I guess I should be happy things have gone so smoothly, but this one rather important detail is making me crazy. And it's screwing up my weekend. I'd hoped to get out early today, but with this still unresolved, I want to hang around until I'm sure it's straightened out.”

Trying to sound casual, even though he was intensely interested, he took the chance to find out if she had a boyfriend. “Hot date?”

She snorted. “Hardly. Family obligation. A sister's birthday.”

“Your family live in the city?” He hoped the relief he felt wasn't evident in his voice.

“Sisters live in the suburbs but my mom still lives in South Philly, in the middle of the old Italian neighborhood where I grew up.”

“Right. I keep forgetting you're Italian. Bennett sounds so WASP-y.”

“How do you know I'm Italian?” She frowned.

“I assumed Alessandro—your middle name—is your birth name or a family name of some sort, and it sounds pretty Italian. Don't forget, I'm your landlord. I know quite a bit about you.”

“I'm not sure whether to be creeped out, complimented, or impressed.”

“Let's go with complimented and impressed. I like the sound of it better than creeped out.” He finished his coffee and crushed the paper cup. “Are you complimented enough to have lunch with me sometime next week so we can continue this conversation?”

“That's kind of you, but I don't really go out socially, and besides, you're not only my landlord but my competition.”

“If I promised it wouldn't be about your lease, could I change your mind?”

She stood and picked up the coffee the barista had delivered to her. “Still not a good idea. But thank you. I'm flattered.” Without saying anything further, she headed to the elevator.

• • •

Catherine was relieved when Dominic didn't immediately follow her. Being in the closed space of an elevator car with him after turning down his invitation for lunch would have been uncomfortable to say the least. Especially since it must have been obvious she hadn't even given his suggestion a second thought.

She'd discounted the oblique references he'd made about having lunch, thinking he was joking. But now it seemed she should have paid closer attention. He'd really asked her out. Or maybe not
out
. Maybe lunch in the deli next to the coffee shop. But to lunch, at least.

Part of her was pleased he'd asked. It had been a long time since she'd been the object of a man's attention for anything other than business. And she'd caught the attention of someone who was more than a run-of-the-mill guy. Dominic Russo was so far out of her league she couldn't see even the Class A division of his league from where she stood.

Part of her was puzzled. Why would Mister Sex on Legs be interested in her? If they'd been bicycles, he'd be a titanium racing bike and she would be an old Schwinn, the kind with training wheels, not exactly his usual speed.

But most of her reaction was determination never to put herself in the position of being hurt like she'd been by the disastrous end of her marriage. Surely, given who he was, Dominic would tire of her even more quickly than her ex-husband had and leave. She was not about to set herself up for
that
again.

Wait. He was also in the same industry. Maybe he wanted to talk about a business opportunity for her firm. Oh, shit. She'd jumped to the wrong conclusion. Of course it wasn't personal. He wouldn't be interested in her. Suppose she'd just been stupid enough to turn down a chance to work with The Russo Group. Pissing off the man who was both her landlord and the founder of the biggest communications firm in the city was not a good business decision. Working with them could be the making of her company.

No, if it had been business, he would have said something like, “I have a business proposition I'd like to talk about with you,” wouldn't he? She wasn't
that
much out of practice with men that she'd miss a business opportunity. It was personal, all right. But why would he ask her out? If the rumors Melody kept telling her about were true, he could have any woman—had probably
had
most of the women—in Philly. Why her?

Then the most likely reason occurred. Suppose the “why” was neither a personal invitation nor a chance to work with him. Suppose flattering her with his attention and a bit of lunch was his way of pumping her for information about her business? Maybe she was getting a little too successful for his comfort and he wanted a chance to evaluate how much of a threat she was to his business. That day in her office, he'd said he'd been watching how successful she'd become in the industry.

Damn. Damn. Damn. How could she figure out why he'd asked?

She was still mulling it all over when she heard Melody say, “Catherine? Are you okay?” after which the door to the elevator began to close. She'd been so caught up with worrying about what she might have done, she hadn't felt the elevator stop or seen the door open. Before she could hit the button to stop the door from closing, the car returned to the lobby. This time when the door opened, Dominic got in.
Why is he still here, and where are the other elevators when you need them?

He smiled as if unsurprised to see her, and she felt herself flush what was, she was sure, a bright shade of pink. Leaning in front of her to press the button for his floor, he raised his eyebrows. “Lost?”

“Not exactly. I must have pushed the wrong button. Sometimes it happens when my hands are full.” She indicated the two cups she was carrying. She knew that wouldn't explain why she'd gone up and come back down, but it was the best she could do.

“Let me.” He punched the button for the tenth floor. “Wouldn't want you to waste your afternoon wandering around in the elevator shaft.”

“Thanks.” She was sure she'd now moved from bright pink to deep red. The tenth floor couldn't come soon enough.

A ruby red rose bud, with no thorns, in a clear glass bud vase arrived at the Bennett and Associates office early Monday morning. There was no card with it—only a routing slip saying it was for Catherine. Melody rang the florist named on the paperwork, but the woman who answered said it was from someone who wished to remain anonymous.

For a few seconds after Mel conveyed the message, Catherine wondered if Dominic Russo was the
someone
. But she dismissed the idea. Why would he send her flowers—ah,
a
flower? She'd turned him down for lunch, not gone out with him. More likely it was an apology from her sister for picking a fight with her at the family birthday party on Friday. Nothing so simple as a phone call and an “I'm sorry” from Mary Ellen. Well, she deserved to fume for a day or two before Catherine acknowledged the peace offering.

A second vase was delivered on Tuesday morning with two yellow roses in it. Again, there was no card. Melody once again called the florist and once again was told they couldn't reveal the name of the person sending the flowers. Odd, Catherine thought, that her sister would choose to apologize like this.

Four peach-colored, sweetly scented roses showed up on Wednesday. This time there was a card, which said only “Please?” Before she could stop it, Dominic's name rose to the surface of her mind. Could he be doing this to try and get her to have lunch? No, too absurd. No one wanted lunch with her that badly. It would be nice to think someone like him wanted to spend time with her badly enough to mount a campaign of flowers, but it was unlikely.

It had to be her sister being clever. But when she broke down and called Mary Ellen, Catherine got an apology for the fight they'd had and a snorty laugh when she suggested her sister had sent three vases of roses.

By the time eight white roses with red-edged petals were delivered on Thursday, Melody had Googled the meaning of roses and discovered a single rose with no thorns meant “I hope.” Yellow roses represented “a new beginning,” peach roses, “let's get together.” And white roses edged in red, “togetherness.” Catherine told her to stop wasting her time. But when she was alone, she remembered the card with the peach roses, the ones meaning “let's get together,” had said “please.”