Ringing in Love (7 page)

Dominic brought her hand to his mouth and kissed the tips of her fingers, one at a time. When he got to her pinky finger, he sucked lightly on it, sending an unexpected jolt of desire along nerve bundles that hadn't been stimulated for some time.

“I absolutely know you're here,
cara
. And forgive me. Jack and I have been riding around cooped up in this hunk of metal trash-talking each other for so long, we've forgotten how to behave when someone else is with us. You apologize to the lady, too, Jack.”

“I'm sorry, Ms. Bennett, if you were offended.”

“Catherine, please. And I was more embarrassed than offended. But thank you, Jack.”

“Let's get back to the conversation we were having before Jack so rudely interrupted. The Bonny Blue account—there's nothing I can do about the fact we got the contract, although I have to say I was pleased with what we did for them, and so were they. It was some of our best work.”

“And it won you all sorts of awards, which were, I admit, well deserved.”

“So, moving on from the business we weren't going to discuss—the other two things you were annoyed about—my unscrupulous professional practices and my sordid reputation with women—have Sergio and Jack improved my image over the past few hours?”

“I guess I'd have to say yes. Although it's probably all the wine and good food talking.” She smiled to take some of the sting of her words away.

“Have I been rehabilitated enough to get you to have dinner with me tomorrow night?”

“My son Noah has a soccer tournament in Villanova tomorrow that's going to go on until who knows when, so I have to say no.”

“Soccer? This time of year?” He frowned. “Hiding behind your son is beneath you, don't you think?”

“It's not a mixed metaphor of an excuse, Dominic. It's the truth. He's in a year-round soccer program. For the first time, his team made the playoffs for the summer season.”

“My apologies. How about next Friday?”

“I'll think about it.” She closed her eyes for a few seconds. “Okay.”

“Okay … meaning?”

“Okay, I'll have dinner with you.”

“That took an encouragingly short time to consider.” He leaned over and took her face in his hands. “But then, I did warn you I'm persuasive.”

Even in the air-conditioned car she could feel heat. This time she admitted what she'd known before but didn't want to face—the heat wasn't from the summer weather. It was the feel of him touching her, of being close to her. Her throat was so tight she could barely get a sentence out. “I think … I mean … it was Sergio and Jack who convinced me.”

“Perhaps I should do some convincing of my own then.” He drew her face closer to his, and his lips touched hers, gently at first, so she thought it would be a sweet, almost innocent kiss. She should have known better. Just at the point she thought he might end the kiss, the tip of his tongue began to tease her lips, asking for her to let him in, to let him taste her. Her brain told her to resist, not to give in until she knew if he was safe to trust. Her body said something different. She wanted this, had wanted it ever since he'd kissed her fingers. Maybe even before.

She sighed and her lips parted, letting his tongue slide over hers and giving him access so he could explore her mouth. He tasted of wine and something she couldn't define. Something hot and exciting, something simply Dominic. He didn't devour her, he sampled, as if she were the most delicious of delicacies. Somehow it made her want him more than if he had been aggressive. She was about to wrap her arms around his neck when Jack coughed. Dominic pulled away from the kiss and looked toward the front seat.

“We're almost at the building, Dominic. I thought you'd like to know.”

“Thanks, Jack.” He rubbed his thumb over her mouth as if to seal in the kiss. “It's back to work I'm afraid, Catherine.”

“Right. Work.” She pulled her face away from him and pushed herself back into the corner of the seat. “Thank you very much for lunch, Dominic. It was an unexpected treat.”

She could swear he was having difficulty keeping a straight face. It almost made her annoyed. Actually, she would have laughed, too, if he had suddenly gone all prim and proper on her, as she'd done.

“You're most welcome. It was my pleasure. We'll do it again.” He frowned slightly. “If you're going to Villanova tomorrow, will you still be in the office in the morning?”

“Early. About seven, so I can get in a couple hours of work before the game. Saturdays are about the only time I have any quiet so I can get some writing done.”

“Can I bring you coffee to help you think?”

“You don't have to …”

“I know I don't, but I want to. I'll see you about eight.”

The Escalade stopped in front of their building; Jack killed the engine and hopped out to open the curbside door for them.

“It was nice meeting you, Catherine,” he said as she slid out. He handed her the box of saltwater taffy. “I'm sure I'll be seeing you again.”

“So, did you have a nice time?” Mel asked, the expression on her face verging on a leer as she trailed Catherine down the hall to her office. “I hear the restaurant where you ate is good.”

Was it too much to ask that Melody be someplace else? Couldn't she have left early or been out on an errand? No, of course not. Here she was, waiting like a spider for her prey.

“How would you know about the restaurant? Oh, right, your new BFF told you when he called you behind my back.” Catherine shoved the box of candy into her friend's hand. “Here's your thirty pieces of silver. I didn't know you could be bought for such a measly price.”

Melody looked hurt. “I didn't betray you. All I did was agree you should take an afternoon off and have a nice lunch. Besides, I was looking forward to living vicariously when you came back and told me all the good stuff. Like what is was like to kiss him.”

“Why do you think I'd know that?” Catherine busied herself with the papers on her desk, avoiding Melody's gaze. “We just had lunch.”

“Sure, lunch explains your flushed face.”

“It's hot out.”

“Your shiny eyes.”

“We drank wine at lunch.”

“Your smeared lipstick.”

“Oh, hell …” Catherine's hand flew to her mouth. “Wait. I didn't have any lipstick on.”

The leer reappeared. “So, to go back to my original question—what's it like to kiss him?”

Catherine marched across her office and snatched the box of taffy from Melody. “You don't deserve this. Not only did you rat me out to Mister … to Dominic but now you're playing games with me.”

“You almost said it, didn't you? Mister Sex on Legs. Please tell me he's as hot as he looks.”

Catherine struggled to keep a straight face but finally gave in and smiled. “He's smart and charming and funny and …”

“The hell with
charming and funny
. Get to the good stuff.”

“He kissed me goodbye, I guess you can say, a couple blocks before we got to the building. It was … nice.”

“Don't disappoint me. I can't believe it was
nice
.”

“Okay, better than nice. It was … well … apparently my face is flushed and my eyes are shiny.” She shrugged, as if to say
figure it out yourself
.

“All my little fantasies about him are true, aren't they?” Melody clapped her hands like a nursery school child and did a little happy dance. “I'm so excited! Now I'll know someone who's part of the hot gossip instead of just hearing about strangers.” Suddenly Melody stopped her dance and stared at Catherine, the smile gone. “Wait. That look on your face. I've never seen it before. You're not thinking this will turn into something serious, are you? Please tell me you're not.”

“No, of course not. It was just lunch, like the note with the flowers said.”

She must not have sounded convincing because Melody continued. “Don't get your hopes up for anything more than that. He's Mister Sex on Legs all right—for half the women in the city. He's been the most eligible bachelor in Philly two—”

“Three.”

“Three? Three times?” Mel looked more confused than irritated at having her warning interrupted. “I thought you didn't know much about him outside business.”

“He told me.”

“There you are, then. He brags about being known for being unattached.”

“No, it wasn't like that. He corrected me when I said it had been a couple times.”

“Okay, fine, you brought it up. But he made sure you knew the correct number.” She put her arm around her friend. “Look, Catherine, I've been telling you for months, maybe even years, you need to look at men as something other than the suits we do business with. But are you sure he's what you're looking for? I don't think there's long-term potential there.”

“How do you know what I'm looking for? Maybe I don't want long term. Let me correct that—I
know
I don't want long term. I'm not ready for that yet. But something to jumpstart my clinically dead social life? That I think I am ready for. Finally. If I can get over my reservations about why he's paying attention to me, who would be better for a fling than the man even you think is the sexiest man in the city.”

Melody squinted her eyes and stared. “I can't tell whether or not you're serious. Which is not a good sign because I usually can.” She sighed. “All right. Have it your way. Besides, if you're only having a fling, you might be more willing to share details like how he kisses or how good he is in bed. It's sad, but at the moment I have to live through you.”

“What happened to lunch with the hot guy?”

“Turns out he's hot for the other team. I can't read you, and my gaydar's off. Not a good day.” She paused before adding, “Don't get in too deep with Dominic, Catherine. If he hurts you, I'll have to kill him, and then I'll end up in prison. I don't think I'd like the food there.”

“I'm sorry about your lunch, and I appreciate the support. But there won't be any need for felony murder, I'm sure.” She picked up a pile of papers and sorted through them without seeing what was on the pages. “Now get out of my office and let me try to get some order in here.” She indicated the stacks of paper and sample publications scattered about the room.

Melody grabbed her box of candy then asked one more question as she headed for the door. “Are you seeing him again?”

Catherine hesitated for a few seconds but finally gave in with a small smile. “Coffee tomorrow and dinner next Friday.”

“Who knew this would happen when we moved into the building?”

Melody closed the door, leaving Catherine standing in the middle of the evidence of a chaotic week, touching her mouth with her fingertips and saying softly, “Yeah, who knew?”

• • •

Dominic arrived in time to get coffee for himself and Catherine and get to her office by eight, as he'd promised. He'd considered being at her office door when she arrived at seven but thought that might be a bit too eager. And he didn't do eager. However, he was surprised at how much he was looking forward to seeing her again. Somehow, on the strength of an extended elevator flirtation, one lunch, and a kiss that seemed to promise there might be more to come, he had begun to anticipate their time together in ways not usual for him.

The door to her office suite was open although no one was at the front desk. He could hear voices coming from down the hall but decided not to wait for someone to acknowledge his presence. He knew where her office was, after all. But when he knocked on the closed door, he got no response. He tried again. Still nothing. She was either someplace else or completely wrapped up in her work.

Betting on the latter, he opened the door and said, “Delivery for Bennett.” She looked up from her computer with a startled expression.

“Oh, God, is it eight already?” she asked.

“It's nice to see you, too, Catherine,” he said.

“Let me start over. Good morning, Dominic. How lovely of you to bring me coffee.”

“That's better.” Plucking one cup from the carrier, he handed it to her with a flourish. “A double-shot, skinny latte for the lady.”

“It is altogether too stalker-ish that you not only know my credit history, my maiden name, and who-knows-what-else about me, but you also know how I drink my coffee.”

“I don't. Didn't. But the barista downstairs does.” He moved the visitor's chair closer to her desk before making himself comfortable. “You didn't say what you were working on today that brought you in so early. Big project?”

“Yeah. I need to get this draft edited for my project manager before I leave. What're you doing?”

“My usual Saturday drill. Going over the billings and financials.”

“I thought you had a CFO.”

“I do, but I like to know what's going on, so I look at the weekly report he leaves me every Friday.”

“I'm not crazy about that part of my job, but I can't rationalize taking on a CFO or a managing partner yet. Not sure I want to.” She took a long drink of her coffee. “I know I said I didn't want to talk business with you but I'm curious—you're the managing director and Edie's the creative director, right?”

“Correct. I split the responsibilities about five years ago. We'd gotten big enough it was hard for me to keep track of everything by myself.”

“How can you confine yourself only to the business side of the firm? Don't you miss the creative side of your work? I would.”

“Edie may be creative director, but I have a hand in every piece of work, every image, every word that goes out the door. It's my name on that door, after all. So I don't miss the creative side. I still do some of it.”