Ringing in Love (8 page)

“I can only hope someday I have someone working here who loves the business side as much as I love the creative side. Until then …” She let the sentence drift off.

“You'll get there.”

She gestured to her computer. “If I have enough of these projects, maybe I will.”

“Sounds like I should let you get back to work.” He rose from the chair.

Walking him to the door, she said, “Thank you again for the coffee. I need all the caffeine I can get today.”

“It was only an excuse to see you again. You do know that, don't you?”

She didn't say anything, merely looked up into his brown eyes and smiled.

“You have beautiful eyes,” he said as he traced around them with his forefinger. “And wonderful cheekbones. Then there's this mouth. I've thought about it a lot since yesterday.” He trailed his finger over her cheek and then to her top lip. “What I realized was, I didn't taste it nearly enough yesterday. I'd like to correct that omission.”

He didn't want to rush her, but he needed to kiss her again, needed to feel her mouth against his. He started softly, sweetly, not knowing how far she would want him to push. But her lips parted without any urging from him, and when her body relaxed against him, he responded with a swift exploration of her mouth with the tip of his tongue. She tasted of coffee and the same sweetness he'd discovered when he'd kissed her in his SUV. She sighed into his mouth and her arms went around him.

He pulled her closer and shifted his mouth to make it possible to nibble on her lower lip, then, taking his time, he deepened the kiss. The temptation to keep going, to find out what her skin felt like under the T-shirt she wore, was strong. Maybe even to see how comfortable that little couch of hers was with the two of them horizontal on it.

But he knew he couldn't push that far that fast. So he nipped at her lip again then kissed where he had nipped before drawing back from her. She frowned slightly, as if disappointed the kiss was over. Smiling, he dropped a kiss on her forehead and said, “If I don't go now, I'm quite likely to do something that will seriously interfere with either of us getting any more work done.”

“Yes. I guess we should both get back to … to … whatever.” She didn't move away from him, however, but continued to look up at him, her eyes wide and unfocused. He wanted to kiss her again, to make sure when she went back to work she wouldn't forget who had made her feel that way. But before he had a chance to act on his impulse, the door to the office flew open and whacked him in the back.

Melody barged in. “Catherine, you haven't answered the email I sent about the links to the research you were—” When she saw who was standing there, the doorknob still in the small of his back, she stopped talking and flushed a deep red. “Oh, Mr. Russo. I thought Catherine was alone. I'm so, so sorry. Maybe I should come back later.”

“No harm, no foul, Melody. And it's Dominic.” He smiled at the obviously rattled woman. “I brought Catherine coffee, but I was just leaving.”

“Coffee—right. Don't forget yours,” Catherine said. She grabbed his cup from her desk and handed it to him. “Thanks again for the latte.”

“Any time.” He was almost out the door when he thought to add, “I hope Noah has a good tournament today.”

“Thanks. I have my fingers crossed for him.”

• • •

The silence left by Dominic's departure went on for several moments. Finally Catherine said, “There was a reason you barged in, I assume.”

Melody shook herself out of her stunned speechlessness. “Oh, right. Sorry. I wanted to make sure you checked your email. I came in this morning to finish up the research you wanted for the Butterfly Trust proposal. My laptop died and I needed a computer. Check what I sent you, please, and make sure it's what you need. I'm nervous about my first research assignment from you.” She ducked her head in apology. “I'm sorry I interrupted you and Mister Sex on Legs. He was about to kiss you, wasn't he?”

Before she answered, Catherine returned to her desk and began to pull up the message Melody mentioned. “Got it. I'll take a look before I leave.”

“You didn't answer my question. I barged in just when he was going to kiss you, didn't I?”

“No, as a matter of fact, you didn't. He wasn't.”

“I'm sure he was. I could see it on his face.”

“Trust me, he wasn't about to kiss me.” Catherine was sure her smug smile would give her away.

It did. “Oh. Now I see. He wasn't
about
to kiss you. He already had. Although from the look on his face, he was thinking about doing it again.” She frowned and pursed her lips before adding, “I thought you said you still had reservations.”

“Maybe I decided not to be wary of a perfectly nice man who's shown some interest in me.”

“You went from scared silly to sex in the office in one day? Wow. Yay, team Bennett! Pompoms waving. Way to go.”

“Melody, don't let this run away with you. There was no sex in the office. Only a little kiss.”

“Right. So the sex will be on Friday when you have dinner with him.”

“No, it won't. Noah's there, remember? And I thought you said it was a bad idea for me to get involved with a man like Dominic.”

“Yeah, but I've changed my mind. You convinced me. If you want to have a fling, who better to have it with than an expert? One of us needs to see what all the gossip is about.” She had her hand on the doorknob when she added, “But you better not fall for him.”

Driving to Villanova took longer than Catherine expected. Or more accurately,
seemed
to take longer, it was so uncomfortable.

The discomfort started when, ten minutes into the trip, Noah asked, “Is something wrong, Mom?”

“Not really.” Catherine had been quiet, trying to decide if now was the best time to tell Noah about Dominic—who he'd meet on Friday. On one hand, she couldn't look him in the eye while she was driving to see how he was taking the news. On the other, Noah was stuck in the car and couldn't storm out the way he sometimes did when he didn't like what she was saying. “Does it seem like there is?”

“I don't know. Maybe. You aren't talking much. You haven't even asked what I was up to while you were at work, and you always do.”

“I'm sorry. I've been thinking about something. Actually, trying to think of a way to talk to you about something.”

“Not another sex talk. Please. You and Dad covered that years ago.”

She didn't have to see his face to know he was rolling his eyes. “It's not about you. And it's not about sex. Well, not specifically. It's about dating.”

“I'm not dating. Nobody dates anymore. Except old people. I guess they still have dates.”

“Still not about you.”
Here goes.
“I had a lunch date yesterday.”

“With a man?”

He sounded surprised, skeptical even. If she needed proof she'd been living a socially sheltered life, the tone of his voice gave it to her. “Yes, with a man. We had lunch yesterday, and we're going to dinner next Friday.”

Noah was quiet for what seemed like a long time. Catherine waited for him to continue the conversation. “What about Dad?”

“What about him? We're divorced.”

“Yeah, but you could still get back together someday, and how're you gonna do that if you're hooking up with some guy?”

“First of all, I'm not ‘hooking up' with anyone. Second, he's not ‘some guy.' His name is Dominic Russo; he's a nice man; he owns the building where my new office is. Third …”

“Oh, great. He's Italian. Nonna will be happy. Is that why you're doing this? So she won't be mad at you forever about getting a divorce?”

“Would you please let me finish responding to one outrageous statement before you make another? You know your dad and I aren't getting back together. For heaven's sake, Noah, even if I wanted to get back with him—and I don't—his being married doesn't bode well for reconciliation, do you think?”

“But suppose he leaves Susan and you're with this Russo guy?”

Catherine took a couple deep breaths, trying to keep herself from pounding on the steering wheel. Which was only a replacement for wanting to find a way to pound the simple fact into her son's head that, no matter what he wanted, she and his dad were never going to be a couple again because neither of them
wanted
to be a couple again.

“Noah, I thought you'd gotten over this idea that your dad's coming back. He's not. We've moved on with our lives. For me, right now, it means I'm having dinner with Dominic this Friday. And for your information, I'm not now, nor have I ever, gone to dinner with anyone to please your grandmother.”

If she hadn't remembered only too clearly how she'd tormented her mother when she was a teenager, she'd have been royally pissed off at her son for his attitude. She needed to talk to her ex—again—and make sure he knew Noah was still pining for his parents to reconcile.

“Can I meet this guy? Or are you going to go out with him secretly?”

“Secretly? When I'm telling you about him? You'll meet him when he comes to pick me up on Friday. And I expect you to be polite. You may get away with snark when you talk to me, but he doesn't deserve it.”

The rest of the drive was in a silence broken only by the sound of the music Noah chose to play from his iPod which, unfortunately, was both more raucous than she liked and connected to the car's speakers. She let him get away with it because she wasn't up for another fight.

The first game went well for Noah's team, although he seemed a little slow getting into the rhythm of the game. His team won and went on to the semifinal round, but Noah continued to play with less focus than usual. Eventually his coach replaced him with a younger team member. They lost when the opposing team scored a last-minute goal, and Noah's team was out of the series. Catherine was relieved she wouldn't be driving to some suburb or another the next weekend for the finals, but she knew the team would be disappointed, even though the semifinal round was further than they had ever gotten before.

Catherine stayed on the sideline while the requisite after-game team handshakes and snacking took place. When Noah separated from his teammates and began to clomp toward her, she folded up her chair and waited for him to join her. She winced at the expression on his face, the worst case of teenage sulk she'd seen in a long time, and knew the ride home wasn't going to be any better than the ride there had been.

He didn't stop when he reached her but continued stomping his way to the car. She had to take long strides to keep up. “You guys did great. The first game may have been the best I've seen you play all season.”

“We should have won the second game, too. We only lost it because you made me lose focus and I got pulled. The kid Coach put in didn't have the experience to keep the other team from getting that last goal.”

“
I
made you lose focus? How?”

“I couldn't concentrate because of the stuff you told me in the car about this guy you're suddenly dating.” They'd reached her CRV, and Noah yanked on the back hatch, which was locked. Catherine pushed the button on the remote to open it, but as she did, Noah pulled at the latch again. She zapped and he yanked at the same time a second time. After the third unsuccessful try, she asked him to step away from the back of the car so she could get it open. He threw her a black look but complied. This time when she zapped, the hatch opened.

Noah threw his cleats and team sweatshirt into the back. Catherine loaded her chair. They got into the car for the long, silent drive home.

• • •

Catherine was beginning to believe Dominic came in at the same time she did every morning on purpose. It was too coincidental that she ran into him in the lobby of the building almost every day, or that he walked into the coffee bar as she was ordering her latte before going up to her office.

On this particular Monday, she crossed paths with him in the coffee shop. His smile was as warm as the temperature outside and much more welcome.

“How'd Noah's team do in the tournament?” he asked.

“They aced the first game and came close to winning their semifinal round. Lost by one goal in the last minute.”

“Noah must have been disappointed.”

“Disappointed and angry at me.”

“You? What did you do? Flirt with the coach so he was too distracted to do his job? You could certainly distract me.”

Catherine tsked her displeasure, making his smile even bigger.

He touched her elbow, directing her to a table. “I have ten minutes to hear this story. Do you have ten to tell me?”

She nodded, deciding she might as well prepare him now for what was going to happen on Friday. “I guess so. Particularly since it involves you, too.”

“To the best of my knowledge I've never been responsible for a soccer team losing a game. Come to think of it, I've never flirted with a soccer coach either.”

“And neither have I.” She played with the sleeve on the cup, trying to sort out what she wanted to say. “On the way to the game, I told Noah I'd had a lunch date on Friday and would have a dinner date this Friday. He was not amused and implied I was cheating on his father.”

“I'm curious how one cheats on an ex-spouse.”

“It seems Noah still thinks there's a chance his dad and I will get back together. And if I'm having dinner with ‘some guy,' as he put it, it's being untrue to his fantasy.”

“It's not uncommon with kids, is it, to want their parents back together?”

“No, but we've had this conversation dozens of times. Both his father and I have told him it's not going to happen. I don't want it, and his father's wife might find it inconvenient at the very least. I thought it was a moot point.”