Tempted in the City by Jo Leigh

And the marble is stunning.”
    â€œMy ex’s—Angie’s—favorite. I got to choose the shower, though.”
    Catherine stared at him. “Your ex-wife?”
    Tony had to give her credit; she’d never asked after meeting Mrs. Collette. “I’m divorced. Is that a problem?”
    â€œNo. I mean...” Catherine shook her head. “Not for me, it isn’t. I expected so.” She smiled. “It’s fine.”
    He started to let it go, but knew damn well the remark would bother him. “Expected it?”
    â€œCome on...a great guy like you? Good-looking. Smart. Successful. Someone was bound to—”
    â€œOkay.” He laughed at his own embarrassment. “Before you ask, the split was amicable. No kids involved. It’s all good. You want to see more of the place?”
    â€œOf course I do.” Smiling, Catherine stretched up and brushed her lips across his mouth. But when the kiss got heated she backed off. “Show me.”
    Deciding to let her get away with the dodge for now, he led her down the long hall, stopping at the guest bedroom with its en suite, and another smaller bedroom. Then they walked back into the large open space that was a living room, dining room and kitchen all in one.
    â€œThis space is out of this world. I love the art, by the way. Gaudí is a favorite of mine.”
    â€œThere was an exhibit of his stuff at the Met. I liked it a lot.”
    They walked past the big dining table, one he’d built when he was twenty, then into the kitchen, with its wide island and stainless appliances.
    â€œThis is a total chef’s kitchen,” she said. “I recognize the brands of the stove and the fridge. Do you cook often?”
    â€œNot really. I can make a decent omelet, a steak and pasta. Everything else I bring in. Including tonight’s dinner. I didn’t even make the salad.”
    â€œNo harm in that. I think I want to steal your entire kitchen for my place, though. It’s stunning.”
    â€œThis was all my ex-wife’s doing. She’s the one who chose everything even though she was a terrible cook. I’ve been able to figure out how to get around in here for two years, though, with no problems. So if you want this configuration, we can certainly accommodate that.”
    He got the lasagna out of the oven, pulled down a couple plates and cut them each a big piece.
    â€œI’ll never be able to eat all that.”
    â€œI don’t know. You’re living in Little Italy now. It’s not a meal until you’ve eaten twice your weight in pasta.”
    â€œDamn. I guess I’ll have to join a gym.”
    â€œIt’s inevitable,” he said, getting them both forks. They didn’t even move to the table. Just leaned over the island and dug in.
    She took a bite and her eyes widened almost comically, then she took two more bites in quick succession. “Tony,” she said, as if she was about to impart some huge news. “This is the best lasagna I’ve ever had. Your mother is an amazing cook.”
    â€œShe learned from my grandmother, who lives with them. When my brothers and I were growing up, every day was like a cook-off. It was actually pretty insane.”
    â€œThat must be tough on—”
    She stopped talking when the elevator dinged.
    Tony groaned. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry about this,” he said, walking across the room. He knew who it was. The only other person to have a key. His brother Dom. Because he was still in school, he lived with their folks, but he liked to crash in the guest room from time to time. He usually called before he came, though.
    â€œYo, Tony,” he said, walking in like he owned the place, his gym bag in hand. “It smells like Ma’s lasagna. Thank God, I’m starving.”
    â€œWhy didn’t you call?”
    â€œI left two messages.”
    â€œAnd my not returning them didn’t give you a