“Stop fidgeting. I’m almost done.” The statement came from Magdalena, Paulina’s older sister, who right now was fussing her hair into a French braid.
Paulina stared in the mirror. “Sorry, I just don’t see the point of this. Clipping it back would be easier.”
“You’re meeting with the architect for this new project. You should look presentable.”
“Why? I won’t get more jobs from him because of my hair.”
Magdalena, who always looked as if she’d stepped out of the pages of Vogue, sighed. “I hate that you hide your beauty.”
“I don’t hide it. It’s just not important to me.” Paulina touched her face, wide and freckled. “So don’t you dare ask for me to put on makeup.”
“There, I’m done.” She picked up a hand mirror and Paulina turned around.
Thick and tightly woven, hanging past her mid-back, the braid was pretty. But the sight made her sad. She could still see her husband, his big hand fisted in her hair. He’d whispered, Grow it long again. That’s sexy as hell.
“You don’t like the style?” Magdalena asked at her expression.
“I love it.”
“But?”
“My hair was short when Donnie died. He wanted me to let it grow but I couldn’t see the point.”
Her sister’s smile disappeared. “Yours grew the fastest.”
In some kind of unconscious solidarity, the seven of the Ludzecky girls had grown their hair long since the Pettrone brothers’ deaths, to match Antonia’s, which she’d had always reached down her back. No one planned it, but now they all had the same thick, sun streaked blond hair of the same length. Donnie would have loved it.
Magdalena kissed Paulina’s head to signify she understood. “Think happy thoughts today and put on the dress I brought you.”
“Really, Mags, I have some dressy clothes of my own.” Well, not quite dressy, but presentable enough for a business meeting.
“Humor me.”
As Paulina slipped into the sheath, she could appreciate the soft copper colored silk flowing over her skin. It made her think of a man’s hands touching her.
“What’s wrong? You flushed like you accidentally saw some porn.”
Paulina sat to slide on her shoes. “I was just thinking.”
“About?” A hesitation, then, “Spill it, girl.” Sometimes all of the sisters, not just the twins, had a sixth sense about each other.
Paulina looked into Magdalena’s eyes. They, too, were the same hazel, though Mags’ were almond shaped. “I miss having sex. There I said it out loud.”
“Ah.” Magdalena took Paulina’s hands in hers. “It’s been three years. Donnie wouldn’t want you to live like a nun.”
No, he wouldn’t. Once, when they were drawing up wills and designating the guardianship of their kids, they’d talked about what they’d hope for each other if one of them died. Donnie, big, macho and protective as hell, had said, Don’t mope over me, baby. Go on with your life.
“No, Donny wouldn’t want that. But Nia does.”
Her twin had not moved past her grief—and loyalty—to Peter, Donnie’s twin, since their accident three years ago. Paulina had to tiptoe around her in order to go forward, even making changes in the business. Paulina certainly couldn’t confess her desire to be with another man.
Magdalena kept hold of her hands. Two years older than Paulina, this sister was the most worldly of any of them, having gone to Harvard Business School and then building a wildly successful career in venture capitalism. “Honey, we all know Nia is in a different place from you. And we respect her timeline in getting over the grief. But you can’t let her hold you back.”
“That’s not the only thing.” Even when she shrugged, the silk caressed her. “I never go anywhere to meet men. I work with them all day, but can’t get involved with my employees. There’s nobody to date.”
“Then take up hobbies. Join a gym.”
Standing, Paulina looked in the mirror. At five-eight, her figure was full, but muscular and toned. “I don’t need a gym. I do physical labor every day.”
“Let me think on this.”
Drawing back, Paulina checked her watch. “I have to be in town in half an hour.”
“My driver’s waiting for us. I can take you to Armstrong Associates.”
Paulina’s whole body softened. “My rich, beautiful sister. Have I thanked you enough for coddling us the last three years?”
“Hush. No need. I love you, Paulie. Always.”
“And I love you.”
Paulina was still thinking about Magdalena when she arrived at 16 Park Avenue. After she got out of the car, she stood and stared up at the chrome and glass building. Befitting an architect, it had interesting peaks and angles that the April sun sparkled off of. She wondered what this new architect would be like. Most of the professionals she worked with on a job had preferred to deal with Donnie, and were respectful to her, but Paulina had been in charge since her husband died and together with Nia, ran their contracting business. She still wasn’t used to making deals.
Shaking off her thoughts, determined to succeed, she entered the building and shivered. The dress was sleeveless and light and she hadn’t thought to bring a sweater, though Mags had insisted she carry a purse. She took the elevator to the twenty-third floor, which opened to the firm she would work with on this new building—a music hall in Queens. Her company, Pettrone and Ludzecky Builders, had gotten the construction bid from the city, and Armstrong Associates were chosen to design it. She and the architect were meeting over the preliminary plans already drawn up by one of their own structural engineers, the firm and the city.
Though Paulina preferred older, classic structures, the contemporary suite of offices was stunning. Teak double doors opened to a large anteroom with a receptionist. The woman sat behind a sleek desk, with curved legs and an angled top. “Hello. I’m Lana Bright. You must be Ms. Pettrone. Our ten o’clock with you.”
“Yes to both.”
Lana rose and said, “Follow me.” They went down another short corridor, to a second set of double doors, which mirrored the outside ones. Lana knocked, and a deep voice within called out, “Come in, Lana.”
A man stood looking out at a panorama of windows that faced New York’s skyline. He turned at the whisper of the door and approached them. “Ms. Pettrone. Nice to meet you. I’m Adam Armstrong.”
“Nice to meet you, too, Mr. Armstrong.”
He was…arresting. His features were chiseled, his blond hair cut short enough to be neat, but long enough to let the sun highlight it. His eyes were grass green.
Holy shit, she thought. If she was scoping out her business associates, Paulina really needed to find a man.
o0o
The woman’s fingers were callused, Adam noticed when he shook her hand, and she didn’t wear a speck of makeup. But she looked quite different in person than she had on her firm’s website. More feminine, he guessed, though he never went for rounded cheeks and freckles. Adam appreciated the ability of women to use makeup cleverly to enhance their looks. “Come in. May I call you Paulina?”
“Most people call me Paulie.”
God, no, not a boy’s name. Though she was plain, he preferred the more sophisticated form of address. “Call me Adam, too. Can Lana get you something?”
She shook her head and a few tendrils of hair escaped her functional braid. Soft, blonder, they kissed her face.
“Then let’s sit.”
They took chairs at an oval teak table facing the city. Her eyes widened like a child’s as she perused the skyline. Right away, he knew this woman wouldn’t dissemble, which would be a welcome change from some business partners he’d dealt with. “What a pretty office, Adam, and a gorgeous view.”
“It’s inspirational.”
“I’ll bet.” Smiling, she still gazed out the window. “I love all the styles, sizes, heights of the buildings in the city.”
“I do, too.” Though nobody had ever voiced his love of New York like that. Glancing down, he’d unfolded the rolled up blue prints. “Ready?”
The corners of her mouth turned up.
“What?”
“You sound like a little kid opening a present.”
He chuckled. “I guess that's how I feel about my work. Even though you’ve gone over the preliminary drawings with your structural engineer out at the site, you haven’t seen the actual building.”
“Go for it.”
The façade was the first sheet on top. Paulina Pettrone recoiled when she saw it. What the hell? He waited as she leaned back in and examined every inch of it, then raised her gaze to his. Tinged with green now, her eyes were filled with appreciation. “I didn’t expect this.”
“Is something wrong?” Not only did the notion tick him off, but he felt a bit like somebody had told him his baby was ugly.
“I’m surprised at the traditional arches and windows. Carvings into the stone. The classic lines.” She gestured to encompass the office. “I was anticipating something more modern like this.”
“The city wants a classic look for the exterior. That style fits in with the neighboring buildings. But the inside has more modern elements.” He stared down at his plans. “Besides, it will house some of the greatest music in the world so it should be a combination of both.”
This time, her brows furrowed. “I’m glad you believe in matching the exterior with its surroundings.”
He’d been compared to Frank Lloyd Wright, whose mantra was just that. He wouldn’t brag to her, though.
She took a bead on him. “I checked you out online. Now I remember the comparison to Wright. Very nice.”
“Thank you.” Her gaze went back to the plans, as if she couldn’t stop looking at them. That tickled him. After he let her study his designs, he asked, “Do you think you can handle the outside?”
“Of course.” She seemed amused at his question, making him feel silly. “We’ve done older facades like this before. I’ve worked on all of them.” Now her eyes twinkled. “Literally. I helped set stone in place and built the arches.”
“You’ve been in the contracting business for ten years.”
“Uh-huh. I started right out of high school, but ended up getting a degree in building construction at a local college and took several more structural engineering courses.”
Since he was aware of what had happened to her, he felt he needed to confront it. “I know your husband and his twin brother started the business fifteen years ago. Is it all right if I say how sorry I am for the accident?”
The light went out of those eyes. It didn’t dim, it was doused completely. And was startling. He’d never seen that kind of transformation before. “Yes, you can say that. It’s worse when new people ignore that he’s gone.”
Adam squeezed her arm. Now that part of her skin was silky. Interesting! “Then I’m glad I said something.”
“Don’t you want to know if I can handle the job since I’ve only been in charge three years?”
“Word on the street says you and Don were equal partners.”
Her laugh was soft. Sincere. “I like that. He would, too.”
“Good. Let me show you the inside of the building. There are some complicated sections.”
Her chin raised and his attention dropped to the cuffed neckline of the dress. “I’ll be able to handle them.”
“You wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think you could, Paulina.”
“I know. Now show me your baby.”
o0o
Adam sat in the back seat of his limo fingering the cell phone Paulina Pettrone had left behind in his office. She’d checked the time on it, and must have thought she’d slipped it back in her purse. Lana spotted it under the chair.
She seemed uncomfortable with the leather purse she carried and maybe even in the dress she wore. He hadn’t expected the woman he saw online to have clothes like that. He’d pegged her as what they used to call a tomboy, but she was certainly feminine when she showed up today.
But what the hell did he really know about women?
Do you realize you call your buildings she? You’re married to them, not to me. All you think about is work.
To be honest, at the time, Bethany had been right. He’d just joined his father’s firm after graduating from Cornell and in typical dad fashion, Andrew Armstrong had told him he’d have to earn his way. Adam had not only risen to his father’s expectations, but enjoyed the sense of accomplishment. He’d worked hard to please his dad, but himself, too. Unfortunately, Bethany couldn’t wait for success to come their way and had an affair with his best friend. He didn’t know what hurt more—losing his wife, or his longtime buddy, which in itself said something about his marriage.
“The site’s right up here, Adam.”
Adam could see the trailer labeled Pettrone and Ludzecky Builders and the frame of a building behind them. The scent of fresh cut wood filled his head after he opened the door. “Thanks, Joe. I’ll only be a minute.”
Joe had been with him for years so it wasn’t odd that his driver turned around in the seat wiggled his brows. “Must be some woman to go this far out of your way.”
“What?”
“Bringing the phone to her instead of having me run it out. You must like her.”
“No, actually, I just met her. And she’s not my type.” He thought of Elyssa, the woman he currently dated, with the sleek short hair and long lean body.
Joe faced forward again. “Uh-huh.”
Since it was seven at night, the site was deserted. No vehicles were parked on the grass, but there was a light on in the trailer. After he exited his car, he walked over to it and knocked. No answer. He knocked again. Then he heard, “Who is it?”
“Adam Armstrong. You left your cell phone in my office and I had a meeting out this way, so I’m returning it.”
Nothing. Then he heard the lock snick. Paulina opened the door. The first thing he noticed was she held a baseball bat. The second was she wore men’s clothes, reinforcing his tomboy expectation. And last, she was dirty…really dirty. Her face was smudged. The T-shirt that was once white, was…dingy. Jeans sported patches of mud. Clunky work boots scuffed and caked. “Hi.” She nodded to the phone. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“No problem.”
“I’m not used to carrying a purse. I usually stick the cell in my pocket. But then again, I didn’t have one of those, either.”
Her confession stumped him. No coyness from her. And she certainly wasn’t trying to impress him. “Um, okay.”
She shook her head. Her hair was pulled back and tied at her neck with a big clip. “It’s Mags’ fault. She made me take the damn thing.”
“Mags?”
“Magdalena, my sister. She dressed me for our meeting.” Her hand went to her mouth. “Oops, I don’t think I was supposed to tell you that.”
“Why?”
“She thought I should look more sophisticated.” The sound that came out of her mouth was almost a snort. “As if.”
“You looked perfectly lovely.” He gave his version of a snort, then scanned her up and down. “Quite a difference from now. What the hell did you do today?”
“They were putting in the bathroom piping and somebody had to go into the crawlspace beneath. I went because I’m the littlest. Not that I’m little. But smaller than the guys.”
“Interesting.” He couldn’t help but smile. Who would have known once he got her talking, she would ramble on. And reveal a lot about herself.
“Sorry for running my mouth. I got nervous when you came to the door.”
He nodded to the bat, which she still gripped in a gritty hand. “That’s not much protection. I could wrest it away from you in seconds.”
“Ha! No way.”
“Want to bet?”
“Sure. You can buy me a beer sometime if I win, and if I lose, I’ll treat you to one of those stupid, fancy martinis that comes in all flavors.”
It was his turn to chuckle.
She eased her way outside. Night hadn’t fallen but they were in shadows. He thought briefly how this so wasn’t him, but her playfulness was contagious. Whipping off his jacket and hanging it on the doorknob to the trailer, he took a crouching stance. “Go ahead, try to hit me.”
Raising that bat, she winked. “Don’t worry, I got good reflexes. I won’t hurt you.”
She aimed for his shoulder, but he parried out of the way. She pivoted fast and went for his hip. Again, he evaded. When she tried to get around him, he caught the end of the bat and snatched it from her.
“I told you…”
His feet went out from under him—and he went sprawling face first in the dirt.
She laughed. “I wouldn’t call that a win.”
Sitting up, he dangled his hands between his legs. “I got the bat but you got me. For the record, I wasn’t prepared for a street fight.”
“Always be prepared for a street fight. My brother taught me that.” She held out her hand.
Taking it, he rolled to his feet. But he didn’t let go. “When?” he asked.
“When what?”
“When can I take you for the beer?”
“Oh, forget it. Let’s call it a tie.”
Suddenly, he didn’t want to forget it. “I--”
“Mr. Armstrong?” the voice came out from under a nearby tree—full of humor.
“Hell, did you see that, Joe?”
“Every bit. I’d say you’re losin’ your touch.”
Adam smiled. “Joe Corleone, this is Paulina Pettrone. She’s building the music hall.”
“So you said.” Joe turned an affectionate look on Paulina. “Hello, Mrs. Pettrone.”
“Mr. Corleone.” Her expression turned mischievous again. “Should I, like, be afraid of you?”
A deep laugh rumbled out of Joe. “Maybe. I got connections, lady.”
Was Joe flirting with Paulina? She must like Italian men given who she married.
Paulina bestowed an equally flirty smile on Joe. “Well, I have a few things to finish and then I’m leaving.”
Glancing around, Adam frowned. “Where’s your car?”
“My truck’s back home. Magdalena drove me into the city this morning, I caught a train back out here. I’ll call a cab tonight.”
“Won’t your family come?”
“Yeah, they would. But then my sister will…never mind. I’ll be fine.”
Joe said, “We aren’t goin’ anywhere without you. You shouldn’t be out here all alone.”
Her face saddened. “Yeah, you’re right. I have to be careful for my boys. You never know when disaster will strike.”
Stillness, full of grief invaded the night.
“So you’ll come with us.”
“I’m a mess. I’ll dirty up the car.”
“No problems, I’ll get a blanket out of the trunk."
They waited while she locked up, then headed to the car. Joe opened the back door for Adam, but Paulina grabbed the blanket and then the handle of the front door. “I’ll ride up here with your chauffeur.”
Once inside, Adam said, “He’s a great deal more than that.”
She climbed inside and the door shut. Adam followed suit. Why the hell did it bother him that she obviously didn’t want to get in the back seat with him?
Be sure to look for these six Ludzecky novellas coming soon: BEGIN AGAIN, PRIMARY COLORS, RISKY BUSINESS, THE WAY WE WERE, A PLACE IN THE SUN and LOVE STORY.