The trip flew by. Part of the time they talked. At other moments, they listened to music, comparing favorite artists and arguing over the merits of country versus pop. If driving to Tennessee had initially seemed like a punishment, today was entirely the opposite. He felt unreasonably lucky and blessed to be alive.
As they neared the city, he felt his pulse pick up. This was where he belonged. He and Luc had built something here, something good. But what if the life he knew and loved wasn’t right for Phoebe?
Was it too soon to wonder such a thing?
All day he had been hyperaware of her…the quick flash of her smile, her light flowery scent, the way she moved her hands when she wanted to make a point. He remained in a state of constant semi-arousal. Now that they were almost at their destination, he found himself subject to a surprising agitation.
What if Phoebe didn’t like his home?
She was silent as they pulled into the parking garage beneath his downtown high-rise building and slowed to a halt beside the kiosk. “Hey, Jerome,” he said, greeting the stoop-shouldered, balding man inside the booth with a smile. “This is where we get out, Phoebe.” He turned back to Jerome. “Do you mind asking one of the boys to unload the car and bring up our bags?”
“Not at all, Mr. Cavallo. We’ll get them right up.”
Leo took Phoebe’s elbow and steered her toward the elevator, where he used his special key to access and press the penthouse button. “Jerome’s a retired army sergeant. He runs this place with an iron fist.”
Phoebe clutched her purse, her expression inscrutable. Because the video camera in this tiny space was recording everything they said, Leo refrained from personal chitchat. He preferred to keep his private life private.
Upstairs, they stepped out into his private hallway. He generally took the recessed lighting and sophisticated decor for granted, but Phoebe looked around with interest. Once inside, he tossed his keys on a console table and held out a hand. “Would you like the tour?”
* * *
Phoebe felt like Alice in Wonderland. To go from her comfortable though modest cabin to this level of luxury was the equivalent of situational whiplash. She had realized on an intellectual level that Leo must be wealthy. Though she hadn’t known him personally before he arrived on her doorstep, she was well aware of the Cavallo empire and the pricey goods it offered to high-end consumers. But somehow, she hadn’t fully understood how rich Leo really was.
The floors of his penthouse condo, acres of them it seemed, were laid in cream-colored marble veined with gold. Expensive Oriental rugs in hues of cinnamon and deep azure bought warmth and color to what might otherwise have been too sterile a decorating scheme.
Incredible artwork graced the walls. Some of the paintings, to Phoebe’s inexperience gaze, appeared to be priceless originals. Two walls of the main living area were made entirely of glass, affording an unparalleled view of Atlanta as far as the eye could see. Everything from the gold leaf–covered dome of the Capitol building to the unmistakable outline of Stone Mountain in the far distance.
A variety of formal armchairs and sofas were upholstered in either pale gold velvet or ecru leather. Crimson and navy pillows beckoned visitors to sit and relax. Overhead, a massive modern chandelier splayed light to all corners of the room.
Undoubtedly, all of the fabrics were of Italian Cavallo design. Phoebe, who had always adored vivid color and strong statements in decor, fell in love with Leo’s home immediately. She turned in a circle. “I’m speechless. Should I take off my shoes?”
He stepped behind her, his hands on her shoulders. Pushing aside her hair, left loose for a change, he kissed her neck just below her ear. “It’s meant to be lived in. May I say how glad I am that you’re here?”
She turned to face him, wondering if she really knew him at all. At her old job, she had earned a comfortable living. But in comparison to all this, she was a pauper. How did Leo know she was not interested in him for his money? Unwilling to disclose her unsettling thoughts, she linked her arms around his neck. “Thank you for inviting me.” She tugged at his bottom lip with the pad of her thumb. “Surely there are bedrooms I should see.”
His eyes darkened. “I didn’t want to rush you.”
Her hand brushed the front of his trousers. “I’ve noticed this fellow hanging around all day.”
The feel of her slim fingers, even through the fabric of his pants, affected him like an electric shock. “Seems to be a permanent condition around you.”
“Then I suppose it’s only fair if I offer some…um…”
His grin was a wicked flash of white teeth. “While you’re thinking of the appropriate word, my sweet,” Leo said, scooping her into his arms, “I could show you my etchings.”