Baby by Design: Designing Love Book One (Crimson Romance) Read Online Free PDF Page B

about.”
    And Trish wasn’t going to worry, either. For the first time in a long time, she was going to shed serious, wiggle out of worry, and focus on fun.
    It was one night. How much trouble could she possibly get into?

CHAPTER FOUR
    Tony owned two suits, one for weddings and one for funerals. Once, he mixed the pants from one suit with the jacket of the other, because the occasion was both a reason to celebrate and a reason to mourn. Back then, Tony knew Vin’s marriage was destined for divorce before a single “I do.” Some guys weren’t meant to be married. Guys like Tony and Vin fit that bill.
    Tucking the tails of his navy dress shirt into his black pants, Tony didn’t think twice about wearing the same suit he’d worn to Nonna’s party to the DeVign wedding. He looked damn good in the designer duds. Plus, he was getting his money’s worth, something bound to make his more responsible family members proud.
    With a paisley tie around his neck and a matching square of cloth in his lapel pocket, he double-checked his appearance in the mirror on the back of his bedroom door.
    “I’d do me,” he said with a smile, followed by a frown, because he didn’t need to be thinking about getting laid when his date was Trish DeVign.
    Grabbing his wallet and Vin’s keys from the dresser, Tony headed out the door. The vintage Ferrari parked in the spot where his bike usually was startled him. For one, he loved his bike—missed her, even—and two, he couldn’t believe Vin agreed to let him borrow the car. That was a true sign of familial love and respect.
    Tony slipped the key into the lock, releasing the door, and slid inside. Gripping the leather steering wheel, he inhaled and exhaled, reminding himself of all the ways Vin could cause him pain and suffering should Tony put one mark on this car. But the sobering moment passed when Tony glanced into the rearview mirror, catching sight of his sleek hair and dark eyes. In this suit, in this car, nobody would suspect he was the upholstery boy. No way. He was a regular man of mystery.
    “Bond, James Bond.” He laughed as he fired up the engine.
    Fifteen minutes later, he pulled alongside the curb of Trish’s Shadyside home. Looking up at the lighted window of the fat dormer at the top of the historic foursquare, he wondered why one woman would tie herself to so much house. Maybe it was work-related, like a living, breathing interior design showroom, an idea that would’ve had merit if he didn’t know Trish had an equally impressive office space around the corner on flashy Walnut Street. Being from a wealthy family was more than likely the culprit.
    Out of the car, Tony locked the doors—like Vin demanded—even though he was only walking thirty feet to the porch. He knocked and then waited with his back to the door, his focus on the car’s metallic paint, sparkling in the afternoon sun.
    “Hey.” The soft word sounded in unison with the click-clack of the opening door.
    Tony turned and lost his breath, like the air around him created a vacuum, sucking every last drop from his chest. Trish wore a curve-hugging, grass-green dress that crisscrossed her breasts and showed off miles of creamy arm.
    “Let me grab my purse,” she said, offering a weak smile before she turned away from the door.
    Two steps were all it took for him to notice the seam up the back of her black-print pantyhose, which were capped off with white-and-black retro pumps.
    “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” he breathed, hooking his finger inside his too-tight collar. “You look hot.”
    She glanced at him from her hunched over position in front of the foyer mirror, where she was pressing French-manicured fingertips to smooth a single strand of pearls. “Thank you.” She gave a wobbly grin and looked back to her reflection in the mirror. “You sound surprised. I must look like hell every other day.”
    Had he really never complimented her before? If not, that was a travesty. In thirty-three years,