“I think I need a nap,” I declared.
His arms got super tight when he burst out laughing.
I watched, up close and personal, and hated myself for enjoying every second.
His laughter died down to chuckles, his hand at my side moved to stroke me there, and he again focused on me to ask, “Right. Now, are you done freakin’ out?”
I stopped being pissed. I stopped being anything.
But one thing.
And I shared with Benny what that was.
“This scares me, Ben.”
He dipped his head so his face was an inch from mine and replied, “I get that, honey.”
“I don’t know how to get over that,” I admitted.
“You wanna get over it?” he asked.
That was a loaded question I was not going to answer out loud so I kept my mouth shut.
“Okay, I’ll give you that play, cara,” Benny said when I did. “But, just sayin’, you makin’ your previous statement already gives me my answer.”
And, again, he was right.
“So,” he continued, “how ’bout this? Stick with me.”
I shook my head. “I’m moving to Indianapolis.”
At that, he shook his head. “Day to day, babe, not future. Not anything but the next day, fuck, the next minute, each minute into the next. Stick with me while we work it out. If it goes wrong, it does. If I can’t guide you through, I’ll eat that. But, I’ll warn you, I’ll be breakin’ my back to make sure neither of those happen.”
God, more goodness coming from Benny.
“There are a lot of obstacles,” I pointed out.
“Francesca, no one ever got a gold medal for sittin’ on their ass and doin’ nothin’. You work at somethin’, you work at it hard, you believe in it, you want it, you go after it, you get it—that’s when you get your prize.”
Now wisdom coming from Benny.
I couldn’t take it so I dropped my chin to rest my forehead against his chest.
The hand he was using to stroke my side curled around and his other hand slid up to wrap around the back of my neck as he asked into my hair, “You really need a nap?”
“Were you really gonna take me to Lincoln’s?”
“Yeah.”
“Then I don’t need a nap.”
His hand at the back of my neck gave me a squeeze so I lifted my head.
When I did, Benny, who I was learning did not waste opportunities, dipped his and took my mouth. He got tongue action. It was more than a sweep this time. It was a deep drink.
I loved it. Every second. And I ended it with my arms wrapped around him.
“Stick with me?” he whispered, his lips still against mine.
“Yeah.”
I felt his mouth smile.
I closed my eyes.
Then I felt his mouth touch my forehead.
After that, he let me go, grabbed my hand, pulled me toward the door, and said, “Let’s go get subs.”
Chapter Seven
Minute by Minute
At six forty that night, I stood in Benny’s bathroom, staring at myself in the mirror.
My hair was bigger than its normal big, by a lot.
My makeup was deeper, smokier, hotter.
My dress was black with a silver shimmer. In the front, it covered me from throat to mid-thigh, including long sleeves.
But it was skintight. Everywhere.
And there was no back. None. From the small to my shoulder blades, all bare.
It was a dress that demanded a woman not wear underwear. A bra was an impossibility, but I’d bested the challenge of the panties, finding a sheer black thong that was only noticeable if the dress shifted in a particular way. So under the dress, I had on nothing but that thong.
But on the outside, I’d included chunky drop earrings that nearly brushed my shoulders and a thick rhinestone bracelet over the gathers formed by the material at one of my wrists. On the other hand, I had a ring at my middle finger, on which delicate, shimmering chains were attached that dangled up the back of my hand to another bracelet linked around my wrist.
And on my feet were silver sandals that had a platform, a four-and-a-half-inch heel that was thin as a pencil, a slim wraparound strap at my ankle, and two slender straps over my toes.
I needed a manicure and a pedicure.
Other than that, top to toe, I was all I could be for a first date.
The bummer was that I was also a little tired. The day, the conversation with Benny, the trip to Lincoln’s and back, and my efforts in the bathroom took it out of me.
But I was not going to miss that night.
I’d made Benny a promise. Stick with him. Minute by minute.
I was going to keep it.
I didn’t know if it was right.
I did know that day we threw a lot of garbage out there and none of it fazed Ben, not in the slightest.
I also knew that pretty much everybody—from Cindy the nurse, who had no real idea of the history; to Cal, who totally did; to Theresa and Vinnie, who were intimately involved; to old lady Zambino, a not-so-casual observer—didn’t think it was wrong.
It was only me who did.
So I was going to stick with Benny, take this minute by minute and ride it out, God help me.
Which meant, even though I was tired and a bit achy, I was tricked out to extremes in order to go to arguably the most romantic restaurant in Chicago with Benny Bianchi.
I turned to the door, opened it, switched off the light, walked out, and stopped dead.
This was because Ben had his neck bent forward, his side to me, and he was shrugging on the jacket of a black suit. Shrugging it on over a shirt so deep blue it was midnight, that had subtle dark gray, deep burgundy, and navy stripes. His hair was partially tamed, and once he got the jacket settled, the ends brushed the collar.
My stomach dipped and my mouth went dry.
His eyes came to me and he went completely still.
Then those eyes got dark in a way that made my legs start trembling and my clit pulse.
I braced for him to rush me.
He didn’t. We just stood there staring at each other. Benny’s look was carnal. I had a feeling mine was the same.
After this lasted awhile, Ben whispered, “Crazy-beautiful.”
My heart squeezed, and when it did, it felt fucking good.
“Always were,” he went on quietly.
I forced myself to find my voice, but when the words came out, they sounded husky. “You look good too.”
Some of the dark went out of his eyes as sweet settled in and he ordered, “Come here, Frankie.”
For once, I did as I was told and walked to him.
The instant I got close, he pulled me gently into his arms, holding me loosely, and dipped his head to touch his mouth to mine.
When he lifted it, he asked, “You ready to go?”
I nodded.
He grinned, gave me a light squeeze, then let me go. He did the rounds to turn the lights off on the nightstands, then came to me and took my hand. He held it all the way down to the kitchen and only dropped it when he nabbed his cell off the counter and tucked it into the inside pocket of his jacket.
We were at the door when he asked, “You want your purse?”
I looked up at him. “It doesn’t go with my outfit and I didn’t think to grab one when I was at my place.”
“You need me to carry anything for you?”
I went silent and stared up at him, wondering if he was for real.
It was strange and unsettling to compare him to his brother, but even so, the fact remained that Vinnie not only never offered to carry anything for me, there were times he bitched when I asked.
Though, it was more. As my experience with men was limited, my girlfriends had reported the same thing.