A Kind of Romance (18 page)

“Wrong answer.”

I tickled him mercilessly until he was gasping for breath. “Stop!”

“Truce. Pinky promise.” I extended my pinky finger and wrapped it around his before pulling him against me until he lay his head on my chest. “Don’t go. I like you, Benny Ravioli. Spend the day with me.”

“Ravioli?” Benny chuckled and wrapped his arms around my neck.

“Yeah. What do you feel like doing next? How about a game of pool.” I nuzzled his chin and nipped at his ear before adding, “Naked.”

“Mmm. I don’t think—”

“Loser owes the winner a blowjob. Prepare to get schooled, baby,” I teased.

Benny’s laughter sounded like a long-forgotten melody to a song I’d once known well. It was happy, light, and joyful, and at that moment, I wanted nothing more than be with him. No agenda, no expectation, no promises.

WE SPENT
the rest of the day together. I tried to teach him how to play pool, but a naked Benny was just too damn distracting. I ended up with my back to the wall and my hands in his hair as he sucked me to oblivion. I returned the favor a short time later in the shower. And when he claimed he had to go home to change clothes as I dried his hair with a towel afterward, I assured him I could find something for him to borrow. We laughed hysterically at the small black T-shirt I found in my drawer for him to wear. It was positively gigantic on him. I thought he might insist on leaving, but he smiled brightly and made an offhand comment about it being the perfect “boyfriend” tee. I chuckled at his teasing banter, but truthfully, I liked seeing him in my clothes, moving around my bedroom and pointing out where he thought I could use a little bling. It made me smile.

Eventually, we went out for a late lunch slash early dinner at a tiny bistro on my street. We sat outside at a cozy table for two, sipping a superior Pinot while we talked about our favorite shops and where to find the best cappuccino in the city. It was light, silly banter. The kind that sometimes tells you more about the person you’re with than probing questions do. For instance, I asked Benny if he’d been to a new clothing store on Spring Street that a well-known designer had opened, featuring haute couture menswear. His eyes twinkled as he shook his head.

“No, but I’d love to meet the owner of the shop next door to it.”

My forehead creased in confusion. “The place with the gowns in the window?”

“They’re gorgeous! She has impeccable taste.”

“Do you know how to make those kind of dresses?”

“Yes. I love working with luxe materials and finding the perfect color to accentuate curves in the right places. It’s like magic!”

“Why didn’t you finish at Parsons instead of NYU? They have a better program for design.”

He stared after a beautiful young woman wearing impossibly high heels who walked by our table carrying a tiny Yorkie in her coat pocket. I sensed he was trying to decide how to answer me, so I didn’t push. I watched him instead. His posture was perfect. He almost looked like he was posing for a picture with his right leg crossed and his head cocked slightly to the left. The way he ran his fingers along the stem of his wineglass seemed sexy somehow. Graceful yet provocative.

“My family needed my help when my grandmother got sick. I didn’t have the time to put into projects, and after a while I didn’t enjoy it. It was too much pressure, and I couldn’t keep up. I’m happy doing the odd commissions that come along, and I love doing style work for Isaac, Rand’s guitarist. For now, it’s enough. As long as I can do something creative every day, I’m happy.”

“So on a day you don’t sew or design something, what do you do for a creative outlet?”

“I sew or sketch every day. If I’m still not satisfied, I usually color my hair.”

He held my gaze for a moment before we both burst into laughter. I didn’t know what was so damn funny, though. He was being honest. I’d seen the evidence of his creative frustration. And I respected him for finding an unconventional way to express himself in a world that didn’t always appreciate a unique approach.

“Why are you staring at me?” he asked in a bashful tone.

I shrugged and pursed my lips. “You’re kinda… colorful.”

“That sounds like a backhanded compliment.”

I reached for his hand and impulsively kissed his fingers. “It’s a real one, Ben. You’re one of a kind.”

Benny’s smile was radiant. In spite of the borrowed black T-shirt and dark jeans, he was the very definition of color. I loved the way his hot Italian temper gave way to infectious laughter in flashes of red and blue. He was vibrant and passionate and then cool and thoughtful. But never boring. I couldn’t look away if I tried.

“YOU’RE ALIVE.”

I glanced at my cell irritably and sank back on my comfy sofa. There was a baseball game on but I’d muted the sound on the television an hour ago in favor of a Sunday evening catnap. I blinked as I reached for the remote control.

“I am indeed. What’s up? Need to borrow some sugar?” I teased.

“I’m checking in on you, asshole,” Carter huffed. “Like a good friend. The kind that doesn’t leave their best friend at a fucking cabaret bar with their loser ex!”

“You’re yelling.”

“Can you blame me? I’ve been texting you. What happened with you and the cute guy? Benny, right? Give me the scoop.”

“Scoop? What are we, sorority sisters or somethin’?”

“Don’t play dumb. I’m curious. Did he spend the night?”

“Yes, and he stayed for coffee.”

“Your coffee isn’t that good,” Carter said scornfully.

“And he spent the day. The end.”

“Ahh.”

I let the silence stretch and tuned in to the action on the screen. The Yankees were up in the bottom of the seventh. I was about to fill Carter in on the score when he spoke again.

“I like him.”

“You can’t have him.”

Carter chuckled. “Hey, if nothing else, it was priceless to see Taylor’s reaction when you picked up that microphone,” Carter guffawed. “He looked mighty jealous. You knew he’d be at Gypsy last night, didn’t you? You’re a crafty bastard, Gulden.”

I furrowed my brow and sat up. “I didn’t know. It just… happened.”

“I’m glad it did, and if your motive was to stick it to that fuckhead… well done. You got him.”

I didn’t respond. Carter knew me well. It wasn’t odd that my friend assumed I had an evil plan for vengeance all along. Hell, Benny picked up on the same thing, and he hadn’t known me more than a couple weeks. I worked in a cutthroat, high-stress environment. There was no room for playing nice. If you didn’t stay on your toes, you wouldn’t last a week in my world. There was always someone watching and waiting for the sign of weakness that spelled certain demise. Keeping an eye on all angles was crucial to success. A fuzzy memory resurfaced of Taylor telling me to come get him. It was the invitation I’d wanted a month ago. But now… I wasn’t so sure.

BENNY WARNED
me several times in the days before his cousin’s wedding that traditional Italian weddings weren’t for the faint of heart. He told me to expect a full Catholic Mass, then a brief luncheon followed by an enormous reception in Brooklyn…. Park Slope to be exact.

“That’s where I’m from,” I said into my Bluetooth as I finished typing an e-mail.

“Right. I remember George telling me that. Hoity-toity.”

I huffed a half laugh. “I don’t know about that, but it’s a nice neighborhood. A good place to raise a family.”

“Do your brothers live near your dad?”

“Yeah. I’m the rebel with the slick city job, fancy suits, and fast cars. The rest of them are more concerned with school districts, playdates, and eco-friendly SUVs roomy enough to fit soccer crap and car seats.”

“Does that tone mean you never want to be a daddy?”

“No comment. What were we talking about? I’m supposed to be working here,” I grumbled good-naturedly.

It was Friday afternoon, and Benny was giving me a long-winded list of last-minute instructions that made me wonder for the umpteenth time what the hell I’d agreed to. I’d been to dozens of weddings in churches, cathedrals, and synagogues all over the States. I was tempted to remind him this was not my first rodeo, but I liked the sound of his voice.

“The wedding. I’ll be ready at noon. It will be easiest for you to pick me up. Unless you want to take the train.”

“You’re hysterical. No, thanks. I’ll pick you up.”

“Good. See you tomorrow. Oh wait!”

“What?”

“I’ll be wearing blue. Dress accordingly. Ta-ta.”

“Hang on! What does that mean?”

“It means what I said. I gave you the color palette. Roll with it.”

I backed away from my desk and looked out the window for the first time all day. It was June, and the city was beautiful. Blue skies and long, sunny days. I wanted to enjoy the view, but Benny had me spinning again. The fact I was at work discussing suit colors was beyond strange. Zeke Gulden didn’t take time from his schedule for this nonsense. And he sure as hell didn’t take fashion tips from a guy who wore eyeliner every other day. Yet here I was staring at the tiny people on the streets below, listening to Benny’s melodic voice instead of finishing the proposals on my desk.

We’d talked or texted every day since our Sunday together a couple of weeks ago. It usually began with a question about the upcoming wedding and then morphed into rambling conversations about anything from tourists in the city to our prospective dinner plans that evening. Our current discussion was the most we’d talked in detail about the wedding. I wondered what excuses we’d come up with once his cousin was happily married. Or if we’d feel the need to use one.

“Fine. Blue at noon. Let me get back to work. You’re a pest.”

Benny chuckled merrily. “See you tomorrow, boyfriend.”

I noted my goofy grin in my reflection of my office window and immediately scowled. After this weekend, it would be wise to put some distance between us. As much as I liked Benny, I didn’t want either of us to get the wrong idea. I started to turn back toward my desk when my cell buzzed again. I figured it was Benny with another last-minute tip, so I answered without looking at the caller ID.

“This better not be a helpful suggestion about wearing a striped, paisley, or solid tie. I know how to dress myself, babe.”

The caller didn’t laugh. Or speak.

“Ben?”

“Uh, no…. Hi, Zeke.”

My pulse went into instant overdrive. “Taylor.”

“Yeah. How are you?”

“I’m fine.” I turned back to the window and focused my attention on a water taxi cruising in the Hudson. This was… unexpected.

“Good. Hey, I was wondering if you wanted to meet for a drink tomorrow night.”

“Why?”

He gave a short laugh. I could picture his smile. A little sad, but hopeful too. Or perhaps that was wishful thinking.

“I thought we could talk about things.”

“Things? I have plans tomorrow night and I—”

“How about next week?”

I didn’t say anything immediately. As my pulse returned to normal, a cool tranquility settled in my veins, a sure sign of heightened intuition. I knew to pay close attention. It always served me well in business, but this was the first time I’d felt it strongly in a personal sense. That wasn’t entirely true. I’d felt a tingling awareness when I’d first shaken Benny’s hand. The difference was I could tell Taylor was up to something. And Benny… well, I hadn’t figured him out yet.

What I did know was Taylor was fucking with me. There had to be an interesting reason, I mused as I turned away from the window.

“I’ll give you a call.”

SATURDAY MORNING
dawned bright and beautiful. A perfect wedding day. I’d gone to the gym early so I could get some work done before picking Benny up. I thought I might wake up dreading the upcoming day, but after my second cup of coffee I found myself checking my watch in anticipation. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t thrilled about attending some strangers’ wedding. That part sounded like hell. But I couldn’t deny I was looking forward to seeing Benny again.

He was standing in front of his building at noon. He didn’t notice me or maybe didn’t recognize my BMW. His inattention gave me a chance to get a good look at him. He was wearing a sharp suit in an incandescent shade of blue. It was flashy, and I wasn’t sure the hint of purple was particularly tasteful, but he looked… amazing. Very handsome. I brushed a sweaty palm over my knee before rolling down the passenger-side window to get his attention. He glanced up with a start and then pushed his dark glasses down his nose theatrically.

“Well, well, well… driving in style with Mr. Gulden. A guy could get used to this,” he said, opening the door with a flourish.

“Sit down and button it, Ravioli. Where’s the church?”

“And they say romance is dead.” He buckled his seat belt and turned to me with a wide, radiant grin that made everything else fade from view.

I hid my blush by pretending to pay close attention to merging traffic. “You look nice.”

Benny barked a short laugh, and if possible, his smile seemed to grow. “Thanks. So do you. Armani?”

“Yeah. I decided to play it safe.”

“Me too.”

I took advantage of the red light to throw a dubious glance his way. “Don’t jump down my throat, ’cause I swear I’m giving you a compliment, but—”

“Not a promising start,” he mumbled.

“You look… hot. But you specifically said you were wearing blue. Is that blue or purple?”

“Both. It depends on the lighting.”

“Like a mood ring?”

Benny snickered appreciatively. “Maybe so! I made it myself, and I’m kinda proud of it.”

“You made that?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m impressed. You’re talented. You shouldn’t be working in a bagel shop.”

“It’s hard to know what I should or shouldn’t be doing sometimes. Today let’s leave bagels and pizza behind and just enjoy a gorgeous summer day in the city.” His tone carried a hint of longing I didn’t understand at first.

“Right. And attend a wedding in Park Slope,” I said sarcastically as I navigated around a slow-moving Prius.