Ben kissed Lane’s cheek and took her hand as she stood. Ben cocked his head and raised an eyebrow at the bartender.
“She insisted on waiting for you here,” Enzo replied.
In Bellini’s, the family ate in a private room called the Board Room. And, they never, never waited in the bar.
“It’s fine Enzo, I understand,” Ben said as he placed his hand in the small of Lane’s back and guided her toward the Board Room.
There was no need to order. The bartender had sent word to the kitchen the minute Ben arrived. When Ben opened the door to the Board Room, a table for two was already set. The waiter was already at the table and had opened a bottle of wine to let it breathe. He brought fresh bread, poured olive oil onto a plate, and added herbs. They were the only people in the room. Ben held Lane’s chair as she sat. The waiter held Ben’s chair and then showed him the bottle of wine, and poured a bit into his glass to taste.
As always, the wine was from Ben’s private reserve. There was no question that the wine would be excellent. Ben tasted it and nodded. The waiter picked up Lane’s glass and poured, then poured for Ben. He put the bottle on the table and left.
Frank Sinatra was softly crooning You’d Be So Easy to Love in the background. Ben reached across the table and took her hand. “Dance with me.” He led her to the small dance floor. The main restaurant didn’t have a dance floor, but there was one in the private dining room.
She’d never seen Ben dance and had no idea what to expect. She was pleasantly surprised. He held her closely in a classic waltz pose and expertly moved her around the dance floor. It was as though someone had put on a CD of Frank Sinatra’s greatest love songs as one faded into another. Lane nestled her head into his shoulder and he folded their entwined hands into his chest, his right arm firmly around her waist, she had moved her right hand up to twirl her fingers around the hair at the base of his neck.
He heard more than saw the waiter deliver their food. He gently kissed her temple and led her back to the table. She was beautiful and oh, so very naïve and vulnerable.
They had eaten in silence, touching each other’s hands, offering one another bites of food. The waiter moved quietly in and out of the room and Frank Sinatra continued singing love songs. When they had finished eating Ben smiled at the waiter. “My compliments to the Chef.”
Moments later, the Chef entered the room. Lane took one look at him and knew instantly he was a Bellini. The Bellini men she’d met all had the same tall dark and handsome thing going on, from Papa Bellini, whose hair was salt and pepper now, to Ben’s youngest brother Paolo, absolutely it was in the genes.
“Lane Parker, may I present my brother Antonio Gianni Bellini. Tony, this is Lane Parker.”
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” Lane said as she shook Tony’s hand.
Tony smiled the million watt Bellini smile. “The pleasure is all mine, Ms. Parker. I’m so happy you finally came in on a night when I could step away from the kitchen.”
Although Lane and Ben had eaten at the family restaurant many times over the years, this was the first time since they’d been dating that they’d been in the restaurant on a weekday when Tony had time enough to step away from the kitchen.
Tony spoke to Ben in Italian. It was a familiar scene, Lane mused. Instead of stepping away, if there was something they didn’t want anyone else to know, they slipped into Italian. Most families had things they spoke to one another about in hushed tones. The Bellinis said it aloud. Lane was a woman who insisted her children didn’t talk or text in the car because it was rude. Sometimes she felt like she was intruding during the Italian conversations.
Lane smiled. “Guys, I need to use the ladies room, so let me give you some privacy.”
Ben stood and kissed Lane on the cheek before she left.
“Ben, Pauli was right, the lady is beautiful. You’re a lucky man.”
Ben laughed. “I have always known Pauli gossiped like an old woman.”
Lane returned to the table. “Well, did I give you guys enough time to talk?”
Both Ben and Tony laughed. Ben put his arm around Lane and kissed the top of her head. “I missed you every second you were gone.”
Tony took her hand. “Now that we’ve finally met, I hope to see more of you.”
Lane gave Tony a brief hug before he had to go back to the kitchen.
Ben pulled Lane into an embrace. “I’m not ready to say goodnight. Come to my house. We still have some things to talk about.”
Lane agreed to go to Ben’s and he insisted that he follow her.
Ben’s house was a sprawling ranch with a tennis court, basketball court, and a swimming pool and was nestled near a lake. In the years since meeting Ben, Lane had spent a lot of time at this house. She and the kids swam there frequently, and she had spent time there with Ben eating, watching TV, playing cards, and just talking. She’d even spent the night in a guest room once.
They sat on the couch in his great room, and between kisses, Ben made his case for her staying at his house until the murder was solved. Every time she opened her mouth to object to his suggestion, he kissed her.
“Earlier this week, someone got into your house and planted the murder weapon.” A kiss. “Under your bed.” Another kiss.
“I should have suggested then that you move in here until this is solved.” Another kiss.
“Then today someone set fire to your car.” Another kiss
“Jake and Jamie are out of town until Saturday.” Another kiss. “You’d be alone at your house.” Another kiss.
It was a good tactic while it lasted. But, every time their tongues mingled together, she moaned. When she moaned Ben’s brain fogged and soon all he could think about was kissing her, touching her, making love to her. He’d let her set the pace, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to move things along a little. He murmured her name as he moved his lips to nibble on her ear. She murmured his name as he moved to the sensitive spot behind her ear and worked down the side of her neck. He turned her so that she was facing him and draped across his chest.
There was a war going on inside Lane’s head. God, this man could kiss. There was absolutely nothing wrong with her libido. But, she’d known Ben for three years and during that time; she could have almost marked the calendar to predict when he’d stop seeing his latest girlfriend. The six-week mark seemed to be his limit. Only one woman had made it past the six-week mark before. Lane had just passed the eight-week mark. She’d told him Sunday that she was afraid of losing her best friend, and he had assured her it wouldn’t happen. She wasn’t sure what that meant. Losing him as her best friend would be awful, losing him after sleeping with him would be unbearable, and she was sure she couldn’t go back to being just friends after sleeping with him.
Sure, she’d been married and divorced twice. Sure, some women her age would have to remove their shoes to count all of their lovers. Lane could count hers on three fingers. It might be old fashioned, archaic, prehistoric, but for her, sex was something you shared with the man you loved not something you did because your hormones were out of control. And, make no mistake, her hormones were raging.
She pushed back on his chest and gasped for air. “Ben.”
He entwined the fingers of his left hand in her hair and stroked her cheek with his right hand. God she was beautiful. “Lane. Stay with me tonight. Let me make love to you.”
“No.” She twisted away from him and stood up.
His mind was reeling. He knew she wanted him. He could feel it in her kisses, in her touch and he could hear it every time she moaned when he kissed her, and each time she murmured his name. She was beautiful, she was smart, she was sexy, and she was infuriating as hell. Damn, how many times in his life had he wished that some woman would stop being so damn clingy, so whiny, so needy? Maybe karma really was a bitch. He stood and took a step toward her.