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 cl*t 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 f**king 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.

“Babe?” he prompted.

Again in unchartered female territory, I cautiously answered, “My lip gloss.”

His eyes dropped to my dress and he asked with more than mild incredulity, “You got it on you?”

I shook my head. “I left it in the bathroom.”

“I’ll get it,” he muttered and moved that way.

“Ben, you wanna know which one to grab?” I called to his back.

He turned and looked at me. “Babe, you think I don’t have that shade committed to memory, you’d be thinkin’ wrong.”

My heart squeezed again.

Ben disappeared.

He returned, got close, and waved the tube of lip gloss at me. “This it?”

He was a miracle man.

“Yep.”

He shoved it in his inside jacket pocket and asked, “Anything else?”

“Nope.”

He grinned, grabbed my hand, and pulled me out the door.

We were in his truck on our way to Giuseppe’s when something occurred to me.

“Do you know where my car is?”

“What?”

I turned to look at him. “I left my car in front of Daniel Hart’s house.”

“Yeah, right. Manny went to get it.”

I stared at him. “What?”

“Man,” Ben stated. “Police gave us your purse at the hospital, told us where your car was and that it was okay to move it. Gave Man your keys, he took it to your pad. It’s parked in the spot with your apartment number on it in the parking garage.”

That was nice.

“Said you need a tune up,” Ben continued. “Sweet ride, babe, 280Z with a T-top. But you gotta take care of it.” He made a turn and finished on a mutter, “I’ll get it in my garage, get under the hood.”

“You don’t have to do that,” I told him, turning to face forward. “Got a guy who specializes. With things crazy because of the new job and the move, I haven’t gotten it to him. I was gonna do that before I went to Indy.”

“I’ll do it,” Benny said.

“He specializes, Ben,” I replied.

“Know my way around a Z, Frankie.”

I shut my mouth because I knew he did. Not because he’d owned one, but because he’d had a girlfriend once who owned one.

This brought me to remember something I forgot that I’d always thought was sweet about Benny, actually about all the Bianchis. When he’d had her, he’d taken care of that car for her. Vinnie had done the same for me. You had a Bianchi man, mechanics and oil change shops were a memory.

I also remembered more.

I remembered that she’d lasted longer than any of the other women Benny was with, over two years. It was when I was with Vinnie so I knew her. Her name was Connie. She was very beautiful and very sweet. The whole family was hoping it would go somewhere, including me.

It didn’t and Vinnie, as Benny told it true, had a big mouth, so I knew why it didn’t.

She was too sweet. A pushover.

“My brother’s a man who needs a challenge, babe,” Vinnie had said. “A woman’s gotta stir his blood in more ways than one. You dig?”

At the time, I didn’t dig. I’d liked Connie and I’d thought Benny was crazy for letting her go.

I knew now Connie would come right there when Benny demanded it. And I knew now that might be okay, for a while. Then it would bore him stupid.

These thoughts made me feel warm and weird at the same time.

I didn’t know if it was right, if it would make me feel less weird or more, or make Benny feel weird at all, but I still asked, “How is Connie?”

“Married to Tommy Lasco. Two kids, another on the way. They moved to Calumet City three years ago,” he stated indifferently.