Luka moved in, kissed him softly and brushed his face with his fingertips. It was an intimate kiss, one that was usuallyreserved for people in love, but Benson thought that, possibly, they already were.
He refused to let himself settle on that thought for long.
They pulled over on a quiet street in SoHo, a street that looked like it must have since the twenties. Windows and doors behind gates, the ornate metalwork around each alcove, and metal and glass doors that led to apartments upstairs. It was the best part of the city, Benson thought. Those throwbacks to the past.
Double parked, they couldn’t take long, but they didn’t need to, as the driver opened the door and they got out quickly.
The café was small, perfect for the evening, and once Benson opened the door, ushering Luka inside and to their quiet, beautiful escape.
There were only seven tables and as many booths, but the size of the place didn’t matter. It was so simple and elegant, twisted twig chair backs, small, lace-covered tables with one tapered candle in the center of each table on a tarnished brass holder.
The floors shone and were original tongue and groove; the walls plastered, with the original brick coming through in spots. Benson thought it the most beautiful place in the city.
“This is great, but is it open?”
“Yes, but only for us.”
Just then, the owner, Frank Delinio, came from the kitchen and rushed over to them. “Sorry, Mr. Carter, I was checking on the food. The chef has prepared the meal you requested, and I have the wine breathing.”
“That’s wonderful, Frank, thank you.”
He pulled out Luka’s chair for him in the center of the dining room and then took his seat just as Frank began filling their wineglasses with the best Italian wine the place offered.
“Tonight, for your dining pleasure, the chef has prepared a Caesar salad, minestrone, the finest rolls, his special lobster ravioli, and finally, a specially prepared Sicilian lemon gelato.”
Luka smiled at him and said, “Lemons. Nice touch.”
“I’m telling you, it’s wonderful.” To Frank, Benson said, “Thank you very much. I’m sure we’ll enjoy the meal immensely.”
Once Frank had gone back to the kitchen, Benson’s eyes landed on Luka, only to see a little line between his eyes that wasn’t usually there when he was happy. That line was almost constant when he was stressed about something. That was something Benson had seen early in their short time knowing one another.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
Benson wanted to scream. That definitely meant something was wrong. “Tell me. Please. If I got the menu wrong, anything, please.”
“It’s not the menu. It’s just…is this place usually open tonight?”
Benson saw his mistake right away but wanted to correct it. “I didn’t buy the place out to hide you. I swear it, and you’ll see that I don’t want to hide you, in the least, at our next destination, I assure you.”
“Oh? And where is that?”
“A surprise. And the second destination is why I wanted this to be just us. A quiet pause before a noisy center. There will be times I want you all to myself, but won’t be able to have that, so when I can, I’ll try to get you alone.”
“Okay, then. I forgive you.”
Benson laughed aloud. “Forgive me?”
“Well, I had made you out to be this terrible man who was ashamed to be seen with me. I have forgiven that man.”
“I guess I’m grateful?”
“You should be.”
It was a lovely dinner, and delicious to the point that they were both moaning loudly. Frank and the chef came out twice, leaving the dining room with smiles each time. When they weren’t eating and moaning, they were laughing.
He’d never laughed so easily with anyone. The guy that everyone warned was cranky, serious, and an overall prick at times, his smile lit his face like the best spotlight on the grandest stage.
