Your Fierce Love (The Bennett Family) Page 6

  He places his hand to my bare shoulder. The fine hairs on my arms instantly stand on end. When he runs his thumb along my clavicle, I shudder. “I’m dying to taste you, Clara.”

  His voice is low, gruff, and so full of intent it sends an arrow of heat straight through me. It’s all I can do not to clench my thighs together.

  “You’re being intense again,” I inform him, struggling not to melt right here in his arms.

  “I plan to keep that up until you relent.”

  “I... you’re... sweet baby Jesus, it’s too early in the morning for this,” I mutter. “Can’t a girl have her coffee before you try to melt the panties off her?”

  Blake throws his head back, laughing. “You’re one of a kind, Clara. Unfortunately, I do have to go or I’ll be late for the meeting. I’ll leave you to your coffee, and your shower.”

  He steps back but still fixes me with that molten gaze of his. “And by the way, there are much better ways to release sexual tension than running.”

  Damn this man and his wicked way with words. Shaking my head, I bid him goodbye, hurrying inside my apartment. My body is so alive and tight with tension, I feel like I’m about to implode.

  Well, that was a waste of a run.

  ***

  Tuesday is, as usual, the worst day of the week, because the final ratings for the show come in.

  “If we don’t improve, we’re gonna get axed.” Quentin paces the small balcony of the studio later that day, smoking his fifth cigarette in twelve minutes. Yep, I’m counting the minutes, because I have a million things on my to-do list today, and wasting time by keeping Quentin company while he chain-smokes and complains isn’t one of them. But when the boss is about to have a mental breakdown, it’s my duty to point out the positives so the entire show doesn’t go to hell in a handbasket.

  The problem is I can’t contradict him. If the numbers don’t improve, we’re not going to get another season.

  “I booked our lead actors on a number of talk shows. That’ll bring in new viewers.”

  Executive producers and their assistants don’t typically get involved in marketing and PR, but this case requires all our efforts.

  No two shows are the same, but there are several patterns. Some shows start on a high and then maintain it for one or two seasons before sliding down the rankings as their prime time passes.

  Others begin on unsteady feet, trudge along for the first season, then pull in better numbers in the second, when their viewership solidifies. We’re in the second category, but here’s the crux: the show needs to be renewed for a second season first.

  “What we need is a boost from Our Pics.”

  Red alert! His watery and wandering eyes narrow. I swear to God, if he’s going to bring up the Bennetts and We See You again...

  Clasping my hands behind my back, I steel myself.

  “Noticed you’ve changed your Facebook settings to private. Anything to hide?”

  I set my jaw. “No, but I don’t like strangers snooping around. It creeps me out.”

  He narrows his eyes, clearly not believing me. I unhitch myself from the balcony railing, heading toward the entrance door.

  “I’m trying to book our stars on the big dogs. Late-night shows and such.”

  “Right. Like they’re gonna give us the time of day if not even Our Pics does. Set your sights on something achievable.”

  With persistence and hard work, we can get the top dogs on our side. But Quentin is not about persistence or hard work. He’s all about shortcuts.

  “Nate always said—”

  Quentin snickers, stepping closer. “I am not Nate. You got used to him blowing smoke up your ass, that’s your problem. I’m gonna need you to perform.”

  I pull myself up straighter, crossing my arms over my chest. I will not let this prick put me down. But he’s also my boss. Handle this with grace, Clara. I wonder if my slapping his cheek would be considered graceful. It would be an improvement over kicking him in the groin, which I’m seriously considering.

  “I’m doing a very good job, whether you admit it or not. Getting a show up and running is teamwork. I’m trying my hardest.”

  “Try harder.” As he passes me on the way to the door, the smell of cigarettes mixed with garlic on his breath almost gags me.

  ***

  “Don’t you dare crap out. Come on!” I exclaim the next morning

  My coffee machine makes a loud, shrill noise, and then muddy water spills out of every crevice, landing on the kitchen counter, dripping to the tiled floor. With a sigh, I unplug the machine, then clean up the mess. I’ll just have to stop by a coffee shop on the way to work. Typically, I like to drink my coffee every morning outside on the balcony, enjoying the view. Drinking it this early also means the caffeine has time to kick in by the time I reach the studio. After my infuriating exchange with Quentin yesterday, I need my eyes open and my brain functioning at maximum capacity.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Blake’s voice startles me. He stands in front of the French doors, which were open. I assume his balcony doors are open too, or he wouldn’t have heard me.

  “My coffee machine crapped out,” I explain through a yawn. “Almost done cleaning. Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you up.”

  He shakes his head. “Was already awake. Be back in a minute.”

  Just as I finish cleaning, Blake appears on the balcony, holding a cup of coffee, motioning with his head for me to join him. Butterflies roam in my stomach as I step outside.

  “Thanks,” I say, taking the cup from him. Our fingers touch briefly, and I swear every cell leaps up with attention at the contact.

  “Welcome. Thought it would be a bad start if you skipped your morning coffee on the balcony.”

  I sip from my cup, trying to hide my surprise and delight that he noticed this tidbit.

  “Why are you up early again?” I ask, taking in his appearance. He’s not wearing a suit today.

  “Haven’t gone to bed at all, actually.”

  “Oh?”

  “Two pipes broke at the Blue Moon, whole kitchen was under water. Been there all night overseeing repairs.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  Blake waves his hand good-naturedly. “No major harm done. We’ll forego lunch, but we’ll be ready to open for dinner today.”

  “You should go to bed.”

  “I’ll crash after you leave. Right now, I’m exactly where I want to be. With you.”

  Shifting my weight from one foot to the other, I grip my cup tighter, chuckling. “Not even a sleepless night dampens your drive, eh?”

  “Not a chance.”

  Blake’s eyes snap fire, but I hold his gaze stubbornly, even though I feel like I’m melting under the weight of it, not to mention the intensity.

  “Blake, our friendship—”

  He silences me by pressing his thumb to my lips. “Our friendship is one of the best things in my life. But I can’t think about you just as a friend. Not anymore. When I’m home, I’m looking for any opportunity to be around you. When I’m away, I think about you nonstop.”

  “Blake,” I whisper against his thumb, but I have no comeback. His words wrap around me like a soft, warm blanket. He pulls himself to his full height, leaning in slightly, towering over me. Determination is etched on his handsome features. His gaze is a little possessive, a lot dominant, and I suddenly feel as hot as if I submerged myself in a bathtub.

  “I know how to fight for what I want, Clara. And I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want you. So I’ll wait. And I’ll fight.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Clara

  I’m reeling the entire day from the exchange with Blake. At seven o’clock that evening, I nearly fly out of the studio to meet my two best friends, Kate and Penny. It’s a rather windy evening, and I button up my coat completely. I can’t wait for June to officially be here. Just one more day. Not that June is much warmer than May in San Francisco, but it helps to at least mentally think summe
r is here. Plus, there are dahlias right outside Blake’s building, and I can’t wait for them to bloom.

  As I step inside the coffee shop where we agreed to meet, I see the two of them have already arrived. Kate has changed her hair, her usual waist-long hair now cut in a stylish bob. She’s also dyed it a brighter shade of brown. Penny’s platinum-blonde hair is in a tight bun, as usual. They are sipping drinks, laughing, and my heart swells. I adore them.

  A waiter brings cheesecakes, and as I approach, Kate exclaims, “This is an enormous portion. I’ll never be able to eat all of it.”

  “No worries, I’m ready to lend you a hand,” I say. The girls whirl around in surprise. They hadn’t seen or heard me approach. They leap to their feet and hug me. Not for the first time, I wish they both lived in San Francisco. As it is, Penny lives here, but Kate is in Seattle and is in town only for a couple of days, attending an education fair. She’s a kindergarten teacher.

  After I order a drink, I take my phone out of my bag and show the girls pictures of my temporary home.

  “This is insane,” Kate exclaims, thumbing through the pictures.

  “Girl, when are you inviting me over for a housewarming party?” Penny asks. “Your view is to die for.” When she found out about my housing conundrum, she offered for me to crash on her couch, but Penny’s one-room apartment is too small for two.

  “As soon as you make time for me in that crazy schedule of yours. You really should take it easier.”

  I refrain from saying more because I can quickly become meddling, and I’m making an effort here not to. Penny doesn’t appreciate it—but it’s for her own good, really.

  “Can’t right now, but as soon as I get promoted, I’ll have a life outside work.”

  Kate sighs. “No, then you’ll set yourself another goal, then another, and before you know it, life will pass you by and you’ll be old, alone, and full of regrets.”

  Penny gives her the evil eye. “Are you trying to be especially depressing today?”

  “No, just telling it like it is. You’re an uber achiever, which is admirable, but don’t forget to live a little.”

  I’m with Kate on this one. I’m afraid our friend will burn out. Penny is brilliant, but even badasses need time to recharge. She and I have been friends since we were four years old. I lived next to her parents’ house. Even after I moved to the group home, we kept in touch, sending letters, then later e-mails. I met Kate in the group home and we developed a close friendship, had each other’s backs. As best as we could, anyway. I introduced Kate to Penny via letters first. We’d been breathlessly waiting for each of Penny’s letters, hanging on to her every word and living vicariously through her. Now as adults, the roles are somewhat reversed.

  “Is this hottie the infamous Blake?” Penny asks when a picture of Blake pops up on the screen. I deleted almost all the pics I took of him the day I moved in, except the one where he was bending to fasten the legs to my table. The shot of his flexed bicep is so perfect, if I say so myself, that I couldn’t bring myself to delete it.

  “Yes, girls, that is Blake. Best eye candy I’ve ever seen.”

  “Talk about a view.” Penny whistles, looking at the screen in admiration.

  “There is some seriously hot male real estate in this city,” Kate says. “I can’t believe this is your neighbor.”

  “He looks like the type of man who knows his way around a woman’s body,” Penny chimes in.

  “Oh, I’m sure he does.”

  Kate wiggles her eyebrows. “Planning to find out?”

  “It’s complicated.” In quick words, I relay the pros and cons—mostly the cons. I really need some perspective on this. Some non-Bennett perspective. I love the Bennett girls, but if there’s one thing I can’t talk to them about, it’s my crazy attraction to one of their own.

  “So, you see, this isn’t the best idea,” I say. “But bad ideas are so delicious and tempting.”

  “Like cheesecake,” Kate states, nodding to her half-eaten cake and pushing her plate toward me. I dig in right away.

  “The real question is how will you resist him while you live next door?” Penny pushes.

  “Excellent question. My rational side says he’s a great friend, and his family treats me like one of their own, so I’d better not mingle. My dark side says he’s hot and single, and he’d know how to make my lady parts tingle.”

  The girls roar with laughter, and I join them.

  “I think your dark side should win,” Penny says after we calm down. “I mean, worst-case, you jump his bones and things get awkward. You’ll move out anyway, and you can avoid him whenever you hang out with the Bennetts. Or you just hang out with them less.”

  That wipes the smile right off my face. Kate only offers a cautious smile and a shrug, and I know why. The two of us grew up without the safety net of a family, a group of people who’d love us and support us no matter what. People, who have that, like Penny, take it for granted. But I never will. The Bennetts might not be related to me, but they’re as close to family as possible.

  When the waiter brings us another round of drinks, I hold up my glass, and the girls follow suit.

  “To hotties who make us suspect we have double personalities,” I exclaim as we’re toasting. Since the conversation hasn’t helped my conundrum in the slightest, I’m eager to change topics, so I ask Kate about her job and her husband. Josh is truly the loveliest man on earth. Kind and gentle, perfect for my friend.

  We stay out for so long that by the time I climb the staircase to my apartment, it’s past midnight. I’m nearly at my door when I see Blake unlocking his.

  “Fancy meeting you here again,” he remarks with a smile, moving closer.

  I shake my head. “This is so inconvenient. The corridor is too small, and you’re far too hot.”

  Blake cocks a brow. “Did you drink any cocktails?”

  “Nah, just estrogen overdose. I’ve been out with two close friends, Kate and Penny. Outings with the girls give me a high, and I’m usually prone to making rash decisions and bad choices afterward.”

  “Excellent news. There’s a festival tomorrow evening. I want to take you to see it.”

  “Oh, I don’t know.”

  “Just come with me, Clara. You’ll have a great time.”

  “It’s not a wine festival, is it?”

  “No. Why? Are you afraid of drinking when I’m around?”

  “You make me lower my guard even when I’m sober. So yes, I’m afraid.”

  “Good. You should be.”

  Why, that sounds like a sinful promise, and my cue that I should say no, which of course, I don’t.

  Instead I ask, “So what kind of festival is it?”

  “Local food and crafts.”

  “Oooh, forgot it was so soon. I actually wanted to go.”

  “I know. You mentioned it a few times.”

  Emotion rushes through me, just as it did when I entered the apartment and found the wall painted and the bookcase in place. He isn’t seducing me. He’s charming me. I don’t know if he’s doing it on purpose, but he’s thoroughly and efficiently attacking my defenses.

  “I’m taking you.” He says this with such determination that I have no idea how to counter. As if sensing that I’m scrambling to strengthen my defenses, Blake moves even closer, stepping right in my space, propping a hand on the door behind me. All of this is too much. The determined glint in his eyes, the arm on the wall, his closeness. I can feel the heat radiating off him. “I’ll pick you up at seven, okay?”

  Licking my lips, I nod. “Seven.”

  His eyes glint with joy and triumph. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Clara

  The next evening, I’m on pins and needles as I’m preparing for the outing. I’m wearing dark jeans and a bright red sweater that molds to my curves nicely, showing just enough cleavage to entice.

  Great! I’m telling myself we’re going as friends, but I’m dressing to
entice. I want to kick myself. At seven o’clock on the dot, Blake knocks at my door. I try to ignore the way my heart squeezes and excitement courses through me.

  When I open the door and come face-to-face with Blake, I have the distinct impression someone sucked the air out of the room. Damn him! Why isn’t it illegal to be this hot?

  He grins. “Careful. It’s too early to undress me, even with just your eyes. But I like a bold woman.”

  I inhale deeply, snapping my eyes up to him. I’d been admiring his torso. He’s wearing a dark blue coat and a gray sweater that clings to him almost shamelessly, highlighting the ridge of his abs. I like how he called me bold. If a man were ogling a woman as blatantly as I did him, he’d be called a pig. I’m all for double standards tonight.

  “Let’s go,” he says as I shrug into a coat.

  As we step outside, I smile, taking in the beautiful evening. The sun will still be up for almost an hour. Inhaling deeply, I admire the expanse of blue streaked with orange sunrays. First day of June.

  “Do we have a plan?” We descend onto a steep street.

  “Yeah, we do.” Blake pulls a folded piece of paper from his pocket. When he unfolds it, I’m surprised to find a detailed itinerary. Itinerary is perhaps the wrong word, but there’s a list of booths and stops on it, with keywords next to every stop: names of people, food, or drink types, sometimes accompanied by a note such as invite over or seal deal or remind about delivery.

  “You’re cheating,” I accuse him. “This is for work, isn’t it?”

  “What’s on the list, yes. But we have plenty of time to sneak in other visits.” He leans in to me. “For our own pleasure.”

  A white-hot current races through me because he said that last word on a lower octave, and it came out very seductive.

  “I didn’t peg you as the list-maker type.”

  Blake grins. “I wasn’t, but since I started working with Alice, it’s become a vital skill. Learn fast or die trying.”