Your Alluring Love (The Bennett Family) Page 7

  “Not all, just mine. You think I’m not aware I keep women at arm’s length?”

  Clara chuckles. “Sounds like something a woman would throw in your face.”

  “I’ve heard it more than once. Can’t say I disagree.”

  “Ah, ding, ding, ding. My theory about people afraid to perpetuate parents’ unhappy patterns starting to ring more true?”

  I scoff, then remember being thirteen when I first searched for divorce rates online. Before, I lived in the bubble all kids do, where they think all parents will be together forever. Seeing Mom unhappy in her second marriage didn’t help. Sure, Alice’s parents, Jenna and Richard, were a pleasant surprise, but I knew that for each Bennett family out there, there were ten times more families like mine: broken, patched up, dysfunctional. But I’m man enough to own up to my choices as an adult.

  “No, it doesn’t.”

  Clara groans. “You’re a stubborn mule.”

  “I am. But I’m meeting Alice in one hour. And I plan to ask her out.”

  Chapter Eight

  Alice

  I’m about to head out the door for my meeting with Nate when my phone rings. As usual, I have so many random items in my bag that it takes me forever to find my phone. I really should clean it out more often. My fingers touch the hard case of the phone just as the ringing ceases. When I pull it out, I see Pippa was the one calling, and I dial right back.

  “Hey, sis,” I greet her as I hurry to my car.

  “What are you up to? Want to stop by the house?”

  “I can’t.” Guilt gnaws at me because I haven’t seen my sister since my parents’ party. Before the kids, she and I would go out on a whim to get a drink, or eat, or just catch up. But now going out requires more planning, which usually means I go to her house. Truth be told, I prefer the new arrangements because I use any chance I get to smother those angels with kisses.

  “Oh shucks. I’ll just tell you over the phone, then. Guess what words Elena said today? ‘Aunt Alice.’”

  I swear my heart grows twice in size. “She did?”

  “Yeah, and now Mia is giving her the evil eye because she can’t say it.”

  “She’s two. She doesn’t know how to give the evil eye yet.”

  “You’ll believe it when you see it. Trust me, it’s a little scary.”

  “Can you put her on the phone? I’d love to hear her say it.”

  “Nah, I haven’t figured out how to make her say it. She sort of just blurts it out every now and again. Whenever I specifically ask her to say it, she just smiles at me and tries to poke my eye.”

  The twins have started speaking very late. Pippa was extremely worried for a while, even though the pediatrician assured her it’s normal and some kids start talking later.

  “Maybe I can stop by tomorrow,” I say hopefully.

  “Sure. So, what are you doing tonight?”

  I clear my throat for no reason before saying, “I’m meeting with Nate at Blake’s bar. He talked to the network about a feature on their Delicious Dining show, and the team wants to see me next week. He’s going to give me some pointers.”

  “Oh!”

  That one word tells with about ninety percent precision what’s going on in her head. She’s wondering if our meeting is strictly professional.

  “I reached my car. Call you later?” Fingers crossed that she won’t push for more info or I might crack under pressure and tell her about the kiss.

  “Sure. By the way, Nadine just called to tell me she’s pregnant.”

  “Wow. There’s going to be a new baby in the family. How’s Logan?”

  “Haven’t talked to him yet.”

  “Hmm, when you do talk to him, can you reassure him he’ll be a good dad and all that?”

  “Why?”

  “When Sebastian found out Ava was pregnant, he was at the restaurant with Christopher and me, and he had a little freak-out. We tried to reassure him, and I’m not sure if Logan will follow in his footsteps, but just in case, talk to him. Since you have kids, your reassurances weigh more than mine.”

  “Of course. I love how our brothers are these big badasses, but when it comes to kids, they just transform.”

  “They do.”

  Someone starts to cry on my sister’s end. “Shoot, I have to go. Good luck at your meeting. I can’t wait for details.”

  ***

  Twenty minutes later, I elbow my way through Blake’s bar, hoping to make it to the counter in one piece. The place is not just packed—it’s packed packed. My brother is behind the counter, even though there are two other bartenders on shift. He seems to have as much a grip on delegating as I do. We’ll make quite a pair running the new location together.

  “Hey! Don’t stay here, these nutheads will squish you,” Blake says when I finally make it to the counter, gesturing with his head to the right. “I kept the table next to the bar empty. I’ll join you there when Nate gets here.”

  Nate arrives exactly ten minutes later. From where I sit at the high and sleek bar table, I have a perfect vantage point.

  Where I had to elbow my way through the crowd, Nate has no problems getting through. People make room for him, moving out of his way. Men are intimidated, women fascinated. He exudes confidence, power, and masculinity.

  For the next hour or so, Nate, Blake, and I talk about the upcoming meeting. Nate informs me he’ll be attending too, since he was the one who put in the recommendation. I could hug him with joy. He knows this stuff inside out, and I’m hanging onto his every word, taking notes. After Blake apologetically says he should return to the bar before it all goes up in flames, Nate suggests we do a Q&A, a meeting simulation of sorts. When we’re done, I have a great feeling about the whole thing. With some of the pressure lifting off my shoulders, I drum my palms against the edge of the table, excitement coursing through me.

  “Do you want a drink?” Nate asks. We haven’t had anything while working.

  “Yes, please. A glass of chardonnay.”

  “Be right back.”

  While I wait for Nate, a tall man with neatly trimmed blond hair and a smile that’s easy on the eyes approaches the table.

  “Can I buy you a drink?” he asks.

  “I’m already waiting on one, but thank you.”

  “Later, perhaps?”

  “Already getting a drink is code for she’s here with someone.” Nate appears from behind him with my drink. The guy practically winces.

  “Hey, man, no harm no foul. She could have been here with girlfriends.”

  Nate glares at him. The guy scurries away immediately.

  “Hey, why did you scare him away?”

  “Wimp.”

  “Him too?” I ask with amusement, remembering he called Colin one too.

  “He winced. Wimp behavior.”

  I take the glass of wine from him, sipping. Nate brought a beer for himself.

  “I haven’t been out with a man in months. Almost forgot what it feels like.”

  Nate climbs on the barstool next to me. “That’s an outrage and must be rectified immediately. I can help.”

  “How, by scaring away the next man who asks me out? Or shoving your tongue down my throat in front of him?”

  His eyes sparkle as if I just had the most brilliant idea.

  “Is that your way of telling me you want me to kiss you again?” His tone is playful, but it throws me off balance. Where is he going with this? I feel like I’m trapped in a cat-and-mouse game, only I’m not sure if I’m the cat or the mouse. I don’t mind, but I want to know where I’m standing.

  “Is there a point you’re trying to make?”

  “You deserve someone who can sweep you off your feet, Alice.”

  I blink, momentarily speechless. This isn’t where I thought this conversation was going.

  “Meaning?”

  “Someone who’s man enough for you. Who’d make you say yes to a date in a heartbeat, and when he does take you out, you’ll enjoy it so much you’ll pra
ctically beg for another date.”

  “How would he do that?”

  “He’d take you somewhere fancy and order your favorite dessert.”

  “How would he know my favorite?”

  “If he doesn’t do the legwork to find out, he doesn’t deserve the date.”

  “Never used it as cutoff criteria. I’ll put it on my list. Any other things I should add?”

  “By the end of the date, he’d kiss you on a table or against a wall.”

  “Kissing on tables or against a wall is inappropriate for a first date,” I say reasonably, but a shiver of excitement travels down my spine and heat pools in intimate places. Damn Nate and his effect on me.

  “You’ve really been dating the wrong men.”

  “Know any right candidate?” I challenge.

  “Me.”

  My heart rate picks up so fast I’m afraid it might leap out of my chest.

  “What?” I have to ask because I don’t want to risk even the slightest possibility I’ve misheard him.

  “I know what your favorite dessert is. I’m excellent at kissing on tables or against walls, or anywhere, really. Date me.”

  Oh my. Every cell in my body wants to sing with joy, but the reasonable part of my brain is still confused, needs more explanations.

  “A date?” I repeat clumsily. The word bounces back and forth in my mind, not quite making sense yet. But even though my mind can’t fully process this, my body does. Hope surges in my chest as my pulse spikes. Adrenaline and heat course through my veins, resulting in a mix so powerful I’m nearly giddy. Dating Nate would mean holding hands and finally, finally being able to lose myself in those big arms of his. It would mean I’d finally have carte blanche to openly admire that fine body of his instead of just sneaking glances. It would mean carte blanche to do more than admiring: to touch and taste him, to kiss every inch of his body, to please him.

  I lick my lips, mentally berating myself for already picturing the two of us in bed. But I’m so high on anticipation and giddiness that I can’t help riding the wave. Dating him would mean I’d get to take care of him, making him laugh every day, making sure he has someone to turn to when stress at work is putting too much pressure on him. I’d get a chance to make him fall in love with me.

  Wooooooooow, I’m not getting ahead of myself or anything.

  “But you’re leaving,” I say finally, remembering that particular detail.

  He shakes his head. “The London deal fell through.”

  Despite all the ramifications this might have, right now all I can think about is how terrible this is for him. He wanted it so much.

  “I’m so sorry. What happened? You said the job was practically yours.”

  “Turns out it wasn’t. They decided to go with someone who’s related to the big boss over there.”

  “Ouch.”

  “So instead, I was offered a permanent job here.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah. I haven’t officially accepted it yet, told them I’ll think it through over the weekend, but I’m going to take it. It’s not what I was going after, but there’s a lot I can do with it. A new challenge.”

  I always loved Nate’s determination to see the positive side of everything, to take what’s thrown at him and turn it into something beautiful. But beneath his bravado, his voice is tinged with disappointment and hurt. I want to make it go away, make him smile again.

  “So, how about that date?” He slides to the edge of his seat, inching even closer as if determined to overpower me.

  I clear my throat. “Sounds great. But I’ll have you know, I have a five-date rule.”

  “What do you mean?”

  The corners of my lips twitch. “I don’t put out until after the fifth date.”

  “You don’t put out what… the trash, the light, fires?”

  Flashing him a grin, I take a sip of my wine. Torturing him feels far too good. I make a mental note to do it more often. Don’t look into his eyes more than five seconds at a time. My willpower weakens the longer his gaze traps me, and I want to stick to my guns.

  “Don’t mess with me. You know what I’m talking about.”

  He straightens in his chair, a look of intense concentration on his face. “How about three dates?”

  “This is nonnegotiable, you brute.”

  “Okay, but why five? I’ve heard of the three-date rule, but five is just cruel.”

  He looks positively crestfallen now, and it occurs to me that no woman has ever said no to him before. By the way he referred to the three-date rule, it’s clearly something he only heard of as an urban myth, not something he experienced himself. I bet women succumb to his charms from the first date, and if I let him cage me in with his gaze again, I might join their ranks.

  “Well, the first one is to make sure we really want to date, if there is a spark. The second is to confirm we didn’t just imagine the spark, and to get to know each other better. The third is to discover what more we have in common.” Since I completely made up the rule of five, here’s where it gets tricky. All I want is to make sure he really wants this. The chances of getting my heart broken will be lower then, I hope.

  A few seconds into brainstorming, inspiration strikes. “The fourth is for testing whether we’re still interested in each other. The fifth is a prelude for sealing the deal.”

  Part of me had hoped Nate’s expression would become even more crestfallen by my explanation (yep, I can be a little witch), but instead, he’s grinning like the Cheshire cat. I feel like I’ve walked into a trap, only I don’t understand how. With this also comes a realization: I’m definitely the mouse in our game.

  “I’ve known you for a long time, Alice. That covers about four of your dates.”

  “It does not,” I insist. “The spark—”

  “We nearly set fire to your restaurant with one kiss.” He slides two fingers under my chin, lifting it up. I have no choice but to look directly at him. “We have spark.”

  Damn, what can I say? My skin instantly reacts to his words and touch. Goose bumps form on my arms, and blood rushes to my cheeks and neck.

  “Look at you,” he murmurs. “Your skin is all flushed already.”

  “You’re distracting me.” Pushing his hand away, I square my shoulders, gathering my wits. My skin prickles with heat where he touched me moments ago.

  “So knowing you for years doesn’t count at all?”

  “Nope. You don’t know me romantically. I might be into stuff you don’t like.”

  “Like what?”

  “I might be into kinky stuff.”

  Throwing his head back, Nate laughs throatily. I love his laughter so much, I don’t even feel embarrassed that it’s at my expense.

  “What kind? Bondage? Whips? Kinkier? I’m not turning you on with all this kink talk, am I?”

  Sure enough, I burn everywhere. Truthfully, I’m not into any of it, but just hearing him talk about it messes with me. Also, my five-date rule requires me to volunteer more information. “I just want both of us to be sure this is a good idea, that we won’t regret any of it.”

  Nate brings his chair closer, resting his legs on the outside of mine, trapping me inside. For a split second, I’m convinced he’s about to seal his mouth over mine, but then he does the oddest thing. He lifts my hand to his mouth, feathering his lips on the back of my hand. He lingers there for several long seconds.

  “I’m going to wait for as long as you need me to, Alice. This isn’t about getting you into bed. This is about giving us a shot. I’ve wanted this for a long time, and I think you’ve wanted it for even longer. We deserve a chance.”

  I nod enthusiastically. “We do. But tonight, we’re focusing on you.”

  “First date?”

  “Nope. This is just two friends getting together. One had a shitty day, the other is lightening him up. A date would require me to at least take a trip to the beauty salon first.”

  “Killing me here.”

  “Coun
ting on it.”

  Chapter Nine

  Alice

  Who am I, and what have I done with Alice Bennett?

  The question pops in my mind more than once as I inspect my appearance in the mirror the morning of the meeting with the Delicious Dining team. I’m wearing a sleeveless dark blue dress that falls all the way to my knees. It hugs my waist tightly, flowing down in a straight line. I’ve styled my hair in an asymmetric ponytail to the right and put on more makeup than usual. I want to impress them, and looks matter, especially when it comes to people working in television.

  Grabbing my coat, I rush out the door. There is a thick layer of fog all around me, but it doesn’t dampen my mood in the slightest. It does, however, make me shiver and pull my coat around me tighter right until I climb in my car. Damn San Francisco mornings. It’s mid-June; why can’t it be warmer, clearer?

  Half an hour later, I step inside a lush office building. It takes a few minutes to check in at the reception desk and receive a visitor badge.

  “You look gorgeous,” a deep, manly voice says from behind me, nearly making me jump. Turning around, I inhale sharply, taking in the vision before me. Nate Becker is wearing a suit, and he’s looking damn fine. He so rarely wears a suit that he knocks me off my feet every time he does. The first time I saw him in one was at one of Bennett Enterprises’ collection shows. I was young and impressionable, and he was gorgeous. Now I’m not so young anymore, and I’d like to think I’m less impressionable, but he’s still as gorgeous as he can be.

  The black color of the suit jacket and the white shirt underneath are clearly meant to send the message that he means business.

  “Thank you,” I reply. “You clean up well yourself.”

  Nate scrutinizes me, his gaze traveling down my body and then upward again, resting a split second longer on my waist and chest than on my other parts. My mouth and lips instantly feel dry, and I involuntarily wet my lower lip with the tip of my tongue just as Nate focuses on my face again. He catches the gesture, and his irises darken a notch. Damn. No matter how hard I try to stay at the top of my game with this man, he’s always one step ahead of me. It’s probably part of what pulls me to him like a magnet. He has a kind of power over me no other man has ever had.