"Blake...I...oh God, how did I end up in your arms?" I'd blame the wine, but that would make me a hypocrite.
"Because you can't help this either. I can't stop thinking about you, Clara. When I'm working, when I'm at home. You've been on my mind since we met, and I thought I could pull it off, living next to you and not wanting to make you mine, but now I know I won't."
I can't wrap my mind around what he's saying, but I hang onto his every word, melting against him.
"I want to kiss you, all night long. Just kiss you."
"Please don't."
"Why not?"
"You know why. I care too much about your family and-"
"You want safe and-what was that word? Nonargumentative. Don't think anyone ever used those words to describe me." Leaning even closer, he adds in a low baritone, "But you want this-us-even more." He cups my face, his thumb pressing on my lips, his fingers splayed on my cheek and jaw. A current races through me, white-hot and intense. When he drags his thumb from one corner of my mouth to the other, my hips shift, my entire body arches. Blake is pulling me to him like a magnet.
"God, you're intense," I mutter.
"You have no idea." To my relief, he steps back, and after picking up the glasses and bottle, we head inside. "I'm going to go now, before we end up in kissing distance again."
"Blake-"
He holds up his hand. "I know what you said, but it doesn't stop me from wanting what I want."
There's no mistaking his meaning. He wants me.
"You want this too. I know you do, and you know it too. But you won't be able to resist. I'll make sure of it."
I walk him to the door in silence. When we reach it, he kisses the tip of my nose and then lets himself out. Rooted to the spot, I'm still reeling from the intensity of it all.
***
Blake
I can't wind down after leaving Clara's apartment. I'm wired up, energy coursing through me. I end up descending to the bar. The closing time is two o'clock, and the bar is still buzzing with people. I hop behind the counter, giving a hand to my trusted bartenders on shift, Jack and Alex.
"Blake, didn't know you were joining us tonight," Alex says. Since I'm overseeing three restaurants and this bar, I rotate between the four locations. I'm not one for tight control or surprise visits, making my schedule available to my employees so they know when to expect me.
"Wasn't planning to."
But I have too much energy to sleep, and working behind the bar is the best way to burn it off. Years ago, I used to burn off my energy by going out with friends, but this is a much better use of my time. Not to mention I've drastically cut down the number of friends since one tried to sell details to the press about Pippa's divorce from her asshole first husband. Details I'd told her, never thinking they'd leak out. I spent a lot of money shutting her up and killing the story before it hit scandal magazines. It still makes me angry that she walked away with money, but at least no harm came to my sister. I can deal with moochers to an extent, but I draw the line at people going after my family.
After being used to the kind of bone-deep loyalty running in my family, I can't and won't settle for less. Maybe the standard is too high, but I don't give a damn. I don't hesitate to put my neck on the line for the people I care about. If they don't want to reciprocate, they have no place in my life. There are enough Bennetts to fill my time with, especially now that we have a whole new generation to raise.
"Quite a crowd you have here tonight, Blake," Arthur says. He's been one of my earliest clients and is a regular. Back then, his wife of more than thirty years had just died. He never drinks much, and my theory is he comes here more to socialize than drink. Once he let slip that his house was too empty without his wife. I always find him a spot right at the bar when he stops by, no matter how full it is.
"We had a group of tourists for a wine tasting earlier, and they stayed after it was over," I explain. Having Napa Valley close by is good for business. I even thought about buying a vineyard or two, go into wine production.
"This is fantastic," Arthur comments, sipping one of the wines we had at the tasting.
"It is. Starts out a little strong, but it opens up in a rich bouquet."
"Reminds me of my wife," Arthur says, tipping the glass back. "She spent the entire first year I knew her turning down my advances. But when she finally gave in..." He raises his glass, as if that's explanation enough. I understand. I also take Arthur's words as a sign. Mind you, I'd take anything and twist it into a sign right now.