Your Fierce Love (The Bennett Family)(11)

"I'm not, but I wanted to clear my head and." Shake off the crazy sexual  tension. Yeah, that's a thought best kept to myself. "Had some extra  energy to shake off." Licking my upper lip, I taste salt. I need a  shower stat. My tank top clings to my back, and to my chest, a detail  that does not escape Blake.

"I have to go shower. I'm a sweaty mess."

"I disagree." He brings one hand to my face, his finger skimming across  the skin over my upper lip, where I licked before. "You're sexy as hell.  I love your smell." Leaning forward, he rubs the tip of his nose  against my temple. "So feminine. Sweet."

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 summer 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.