Your Fierce Love (The Bennett Family)(21)

"Is it working?" Grinning, she claps her hands together.

"No. So, are we clear in the smiling department?"

She places a hand on my arm, stepping closer. Rising on her toes, she  kisses my cheek, then whispers in my ear, "You're not the boss of me,  Blake."                       
       
           


///
       

This woman! She's driving me insane.

"I'm going to say goodbye to Valentina."

"This conversation isn't over," I warn.

"Wasn't dreaming it was." When she steps away, there's an extra sway to  her hips. I barely resist the urge to kiss her hard, staking my claim  and showing everyone she belongs to me.





CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Clara

I don't get the chance to finish my conversation with Blake at all  because after Landon and Valentina leave, my phone rings. I don't have  it on me, but it's somewhere in the living room. Excusing myself from  the group, I follow the sound. Why can't I ever remember where I put my  stuff? Eventually, I find my phone on top of a shelf. That's right, I  put it up there so it would be out of the kids' reach. Glancing at the  screen, I recognize the number of the head of the technical team at the  studio. This can't be good.

"Hi, George!" I greet, putting my phone to my ear and stepping into a side corridor. There's too much noise in the living room.

"Sorry to bother you on the weekend, but we have a situation."

"I figured. What's wrong?"

"One of the sets just collapsed."

"What? Please tell me it's not the one we need from Monday to Wednesday."

"That's the one."

Groaning, I press my forehead against the wall. "Have you tried Quentin?"

"Yes. He's in Toronto, taking the next flight, but he said to call you  in anyway. Between you and me, I don't think he can handle this. He'll  have a meltdown when he sees the damage."

"Yeah."

I run a number of scenarios in my mind, even though deep down I know  George is right. If this doesn't get fixed this weekend, we'll delay the  production by two days, and then we'll be in a precarious financial  situation. No, this has to be fixed before Monday, which means spending  the night at the studio and all day tomorrow.

It means no more weekend, no more Blake. Damn, and I was really looking  forward to riling him up some more. That jealous streak of his is simply  delicious. There is so much untapped teasing potential there. Heat  flares within me just thinking about it, especially because teasing him  brings up another streak-the bossy one-and that one is, if possible,  even more alluring. This is my punishment for being a naughty woman. But  when duty calls, it calls.

"I'll be at the studio in two hours," I assure George. After clicking  off, I head straight to my bedroom and pack my bag, looking longingly at  the connecting door.

"What are you doing?" Summer's voice startles me from the doorway. I  explain the situation at the studio quickly, and then it dawns on me  that I didn't come here by car. Fantastic.

"Oh, you can take my car. I'll just ride back with whomever."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

"Thank you."

Thank heavens her car is automatic, because I can't drive a stick to  save my life. Bag ready, I return to the living room with Summer. The  Bennetts are a little flummoxed with my abrupt departure-one Bennett in  particular-and I say my goodbyes quickly.

"I'll walk you to the car," Blake says as I head out the front door.

"You don't have to."

"I'll walk you," he repeats, his voice stronger, and I bite back a sigh.  I like bossy Blake. Truth be told, I like every version of him. He's  simply gotten under my skin.

Ever the gentleman, he loads my bag in the trunk.

"I wish you didn't have to go." His honesty is so disarming I can't help responding in kind.

"So do I."

He closes the distance to me, raising his hand to touch my cheek, my  neck. God, it feels so good to be touched by him. I'm in danger of  forgetting why I must leave; such is his power. Wisely, I step back a  little. Hmm...this isn't helping as much as I thought it would.

"Yeah?"

"You think I'd rather spend my night and Sunday working than with you?"

He offers me a smile and kisses my forehead, which is not what I was expecting.

"What?"

"We're back at forehead kissing?" I inquire. He laughs throatily.

"No, but if I kiss you-" He emphasizes the word "kiss" by dragging his  thumb across my lower lip. "-I can promise you won't make it to the  studio in time."

"Oh! Okay."

His voice is pure seduction, and combined with the pressure of his thumb  on my mouth, my body tightens, my nipples peaking under my bra. This  man has the most dangerous effect on me. He seems to realize what he's  doing to me and drops his hand, opening the car door for me. Thank  heavens for small mercies.                       
       
           


///
       

"See you tomorrow evening, then."

***

I don't see Blake on Sunday because the mayhem at the studio continues.  At noon, it appears everything is sorted out, so we all go home. But I  barely have time to nap for a few hours before George informs me the set  foundation caved in completely, and we're back to square one. The  entire technical team plus Quentin and I spend the night at the studio,  and all of Monday. The set isn't salvageable.

We need to rebuild its big parts, which will take the entire week. Since  we can't pause shooting for that long, Quentin and I arranged for  shooting to temporarily move to another of the studio's sets, which is  now empty because that show is on break.

So tomorrow morning, we're all driving out to L.A., and will stay there for the week.

I drive home in a state that resembles drunkenness, parking the car in  my usual spot. But then I see Blake's car, and adrenaline suddenly  spikes my blood. He must be inside the bar tonight. He usually is on  Mondays. I have not memorized his schedule, just...kept in mind some  facts, purely for neighborly reasons. Ah, who am I kidding, I totally  memorized his schedule.

So even though I'm dead tired, instead of going up to the apartment and  sleeping like the dead, I head inside the bar. I want to see him, even  if it's just for a few minutes to say hi.

To my utter shock, the place is packed. Mondays are usually laid-back.  The second shock comes when I see Blake behind the counter alone. This  can't be good. He usually has two bartenders on Monday. I knew my  stalker tendencies would come in handy at some of point. Scratch that.  Observant! That's it. I'm observant, not a stalker.

I watch him silently, amazed by his speed. Of course, the line is  something like Sisyphus's chore. No matter how fast Blake is, the line  isn't getting shorter because new customers line up constantly. I elbow  my way through the crowd, and instead of lining up, I wedge myself  between two men who are directly in front of Blake, waiting for their  drinks. They shoot daggers with their eyes at me. Ask me if I care.

"Hey, why are you alone tonight?" I ask, leaning slightly across the counter so the other patrons can't hear me.

"Clara, hey! Didn't see you. Sent both my bartenders home an hour ago. They were coming down with some bug."

"Oh."

"And I have a full house tonight." He smiles as he hands a beer to one  of the customers, but I've been observing Blake for long enough to know  when he means a smile or when it's just a pleasantry. This is the  latter. I have the sudden urge to make him laugh, or hug or kiss him,  but it's not my place. Blake isn't mine, despite what happened on  Saturday morning between us at the ranch. I don't want to raise my hopes  that it was more than a hot morning. Without asking for permission, I  walk around the bar, stepping behind the counter.

"What are you doing?" Blake asks.

"Lending you a hand."

"You're tired. Don't think I haven't noticed you didn't come home last night."

I smile, beyond thrilled that I'm not the only one who is observant.

"I'm handling this."

"I'm helping you."

Blake stares me down but I don't back away, instead holding his gaze, which is no small feat.

"Oi, still waiting for my drink," a man calls from behind the bar, cutting through the tension.

We have our hands full until well after midnight. Finally, when there  are just three patrons left and it's only a few minutes before closing, I  use the opportunity to use the personnel toilet.

On my way back, close to the door connecting the back office area with the bar, I hear a low, seductive female voice.

"Blake, you look sexier every time I see you."

I flatten myself against the wall. I can't see her through the open  door, but if I can hear her, I imagine she either must have stepped  behind the bar or is leaning across it, and they're nearby.