Your Fierce Love (The Bennett Family)(30)

"Go take a shower. We have to pick up the girls in half an hour."

Tonight he's taking me to see the Bennett Enterprises show. It's the  first time we'll attend an event together, together. And before that,  we're taking Pippa's girls, Mia and Elena and Julie, out for ice cream.  Blake often takes the little ones out for walks or an ice cream, but  he's never invited me over. I'm not sure he kept me out on purpose, but I  was thrilled when he asked. I think it means he's letting me in a  little more. Maybe I'm building this up in my mind to be more than it  is, but I can't help myself.

"I'm so happy you asked me to go to the Bennett show with you. And to take the girls for ice cream."

"Thank you for saying yes."

"Who can say no to you?"

He gives an exaggerated wiggle of his eyebrows. Right, the amount of  confidence this man possesses first thing in the morning is astonishing.  Most people I know, myself included, need a good few hours to build up  that trust. Makeup and coffee help, not to mention drop-dead-sexy shoes.  Blake rolls out of bed with one hundred percent confidence.

"Shouldn't have said that. Boosting your ego first thing in the morning is a dangerous move."

Blake smiles, and without taking his eyes off me, brings one of my hands  up to his mouth, kissing my wrist. It's just a light feather of lips,  but a shudder zips down my spine. I catch my breath. When I feel the tip  of his tongue on my skin, heat zings my center. I attempt to withdraw  my hand but Blake pulls me flush against him, one hand still holding my  wrist, the other securely on my waist. We look like we're about to  dance, a beautiful and innocent pose.

Hold that thought!

He slides the hand from my waist farther down, lifting my nightgown and  palming my bare ass. Uh-uh, I should have known better. Blake doesn't do  innocent. Goose bumps form on my ass right away. He runs his thumb up  one ass cheek, then down the other, then up the crack between them. I  involuntarily roll my hips against him, then take a large step back.

"You are a terrible man. I need to get ready."

While I shower, Blake steps inside the bathroom. I point a menacing finger at him.

"No tempting me or we'll never make it out of the house."

"No tempting." That's when I notice he's holding my phone. "Penny's calling. Third time in a row. Must be urgent."

My heart in my throat, I turn off the water, step out, and dry my hands  on a towel. Blake leaves after handing me the phone. Please, please dear  God, don't let anything have happened to her.

"Hey, sweetie," she says. "Your boss is downstairs."

"What?"

"He's at the interphone. Says he needs to drop off some documents for  you. You have this address listed as your work address right?"

"Crap. Yeah, I do. Sorry about that."

"You want me to send him over to Blake's? Or just take the documents from him and you'll pick them up later?"

The last thing I want is for Quentin to come over here, realize I'm  living above Blake's bar. My clearing the air when we were away on set  only made his nagging more incessant.

"Take the documents, please. I'll drop by today to pick them up. Sorry for this. I'll make it up with cocktails, I promise."

Said documents must be the contracts from a new sponsor. I was supposed  to go over it as soon as he got them, which I assume was yesterday  evening.

"Nothing to be sorry for, but I won't say no to a cocktail."

"Thank you, Penny."

Damn, that was a close call.

***

"Wow," I exclaim that evening when we step inside the location for the  Bennett show. I've been to a number of galas and events for my job, but  this is something else entirely. It is elegant but not over the top,  rich but not opulent, and despite the size of the venue and the number  of people in attendance, it maintains an air of familiarity. It's almost  cozy. Stretching from the back wall to the center of the room is a long  runway. On either side of it are small tables, with two to six seats  around them, all facing the runway. I'm no pro, but I suspect that the  seating arrangements contribute a lot to the intimate atmosphere.  Fashion shows usually have rows upon rows of chairs, but this  arrangement is far better.                       
       
           


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"There are so many people."

"After it's over, we're going somewhere, just the two of us. I want to show you something."

"Already saw that today."

Blake narrows his eyes, and I can't wait for his comeback. Would it be  witty, sexy, both? He surprises me by not saying anything, instead  pulling me behind a black panel. From the cables and tools strewn on the  floor, I suspect this is a backstage of sorts for the technical team,  which is not here at the moment. Blake either knew this or suspected it,  because he leans into me like a man with a plan. He kisses my neck,  biting me gently. We're shielded from everyone's view, but still. This  man has no shame, or mercy. And I love every second of this, even though  I shouldn't.

"Blake!" I intended to work severity into my tone, but it sounds wanton  even to my own ears. "You can't touch me like that in public."

"Keep talking like that and I'll kiss you against this wall, just so you know who's in charge."

"Is it bad that now I'm thinking of ways to provoke you?" I lick my lips, shaking my head.

Blake steps back. "I'm making an effort here."

I wiggle my eyebrows. "This is what makes it more fun."

He's reckless, but hot damn, whenever I'm with him, I want to throw caution to the wind.

"Come on. Let's sit before I do something crazy like throwing you over my shoulder and walking out of here."

Taking my hand, he leads us back into the room. If possible, the place seems even fuller than a few minutes ago.

For the first time, I focus on the people and not the decor. All men are  wearing suits, and the women have exquisite dresses. As is always the  case with such events, I feel out of my depth. It's not that I feel  inferior to everyone else, because I don't. But I just feel like I don't  belong, like this is all just make-believe. In a way, it is.

We walk up to one of the tables nearest to the runway, where  Christopher, Max, Daniel, and Logan are sitting. There are two empty  chairs. The brothers look up, and their reactions when they see me are  almost comic. Daniel and Logan mask their surprise more skillfully, only  a slight jerk of their head giving them away. Christopher and Max-I  can't tell who's who-rise in unison. One claps his hands; the other  opens his arms wide, as if thanking the skies. I can tell they're about  to roast Blake. I've been around the family often enough to know the  dynamics. But I never can tell how they'll choose to torment Blake, and I  dearly wish I could pick up on it faster so I can join in on the fun.

"I never thought I'd see this day," one of the twins says. I make a  concerted effort to tell which one he is. Judging by the way he winks,  and the cocky smirk, it must be Christopher. I have a fifty percent  chance of being right.

"Watch it, Max," Blake warns. Okay, so I failed one hundred percent.

"Clara, please give us the rundown. Is he treating you well? Should we kick his ass?" the actual Christopher asks.

"Or give him pointers?" Max adds.

"Anything you two want to add?" Blake points at Daniel and Logan.

Logan drums his fingers on the table, narrowing his eyes in mock  concentration. Then he perks up, as if he has the right answer. "No, I  think Max and Christopher about covered the range of scenarios."

Daniel flashes a grin, pointing with his thumb at Logan. "I agree with him."

"I'll have you know he's being a swoon-worthy gentleman."

Logan cocks a brow. Next to me, Blake nods.

"He bought my favorite flowers and planted them on the balcony."

Christopher and Max both feign shock. Teasing is an art in this family. I can only hope I'll be as good one day.

"‘Atta-boy," Logan exclaims.

"I think he's giving all of you a run for your money in the charming  department," I add for effect. The brothers look slightly affronted at  this, and Blake smiles proudly. Too proudly. Hmm, my wicked side rears  its head. Having Blake's back is good. Riling him up is even better.

"But he's also very inappropriate."

He cocks a brow at me. "You'll pay for this."

"I'm looking forward to it."

The four brothers guffaw just as a waiter appears with a tray of glasses  filled with a fizzy drink. I take a sip from mine. It's champagne, as I  guessed, and it's delicious. As the waiter leaves, the lights turn  dimmer, and the screens at the side of the runway light up.

"Where's Sebastian?" I ask.

"See that mirror at the back of the room?" Logan asks. "It's a  see-through glass. A room is behind it, and Sebastian watches from  there. Too much press around here for him. He did attend at some point,  but I swear the reporters have only become nosier over time."