Your Fierce Love (The Bennett Family 7)

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.

Here I am again, thinking about Clara, wondering if she’s asleep, replaying in my mind the way she leaned in when she asked me not to kiss her.

She was so responsive to me, I wanted nothing more than to push her against the kitchen table and kiss her. I wanted to do more than kiss. I wanted to drive her insane with pleasure, bring her over the edge again and again. I want her, and not just in my bed. I can make her laugh, but I want to learn how to make her happy. She beckons to me on a visceral level, her sweetness and passion pulling me in like a magnet.

I will make this woman mine.

CHAPTER SIX

Clara

Over the next few days, I constantly run into Blake. On our balcony, on the staircase, in front of the building. There is no reprieve, and the tension between us escalates with every encounter. I’m positive the next time I see him I’ll spontaneously combust.

Which is why Tuesday morning, I go for a run. I’m only an occasional runner (with the occasion usually requiring

me to fit in a tight dress for a special event), but my body has been humming with tension for days, and I need to shake it off.

My battery-operated friend will remain out of commission for the time being, considering wall thickness and all that.

The morning is pleasantly cool as I start my run, and there isn’t much fog even though wisps of mist do seem to linger here and there. It’s early enough that dew still covers the greenery.

It’s a great neighborhood for a run, what with all the mansions and manicured lawns lining the streets. As I approach our building, Blake infiltrates my thoughts again.

I slow down to a brisk walking pace about one hundred feet from the entrance, but I’m still panting as I climb the staircase.

“Morning!”

As if I’ve conjured him up by sheer force of daydreaming, Blake appears at the top of the staircase, which has never seemed narrower. I always get the impression that any space instantly shrinks when Blake is inside it. I don’t know if it’s because he takes up a lot of space anywhere, or because I’m so consumed by him that everything else fades around him. Probably a combination.

“You’re up early.”

“Bank meeting.”

Ah, that explains the suit. I lick my lips. Sweet heavens, this will not bode well for me. On any given day, I’m having trouble keeping my thoughts in check around him. Now, with Blake in a suit... call me shallow, but I’m a sucker for a man in a suit. That goes double when the man in question is Blake.

“Thought you weren’t a runner.” He descends two steps until we’re level, and in my clumsy attempt to put some distance between us, I back into the wall of the staircase.

“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.”