“Why do you look pissed?” she asks.
“Fred was hitting on you.”
“No, he was being nice and polite.”
“Showing you around town is code for trying to get in your pants.”
Clara crosses her arms over her breasts, and the corners of her lips twitch.
“You were smiling at him the way you smile at me. It’s messing with my head.”
“Let me get this straight. You want me not to smile at people?”
“Not people. Just men. Smile at women all you want. At my brothers too, actually. The older ones are married, and Daniel knows not to mess with you.”
Clara’s expression opens up in a bright smile. Yeah, there they are—those dimples. They are all mine.
“You have nothing to worry about. You’re the only one who is Blakealicious.”
I blink. “Huh?”
“Just made that up. The love child of Blake and delicious.”
“Sounds like a bad stripper name.”
“Do you know any good ones?”
“What?”
“Just testing how deep your knowledge of male strippers is.”
I open my mouth, and then close it again. Where were we before? Aha, now I remember.
“Are you trying to distract me from our fighting?”
“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.