Your Fierce Love (The Bennett Family 7)

“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.”