Your Tempting Love (The Bennett Family 5)

"Send me that floor plan," I say, proud of keeping it professional.

"Will do." Wiggling his eyebrows, he adds, "While changing my shirt. Multi-tasking is one of my talents."

"I never asked what those talents were."

"One of my many faults is that I volunteer too much information. But you never know when it might come in handy."

Shaking my head, I can't hold back a grin. "Pippa said you used to be a big troublemaker as a kid."

"That’s still true. The only difference from then is now I’m trouble with a capital T."

Chapter Two

Victoria

"Good night, Victoria," Chloe says, hugging her teddy bear, her wavy brown hair splayed on her pillow, her eyes heavy with sleep.

I kiss her forehead lightly before whispering, "Good night."

"Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?"

"Sure thing, sweetie."

Placing the book I was reading to her on the nightstand, I turn off the light and slide in beside her. Chloe nestles her small body against mine. Keeping my gaze trained on the moon visible through the window, I listen as her breathing pattern becomes increasingly calmer. Mom used to read to her sometimes before bed, and now I do. It's our way of keeping Mom's memory alive.

Once I'm one hundred percent sure Chloe is asleep, I silently leave. Lucas’s and Sienna's rooms are on the other side of the hall, and they are blissfully quiet. I tiptoe down the corridor on my way to the staircase, but the boards creak beneath my feet anyway. Damn. The floors at our old house used to creak too, but those were of the cute "parent-approaching-alert" variety, whereas these are of the "earthquake-alert" variety.

The death of my parents brought many changes. One of them was that two months after burying them, we had to let go of the only place where we could still feel their presence: the old house. Our new home is smaller and farther away from the children’s school than I wanted, but we live in San Francisco, and housing is exorbitant. This was the best we could afford. We're still learning to call this our home. All our furniture and most of the decorations are from the old house, but it takes more than that to make a place home. We'll get there eventually though.

With a sigh, I shake my head, trying to push the thoughts away. Thinking about my parents always brings on a wave of sadness, and I don't want to let in the pain tonight. I have so much to be thankful for—most of all, that the kids weren't on the boat with my parents the night of the accident. Losing them all… I shudder at the thought.

Social services almost took the kids away. They stepped in after my parents died to make sure I’m a fit guardian. In the beginning, I thought it was because Lucas and Chloe were adopted, but then I found out social services often assist when parents of minors pass away. The problem is they were not convinced that I’m a fit guardian. I fought tooth and nail so we'd all stay together, but social services is keeping a close eye on our case, checking in with us monthly.

Stepping inside the living room, I smile widely at the sight of the gigantic hat sitting on the coffee table, still waiting to be “glittered up.” Chloe’s preschool is organizing a costumed picnic in October. Though it’s only September, I started working on her costume to make sure it'll be ready in time. Chloe is going as the Mad Hatter, the glittery version. Kneeling beside the coffee table in front of the couch, I eye my phone, my palm itching to check my e-mails again, but I decide to ignore the urge and finish the hat.

Tonight I'm all tied up, waiting for Christopher Bennett to reply. I received a message from him with the plan for his apartment after leaving his office, and I sent him the pitch two hours later. I haven't heard from him since, which is normal. It can take days for a potential client to get back to me, but my stomach is in knots. I really need to sign him on as a client to replace the one who unexpectedly ditched me last week. And if I'm honest, Christopher Bennett intrigues me. From the sweet way he talked to Chloe to the borderline shameless way in which he joked with me, everything about him is refreshing and fun. I have a feeling it'd be a blast to work for him.

Because I'm not a hypocrite, I also can't deny that the man is a sight to behold: broad shoulders, strong build, eyes I could lose myself in—which is out of the question, of course. Taking a break from glittering up the hat, I can't resist the temptation of scrolling through my e-mails for the hundredth time. To my surprise, there’s one from Christopher in my inbox.

I like your ideas and definitely want to work together. When are you available for a call to talk about the next steps?

I type the response back so fast I nearly break a nail.

I'm available now if you want to talk. Seeing

his number below his signature in the message, I add, I can call you, or you can call me.

I type my number, even though he has my business card. As I press Send, I do a small happy dance around my living room, shaking my hips to the memory of a catchy tune I heard while driving this morning. My phone beeps with an incoming call seconds later. I recognize his number and immediately answer.

"Thank you for getting back to me so quickly, Mr. Bennett."

"I think we can drop the formalities, Victoria."

The way he says my name, in a low baritone… damn. I can practically hear the smile in his voice, and my mind immediately conjures up the way his almost-sinful lips curl up to form a smile, revealing dimples at both corners of his mouth. Jeez, I can't believe I memorized that. In my defense, it's a great smile, and those dimples would turn even the strongest woman to mush.

"Thank you for calling me back so quickly, Christopher."

"That's more like it. So, what are the next steps?"