Your Tempting Love (The Bennett Family)

by Layla Hagen

  "Can you drive me to my place?" Alice asks, jumping down from the counter. "My car is in for routine maintenance and—"

  "You like being driven around by your brothers?" I ask.

  Alice grins. "What good is it having a gazillion brothers if they don't even drive you around?"

  "Sure, I'll drop you off."

  After saying good-bye to Pippa, Alice and I leave. The moment I drive away, Alice asks, "Do you have time to sit down with me for a few hours sometime? I wanted to pick your brain on some operations stuff."

  "Sure, what about?"

  "When I opened the second restaurant I didn't anticipate how much more complex it would be. I know that certain things can be streamlined. The way I currently run everything is eating away at my profitability."

  "Do you have money issues?"

  "No, but I don't like throwing money away. Just want to pick your brain, but you're living up to the Bennett name in terms of hours sitting on your butt in your office. Do you have time?"

  I wear my workaholic badge proudly. I was a wild child until college, much like Victoria. The summer before my senior year, I interned at Bennett Enterprises. After the first week on the job, I had a troubling realization: if I wanted anyone to take me seriously, I had to act the part. People regarded me like Sebastian and Logan's little prankster brother, and me cracking jokes the entire time didn't help.

  So I put on a suit, joked less while at the office, and worked hard. Slowly, I climbed inside the company until I took over as head of operations. I'd like to think it was all my hard work, but the truth is, my last name being Bennett contributed. Which is why I work my ass off. When you're handed chances, you do your best to prove you're worthy of them.

  "You share my last name," I tease Alice. "That means I'm obligated to make time for you and drive you around."

  "Well, don't I feel special."

  "How about this for feeling special? I'm also obligated to kick anyone's butt who crosses you."

  Alice holds up one finger as I stop at a red light.

  "Those are big brother duties. Last I checked you're younger, so you're off the hook. You can just annoy me."

  "Of course I'll make time for you, Alice," I assure her. The last thing I want is for my sister to worry about her business. "We can sit down and talk about this sometime next week. This one is crazy."

  "All joking aside, it's a good thing Victoria's helping you decorate. It's a big time suck otherwise."

  "Agreed. I'm going to her house Thursday evening to go over some brochures."

  "Ooh, you'll meet her siblings. They're adorable."

  "I already met Chloe. By the way, how can a twenty-nine-year-old have a four-year-old sister?"

  "Chloe and Lucas were adopted. Victoria told me once that her parents wanted more children, but after her, they didn't have any luck until twelve years later when they had Sienna. Afterward, they felt they were too old to have more kids, but Mrs. Hensley was a maternity nurse. One of her patients wanted to give up her son after he was born, and the Hensleys adopted Lucas. A few years later, the same woman gave birth to a little girl and put her up for adoption too. The Hensleys took her in as well."

  "Victoria's parents sound like great people. Any tips about going to their house? Victoria seemed nervous about it. I think she's afraid the kids being loud will bother me. I told her I don't mind at all, but…."

  As I come to a stop in front of Alice's building, I turn around to face her just in time to catch her smile.

  "Bring them some ice cream. They'll love it. Ben & Jerry's, chocolate cherry and coconut flavor. And thank you for driving me home."

  She climbs out of my car and through the car window, she flashes me a smile that resembles Pippa's “I have plans for you” smile a tad too much.

  Chapter Four

  Victoria

  My goal on Thursday evening is to make the most out of Christopher's time and keep the encounter 100 percent professional. No allowing his smoldering gaze to affect me. No bonding over inappropriate stories. Fifteen minutes before his arrival, I'm coaxing the kids into watching a movie while I spend time with Christopher in my office. Sienna and Chloe are sitting on the couch already, focusing on the TV, but Lucas isn't convinced.

  "I want to meet him too," Lucas says, pouting. Ever since Chloe told him about her encounter with Christopher, he's been pestering me about an introduction too. Sienna gives me a sympathetic look.

  "He's a client," I say to Lucas gently. "No meeting the clients, remember?"

  "But Chloe already met him," Lucas insists.

  "By accident," I repeat for the hundredth time. Separating my personal life from the professional one isn't an easy task when my office is at home, but I do my best trying to set boundaries. "He's an ogre, anyway. You don't want to meet him."

  I kiss Lucas on the cheek, and he makes a gagging sound, rubbing his cheek vigorously. "You can't do that anymore. I'm too old."

  "If you don't listen to me, I'm going to kiss you some more." As an afterthought, I add, "In public. At school."

  He straightens up, adopting a stoic expression, then joins Chloe on the couch seconds before the doorbell rings. I practically sprint to open the door.

  "Hi," Christopher greets me, his eyes raking over my body, resting on my hips a tad too long, making me blush. Behind him, the sky is a mix of heavy clouds and streaks of clear blue and orange, as if the heavens aren’t quite prepared to let go of the summer, or allow autumn to take over.

  "Come inside."

  The second I close the door, the sound of feet shuffling informs me that the kids are on their way here. So much for them staying in the living room.

  "Christopher," Chloe calls. Lucas is right beside her, inspecting Christopher. Lucas's hair is exactly the same shade of dark chocolate as Chloe's, while Sienna’s and mine are a few shades lighter. Lucas is a tad too tall for his age, while Chloe is smaller than other four-year-olds, something Lucas endlessly teases her about. Sienna mouths “I'm sorry,” and I smile, letting her know it's not the end of the world. After all, Christopher was lovely toward Chloe on our first encounter.

  "Hi, Chloe." He ruffles her hair good-naturedly. "I brought the three of you something."

  "Ice cream," Sienna exclaims. "Ben & Jerry’s with chocolate cherry and coconut."

  "That's my favorite," I remark, wondering how he guessed.

  Sienna shakes Christopher's hand, introducing herself, then snatches the ice cream out of his hands.

  "You have great taste," she informs him. "We love Ben & Jerry's."

  "Glad to be of service. And you must be the man of the house, Lucas."

  I'm pleasantly surprised Christopher remembers his name, and I melt as he smiles at my brother.

  "See, Victoria," Lucas says, "he's not an ogre. He's nice."

  Blood rushes to my face, embarrassment rooting me to the spot. Mental note: Never say anything in front of the kids that would embarrass you if they repeated it in front of anyone else. Ever.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I peek at Christopher. His lips are pressed together, as if he's trying hard not to burst out laughing. Not that I'm blaming him.

  "Who wants ice cream?" Sienna asks, holding up the box. Chloe and Lucas answer in unison. "Okay, let's go. Thank you, Christopher."

  They disappear into the living room, yet I can't bring myself to meet Christopher's eyes, still ashamed from Lucas outing me. A buzzing noise startles me.

  "Sorry, I've got to answer this," Christopher says, placing his phone to his ear. "How did it go?"

  The person at the other end of the line speaks quickly, but I can't make out any words.

  "I don't care," Christopher says harshly. "We're not caving in. That's our offer. He can take it or leave it. We've invested millions on this."

  I study him in silence, trying to reconcile the powerful businessman before me with the man with a tomboyish charm who brought the kids ice cream.

  After he finishes the conversation, he shoves his phone in
the pocket of his pants, opening his arms wide. "I'm all yours now. Promise."

  "First things first, sorry about the ogre thing. I told Lucas that because he was insisting on meeting you, and I thought it would put him off. I try not to mix my personal life with my professional one, but…."

  "Don't worry," he says with a rueful smile.

  "Follow me."

  He walks in step with me as I lead him through the house all the way to the office. "Thank you for bringing them ice cream. It'll keep them occupied. You sure have a knack for kids."

  "Grew up in a big family," he says simply. "Knowing how to keep the small ones occupied was a basic survival skill."

  I find myself grinning and wishing to know more, but business is calling.

  "Besides," he continues as we step into my office, "I'm invading your personal time. The least I could do was bring them goodies." Leaning slightly forward, he says in a low tone, "I and my inappropriate stories are all yours."

  He pins me with his gaze, and being the object of his focus messes with my senses. My skin buzzes with awareness as I catch a whiff of his cologne: mint, wood, and something else I don't recognize. I barely restrain myself from leaning in closer and discovering what the mystery ingredient is. What has gotten into me? Last time I got entangled with a client, things went bad fast. It was a mistake, and I've learned my lesson. Business and pleasure don't mix. With my siblings in my care, I can't afford to make mistakes any longer.

  Clearing my throat, I step away from him, gesturing toward the couch and pointing at the catalogs on the coffee table. My office is small, with a simple wooden desk and an ergonomic black chair behind it. In the far left corner are a small, light green couch and a miniature coffee table. Behind the couch is a room divider in the shape of a floor-to-ceiling bookcase, filled to the brim with books. It looks like a regular bookcase, and I masked the entrance to my room with a tall plant.

  The two-story house seems big on paper, with three bedrooms upstairs and a bedroom on the ground floor. In truth, the house originally had two bedrooms upstairs, which have been remodeled into three tiny ones. My favorite part of the house is definitely the living room. It's spacious, the large window and glass door opening into the backyard allow in plenty of light. Most of our activities, eating included, take place in the living room. Because there was no spare room I could use as my office, I had to split my bedroom, with the result that both the bedroom and the office are a tad on the small side, but I love them.

  "Let's look through these catalogs, tell me what you like most. We'll go from there."

  Christopher and I comb through the material, and I slowly grasp what he likes. He leans toward warm, traditional designs, which I suspected after our phone conversation.

  I write down the pieces of furniture he seems especially interested in, and already have a clear idea which shops I'm going to use in his case. Over the years, I've built a network of suppliers, and I regularly work with them. They are relatively quick, I can pull in favors, and most importantly, they don't overcharge. Even though all of my clients are well off, I don't want them to overpay.

  "Okay, this was productive," I exclaim about an hour later, after we finish perusing the material.

  "What's the next step?"

  "I want us to go to a shop, so you can look firsthand at some of the pieces of furniture you liked."

  Christopher grimaces. "But we just looked through magazines."

  "I know, but seeing them live is different. You might decide you don't like some of them after all."

  "Not really a fan of shopping."

  "I can work based on what you've chosen from the catalogs, then."

  Christopher scoffs, running his hand through his hair. "Nah, I'll do it. I actually want to like the place I'll live in. Now I'm in a rental that came fully furnished, and it looks like an office. Before this, I lived in Hong Kong for a few years, expanding our business. That apartment also came fully furnished, and I felt like I was living in a hotel the entire time. Hated it, but I didn't want to put in the effort to change it. Now I want home to actually feel like home. I'll look over my schedule tomorrow and let you know when I have time."

  "Great."

  Christopher focuses on my pen, which has a small figurine of a Disney princess on top of it. I really should stop borrowing pens from Chloe.

  "How are you juggling looking after the kids and running your own business?"

  "The business side runs rather smoothly. The other one is more challenging," I say honestly. "But mostly, it's a lot of fun. It's as if I'm reliving my childhood all over again. I don't know what it says about me that I remember about the struggle of choosing whether to wear my glitter boots or pink boots to school. That either I have a great memory, or I still have the fashion sense of a four-year-old. I wish I had paid more attention in my P.E. class so I could help Lucas with—"

  I swallow the rest of the sentence, embarrassed. I don't dare glance at Christopher, who is suspiciously silent next to me. Staring at the coffee table as if it's the most interesting item in the world, I say, "I'm sorry. I'm not usually a chatterbox. I mean, I am, but not with clients. You just… well, you seem so easy to talk to and so trustworthy."

  "So it's my fault. Interesting. What convinced you I'm trustworthy? My offer to strip for you in my office or asking you about swimming lessons?" He laughs, and I can't help joining in.

  "Sorry, back to your question. So yeah, in a nutshell, I am handling things all right most of the time. I like to focus on the positive things. And I enjoy working for myself. I'll be honest that striking out on my own wasn't easy. I depend heavily on recommendations, and the chase for new clients can be exhausting, but I'm glad I get the chance to spend more time with the kids, and being my own boss has its perks."

  He tilts his head to one side, watching me intently. "Such as?"

  "Being able to divide my workload as I need, wearing comfortable clothes when I'm in my office, sometimes nothing more than panties and a sleep shirt."

  Nonononono, I did not say that last part out loud. Judging by the way Christopher's eyes instantly darken, I did say it. To hell with my big, traitorous mouth.

  Dropping my head in my hands, I draw in a deep breath.

  "My fault again, right?" he asks playfully. "Something about my incredibly good looks and inescapable charm makes you talk about your underwear?"

  I cross my legs, biting the inside of my cheeks. "I swear this is atypical behavior—"

  "No worries. I do believe one doesn't come across good-looking men like me very often. Also, I still owe you some inappropriate childhood stories."

  "Better not," I murmur. "This has already gotten out of hand pretty fast."

  "Okay. But I do have a question for you."

  "Shoot."

  "Were you wearing a sleep shirt when you talked to me on the phone, Victoria?"

  "The…. Yeah, I…," I stammer, unable to form a coherent thought, much less sentence. Desperately I attempt to whip my thoughts into place, but Christopher makes that impossible by inching closer to me on the couch.

  He dips his head slightly, and I inhale sharply, the whiff of his cologne alerting my senses. Oh! Musk. That was the mysterious ingredient I couldn't identify before. His proximity makes my hormones go haywire, and my heart skips a beat. Judging by the look he gives me, he knows this. A man who looks like him will be aware of the effect he has on women.

  "Were you wearing a thong under that sleep shirt?"

  His words have an atomic effect on me, sending a heated jolt right through my center. Well, this conversation got out of control fast. Christopher seems to be thinking along the same lines because he pulls back, rising from the couch and pacing around the room.

  "You should know something about me," he offers. "I have no filter."

  "You don't say," I say, my voice tight with shock, still a little off-balance from the exchange. What just happened? I can’t believe he had the balls to talk about my thong, and I definitely can’t believe
the way my body reacted to his words.

  Christopher opens his mouth, but before he utters one single word, the door bursts open. Lucas saunters inside with Chloe hot on his heels rubbing at her eyes. Her bedtime is in half an hour, and she's already sleepy.

  "It's eight thirty," Lucas announces, and I can't help smiling.

  "I promised them I'd be done by this time," I explain to Christopher.

  "It's a good thing we're done, then." Checking his watch, he adds, "I even have time to catch the soccer game at nine."

  "You're a soccer fan?" Lucas asks.

  "Big fan."

  Chloe climbs in my lap, resting her head against my upper arm and yawning.

  "Did you play soccer in school?" Lucas continues with the interrogation.

  "Yeah. I was really good at it. Still am. My family plays often, even now."

  Lucas smiles, as if Christopher just told him there will be two Christmases this year. "Could you give me some pointers? Coach me? Tryouts for the team are in a few weeks, and I really want to earn a spot. Dad was supposed to train me, but…."

  His voice fades, and I suck in a deep breath. Chloe sighs deeply. I kiss the top of her head and wish I could do the same with Lucas, except I don't think he'd be happy with being kissed in front of Christopher.

  My heart squeezes for my brother. I'm no good at soccer, having played volleyball at school and hating every minute of it. My Aunt Christina and Uncle Bill live nearby, and my uncle offered to help him train, but Lucas wasn't keen on it, possibly because Uncle Bill isn’t very good at soccer. But asking Christopher isn't right. He's a stranger to him and my client. I can't let the professional and personal boundaries blur even more. Also, I am one hundred percent sure Christopher has a full schedule.

  "Sweetie, Christopher is busy. We'll find someone to coach you, okay? I promise."

  Lucas doesn't budge.

  To my surprise, Christopher says, "Sure, I can give you some tips. I coached my younger brothers years ago when they wanted to make the team. Victoria and I will figure out when the best time is."