Your Inescapable Love (The Bennett Family Book 4)

by Layla Hagen

  She turns around, smiling devilishly. “But I have breakfast stuff. I can even make pancakes.”

  “Yeah… about that….”

  “What?”

  She whirls around, looking at the stove intently. “It smells of burned stuff.”

  So much for my cleaning skills. She opens the dishwasher, and then looks in the garbage, where I tossed the pan.

  “You tried to make pancakes?”

  I realize I have no choice but to come clean. “I did. That’s the result, so I went to buy some.”

  “You’re adorable,” she says. “You didn’t have to do it.”

  “Thought I’d give being romantic a try. Obviously didn’t work out.”

  Emilia walks up to me and laces her hands at the back of my neck, giving me a quick peck on the lips. “Whoever said buying breakfast isn’t romantic?”

  “Are you being nice to me just because I bought your favorite pancakes?”

  She shrugs, a coy smile spreading on her face. “You’ll never know.”

  “Here is a test for you. You’ll only get your sweets after you give me a proper kiss.”

  “You mean this was a half-assed kiss?”

  “It was an I can’t wait to get it over with so I can have my sweets kind of kiss. I want an I’m getting wet kind of kiss.”

  “You’re awfully presumptuous.”

  “Can’t help it. Comes along with the package.”

  “Fine.”

  She rises on her toes and gives in to my kiss. Then she steals the bag out of my hand and hurries to the kitchen. The little vixen.

  “I feel a little used right now,” I inform her.

  “Oh, feel free to feel very used. I’m in pancake heaven.”

  I watch her eat, barely restraining myself as she makes delicious sounds.

  “You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”

  “Teasing you? Making you sweat?” she asks with a grin. “Of course I am.”

  “Two can play at this game, Emilia,” I say in a low tone. She merely gives me a coy smile, concentrating on her food.

  “Thank you,” she says softly once she’s done. “For breakfast, and for yesterday. You mean a lot to me.”

  She sighs and frowns, as if she’s considering her words. “I didn’t have the courage to put myself out there again after my fiasco engagement. But with you, everything feels so right that I’m almost afraid something bad will happen, just because it has to.”

  Stepping closer to her, I drag my fingers down her cheek, focusing on her eyes. “Get those silly ideas out of your head. Before you, I thought there was something wrong with me for not making any relationship work. But with the wrong person, it will never feel right. You’re my right person, Emilia.”

  She offers me a heartfelt, delicious smile. “And you are mine.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Max

  One week later, on Friday, I’m convinced I’ve lost my mind. Yeah, that must be it. Otherwise, why would I have a book about pregnancy open on my computer at work? Sometime today I started researching late births and Braxton-Hicks, and fell down the research hole. In the meantime, I found out late first births are normal, but there are about one thousand other things that can go wrong during a pregnancy. Why do women put themselves through this? And to think Mom went through this seven times. I should close the damn book, but reading it is like watching a car wreck. It’s bad, but I can’t look away.

  A knock at my door jolts me out of my reading.

  “Come in.” I immediately minimize the book on my screen. If anyone sees it, they’ll think I’ve lost my balls on top of losing my mind. Christopher walks in.

  “You’re a genius,” he says. “Brazil just informed us they’ll fly to San Francisco to negotiate with us. We just have to set up the date.”

  “About damn time.”

  “They’re gonna ask for blood to give us placement in their stores.”

  “I’ll give them what’s fair, nothing more or less.” Yes, we want to enter their market, but we’re not going to overpay for it. Christopher sets a stack of papers on my desk. “Get back to me after you look through these. There are—” He bursts out laughing out of the blue. What the hell? Then I notice he’s looking at my computer screen. Shit. I minimized the window with the book, but the title is still visible.

  “If you’re gonna give me shit for this, there is the door,” I inform Christopher, who doesn’t stop laughing.

  “I don’t have time to give you shit right now.” He’s already backing out. “But I’ll keep it on my to-do list.”

  “Mr. Bennett, don’t forget about your lunch meeting.” My assistant peeks inside my office just as my brother leaves. I’m meeting Emilia for lunch. “You have reservations in ten minutes.”

  “Thank you, Laney. I’ll be on my way.”

  My assistant heads back out, and just as I rise from my seat, my phone rings. The name of the detective in charge of finding Emilia’s father appears on the screen.

  Placing the phone to my ear, I ask, “What’s the news?” What I like best about Detective Ferro is that he’s a no-nonsense guy. He hates small talk as much as I do.

  “I tracked him down.”

  “Are you sure it’s him?”

  “One hundred percent.”

  “Good. E-mail me all the information, and I’ll take it from here.”

  As I stride out of the office, I wonder how best to break this news to Emilia. I don’t see how this can be anything but bad. No matter how I spin it, she’ll be hurt. Knowing Emilia, I’m sure deep down she believes her scum of a father will have some good reason for leaving. Maybe I’m a cynic, but I strongly believe some people are assholes just because. And I want to protect her from people like that, even if it’s her own father. Still, this isn’t my call to make. If she wants to go through with it, I will be there for her, ready to comfort her or punch the moron, depending on what the situation calls for.

  Emilia waits for me in front of the building, wearing jeans and a shirt that clings to her, showing off enough skin to make my mouth water.

  “Hello, handsome,” she greets me. “I missed you.” She adds those last few words in a lower voice, as if she’s ashamed.

  “I missed you too,” I assure her. I’m beginning to think that even if I saw her daily, it still wouldn’t be enough. Her pupils dilate at my admission, as if she wasn’t expecting it. The honesty in her eyes is raw. Does she know how rare that is?

  I lean down to kiss her, and she rises on her tiptoes to meet me halfway, flattening her tiny body against me. As I hook my arm around her waist, she’s never seemed more fragile or beautiful. I love this woman, and I’ll do anything to protect her and make her happy. When she pulls back, her eyes glint with hunger, and not of a sexual nature.

  “Can’t wait to get to the restaurant. I’m starving,” she says, confirming my thoughts. There’s nothing more satisfying than realizing I know my woman so well I can read her like an open book. I want to anticipate her every need and fulfil it. Right now, she needs food. No way I’m breaking the news about her father to her on an empty stomach. Growing up in a full house taught me that things could go south fast when everyone’s hungry. As an adult, I’ve been in enough meetings that solidified that point of view. Food first, bad news later. I might sneak a session of lovemaking in between too.

  The restaurant is two blocks away from the office, so we walk there.

  “You’re always doing this,” she murmurs.

  “What?”

  “Keeping an arm around my shoulders and walking on the side of the sidewalk that is to the street. Like you want to protect me from cars or something.”

  I kiss her temple, pulling her in closer. “I want to protect you from everything. Cars, bad people, bad dreams. As far as the arm on your shoulder, I’m just looking for any opportunity to touch you.”

  “I see. So you’re a protective opportunist. I think I like you, Max Bennett.”

  “Like me? What can I
do to upgrade that?”

  She frowns. “Huh?”

  “I love you, Emilia.”

  She stops in her tracks, and her shoulders tense under my arm. I hadn’t planned to spring that on her like this, in the middle of the street. Hell, I hadn’t planned anything at all. And now that she’s silent, my stomach starts twisting.

  “I have a feeling this should have happened in a different environment. Candles would’ve probably helped, but when it comes to romance, you’ve got the wrong brother.”

  Jesus, I’m rambling like a teenage boy. Why isn’t she saying anything?

  “Do you mean that?” she whispers, looking up at me and licking her lips.

  “Yeah, not one romantic streak—”

  “No!” she interrupts. “The other thing.”

  “Oh, yeah. I do. I love you.”

  Her shoulders relax on the spot, and my stomach loosens. Dragging my thumb across her lips and then cupping her cheek, I zero in on her eyes, wanting to read what’s going on in that pretty little head of hers.

  Her lips lift up at the corner in a smile. “I’ve loved you since I was nine.”

  Holy shit. So much for always being able to read my woman.

  “You’ve been holding out on me.”

  “Not really.” Biting her lip, she leans into my touch. “It’s just something I realized recently.”

  “Mmm, my burned pancakes made quite an impression on you, then.” Tilting her head up, I kiss her wildly. Before I know it, I push her against the wall of the nearest building, feasting on her delicious lips.

  “Max.” She pushes me away, out of breath. “You can’t kiss me like that in the middle of the street.”

  “I just told you I love you, and you admitted you’ve been hung up on me for nineteen years. We can do whatever we want.”

  “You’re twisting my words.” She slaps my shoulder, darting out her tongue. On a whim, I bite her gently on her tip. “Ouch. What was that for?”

  “You just made me a happy man, Emilia.”

  “You’ll bite my tongue from now on when you’re happy?” Her grin is contagious.

  “Maybe.”

  “I think you need to reassess your reactions, mister.”

  I still have her trapped against the wall, and there are endless possibilities to what I could do to her. But there is a street full of cars behind us, and the sidewalk is bustling with passersby.

  “What do you want me to do to you when I’m happy?” I ask her. “I’m not letting you go until you say it.”

  She eyes one of my arms and then the other, as if assessing her chances of escaping. But my palms are firmly pressed against the wall at her sides, caging her in between. She makes a “come here” motion with her finger, and I lower my ear to her mouth.

  “I don’t know about that… but I do know what I’ll do to you. Drive you crazy.” After a brief pause, she adds in a barely audible whisper, “Go down on you.”

  Jerking my head, I step back, gawking at my spitfire of a woman, who never talks dirty. Hell, even now, she’s blushing. But as she slips away from me, I recognize this for what it was: a ploy to make me lower my guard—or in this case, my arms.

  “Earned my freedom,” she says sassily, still blushing. “Let’s go have lunch, Bennett. You’re starving me.”

  Yep, she’s definitely full of surprises today. “Let’s go.” Taking her hand, I lead the way, wondering if she plans to catch me off guard with her womanly wiles again today.

  ***

  Emilia

  We’re sitting in a remote corner of the busy restaurant, and we’re halfway through lunch when I have the hunch Max wants to tell me something. His brow has been furrowed for minutes now, and he’s chewing his food slowly, as if he’s searching for the right words to break some bad news to me. Maybe he wants to take back his love declaration. My heart clenches at the thought, and suddenly my burger tastes like paper. I’ve been on the receiving end of a love retraction before, and it stung like hell. But my feelings for Paul weren’t nearly as strong as they are for Max. What if he’s concluded he said it too soon? Or maybe I scared him off with my own admission. Or maybe I’m just overthinking this, and his serious demeanor is because he has a lot on his mind at work. I’m about to ask about that when Max’s phone starts buzzing.

  “Sorry, it’s Pippa,” he mouths to me, placing his phone to his ear. “Hi.”

  Pippa speaks quickly on the other end, but I don’t catch a word.

  “I’m at Lenny’s right now with Emilia, eating a burger. I can pass by your house tonight and—” He stops midphrase as his sister speaks quickly again. “Okay, sure, you can join us.”

  “Anything wrong?” I ask after he places the phone back in his jacket.

  “Nah, she’s just looking for an excuse to move as much as possible. She’s supposed to be due this week and is supposed to stay at home, but….” He leaves his sentence unfinished, shaking his head. Some twenty minutes later, Pippa shows up at our table.

  “Emilia,” she exclaims, pulling me into a hug. She smells divine, a mix of jasmine and mint, and she has a warmth that is all hers.

  “Not so tight,” I whisper, trying not to squish her belly while returning her hug. “We don’t want to disturb the little ones.”

  “Oh, don’t worry.” Letting me go, she says, “Nothing disturbs them. They’re so happy in here they refuse to come out.” She eyes Max pensively, then asks him, “What are the chances of getting rid of you so Emilia and I can catch up? We didn’t get to talk much when you came to my house.”

  “You want to talk about me?” Max asks, eyes narrowed.

  Pippa rolls her eyes, sitting next to her brother. “You always think everything’s about you.”

  “If it’s not about me, then I can stick around,” he says smugly.

  “God, you’re stubborn. Fine, stick around. If you two are done eating, can we take a walk? I already ate. I just came by to see Emilia.”

  I point to her protruding belly. “Won’t you get tired carrying them around?”

  “Oh, trust me, I’m tired. But the doctor said that moving around can help the water break. I swear that I’ll walk these babies off.”

  “Let’s walk then,” I say.

  The three of us head outside, and Max leads us on a quiet side street, lined with trees offering comfortable shade. A few minutes into our walk, Pippa’s eyes widen, and she stops midstride. “I think my water just broke.”

  “Holy shit. What do you mean you think?” Max asks, and his eyes are even wider than Pippa’s. In fact, unless I’m gravely mistaken, Max is in full-blown panic mode, while Pippa is glowing. “I don’t see any water.”

  Pippa snorts. “You’ve been watching too many movies, Max. That’s not how it works.”

  “How does it work, then?”

  Pippa sighs. “If you really want a visual, it’s like peeing yourself a little.”

  “So what do we do now?” Max asks, looking from Pippa to me and then back at her.

  Pippa rubs her belly, smiling widely. “You won’t have to do anything. I, on the other hand, will go anywhere from zero to twenty hours of hell.”

  “You look strangely happy about it,” I remark.

  “It’s been a long nine months,” she explains. “Now, I should call my husband to let him know the good news. Can’t wait to have them out.”

  “Yeah, but we need to get you to the hospital for them to get out. You can’t give birth here.” He is breathing in and out quickly in an obvious attempt to calm himself.

  “Right, Max, can you come here a second?” I pull him by the arm a few feet away from his sister.

  “You need to calm down,” I tell him. “You’ll just make her panic.”

  “Why isn’t she panicking? Why is she so calm? That can’t be normal.”

  “I heard that,” Pippa says loudly.

  “I meant for you to hear it,” Max retaliates. This isn’t going to go very well.

  Pippa opens her mouth, but instead
of words, a gasp comes out. She touches the side of her belly with one hand, turning the other one into a fist.

  “Contractions?” I ask, hurrying back to her with Max on my heels. She nods, gasping again.

  “Holy shit.” The words belong to a terrified Max. “Are you in pain? Don’t forget to breathe.”

  “Brother, I love you, but you’re no good at calming me down,” Pippa says.

  “Max,” I say calmly. “Let’s go to the hospital.”

  “Yeah. Should I call an ambulance?” he asks frantically. Pippa and I exchange amused looks.

  “No need,” I tell him. “You can drive us. Where is your car?”

  “In the garage at the office.”

  “Go get it. Pippa and I will wait for you here.” I point to a bench under a tall, thick tree.

  “Okay,” Max says. “I’ll be back right away.”

  Fifteen minutes later, we are speeding on the streets of San Francisco. I’m sitting with Pippa in the back, timing her contractions.

  “We have a lot of time,” I tell her in a soothing tone. “The contractions are seventeen minutes apart. This is still early labor.”

  “Can you tell that to my brother?” Pippa asks, glancing worriedly at Max. “He drives as if the end of the world is coming.”

  As if on cue, Max honks loudly, making both Pippa and me jump in our seats.

  “Get out of my way, you moron. I have a hospital to get to,” he bellows before honking again.

  “He’s losing it, isn’t he?” I ask Pippa, who nods and attempts a smile, even though it turns almost immediately into a grimace from the pain.

  She nods. “Why don’t you try calming him down? I think I’m calmer than he is.”

  I shift to the edge of the seat, placing my hand on Max’s shoulder. Surprised, I discover he’s shaking slightly. Poor guy, he’s going to hyperventilate before we make it to the hospital.

  “Max,” I say in a calm voice. “Everything will be fine. Calm down.”

  He answers by honking at a car that just slipped in front of us. “Drive faster, you asshole. If my sister has the babies in the car, you will be sorry.”