“Neither one, actually. The earrings and bracelet belonged to my mom. She - she had a lot of jewelry and other nice stuff. My dad liked to spoil his women with expensive gifts, thought it made up for - well, for other things. But it didn’t. Nothing really could.” A sad, pensive look came over her perfect features. “Anyway, when my mother passed away the jewelry and other stuff got divided up between me and my sister. I like to wear her things as often as possible. It’s - well, my way of keeping her memory alive, I suppose.”
Finn wasn’t quite sure how to respond, given that he was rarely serious or emotional about anything, and he could swear he saw the glimmer of tears in Delilah’s big brown eyes. “I’m so sorry,” he offered quietly, taking her hand between both of his. “Did she pass away recently?”
Delilah shook her head. “I was fifteen when - when it happened. More than thirteen years now, though the sense of loss never really seems to go away.”
“Was she ill? Like, cancer or something?”
“No, she wasn’t ill. At least, not physically,” she amended. “And it’s not really something I want to talk about tonight. No offense. It’s just - well, it makes me sad to remember all of that stuff, and I’d really like to enjoy this evening.”
“Hey, fine with me,” agreed Finn readily. “I don’t do well with sad stuff. I’m much more of a look on the bright side kind of guy. And I love to tell jokes. You got any good ones to share?”
Delilah laughed. “None that come to mind, I’m afraid. So, please. Go ahead. Make me laugh.”
For the next ten minutes or so, as they enjoyed their first course and the admittedly tasty Sauvignon Blanc, Finn mentally searched through his varied repertoire of jokes to keep her entertained. Some of the jokes were so corny they made Delilah roll her eyes, while others were racy enough to make her blush a little. Still others that Finn deemed way too raunchy to repeat in front of a lady like Delilah he wisely kept to himself.
“Mmm. This is so good,” enthused Delilah as she savored a bite of her pasta. “The food here is always delicious, and this restaurant is one of my very favorites. Thanks again for letting me suggest it tonight.”
“My pleasure.” Finn picked up his wine glass and toasted her. “And thank you for suggesting it. I’m not much of an expert on fine dining, chowing down on a burger and fries is more my usual style, but I definitely agree that the food here is great.”
He didn’t add that watching Delilah enjoy her meal was akin to a sexual experience. The way she closed her eyes in near-bliss as she swallowed a forkful of food, and then gave a low moan of pleasure made Finn instantly hard. When her small pink tongue licked a crumb of bread from the corner of her mouth he envisioned it stroking the head of his cock instead. And when she popped a scallop between her lips, then sucked drops of pasta sauce from her fingertips, it was all he could do to stop himself from slipping his own fingers between those plush red lips and commanding her to suck.
Amazingly, she finished every morsel of food on her plate, pushing the dish away from her regretfully before patting her tummy. “God, that was good! I’ll have to spend an extra hour at the gym tomorrow to work off the calories but it will definitely be worth it.”
He grinned at her. “It’s nice to see a woman actually enjoying her food for a change. A lot of the women I date, erm, know, tend to just pick at their food or order a salad without dressing. Life’s too short for that kind of attitude, don’t you agree?”
Delilah nodded, finishing off her glass of wine. “Oh, absolutely! I couldn’t subsist that way, having to watch every calorie I consume, denying myself carbs, pretending I wasn’t hungry when I was actually starving. But I do have to be careful, and certainly can’t eat a meal like this more than once or twice a week. When you’re as little as I am even an extra pound can be noticeable. Especially since most of my clothes are custom made just for me.”
Finn leaned back in his chair slightly as he gazed appreciatively at the beautiful blue dress she was wearing tonight. “Is everything in your wardrobe from your own line?”
“Almost everything, yes. I have some things that belonged to my mother - she was petite, too - and even a few vintage items that were my grandmother’s. But I’d estimate that at least eighty percent of my clothes are ones I designed myself. Otherwise, it would be almost impossible for me to find anything stylish that actually fits in all the right places. I realized when I was still a teenager that buying things in a regular department store or boutique just wasn’t going to work for someone built like me.”
Finn beckoned their waiter over to order coffee and dessert before resuming the conversation. “Stuff was too big or too long for you, huh?”
“If only it was that simple. By the time I was in my teens, certain body parts had started to, um, develop. Before then I’d been able to get by with clothes from the girls department, even if it was pretty humiliating to wear things designed for a ten year old when you were already sixteen. But when I started getting - let’s call it tits and ass, shall we? - then T-shirts and jeans from the pre-teen section were suddenly a little too tight in those areas.”
Finn almost spit out a mouthful of hot coffee at the mention of tits and ass, two of his favorite parts of Delilah’s curvy little body. Hurriedly, he reached for his glass of water, gulping it down to clear his throat.
“Uh, yeah. Yeah, that must have been, uh, awkward,” he croaked.
“My sister had the same predicament, since she’s only an inch or so taller than I am. For years we both made do, either wearing things that were too big or a little too long, or paying a small fortune to get everything altered. When I found jeans that actually fit and were the right length, I’d buy six pair at a time.” She paused to take a sip of her coffee and a forkful of the chocolate gateau they had agreed to share. “I had always liked to draw and paint, and was also obsessed with clothes from the time I was around eight years old. So it was natural, I guess, for me to start tinkering around with fashion design. There was a little studio near where I grew up that offered sewing lessons for children, and by the time I was twelve I was already making dresses and skirts and stuff.”
“You went to design school in New York, right?” he asked, then added defensively, “That info was on your company website, by the way, just in case you accuse me of stalking you again.”
Delilah laughed softly. “I wasn’t going to do that, actually. And, yes, I attended the Fashion Institute there, then lived in the city for a year after graduation. I loved my time in New York, but, well, I got homesick after awhile. So I returned to the Bay Area, worked a couple of different jobs, and then decided to take the plunge and start my own company. I mean, there was a definite niche there, a need for a product that wasn’t readily available. Oh, lots of stores stocked petite sizes, but the majority of the stuff was pretty matronly, something a grandma would wear. And my company is sort of a one-stop shop for petite women - in addition to a whole range of clothing from casual to business to formal attire, they can also buy shoes, handbags, and accessories that are more proportioned to their size. Lingerie, too, as you were so keen to notice.”
Finn tried real hard not to imagine what color her bra and panties were beneath that sexy, clingy blue dress. “Uh, well, yeah. I am a guy, after all. And if it’s a choice between looking at pictures of shoes and purses or a gorgeous woman in lacy underwear - well, there’s really no choice to make, is there? Was it your idea to model some of the items for your catalog?”
“Not at first. It was something my marketing and merchandising directors really pushed for. Since the average model is around five ten and stick thin, I’d obviously never even considered doing any sort of modeling given that I have such a different body type. But when I finally got coerced into it, I actually enjoyed it. Though I don’t have any plans to continue doing it on a regular basis.”
“Why?” asked Finn curiously. “You looked sensational in those photos, Delilah. And I would think it’s a great marketing to
ol that the owner and head designer actually wears her own stuff.”
She gave him a lopsided little grin. “I’ll bet my marketing manager bribed you to say that. She tells me the same thing all the time. But it isn’t so much a matter of wanting to do more modeling. Like I said, it was pretty fun. No, it’s because there just isn’t enough time in the day to get everything done. In addition to our online catalog, the line is carried in a lot of specialty boutiques around the country. And then there’s the big meeting in a couple of months with Bloomingdale’s.”
He listened intently as she told him about the possibility of having her line of clothing carried in the large retailer’s chain of stores, marveling anew at how someone as young as Delilah could be so successful. And in addition to obviously knowing a lot about fashion and design and merchandising, she was also incredibly savvy about finances and business, enough so that even Max would be impressed.
“I have every confidence that Bloomingdale’s will offer you that deal,” he assured her. “I assume you have a good attorney to negotiate all of this for you.”
Delilah shrugged. “I have an attorney, but I can’t say for certain how good he is, since all of this is pretty new to me.”
“Tell you what. Give me his name and I’ll ask my buddy Max about him. Max is this big financial whiz, gets paid millions by failing companies to come in and assess their problems and turn everything around for them. And while your situation isn’t exactly his area of expertise, I guarantee he’ll be able to recommend a great attorney for you. One who definitely knows what they’re doing.”
She beamed at him. “You don’t have to do that, Finn. I’m sure the attorney I’m working with is fine.”
He shook his head, taking out his phone. “I insist. This sounds like way too big a deal to have any uncertainties about. What’s your guy’s name?”
He put her attorney’s contact info into his phone, then made a mental note to text Max about it later tonight or in the morning. Whether he wrangled that elusive second date with Delilah or not, he still wanted to make sure she got this deal with Bloomingdale’s, could tell from the wistful tone in her voice how much it would mean to her. And even though she put on a good face as the tough, independent businesswoman, Finn guessed she was also under a lot of pressure in her position, and just might appreciate a helping hand every so often.
They arrived at the symphony hall a few minutes before the performance started, with Delilah duly impressed by the location of their seats. But once the music began she looked positively entranced, sitting forward a little on the edge of her seat as though she was afraid she would miss a single note otherwise.
At first, Finn found himself watching Delilah and observing her reaction to the symphony, smiling at the enraptured expression on her lovely face. But then, almost without him being aware of it, he, too, became engrossed with the music, even though he’d never willingly listened to classical music in his life. At some point, he reached over and took her hand between his, but rather than yank it away as he’d half-expected, she merely smiled at him serenely and returned her attention to the hypnotic music.
She gave a sigh of pleasure as the orchestra segued into the next piece. “Ah, this one’s my absolute favorite, even without the vocals! It’s an aria from the Samson and Delilah opera – Mon Coeur S’Ouvre A Ta Voix. Loosely translated from the French, it means “my heart opens to your voice”. Listen now, Finn. I know this sort of music isn’t your thing, but even you can’t deny how beautiful it is.”
“The second most beautiful thing in this building,” he whispered, bringing her hand to his lips briefly.
This time her eyes widened in alarmed surprise, but other than hastily returning her attention to the orchestra she didn’t try to remove her hand from his grasp.
They sat companionably side by side for the rest of the performance, their hands clasped lightly together, and for maybe the first time in his adult life Finn didn’t feel the urge to have to do anything more right now. Not, of course, that he would have even thought of resisting if Delilah had, say, decided to straddle his lap and kiss him. Or whispered in his ear that this music was making her horny and would he please take her back to her place right now so that she could tear his clothes off and jump his bones.
But of course she did neither of those things, so he satisfied himself - at least for now - with holding her hand and simply allowing himself to enjoy being in her presence. None of his friends or acquaintances or lovers would believe it for a minute, of course. Not just that the irreverent, fun-loving, and notorious party boy Finn McManus would actually be caught dead at someplace as sedate and boring as the symphony, but mostly that he would be content merely holding hands with a woman as beautiful as Delilah instead of calculating when he would make the big move on her. He already knew - had known from the moment she’d reluctantly agreed to go out with him tonight - that he would employ a very, very different strategy with this woman. After everything he’d endured just to get her to say yes to a friendly, no strings attached date, there was no way he was going to blow this by rushing her into bed. The fact that she would be expecting him to do exactly that was all part of his master plan.
She didn’t resist when he placed a hand on the small of her back as they walked back to his car after the symphony was over. It was a cool evening, given that it was still late March and spring had barely begun. Delilah huddled a little deeper into her gray wool coat - another item from her line, she’d told him - and took a step or two closer to Finn, as though seeking out his body heat. He longed to demonstrate just how hot his body temperature was at this particular moment by yanking her into his arms and giving her a long, thorough, and very dirty kiss right here on a public street in view of dozens of passers-by. But he figured that not only wouldn’t she appreciate such a blatant display of affection but might decide to physically shove him aside and hail a cab home, never to give him the time of day again.
Instead, he continued to play the unfamiliar role of gallant gentleman, helping her into his car and then inquiring politely if she wanted to get a drink somewhere.
Delilah shook her head. “Not that it doesn’t sound nice, but I’m so wrung out from this past week that I’m afraid I’d fall asleep if I had any alcohol right now. If it’s okay with you I’d really just like to head home.”
“Of course. I forget what it’s like to work long hours like you do, and it must be even more demanding for you since you own the business. I hope you have a solid staff of employees to help you out, people you can really depend on.”
“I do, yes. We all work together really well, which isn’t always easy to achieve when you’re dealing with artistic types. My PA can be a real pain in the ass sometimes, but he means well and is totally devoted to me so I tend to overlook some of his - well, let’s call them shortcomings,” said Delilah, chuckling.
“You have a guy as your PA?” quizzed Finn, his gaze narrowing as he glanced at her sideways. “Is he - uh, you know. I mean, not to stereotype people or make assumptions, but is he - ”
“Gay?” finished Delilah. She shrugged. “It’s anybody’s guess. One day I would swear that he was, the next day I’m not so sure. Calvin is - let’s call him an enigma. Yes, that’s definitely the best way to describe him. But since you were wondering, his so-called devotion to me is strictly business related. We don’t really interact outside of the studio. I’ve made it a point to keep my business life completely separate from my personal one. Not that we don’t socialize with each other but it’s usually office lunches or drinks after work, that sort of thing. I prefer to keep my evenings and weekends to myself.”
“I don’t blame you. It was never that easy for me, of course. Playing professional sports, especially when you’re on the road for a game, you’re basically living with your teammates for days at a time. You have meals together, hang out in each other’s rooms, pretty much become like family. And with my current job there’s a lot of socializing involved, lot
s of parties and corporate events. In fact, the social aspect is probably as much a part of the job as the actual broadcasting.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I think I’d hate that,” she replied frankly. “I’ve certainly had to do some PR work for the line, attend fashion shows and other events, but that part of the job is the one I enjoy the least. I guess I’m just a very private person, and tend to keep a low profile as much as possible. I’ve never really been much of a party girl, I’m afraid.”
Finn tactfully didn’t tell her that parties were as much a part of his life as breathing, that he adored the night life and the limelight, and couldn’t imagine being content with spending very many quiet evenings at home watching TV or reading a book. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d even picked up a book, much less read one.
And he certainly didn’t tell her that in addition to eating meals and playing card games with his football teammates, he had also hung out in a lot of clubs and bars with them, and entertained an untold number of female groupies. There had even been a few times when he and a buddy had both brought women back to one of their rooms at the same time, or watched the other having sex with their partner for the evening. Something told him that Delilah would definitely not be into either group sex or voyeurism, and he already knew she was the polar opposite of a groupie or a one-night-stand kind of woman - had known that the first second he’d laid eyes on her gorgeous, classy, and unattainable person.
But if he continued to play his cards right, to take things nice and easy and keep thinking with his brain as opposed to his dick, maybe, just maybe, Delilah would prove to be more attainable than he had first thought. Patience, however, was going to be a key factor, and that was one trait Finn had always been in short supply of.
She wasn’t able to suppress a yawn as they walked down the hallway from the elevator towards their units.
The Player Gets Coached Page 12
