But it was when he took a photo with two gorgeous, willowy blondes, one of his arms draped over each of their shoulders and giving the camera one of those naughty, flirty smiles of his, that Delilah decided that it was well past time for her to turn the tables on one Mr. Finn McManus. After all, she reasoned, hadn’t he encouraged her to have a good time and be sociable? To eat and drink whatever she wanted, and talk to whomever she wished?
‘Well, two can play at this game, darling Finn,’ she muttered under her breath. “And it’s a game I can play very, very well. Maybe even well enough to teach you a few things.’
It took her less than a minute to latch onto not one but two very attractive, well dressed, and very interested young men. When one of them noticed that her champagne flute was nearly empty, he practically tripped over his feet to get her a refill. She ignored the fact that both of them kept staring at her boobs, or that they were both well on their way to becoming plastered. Instead, she laughed and flirted with them rather outrageously, even taking out her phone to snap several selfies of the three of them.
After a few minutes of enduring their none-too-stimulating conversation, Delilah smoothly extracted herself and moved on to the next attractive, unattached man she came across. She made damned sure that every time Finn happened to glance her way she was sidling up against one of her would-be conquests, smiling and laughing as though she was having the time of her life.
In reality, though, she was doing anything but. In fact, she couldn’t recall a time when she’d been more miserable. Or more pissed off. Finn, she thought darkly, was going to have a hell of a lot to answer for whenever he could drag his sorry ass away from the skank who seemed intent on monopolizing his time. Idly, Delilah wondered just how big of a scene she would cause if she were to casually slink over to where Finn stood conversing with the brassy bitch - whose bright red hair and oversized tits were both very obviously fake - and upend her champagne on the tart’s head. Or toss it in Finn’s face, she couldn’t decide which would give her more satisfaction. Hell, she told herself, why not grab a second flute and give both of them an unexpected shower?
She was halfway to the bar, in fact, when a familiar masculine body pressed up against hers, his hands clamping possessively on her hips.
“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” hissed Finn. “And If you imagine I haven’t been paying very close attention to all of your little antics, baby, then guess again. And sorry to disappoint the fan club you’ve managed to acquire over the last few minutes, but I don’t share.”
Delilah spun around furiously, positive her eyes must be flashing fire by now. “Same goes for me, lover boy,” she snarled in a low voice. “Though I guess my feelings don’t matter, do they? And FYI, you ditched me more than half an hour ago, not the few minutes you claim. Guess you’ve forgotten how to tell time, as well as the fact that you’ve supposedly got a girlfriend. As for having had too much to drink, you’re a fine one to talk, Finley. You practically reek of vodka right now.”
He had the good graces to look dutifully chastised but still defended himself. “I’ve had a few drinks,” he admitted. “Sort of tough not to sample the goods when you’re the spokesperson for the brand. But someone spilled a drink on me a few minutes ago, and that’s what you smell. See?”
Finn showed her the damp spot that covered more than half of his right arm, even holding up the limb so she could sniff the gray wool fabric. There was a definite smell of vodka that emanated from his sleeve, and she gave a small shrug of acknowledgment.
“Fine,” she bit out. “So you’re not falling down drunk. Yet. But that doesn’t explain why you were just letting that redheaded bimbo hang all over you. Or the two blondes a few minutes ago. Or that old cougar who had to be at least fifty years old, and was obviously here with another man to boot.”
He chuckled, despite the murderous look she was giving him. “Somehow I hadn’t pegged you as the jealous type. I guess because I had to work so damned hard just to get you to go out with me I figured maybe you wouldn’t care if other women paid attention to me. Not,” he held up a hand to halt the angry retort she’d been about to make, “that I was at all trying to make you jealous, Delilah. I don’t like to play those kinds of stupid games, and I wouldn’t have thought you did, either. Guess I was wrong about you.”
“Humph.” She tossed her long hair over her shoulder, then bolted down the last of her champagne. “Just a little tit for tat, lover boy. I don’t play those sort of games either, mostly because the men who’ve pursued me in the past were all smart enough not to piss me off. And flirting with other women, no matter how harmless you think it might be, really, really pisses me off. So unless you want a much bigger dose of your own medicine, I’d suggest you cool your engines real fast.”
“Hey.” Finn slid an arm around her waist, pulling her close. He looked about as serious as Delilah had ever seen him, and more than a little shamefaced. “I know it probably looked like I was flirting, but I swear I wasn’t. I don’t even remember those two blondes you mentioned, just that someone flashed a camera at me and all of a sudden there was a woman on either side of me. I didn’t even get a look at their faces or say a single word to them. The redhead happens to be Lynette Franco, one of the brand’s biggest investors, and trust me - she greets everyone that way. I swear when she said hello to Braden she had her tongue halfway down his throat, and with his date in plain sight. As for the so-called cougar, she’s closer to sixty, that was her husband with her, and I played college football with one of their sons. They were just catching up is all.”
“Okay,” she retorted sullenly. “And lucky for you that you’ve got a very convenient explanation for all of your actions. Except, of course, for the fact that you more or less ditched me. And, yes, I realize that Braden pulled you away, but you should have stood your ground and told him to hold his damned horses for a minute until I was free to come with you.”
“You’re absolutely right,” he agreed easily, obviously anxious to soothe her. “I should have made him wait until you’d finished talking with that old dude.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Forgive me?”
“I’ll think about it,” groused Delilah. “Meanwhile, you can start making up for your bad behavior by ordering me a cappuccino. And then I want dessert. And since I don’t want to look like a pig and take more than one thing, that means you need to put several desserts on your own plate and let me take a bite of each one.”
Finn grinned, looking greatly relieved that she was starting to sound more civil towards him. “Baby, you can take a bite of whatever you desire. Including me.”
She eyed him warily. “Don’t tempt me. Because the way I’m feeling right now I’d take you up on that offer. Only problem is that this time around it wouldn’t be a love bite. There might even be blood involved.”
“Ouch.” He shuddered visibly. “I get the picture. Let’s get you that cappuccino real fast. And I could probably use a triple espresso myself right about now.”
For the remainder of the party, Finn was on his very best behavior, not leaving her side for even a second. When Trace swung by and asked to “borrow” Finn for a few minutes, Delilah was pleased when he quietly brought her along with him. When he greeted party guests, in particular the female ones, he merely gave them a polite smile and hand shake, refraining from any sort of embrace or kiss, no matter how innocent or casual the intent. And when fans asked to take a picture with him, he insisted on having Delilah in the photo with them.
Delilah didn’t miss the looks of surprise and even dismay on the faces of some of those fans, but no one was willing to offend Finn or anger him, and they all went along willingly with his demands.
Even as the party began to gradually wind down, he kept her tucked close against him the entire time. It was only when she excused herself to find the ladies room that they were finally parted for a few minutes.
Delilah was washing her hands, anxious to get back to Finn a
nd hopefully persuade him to make a discreet exit, when a stunning, scantily clad woman tottered rather drunkenly inside the bathroom on her sky-high stilettos. Delilah had caught the woman’s gaze a few times while circulating the party, and each time the sexy, raven-haired beauty had stared daggers at her. She’d meant to ask Finn who the seriously hostile woman was, but had been more than half-afraid she wouldn’t like the answer.
Delilah avoided meeting the other woman’s gaze, intent merely on picking up her clutch and getting back to Finn as quickly as possible. But the tall, tanned female in the tight, low-cut mini dress of shimmery bronze lame evidently had other ideas.
“You’re here with Finn, aren’t you?” she asked almost accusingly.
The black-haired woman towered a good eight inches over Delilah, but she had always refused to let someone’s superior height - whether it be a male or a female - intimidate her. Delilah straightened her spine and gazed up at the very drunk woman assessingly, giving her skimpy dress and fuck-me heels a disparaging look.
“That’s right,” replied Delilah in a falsely sweet voice. “I’m his girlfriend, actually.”
“Girlfriend!” scoffed the dark-haired woman. “As if Finn McManus has girlfriends. Honey, you’re delusional if you think you’ll last more than a night or two with that manwhore, a week at best. He’s not the sort for relationships, in spite of whatever bullshit he might have fed you to get in your panties.”
Delilah struggled mightily to control her temper, realizing that it would probably look very, very bad if she were to slug a guest, no matter how badly this bitch deserved it. “Well, honey,” she drawled, taking out her scarlet lipstick and carefully reapplying it, “news flash. Finn and I have been together going on three months now. And I’m well aware he didn’t do relationships in the past. But that was before he met me. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get back to my boyfriend.”
The other woman looked visibly shocked at this announcement, and let Delilah sweep by her without another word. But just as Delilah was about to open the door and exit, the raven-haired woman called out, “It won’t last you know. Oh, you’re pretty hot, no doubt about it. But Finn’s just not the type who can be happy with only one woman for long. He’s too weak, too much of a ladies man. Why would he settle for the same woman night after night when he could have anyone he wanted?”
Delilah clenched her fist, willing herself not to slug the smug bitch right in her Restylane-enhanced lips. The other woman might have several inches on her, but given how obviously drunk she was Delilah was willing to bet she’d go down like a deflated balloon right about now. So instead of hitting back with her very capable fist, she decided to use words instead.
She half-turned to face the arrogant bitch, who by now was clutching the sink to hold herself upright. Delilah tossed her hair back deliberately, cocking a hip, and smiled confidently.
“Because,” she replied in a sultry voice, “I’m that good. And if we ever do stop seeing each other - which, by the way, neither of us have any intention of doing for the foreseeable future - it’s pretty much a given that I’d be the one to end things, not him. Because while Finn might have had a reputation as a manwhore, they call me the maneater. Have a nice evening now, hmm?”
She strolled out the door without a backwards glance, unable to stop herself from grinning with glee. But her grin faded abruptly as she wondered if the drunken, dark-haired woman was actually right. Would Finn wind up getting bored with her sooner than later? Or would attending a party like tonight’s make him realize how much he missed his old life, the old Finn? It was almost impossible to believe that a man like Finn, one who’d had a different woman every week, could really be satisfied with just one now.
Delilah considered telling him about the unpleasant encounter with the other woman in the ladies room just now, but decided this wasn’t the time or the place. Fortunately, Finn seemed to sense that something was troubling her and quickly said their good nights to Trace and Braden and a handful of others.
They were alone in the elevator on the ride back up to their suite - the private, spacious suite was a perk that the vodka company had arranged for them - and Delilah intentionally kept a distance between her and Finn. He frowned when she shied away from his touch, and especially when he noticed the somber expression on her face.
“What’s wrong, babe?” he asked in concern. “I mean, aside from the fact that you hated being at the party, and that you’re probably still kind of pissed off at me.”
She gave a caustic little laugh. “Like that isn’t enough? But, no. It isn’t either of those things. And the party wasn’t quite as bad as I’d feared, at least when you weren’t off schmoozing the crowd without me. And frankly, I’m just too tired right now to be angry.”
Finn took her hand, squeezing it tighter when she tried to pull away. “Then what is it, Delilah?” he inquired tenderly.
The elevator reached their floor then, and so she held off on answering him until they were inside the suite. She set her clutch down on the entryway table before taking off her shoes. Her feet were sore after walking around in high heels for several hours, and normally she would have cajoled Finn into giving her one of his magical foot massages. But since the last thing she wanted to do right now was have him touch her, she resisted the urge.
Finn gazed at her expectantly, and she knew he’d never let the matter rest until she gave him the answer he wanted.
“It’s just - ” she began hesitantly. “I don’t even know how to express myself properly. But I realized that tonight I saw a side of you I had never really observed before - the sociable, hard drinking, hellraising party boy - the one all of the tabloids loved to feature on their front page. You’ve been really good about repressing that side of yourself so far when we’ve been together, have been kind and caring and considerate. But after seeing you work that room tonight, schmoozing it up with all the guests and investors and such, I have to wonder which one is the real Finn.”
“Why can’t I be both?” he replied, cupping her cheek in his hand. “I mean, as long as the party boy side doesn’t go overboard. And so long as he only appears from time to time.”
Her spine stiffened at his touch but she didn’t turn away. “Maybe because I discovered that I don’t care much for the person you become when the party boy side takes over,” she answered truthfully. “I’ve never been attracted to that sort of man, probably because it brings up bad memories of my father. He was extremely social, you know, always the consummate host, always the life of any party. He loved being the center of attention, made sure that he was the most sought after person at whatever sort of event we were at. And, well, seeing you there tonight, Finn, how much you obviously love the limelight - I guess I felt a little sick to my stomach to see you that way, and realize just how much like my father you are.”
She held up a hand to forestall him when he would have interrupted her. “And I know that’s totally selfish of me, completely unfair, to expect you to give all that up for me. I would never ask you to become someone you aren’t, would never demand that you stop going to these sort of parties or associating with the people there tonight. I just know that’s not the sort of lifestyle I could ever be happy with.”
Finn stared at her in shock. “So what are you saying exactly - that you’re breaking up with me or something? Jesus, Delilah, you’re way, way more important to me than some stupid party. Yeah, I have fun at them, though lately they’ve started to become something of a drag, if I’m being honest. But I would give them all up in a heartbeat to make you happy, babe. Just say the word.”
“But I won’t say the word,” she insisted. “I would never make you choose, Finn. And, no, I am definitely not breaking up with you. That would only give that skank who confronted me in the ladies room the satisfaction.”
He frowned. “Huh? What skank? Did somebody say something to offend you, because - ”
Delilah shook her head. “Nothing I couldn’t
handle myself. And frankly, I’m just too tired and my feet hurt and I feel a headache coming on – and don’t you dare tell me I shouldn’t have had that much champagne. I’m going to pop a couple of Advil, wash my face, and go to sleep. And by sleep, I mean actual sleep, Finn. I’m just too - too everything to be in the mood for sex right now. Okay?”
He nodded, his expression resigned but understanding. “Okay. Can I - can I at least hold you for a few minutes? At least until we fall asleep?”
His green eyes looked so sad that her heart ached just a little, and she didn’t have the heart - or the energy - to tell him no. “Of course you can,” she assured him gently. “And I’m sorry for sounding like such a nag. I’m just tired, I guess, after all the stress over the Bloomingdale’s deal, and still wondering and worrying what if anything they’re prepared to offer me. I think I just need a really good night’s sleep. I’m sure everything will seem better in the morning.”
***
Delilah wrinkled her nose as the aroma of something wafted into the bedroom from the kitchen. The spacious suite she and Finn were staying in was really like a two-bedroom apartment, complete with its own dining room and full kitchen. And from the smells emanating from that part of the suite, it seemed as though the latter room was currently in use.
She pulled on a knee-length robe of turquoise satin over a matching nightgown, and padded on bare feet in the direction of the kitchen. Once there, she clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh at the sight that greeted her eyes. Though sight was probably an understatement, she thought. More like complete and utter chaos.
Finn was frantically trying to do a multitude of tasks all at once, and he didn’t seem to be having much success at any of them. A frying pan was sizzling with some sort of breakfast meat, and Delilah could tell at a glance that it was within thirty seconds of being burned to a crisp. He hustled back and forth between stirring the scrambled eggs, squeezing oranges into the juicer, and flipping pancakes, and he looked so much like one of those goofy cartoon characters moving at warp speed that she couldn’t suppress a chuckle.
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