“Oh, okay. Thanks so much. I guess we should get right to it, then.” I grin from ear to ear.
“I second that.” Gemma returns my smile.
Percy clears his throat behind me. “I gather that’s my cue to leave, ladies,” he says. You think?
I turn to face him. “Thanks again for everything and thanks for your little treat. Have a great day, Percy. Please send my regards to Nick and my hopes for a speedy recovery.” That way I won’t have to deal with you next time I place an order.
“Delilah. Gemma,” is all he says. With that, our pushy delivery guy finally exits the gallery.
I roll my eyes at the door before turning around to face Gemma again. “Oh, my God. Thank you so very much for coming out,” I huff. “That was so exhausting. I need a double shot of espresso.”
“Don’t mention it. I feel personally responsible for you since you’re shadowing me while you’re working here at the gallery. You’re under my wing and it’s only normal that I’d fend off predators. I wasn’t going to tell you this in front of him, but the real reason I came out here is because Ashley wanted me to let you know she’ll be running a little late. She’s still on a conference call with Hong Kong. She’s on a call with an American art buyer representing a number of extraordinarily rich Chinese investors. Benjamin and Esther are on the call with her.” Her eyes drop to the bag with the big heart I’m holding. “I can’t believe Percy waited a whole three weeks before bringing you your own little bag of treats. He’s either slipping or his girlfriends are keeping him too busy.” She chortles.
“What do you mean?” I ask, surprised.
“Nick is Percy’s enabler. When he notices a new girl when he delivers our orders, he’s always quick to rush back the shop to let Percy know. I’m not sure if it’s on purpose or if it’s simply because Nick gets so excited by the idea of the chase. In any case, inevitably, a few days later the new girl gets a so-called impromptu visit from Percy. That's his first point of contact. A week later she gets her own I’d-like-to-get-to-know-you-in-the-Biblical-sense-of-the-word bag of sweet treats. It’s happened to every single woman who works here—including the Canadian newcomer. That was before you got here. I have no doubt it’s the same for their other corporate accounts. You must be really special, because none of us have ever gotten a hand-drawn heart before,” she sneers. “Lucky you.”
“That guy is so insistent he makes me feel like I’m speaking a foreign language. I know there are quite a few differences between American English and British English, but some words cross over—like ‘thanks, but no thanks,’ ‘I’m not interested,’ and ‘not in this lifetime’. He doesn’t seem to understand that no means no, regardless of which side of the pond you find yourself.”
“There’s no point in wasting your breath on Percy McAllister.” Gemma takes a few steps forward and bends down to grab a few of the bags still sitting at my feet. “Come on, let’s take care of these. I’ve told you before, he’s a lost cause.”
“Ain’t that the truth?” I grab the remainder of the bags and follow her.
“I absolutely love that expression.” She giggles without turning around. “While I was standing there and telepathically sending Percy messages so he understood he had extended his stay, I noticed another enormous bouquet on your desk. Are those for the scorned one?”
“Of course. Who else in the office has been receiving outrageous gifts for the past week from a sorry-ass boyfriend?”
“Good point,” Gemma throws over her shoulder as she keeps walking.
“Piper is milking this moment for all she can.”
“And she should,” Gemma states firmly. “That huge misstep is going to cost her boyfriend a fortune at this rate.”
“I agree. Each bouquet seems to get more and more elaborate.”
“Well, he doesn’t have much of a choice if he wants to still hold on to his balls.” Gemma giggles. Since our hands are full, she turns around and pushes the conference room door with her butt and enters walking backwards.
I’m right on her heels and we both head to the back of the room. We start displaying the food on a narrow table that serves as a credenza for these types of long working sessions. As we get things set up, my mind goes back to the breathtaking flowers.
“I’m sure Dermott will walk a fine line from now on. From the few weeks I’ve worked with Piper, she seems like a one-strike-and-you’re-out kind of girl,” I say, unwrapping the cellophane sheet protecting the tray of breakfast sandwiches.
When Gemma doesn’t respond, I look up at her. The telling way she raises her right eyebrow lets me know immediately that I’m right on the money with my assumption. “The Piper I know would’ve thrown him out without hesitation.” She punctuates her sentence by crumpling the aluminum foil she just uncovered from the basket of muffins into a ball.
“What’s different this time?”
Gemma sighs. She steps towards the garbage bin, lifts her arm in the air, flings her wrist forward and dunks the little silver ball. She turns around to face me and places both hands on her hips. “Piper and I have been working together for the last six years. We both got this job right after graduation. I wouldn’t say we’re best friends, but we’re definitely close. We’ve shared so many intimate details about our lives along the years. She’s dated her fair share of men, but everything is very different with Dermott.”
“Why is that?” Gemma has piqued my curiosity now.
“For the first time in her life Piper is in love. I’m talking madly, blindly, wholly. Trust me, that changes everything.”
“I wouldn’t know.” I shrug.
Gemma smiles at me. “You’re still very young. Give it time. As the birthdays roll by and you approach thirty, your perspective on men and relationships changes dramatically. Piper is thirty-two now and she wants to settle down. In other words, she wants babies. She was hoping that Dermott was the one. This latest bump in their relationship has made her reconsider things, but not enough for her to walk away and start things over with another guy. She’s tired of looking.” Tell me about it. “I know exactly where she’s coming from. Until Nolan and I started living together a couple years ago, I felt the same. It’s only when we got married eight months ago that I truly felt that my quest was finally over. Like it is in pretty much any big city, it’s not easy being single in London.”
Thanks for the warning. “If you think London is rough, try being single in New York City. I think I have a better chance of being hit by lightning twice in my life than finding a desirable mate. And by desirable, I mean not settling.” Which seems to be the only way to go if I don’t want to end up alone. “I’m not talking about scoring a Jason Momoa or a Chris Hemsworth. There are way more women than men in the Big Apple. It makes it more difficult for women to find a partner. It’s even worse when you’re a big girl like me,” I say, slapping my own ass with both hands to emphasize my point. “Back home in Austin, men like their women with some meat on their bones. I never felt like a fish out of water growing up in Texas. I’m invisible in New York—the land of the size zero and the perfect body. In other words, the skinny bitch wins every single time,” I lament.
Gemma takes a few steps and closes the gap between us. She places her hands on my shoulders. “I said ‘not easy’. I didn’t say ‘impossible’. Don’t get all gloomy on me just yet. As much as American women go gaga over British men, our boys love American women. I’ll even sweeten the pot by sharing a little secret—our men appreciate big girls. A lot. I should know,” she says, tapping her hips.
One thing that I absolutely love about London is the fact that so many Londoners look just like me. After a year and a half of struggle in the land of the stick-figure model, it’s so refreshing to see women with plenty of curves.
I shrug. “I guess I don’t have to worry about any of that while I’m on this side of the Atlantic, since I’m only here until the end of the summer. I’m just going to keep it simple, focus on my job and enjoy the scenic view of thi
s amazing city. I’m very open to making new friends, but I’ll refrain from anything that could lead to messiness. In my case, relationships usually end up being a disaster.”
“What are you talking about?” Gemma scolds like a parent. “You can’t believe such rubbish.” I frown. Gemma clues in immediately. “In American, it means ‘don’t feed me that kind of garbage.’ If I were your age, single and living in a foreign country, I wouldn’t worry about dating. Go out there and have some fun. And I’m talking about the adulterated kind… if you know what I mean. It doesn’t have to lead to more than a few hours or a few days of panty-melting romps. I beg of you, don’t go back home without a few saucy shags under your belt.” ‘Romp’ and ‘shag’ are two British words for having sex that were introduced to my vocabulary when I first got here three weeks ago. “If you do, one day you’ll look back and you’ll regret it. I know I would.”
Not that I have any intentions of making life complicated for myself, but I’ll humor her. “That’s fine and all, but I wouldn’t even know where to start when it comes to finding a candidate for this dirty romp you’re suggesting.”
Gemma shoots me a who-the-hell-are-you-kidding look. She firms her grip on my shoulders, almost as if to make sure she has my undivided attention. “Are you going to stand there and tell me you haven’t noticed how Ethan Akuna pays particular attention to you when he comes over? And before you answer, may I point out since you started, he’s significantly increased purchases for his roster of elite customers from our gallery? We could always expect Ethan to drop by once a month, but lately he’s been paying us weekly visits. And this week, we get to see him twice.”
Gemma’s words surprise me so much I burst out laughing. “Puh-lease. Me? Pfft. No way.” I roll my eyes.
“Everything about your body language screams that what I just said is absolutely preposterous, but you and I both know you’re lying to yourself.”
I shake my head, still unwilling to believe her. “He’s just being friendly because I’m new in town.”
“Hardly.” Gemma’s retort is quick. “Katrina Huntington, aka our Canadian newcomer, only started a week and a half before you did. Ethan barely notices her when he’s here. That’s quite the feat, considering how she seems to be salivating all over herself every time he walks into the gallery. I swear that woman’s neck will pop off one day if she keeps ogling him like that. Then again, I can’t blame her. I might be a married woman, but it’s impossible to ignore the fact that Mr. Akuna is one drop-dead-sexy hunk.”
I have to disagree with Gemma on a few things. Ethan Akuna doesn’t just walk like mere mortals. He always struts. The man oozes the kind of confidence I’ve never encountered in my life. If you were to look up “swagger” on Google, his photo would pop up. Don’t even get me started on his mesmerizing smile. And let’s not forget that his sense of style is jaw-dropping. Every time I think he can’t surpass himself when it comes to the well-cut suits he wears, he surprises me. Half the time when he glides into the gallery, I have to run to the bathroom to splash some cold water on my face because the man is that freaking hot.
My obsession with men in suits started when I moved from Austin to New York City. Crossing the Atlantic is like entering suit porn heaven. And Ethan Akuna is definitely the king amongst princes.
“Really? He checks me out?” I can barely stifle the grin that’s stretching my lips.
I’ve had a crush on Ethan since the first day he walked into the gallery and flashed his trademark panty-melting smile. There’s no doubt about it, he’s smoldering hot. I’m talking at the level of a suicidal Carolina Reaper hot pepper. Yup. The fact that he has such a warm and welcoming personality is surprising for such an attractive man. From my experience, good-looking men are often quite standoffish. Truth be told, I was hoping his friendliness was more, but I didn’t want to read too much into it. Too many disappointing encounters with men have conditioned me to tread very carefully when it comes to the opposite sex. Not to mention I’d never dare to expect that much from someone like Ethan. I only have the courage to ogle these unattainable hunks from afar. As a big girl, I never know when a guy I’m interested in will quickly categorize me as a “friend only”. Why set myself up for rejection when I don’t have to? Until Gemma shared this juicy tidbit about British men liking girls with plenty of curves, I just figured there was no point in getting my hopes up. Living in New York City will do that to a girl.
“You know as well as I do the office space is all glass. It’s modern, yes, but the configuration feels like we’re working half the time inside a fish tank. It’s hard to hide anything here.”
“So he’s not gay?”
She lets go of my shoulders and places her hands back on her hips. “Does he give you a gay vibe?”
One can never be too sure. After my relationship with Paul, I’ve learned not to assume. “I lived in New York just enough to know that gay guys can be big flirts, but if you don’t have the right equipment, you’re going home alone. If you’re batting for the wrong team, you ain’t getting any.”
“Don’t be silly, Delilah. The man is straighter than an arrow.” Copy that. “When Mr. Akuna walks in the gallery, I can see the interest sparkle in his eyes as he approaches your desk. It’s blatant from where I’m sitting. Perhaps if you looked up at him instead of fidgeting with your fingers when he’s around, you would have noticed as well.” She’s standing with her arms crossed over her chest as she did earlier with Percy.
“I’m too intimidated to even try, Gemma,” I lament. “He’s larger than life. When he walks into the galleries his charismatic vibe bounces off the walls.” And reverberates right through me.
“I won’t argue with you on that one. Ethan Akuna has an aura of greatness about him. I guess he just can’t help it.” She drops her arms to her side and takes a few steps closer to me. “Have you ever heard of a group called 4Ever?” She nearly whispers her question.
I shake my head. “No, I haven’t. Should I?”
Gemma opens her mouth to respond, but the front doorbell lets us know that someone just walked in. “Never mind, then. I guess it’s time for you to return to the front. I’ll run to Constance’s desk to make sure she ordered coffee and juices for the meeting. I know she’s been Ashley’s assistant for a while, but since she became pregnant, she seems quite forgetful.”
Oh, is that what it is? “I confirmed with her again first thing this morning when she got here at eight thirty. Everything is still on track. The beverages will be delivered thirty minutes after the meeting starts, since Ashley likes her coffee super hot and her juice super cold.” I smile proudly. “Not sure how this will pan out since she’s now running late.”
“Great job. Don’t worry about it. It should be fine. In that case, I’m going back to work while you, young lady, rush out there to go take care of whoever just walked in.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m on it like bees on honey.”
Gemma cracks up. “God, I love it when you say that. If you need any help with a piece of artwork, call me.”
Trust me, I will. “Oh, you don’t have to worry about that. I’d never be naïve enough to attempt to sell a thirty-five-thousand-pound work of art on my own. I still can’t wrap my head around how some people have the disposable income to drop the equivalent of fifty thousand dollars on art, let alone convince them to buy it.”
“With a little coaching you’d be surprised how easy it is.” She winks.
“I’ll take your word for it,” I say, freaked out.
We both march to the door and exit the meeting room. She takes a right and I run the other way to the front with an enormous grin plastered on my face and Gemma’s words still playing in my head. Nothing will ever come of it because I’m way too much of a coward to even look Ethan in the eyes, let alone ask him out for coffee or a drink. Not to mention that my dating history is the kind of material stand-up comedians would die for. That said, knowing there’s a sliver of a chance he might be interested is so thr
illing it’s almost as if I’m blinded by bliss.
I guess that would explain the fiasco that takes place in the middle of the office area at the gallery.
I turn the corner without paying attention to where I’m going because I’m too busy fantasizing. Seemingly out of the blue someone grabs me by the shoulders. “Careful,” a voice says.
“Oh, crap,” I exclaim. I blink a few times, taking in the person I nearly trampled. Ethan? Shit. Surprised, I jerk back. Thank God I’m wearing my trusted flats. Had I been wearing heels, I would’ve tipped over and landed flat on my ass from the suddenness of my movement, but instead I lose my footing. In a moment of panic, I grip Ethan’s forearms to regain my balance. God.
“You’re going to hurt yourself, Delilah,” Ethan scolds gently with a warm smile pulling at his lips. What happens next is nothing short of a miracle. He slides a pair of strong manly hands behind my back and holds me steady. Oh. My. God. Ethan Akuna is touching me. I’m so stunned by the contact that a small whimper escapes me. “Are you okay?” he asks. Damn, that accent. I lift my head up, and up, and up. Wow. The man seems that much taller when I’m this close to him. He’s got to be at least six-three. I can’t help but stare. I’m too hypnotized to even blink at this point. I don’t want to miss an inch of him. His dark, intense eyes peer into mine and for a split second, I’m lost. I can’t believe I finally have the courage to hold his stare. My cheeks heat under his gaze, yet I still can’t look away. Mother of God. A whiff of his expensive cologne floats through the air, engulfing me in it. His scent is enrapturing. He’s all man. I try to respond, but I can’t. It’s like my jaw is suddenly frozen solid. I’m not sure how to explain it, but an avalanche of new emotions collides inside me. What’s happening to me? Butterflies swarm my stomach. I’m lightheaded. My heart is racing so fast. Is this how you feel just before having a heart attack? Even though he’s holding me tight, I feel the sudden urge to sit down. Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’m having a stroke. It’s the only explanation. I move my lips again, hoping this time I might actually be able to form a sentence. I try to say something. Anything. It’s in vain. It’s as if Ethan’s touch has taken away my ability to speak and to think coherent thoughts. When he notices that I’m still as silent as a monk, he speaks again. “How thoughtless of me for not being more aware of my surroundings.” His voice is full of remorse. I’m so embarrassed by the fact that my being distracted caused this accident that it takes a few seconds for me to realize how comforting it is to have his arms wrapped around me like this. His very large hands firm up behind my back, sending a hitch to my breath. Lord, have mercy. Overwhelmed, I break our gaze. I shift my focus to his crisp white shirt peeking from his impeccable gray jacket. He’s not wearing a tie today. Damn. He’s dreamy. My lips curl up in a slight smile when I notice his chest hair peeking out from his shirt. No undershirt either. God, I love the richness of his skin color. I must think I have a poker face or something because I allow my mind to wander to places it has no business going to. Ethan’s comment is a reminder of how bad I am when it comes to hiding my thoughts. “Has the cat got your tongue?” The humor in his voice is unmistakable. He flashes me a bad-boy smile and I’m completely taken by his perfect white teeth. I’ve seen that smile many times before, but it was from afar. This close, it’s disarming.
Delightful Temptation Page 2
