Delightful Temptation

by Scarlett Avery

  Trust me, I should be arrested for the way I’ve been ogling her fine ass. “I try to be as respectful as possible when I look at a woman.” Greg is the last person who needs to know I have a thing for Delilah.

  “You’re such a gentleman.” That’s not a compliment coming from him. It’s a put-down. “If you ask me, there’s way too much of her to handle. When she’s naked, everything must jiggle.” Unless she’s made of marble, that’s normal, you moron. “I like my girls to look like models with perfect bodies. This whole ‘plus size is beautiful’ fad”—he lifts his fingers to form quotation marks—“is pure rubbish. It’s the kind of crap men who don’t have a hope in hell to get laid grasp onto in order to get some action. When a woman lets herself go to that point, it’s time for you to move on to a newer, skinnier model. It’s too bad, really.” Greg shakes his head. “She has a very pretty face and her eyes are arresting. If she wasn’t carrying so much weight, she’d be one nice piece of arse.” He smirks.

  How daft can this guy be? I seriously consider flattening this idiot’s balls, but I choose to exert self-control. I let a low growl escape before speaking. “Greg, you’re completely missing the boat here when it comes to women.” I’m so not in the mood to lecture anyone this morning, but this guy is smoking some bad crack or something.

  “Are you telling me you like big women?” He asks that as if it’s the most inconceivable thing on the planet. Delilah is perfect just the way she is, asshole. “You can have any woman you want, mate. According to Google, you’ve been a hotshot since you were sixteen. Why settle? Fuck, man, you’re not even thirty yet. Wake up.”

  Did he just say settle? This guy is even more of a wanker than I gave him credit for.

  Delilah’s ravishing body is what my wet dreams are made of. A full-figured girl is my ultimate fantasy. Nothing compares to fucking a curvaceous woman with big heavy tits and a generous—and well-padded—ass to make me lose all common sense.

  “Not that I think this is the place for this kind of conversation because…” I pause. It’s my turn to make sure no one is coming our way. “One, it’s gauche. Two, Delilah could hear you and that would be highly improper. Three, you would most likely hurt her feelings. And four, Ashley would fire your ass since she’s also a bigger girl.”

  “No need to take offense, mate. There’s plenty of pussy of all size to go around. If you like them thick, knock yourself out. I’ll stick to skinny chicks.” Greg shrugs. It’s clear he doesn’t get it.

  I narrow my eyes at him. “I should really walk away right now and leave your sorry self standing here, but before I do, let me educate you quickly.” My tone is extraordinarily condescending. I take a step closer to make sure he hears me since I intend on whispering what I’m about to say. I don’t want my voice to carry. “I know I can have any woman I want. And I do. Always. I much prefer women with too much breast to hold, soft hips to grip and a pillowy lush ass to cushion my wild thrusts. When I slap her ass, I want it to jiggle. I don’t go for women who are skin and bones because I hate—and I do mean hate with a passion—feeling like I’m fucking a board.”

  He considers me for a few long seconds and then nods. “I get it. Our taste varies greatly,” Greg says proudly. As if that’s the conclusion I was looking for.

  “Right.” I need to strike up a conversation with someone else in this office before I strangle this guy with my own bare hands. “Greg—” I don’t have the chance to finish my sentence because the door to the conference room flies open. Both Greg and I shift our attention down the hall. Ashley pops her head out, smiles and waves at me.

  “I’m so sorry again, Ethan.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Ashley. These things happen,” I reassure her.

  “You’re a sweetheart. I’m glad Greg is keeping you company.”

  I wouldn’t quite phrase it that way. “Indeed,” is all I can manage.

  “We’re done with our call. Come back inside. It’s time to kick off this meeting,” she says joyfully.

  “I like the sound of that.” I look at Greg. I really don’t have anything more to say to this arrogant bastard, but I was brought up in a way that makes it very difficult for me to be impolite. Not to mention, it’s just not the British way. “Have a good day, Greg.” There’s no point in adding more.

  “Ethan,” he starts before slapping my shoulder a few times. “It was great catching up with you.”

  I wish I could say the same.

  CHAPTER 3

  Delilah

  Since my plans to see Ethan again bombed—thank you very much, Gemma—I decide to make the most of it by keeping myself as busy as possible. After a short break where I had to step outside of the gallery just to cool down from Ethan’s hotness, I march to my desk, determined to lose myself in my work in the hopes of forgetting that the sexy man I drool all over is sitting a mere few feet away from me. Sigh. Perhaps if I focus all my energy on cataloguing these new artists we seem to be attracting at a crazy rate, maybe, just maybe, I’ll have convinced myself that the throbbing sensation between my legs isn’t taking over all my senses. As inexperienced as I am when it comes to sex, I know this is something I’ve never felt before. Ever.

  Earth to Delilah, earth to Delilah. My inner pessimist scolds the shy optimist in me and snaps me back into the moment. Quit your daydreaming. As enthralling as this morning has been so far, I have to remember there’s no point in losing my head over an unrealistic fantasy. Right?

  When I turn the corner, I hear laughter coming from Piper’s office and decide to stop to see if she’s off her conference call. “Knock, knock, knock, it’s me,” I singsong, tapping my knuckles on the door.

  “You can come in, Delilah,” Piper shouts. I turn the doorknob and crack open the door just enough for me to poke my head into her office. She’s not on the phone. When I look around the room, I recognize my colleague Katrina Huntington. She’s the Canadian who started not long before I did.

  Piper offers me a crooked smile. It’s the kind of grin that lets me know these two are misbehaving. “What are you two up to?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.

  “Close the door behind you.” Piper waves her hand at me. “We’re taking full advantage of the fact that Ashley, Benjamin and Esther are in a long meeting.” She giggles.

  In that case… “Morning, ladies,” I cheer, stepping inside the office.

  “Good morning,” they both chime in unison.

  I focus my attention on the smiling blonde sitting behind her desk. “Piper, I’m sorry to—”

  Katrina waves her hand, indicating that I’m not interrupting. “Delilah, don’t worry about it. I need to get back to work anyways.”

  “Oh, okay,” I say.

  “I dropped by Piper’s office to share another one of my blind date stories. It’s much easier to share the sad tale live instead of texting.”

  Katrina has a lot more years of work experience than I do, therefore she only needed a week of coaching before she was up and running. I, on the other hand, will be shadowing Gemma for a lot longer. I definitely need time to build up my confidence. Along with the fact that she requires little training, Katrina ended up with a bona fide office. One with a door. I wasn’t that lucky. My desk is located near the entrance. I’m not the receptionist per se. Gemma calls me a greeter. Walmart has one of those. Basically, as I learn my craft, I’m expected to welcome anyone who walks into the gallery. I provide them with as much information as I can on the artists we represent and when I sense they’re more serious, I call in one of the curators to take over. Here’s another thing that sets us apart. Katrina has been quite active when it comes to dating since she arrived. I prefer abstinence.

  “Any luck yet?” I ask. I’m doing my best to sound as nonchalant as possible, but I’ll admit it, I’m a little curious. If I’m going to be in complete denial of my needs, I have no other choice but to live vicariously through her.

  She shakes her head. “Not yet. I’m not feeling it with any of the guys my best frie
nds have hooked me up with. Val, Mel and I go way back. We went to university together back home in Vancouver. They now live in London. So far, all the guys they’ve set me up with are their fiancés’ friends or work colleagues. Even the guys I’ve met when I go out to a pub on my own don’t make me weak in the knees. I did enjoy this guy Justin’s company for a night of pretty toe-curling sex, but by morning the magic had fizzled. I gave him another shot a few days later, but I had to come to the conclusion that it wasn’t going to go much further. If there’s no real attraction, what’s the point, right? I’m tired of settling.” I really need to adopt that mantra.

  Katrina is taller than I am, but than again, that’s not that hard since I’m only five-four. She’s quite pretty. I think her wide brown eyes are her best features. She has wavy brown hair that hits her right below the jaw line. Given London’s rainy weather, she tends to wear her hair in a ponytail to tame her mane. She has the same long, lean, athletic build as my cousin-slash-best friend Maggie. It does help that Katrina is an exercise junkie. I’m not. She’s the kind of girl who could do three or four rounds at an all-you-can-eat buffet and not even gain a pound. I wasn’t blessed with a fast metabolism. Well, there’s that and the fact that I really, really, really love food.

  Gemma and I are definitely big girls. Although Piper doesn’t have as many curves as we do, she’s not wafer thin either. I guess she’s what men call voluptuous. Since she became a blonde, everybody at the gallery has been commenting about how she could easily pass as the twin sister of Aussie-Brit pop sensation Kylie Minogue had the singer been younger. After a few quick Google searches, I have to agree. Since I had never heard of the former star until everybody started comparing the two, I was floored by the resemblance. It’s amazing how hair color changes everything. Piper is your quintessential English beauty.

  “Not that I know anything about dating Canadians, but British men take some getting used to. Since we’re far more reserved, it might take a while for the guy to show his true colors. Maybe that’s why you’re not feeling that immediate connection,” Piper suggests.

  “Granted, but it’s not like Canadian men are fun and wild like Americans.”

  Gosh, obviously Katrina’s never been introduced to the type of men I’ve dated in the past. They’re far from fun or wild.

  “How are Canadian men?” I ask. “As partners, I mean.” Maybe if I were to move north, I might have better luck with men.

  “It’s pretty hard to read them at times, Delilah. They don’t open up very easily and they aren’t always forthcoming about how they really feel.” Katrina frowns and purses her lips as if she’s carefully weighing her words. “Maybe it’s more of a gender thing and all men are like that.”

  “Yeah,” Piper agrees. “British men are notorious for being stone-faced and phlegmatic about pretty much everything.”

  I add my two cents. “I think so. I don’t think it matters where they’re from. Men aren’t like us. Now maybe Latin men might be more expressive…” Not that I have any direct experience, but I’ve been told.

  “Good point, Delilah. I’ve been to Mexico plenty of times and wow. Do you ever know when a guy is into you.” Katrina fans herself. “It’s dramatically different for our Canucks.”

  “Your what?” I ask.

  Katrina giggles. “Sorry, I’m speaking Canadian again.” Yes, you are. “In my experience our boys are pretty good at putting on a poker face. They could be dating two or three girls at the same time—and thanks to online dating, it’s easier than ever—and it might take you a while to figure it out. There are too many options. Why commit to one girl when you can hop from one bed to another without ever putting yourself on the line? It used to always bother me, but I was still hopeful that the right one was out there. Now that I’m thirty-one, I’m really fed up of players and I’m tired of all these stupid dating games.” Wow. I didn’t realize she was that old.

  “Not that I’ve dated hundreds of guys, but there are plenty of American men playing the field. And when you live in cities like Los Angeles, Miami and New York, it’s even worse.” I should know.

  “Brits aren’t all choirboys,” Piper throws in.

  “Good point, but Delilah asked me about my experience with Canadian men. I’m just sharing what I know. I’m still learning when it comes to your lads.”

  “Oh, of course. Sorry about that. Clearly I’m missing the boat in this conversation,” Piper apologizes.

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re blonde after all,” Katrina sneers. I also laugh.

  “Hey!” Piper frowns defiantly at Katrina’s remark. “Watch your mouth, Canuck.” Her words might be stern, but Piper’s side smile indicates she’s taking this in stride. “Until two weeks ago, I was still considered a brunette.” We all laugh. “Seriously, all that I can say is even though the last few blind dates were a bust, don’t stop looking just yet, Katrina. I’m slightly older than you are and it took me a lifetime to find Dermott. Although I’m mad as hell at him right now, he’s my sweetheart.”

  Gosh, I have to remember that I came here to let her know about the ginormous bouquet still sitting on my desk. At this rate, her office will soon look like a flower shop.

  “I might be licking my wounds right now, but I’m not willing to give up on my dream,” Katrina says. “He’s out there. Our paths will cross. I just know it.”

  “That’s the spirit,” Piper chimes in.

  “Good for you,” I encourage. It’s much easier for me to be supportive of someone else’s dating journey than my own.

  “One of the reasons why I accepted a transfer out here is because my best friends, also known as my matchmakers, were in the worst dating ruts you can ever imagine. And by bad, I mean they were so desperate they had weekly appointments with a so-called psychic.” Yikes. “They were both ready to start a family because they were advancing in age, but their ideal baby daddies weren’t materializing. Then one day everything changed. My friend Valerie met Peter on a stopover flight from Toronto to London. She had planned on spending only a couple of days in London and then traveling to Hamburg, Copenhagen and Vienna, but after six hours of them getting to know each other, they became inseparable. She scrapped her vacation plans and spent three weeks in London instead. Val came back to Vancouver and started the process to move permanently out here. My other friend Melanie came to London for a two-week training at the London College of Fashion. She enrolled for their Fashion Styling and Media Summer School last year. A few days after she had arrived, she went out to a pub with a bunch of students. After a few drinks, she got up to go to the ladies room and passed a table of rowdy guys partying their heads off. The second her eyes locked in with Trevor’s, that was it. By the time her training was done, she already knew she’d do everything in her power to move to London to be with the love of her life. Both my friends are getting married this summer with a bang—Val at the end of July and Mel at the end of August.”

  “Those are some amazing stories, Katrina,” Piper marvels.

  “I agree. They were very lucky,” I say. This is the kind of stuff you see in movies. The idea that it would happen in real life is mind-boggling. These kinds of serendipitous encounters are what dreams are made of. If it were only that simple for the rest of us.

  “And that brings us back to last night’s blind date. I agreed to go out with Thomas because I wanted to test the waters, but given what happened to my friends, I’m pretty sure I’ll bump into him when I least expect it.” Katrina’s unwavering faith is impressive. “What about you, Delilah? Are you breaking hearts left, right and center since you’ve arrived? Are British men following you around like lovesick puppies because of your cool accent?” I expect Katrina to laugh, but she doesn’t. Oh, she’s serious.

  “That’ll be the day.” I roll my eyes. “My goal during my stay here is to follow the KISS rule—keep it simple, stupid. I want to avoid as much drama as possible.”

  “No, no, no.” Katrina pushes herself off the wall she’s b
een leaning against, takes a few steps towards me and places her hands on my shoulders. “Haven’t you heard anything I just said? You don’t want to wait until you’re my age to find him.”

  “Your friends’ experiences are amazing. I soaked in every word you said. It was like listening to someone recount a fairytale romance movie. But let’s be honest here”—I snort—“it would take a miracle for me to experience anything that magical. In my experience it doesn’t matter if I put myself out there or if I allow things to happen naturally, inevitably Mr. Fantastic always seems to walk right by me. I always end up with Mr. Not Quite It.” I shrug. “If I avoid dating altogether, then I don’t have to deal with the aftermath. Not to mention I need a little respite from my last boyfriend.” That little episode with Ethan was fun, but British men have no shame in flirting. It’s best for me to get my head screwed back in place. With my luck, nothing will come of it because I find him insanely attractive. God forbid a guy I’m interested in would return the favor. Especially when they look as delicious as Mr. Akuna.

  “You’re way too young to think like that.” Why does everybody keep telling me that today? Katrina looks genuinely shocked. “Forget the dating part for a minute. It’s not like you want to live a chaste life at twenty-four while you’re in a city littered with the best suit porn ever.” She giggles. “There are so many hot men everywhere you turn, clad in the most perfectly tailored suits I’ve ever seen in my life. If they look that delectable in clothes, imagine them naked.” Katrina is fanning herself dramatically with one hand while wiping fictitious beads of sweat from her forehead with the other.

  “I can certainly vouch for that,” Piper chimes in.

  “Listen to the woman with experience.” Katrina’s hands are back on my shoulders. “And let’s not forget that super sexy accent. If it’s hot when they’re just saying ‘hello’ imagine when they’re telling you to get on all fours.” She waggles her eyebrows at me. Piper cackles over her shoulder.