Greg is right. Samantha was itching to spend time in Manhattan and her father made it happen in the blink of an eye. When Ashley mentioned she was participating in an employee exchange program with Drawing Room Arts—a prominent New York City gallery—I expected the American candidate to be slightly standoffish, like so many women I’ve met during my travels to the Big Apple. I understand it has to do with the go-go-go mentality so common amongst the residents of the City that Never Sleeps, but this British lad prefers his women with less of an edge. I also expected the candidate to be a bit body-obsessed, like so many New Yorkers I’ve met who would never dare to eat a full sandwich for fear of gaining a pound. I was quite pleased to see Delilah didn’t fall in that category. Her body definitely checks off all the right boxes on my attraction meter. The fact that she has such a friendly, pleasant and welcoming personality is a major bonus.
“To answer your question, yes, I’ve met Delilah. She’s absolutely lovely,” I offer.
“She seems nice enough, I guess. I only chatted with her briefly before I headed to my office.”
Nice?
“She has a warm personality. She’s lively, bubbly and she has a great sense of humor.” I sound like I’m campaigning on Delilah’s behalf.
“Well, at least she’s not as old as the other women working here. Those girls are either in their late twenties or well into their thirties. In other words, well past their prime.” Greg says that with such disdain. Rich, coming from a guy who’s pushing thirty-six. “That said, the American chick is still way too old for me.”
“I doubt she’s much more than twenty-five years old.”
“My point exactly. Past twenty, women become mouthy and they start thinking on their own.” What a crime that is. “That’s simply not a good combination. I like them malleable.” Translation, too naive to know you’re not worth it. “When they’re younger it’s much easier to satisfy them because they’re not very demanding. You always come off better than most awkward teenage boys they’ve dated, which makes you look like a bloody hero. That’s more my cup of tea.”
I guess when you don’t have much more to offer, it’s best to aim as low as possible. If you don’t, you’d never get any pussy.
“You’re entitled to your opinion, Greg. As far as I’m concerned, an eighteen-year-old or even a twenty-year-old is of little interest to me.”
“You like them broken in. A little used. You like it when her pussy has already been stretched to the max.” He smirks again. I just stare at him in disbelief. I make it a point to avoid speaking to Greg as much as possible. His views are more fitting of a seventy-year-old man stuck in an archaic era than someone his age. “Even if she was in a more appropriate age range”—idiot—“she’s still a little too… how can I say this…” Greg pauses, shifts his eyes to the ceiling for a fraction of a second and back down to me. “Her arse is way too big for my liking and she’s carrying way too much up here. Those huge melons would choke me.” He gestured to his chest. “I wouldn’t know what to do with the rest of her either.” Of course you wouldn’t.
I know I said I wasn’t going down this road, but his last comment is reprehensible. “I have to disagree,” I state. I don’t have an explanation for coming to Delilah’s defense so vehemently other than she brings out my most basic possessive instincts—and I don’t even know her yet.
“Have you seen her from behind?” Greg’s eyes widen.
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 laughs.
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 friends 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. 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. In my opinion, Piper is your quintessential English beauty.
“He’s out there,” Piper offers.
“I know he is. I might be licking my wounds right now, but I’m not willing to give up on my dream,” Katrina says. “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.
“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 been 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.”
“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. Gordimer.
“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 laughs. “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.
“It’s okay, you guys, I can live without sex.” I shrug. Katrina jumps back as if my shoulders are suddenly on fire. She blinks at Piper. Their eyes bulge and their mouths are agape. “What?” I ask.
After a few shocked seconds, Katrina speaks again. “I know we just met not long ago, but allow me to say that your words are blasphemy.” She frowns disapprovingly. “I’m not saying to go out there and sleep with every British man who smiles at you—that would just be being a ho—but live a little, would you?”
Piper gets up from her chair and runs over
to join us. She still has that incredulous look on her face. I guess it’s officially a powwow now.
I lean in to whisper like the door isn’t closed. “I’ve never really enjoyed sex. I don’t understand what the big deal is all about,” I confess. Okay, I do concede to that momentary tingle down below caused by Ethan, but in general, I’m not that excited about getting down and dirty.
Both Katrina and Piper bring their hands up and cover their mouths. They gasp for such a long time, I fear there will be no air left in their lungs.
“You did not just say that.” Piper is hyperventilating. “Katrina, please tell me I heard wrong. Is that American slang?”
“Piper, for a second there I thought it was only me and things got lost in translation.” My Canadian colleague turns her attention to me. “How the hell can you say no to one of the most amazing experiences in the world? That’s a huge slap in Mother Nature’s face. Heck, if I’m going through a dry spell that lasts more than four months, I start walking around with a permanent migraine.” Katrina grimaces. It’s clear from her reaction we sit on opposite sides of the table when it comes to sex.
“Four months?” Piper asks, shocked. “I can’t even imagine going without for more than two.”
“Well, I haven’t been with anyone since I left Austin a year and a half ago and I don’t miss it,” I say in my defense.
“For the love of God, you’ve not had a cock inside you in eighteen very long months?” Piper is nearly shouting now. “Your fanny must be completely dehydrated.”
Deliciously British Page 5
