Sex, Lust & Martinis Page 3

  There was nothing Delilah hated more than people who tried to play matchmaker. Just because she was single didn’t mean she couldn’t get a date. Nor did it mean she couldn’t find a man. It meant she was single. Period. There wasn’t a great mystery to it and besides, she was happy being single. She shot a glare at Graeme who played stupid. He sipped his beer as if nothing was awry.

  “Yes, I live there half the year and here in the US the rest of the year,” Dirk said, with a lovely European accent. She could fall in love with him for that alone.

  “Really?” She glanced his way as he gave her a devastating smile.

  Delilah knew she was in trouble.

  “I have homes in New York and Los Angeles.”

  She started to reconsider having a long distance relationship. It might be perfect for her. And eventually one thing could lead to another and before she knew it, they could be jet setting together. Maybe he was a nice guy. Maybe he would be Mr. Perfect. Maybe they would be made for each other.

  The waiter arrived to save Delilah from swooning and immediately proposing marriage to the man. Especially since she was already mentally signing checks made out to Barney’s as Mrs. Dirk Johansson. She could get sucked into this man in no time.

  Careful there. Too much too soon is a bad thing. She knew from experience, it was never wise to jump feet first into a relationship. She quickly hit delete on her mental fantasy of marrying the guy and reminded herself she was never getting married again.

  She ordered an apple martini. Dirk ordered vodka straight up on the rocks.

  “What brings you to Fort Worth?” Delilah asked, wishing she already had that drink.

  Fort Worth wasn’t exactly an Artist Mecca and very far from the artsy-types across the county line in Dallas’s Design District. She figured, though, Graeme had to be the only reason Dirk showed up in Cowtown. At least he wasn’t wearing the obligatory cowboy hat and boots so he could blend in. Nothing screamed tourist more than a man with a European accent wearing a Hugo Boss suit, cowboy boots and a cowboy hat.

  “Business,” Dirk said, looking at her with his black eyes.

  There was so much depth to those eyes, Delilah was afraid she’d get lost. It was as though she could actually see right to the bottom of his soul. The tips of her toes tingled right up to the roots of her hair. She liked what she saw. He liked what he saw. Mutual admiration was always a good thing.

  He had sexy crinkles at the corners of his eyes that showed when he smiled. Then there was a faint graying at his temples, pale streaks of silver throughout his hair and the hint of stubble on his cheeks and chin. That made him all the more appealing. But then, she did have a thing for older guys with big pocketbooks.

  “Business with Graeme, no doubt.” She couldn’t help but smile back.

  “And the wedding,” Marion chimed in. “It’s only ten days away, Dirk. You can’t miss it. Besides, you can sit next to Delilah at the reception.”

  Delilah blinked. What did she just say? She stared at Marion across the table in utter disbelief. Was that a drive-by fix-up? Beside her, Dirk chuckled. It was a low sexy rumble deep in his chest. A chest she imagined had to be quite sexy. He seemed rather fit underneath his expensive suit. His shoulders filled out the jacket with perfection. His muscular chest strained against the cotton of his shirt. And her fingers itched to pop open that top button and explore what was underneath.

  “Marion…” Delilah said her name through gritted teeth as a warning.

  Why the setup? She hardly knew him. Okay, so he smelled good, he was attractive, he wore designer clothes. But so what? In record time, the drinks arrived. She wondered if Mr. Wonderful had slipped them a twenty to get them delivered to their table on the double.

  “Well, you don’t have a date. Do you?” Marion said.

  In her imaginary world, Delilah reached across the table and smacked her friend.

  Instead, Delilah picked up her martini and downed it in one healthy gulp. She knew that was dangerous. She knew it’d go straight to her head. Dirk, bless him, signaled the waiter—who’d left their table moments before. At least he could read the signs—she needed to get drunk and fast. Perhaps he was as uncomfortable as she was with this whole fix-up thing.

  “I’m sure the lovely lady is already spoken for,” Dirk said. Ever the gentleman.

  What a guy. She glanced his way and he gave her that smile again. God, he was pretty. Yes, pretty. And by that she meant he was total class all the way and very far from Euro-Trash. She felt a swoon coming on and immediately stomped on it with her stiletto.

  “Oh, she doesn’t—” Marion began.

  Delilah kicked her under the table with her toe. She tried not to kick her too hard. Marion swallowed a yelp, bit her bottom lip and shut her mouth.

  “I’m trying to talk your friend here into coming to Amsterdam a week or two earlier.” Dirk nodded toward Graeme.

  She wanted to tell him Graeme wasn’t her friend, but that would be rude. And Delilah knew she was surly and should keep her mouth closed. She smiled as the second round of drinks arrived—thank God—and took a healthy swig from her martini. She let the alcohol burn all the way down, relaxing every nerve-ending.

  “I keep reminding him we have a wedding and a honeymoon first.”

  Marion slipped her hand into the crook of Graeme’s elbow and leaned into him, tilting her face upward in anticipation. He planted a loud smooch on her lips. Delilah’s stomach turned as she took another swig.

  How she was going to make it through dinner, she didn’t know.

  The whole conversation revolved around wedding talk and Graeme’s art. By the time she finished her beef nachos, she wanted to hurl. But she smiled and nodded a lot and hoped her annoyance didn’t show.

  When they ordered flan, that’s when Delilah had enough. She decided to drop the bomb. She picked up her gorgeous pink present and handed it to Marion across the table.

  “What’s this?” Marion asked, reaching for it.

  “Call it an early wedding present.”

  Delilah wanted her to open it at the table, to see the look of shock on her face. But because there was a strange man sitting next to her and because she didn’t want to picture Graeme naked, Delilah decided to warn her.

  “You may want to wait and open that at home. It’s sort of a personal gift.”

  Marion peered at her, as if she could read her face. As if she could see she had bought her a Super Rabbit. “What is it?”

  Like she was going to tell her. Delilah smiled and took another drink. By now, she was feeling no pain. The world was floating by on a happy cloud.

  Marion stuck her finger under a piece of tape on the package.

  “Don’t,” Delilah warned.

  Marion glanced up her, giving Delilah a quizzical look. Delilah merely shrugged and clutched her martini glass.

  “Go ahead but you’ve been warned.”

  She reached for her handbag and pulled out her mirror and favorite lipstick. Dirk leaned toward her. She could feel his body heat pressing into her as she got a whiff of his delightful cologne. She inhaled as silently as she could so he wouldn’t notice. Damn he smelled good.

  “Delilah, would you give me the honor of taking you home?”

  At that very moment, all the blood drained from her head. It was the way he said her name, the way it rolled off his tongue with such ease and fluidity. The way he pronounced every syllable like he was making love to her. Hearing it the way he said it sent warmth swishing through her.

  In the distance, she could hear the ripping of paper and knew Marion had torn into the gift. Delilah turned her head and met Dirk’s dark, sultry gaze. Her heart jumped a beat, her pulse sped up. How in the world could she say no? She knew she should say no—especially since she’d broken it off with Cliff that morning—but what she should do never quite meshed with what she wanted to do.

  “I have a car here, but thanks.”

  “You do not appear to be okay to drive.”

&nb
sp; He looked her up and down, his gaze pausing briefly on her cleavage. His eyes landed back on her face, glowing with a savage inner fire, and she licked her lips in invitation. Like she was daring him to kiss her right here, right now. She tipped her head enough to let him in on the dare.

  “I’m fine. Really.”

  There was no way in hell she was going to let him drive her home. Besides, the last European man she’d kissed didn’t have a clue as to what he was doing. He’d slobbered all over her face. It was like getting kissed by a dog. Dating Rule Number Two—if he couldn’t kiss, he couldn’t fuck.

  “I must insist.” He dropped his voice to a low whisper and leaned in a tad closer.

  Marion cleared her throat so loud it caught Delilah’s attention. Next to her, Graeme was laughing. She glanced over in time to see Marion had hidden the thing under the table, cheeks aflame. “Thanks. I think.”

  “You’re welcome.” Delilah picked up her bag and stashed her mirror and lipstick. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…” She indicated she wanted out of the booth.

  Dirk stood, pausing at the side of the table. He held is hand down to help her out. She didn’t want to take it, but then she’d look like a total bitch for ignoring him. She slipped her hand into his. His fingers were warm, inviting. His skin was soft. His nails were perfectly manicured. He held her hand a moment longer than necessary.

  Their eyes locked and he pulled her in so quickly it was like everything around them had disappeared. Like there was no one else around. He smiled then, lifting one corner of his sensual mouth.

  “I’m…um…going to the ladies room.”

  “Me, too,” Marion said, sing-song.

  Marion forced Graeme out of his seat with a shove and took Delilah by the elbow. She led her away from Dirk into the restroom. Delilah couldn’t help glancing back to see him watching her every step of the way. And he still had that half-cocked grin.

  Chapter Four

  Once inside the safety of the bathroom, Delilah stood at the sink and stared at her reflection, grasping the edge of the counter. The alcohol flowed through her veins, making her more light-headed than she preferred. She tried very hard to focus on her face but it wavered in front of her. She rubbed the smudged mascara from under her eyes and smoothed her hair. As she stood there looking at her freshly applied lipstick, she couldn’t help but wonder what those lips of Dirk’s would feel like on hers.

  “What are you doing?” Marion stood next to her, hands on hips. The big diamond on her left hand winked brightly in the lights, nearly blinding Delilah.

  “What do you mean what am I doing?” Delilah swung around, facing Marion, still gripping the edge of the sink because she secretly feared she would faint.

  “I mean, why did you give me that…that…thing?” She pointed to the bathroom door, as if the accusatory thing were right outside.

  Marion was no prude. Why she was acting prim and proper all of a sudden, Delilah had no idea. She knew Marion was kinky in the bedroom, too. Okay, so maybe she didn’t like being tied up. But every gal—no matter how prudish they seemed—liked a good hard pounding from her man every now and then. A vibrator, in Delilah’s opinion, made it all the better. It was like an extra-curricular activity to the mattress aerobics.

  “What’s wrong with you? Is this the world according to bride?” Delilah knitted her brows and stared at her friend. Actually, she was trying to focus on her because the world was suddenly unsteady. “It’s called a vibrator, Marion. You should try it.”

  “But…But…Graeme—”

  “—will think it’s fucking fantastic. Trust me.” She clutched her bag under her arm. “And anyway, this was supposed to be our night, Mar.”

  She couldn’t help it, she sounded pouty. And like a lush. God, had she really stooped that low so quickly?

  “Delilah, I’m sorry. But I couldn’t tell him no. And then he sprang Dirk on me. I had no idea he was coming into town today. The man has been like a third wheel all day long.”

  “So why didn’t you ditch them?” Delilah asked, slurring her speech a little. “I would have picked you up and given you a ride home. All ya had to do was ask.” She turned toward the door.

  “Where are you going?” Marion asked.

  “Home, that’s where. Alone. Oh, yeah, and since when do you play matchmaker? You know I hate fix-ups and blind dates, Mar.”

  “It wasn’t my idea. It was Graeme’s.”

  A giggle of disbelief bubbled up her throat. “Since when does Graeme care about my love life? You are the one who’s arranging the reception seating and putting us together.”

  “I couldn’t help it.” Marion stuck out her bottom lip, trying to pull out the pout face. It wasn’t working. “I’ve been worried about you. All you do is work lately. You don’t even go out anymore. I know the only time you do is when we get together. Right?”

  Work had kept Delilah at the office late almost every night. She’d been pulling sixty to seventy hour weeks. And in her downtime, she managed to date and break up with Cliff. And he was only a minor distraction from everything going on in her life. Maybe she was stressed out more than she thought. Maybe she was the one that needed a good hard pounding. Maybe that was why Sam looked so yummy to her earlier that day.

  Sam. The memory of seeing him again splashed through her mind, making her forget all about Dirk. Sam gave her warm tingles. Sam made her weak in the knees. Sam made her want to do naughty things.

  “I was worried since you hadn’t been dating or interested in dating,” Marion said, clearly unaware of the Cliff situation.

  “Oh, I date. I date plenty.”

  Marion looked sour. “One night stands don’t count. And anyway, Graeme and I thought you and Dirk would hit it off. He’s so your type.”

  “And what’s my type?”

  “You know. Tall, good-looking, stylish.”

  “I’m sure he’s shallow, conceited, arrogant. Most men like him are.”

  Delilah frowned, thinking about how devastating it would be if Dirk turned out that way. Not that it really mattered since she wasn’t going to give him the time of day. Sam, on the other hand, was lazy, sloth-like and…well, arrogant. And she knew from past experience he rocked in the sack.

  “Dirk isn’t like that.” Marion waved her hand is if to wipe away the silly thought. “And besides, he’s paying Graeme big bucks for his art.”

  “So? Why do I care about that?”

  “Because if the opening goes well, Dirk has agreed to take him to Paris next. And Dirk, well… he’s lonely for female companionship.”

  Delilah perked up at this, her buzz starting to wear off. Damn. She needed another martini at home. Alone where she could drink in peace.

  “Are you telling me that a sexy, rich man like Dirk can’t get laid?” She stared at her friend in disbelief. Marion sort of shrugged a little shrug that told her she’d hit the nail on the head. “Marion…thanks. I appreciate it. I really do. But I don’t need you and Graeme pimping for me.”

  “Please, Delilah. Just give him a chance.” Marion clasped her hands together in front of her.

  Delilah let her stubbornness rear forward. She didn’t want to give him a chance.

  She supposed deep down the real reason why she hadn’t been dating for real was she was tired of men going through the revolving boyfriend door. She wanted someone as a partner in crime. She wanted an equal in life. She certainly didn’t want to be someone’s “little woman” and have a passel of kids and end up living life for them. Not that she didn’t love kids. In small quantities. But so far, she hadn’t found anyone worthy enough with which to procreate.

  “Besides, if Dirk likes you enough,” Marion continued, “he’ll take you with him to the opening in Amsterdam, Paris, Venice.”

  “Venice?” Delilah’s ears perked at the mention of Venice.

  She’d always had big ideas about traveling overseas. Especially Venice. It was her dream vacation. She wasn’t terribly interested in Paris, but Venice…th
at was the place she’d always wanted to visit. It was on her bucket list. Even so, she shook her head. She would not be lured by exotic vacations with rich, handsome men.

  “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

  “Will do you it as a favor to me? I’ll make it up to you.”

  How could she say no to her best friend? She couldn’t, that’s how. So she’d give her a consolation prize. She’d let Dirk down easy and go on her merry way with Marion none the wiser.

  Delilah leaned toward Marion, pointing her index finger at her. “I’ll sit next to him at the reception but that’s it. And so help me God, Marion, I’m not catching your fucking bouquet at the wedding either.”

  Marion laughed. “You won’t have to, I promise.” She put her arm around Delilah’s neck and led her from the bathroom. “I’m really sorry about tonight.”

  “You should be.” Delilah pouted. “Because I saw Sam today and I was totally going to dish the dirt.”

  “Sam?” Marion paused, curiosity in her dark brown eyes. Delilah could tell Marion was searching the memory banks for a Sam in the past, recent or otherwise. “Sam who?”

  “Sam. You know, Sam.”

  The light bulb finally went on. “Wait. You mean…Bastard Sam?”

  “Yeah! That’s the one. That son of a bitch owns my toy shop.”

  She knew that statement didn’t make sense to Marion but it did to her. And all she could think about was Sam. They walked out of the bathroom and she stumbled.

  If there was one thing she’d learned in her thirty-plus years, there were no guarantees in life. Except for death and taxes and everybody knew about those. She couldn’t get the thought of Sam out of her head. A series of what if questions tumbled through her mind. What if he was different now? What if they could reconcile and get back together? What if he was still the love of her life?

  As they arrived back at the table, Sam was still very much in the forefront of her mind. A niggling of guilt went through her at the way she’d behaved earlier in his shop. She hadn’t meant to be a snob. Maybe she could call him and apologize. Especially since she was a regular customer. Either that or she was going to have to find a new place. Finding a new favorite toy shop was like trying to find a good bra—it was damn near impossible to get a good fit.