The Player Gets Coached

by Janet Nissenson

  He grinned at her unapologetically. “Guilty as charged, Ms. Ferris. I know all about Ma Belle Petite, know that you’ve built it from the ground up, that it was named one of the fastest growing companies in California last year, and that several high end boutiques are now carrying your line. I even know that the owner of the company occasionally models her own designs for the online catalog. By the way,” he added roguishly, “the one of you in the little black silk slip is my new favorite.”

  She blushed, appearing visibly discomfited for the first time in their brief acquaintance. “Um, thank you. I think.”

  “You’re very welcome, Delilah,” purred Finn, his voice very intentionally pitched low. “And while what you’re wearing this evening isn’t quite as sexy as that slip, may I say that you still look ravishing? The first time I’ve seen you in something other than a dress or skirt. Not to mention flat shoes. You are a tiny little thing, aren’t you? The top of your head doesn’t even reach my chin.”

  Delilah glared at him darkly. “I might be short in stature, Mr. McManus, but don’t think for a minute that means I’m easily intimidated. Or that I can’t take care of myself. And I believe I’ve already demonstrated some of what I’ve learned in my self defense classes?”

  He winced, resisting the urge to massage his still-sore foot where she had stomped on it with the spiky heel of her shoe. “Yeah, I seem to recall that particular conversation. Look, the housewarming gift wasn’t the only reason I knocked on your door. I was actually hoping I could persuade you into going out for drinks with me. There’s a great wine bar less than two blocks from here, and they also serve tapas so we could maybe have a light dinner, too. You know, just to be neighborly, and to officially welcome you to the neighborhood. What do you say?”

  She shook her head, something Finn had more or less expected to happen, but at least she sounded regretful as she told him, “I can’t tonight, sorry. Speaking of my sister I’m actually meeting her for dinner tonight.” She pulled back the sleeve of her blouse to glance at the delicate watch of rose gold that encircled her tiny wrist. “And if I don’t leave now, I’ll be late, something my sister absolutely hates.”

  Finn nodded, glad he hadn’t let himself get his hopes up too high. He’d known even before knocking on Delilah’s door a few minutes ago that the likelihood of getting her to go anywhere with him had been slim to none. Hell, he thought wryly, he should count himself lucky she hadn’t slammed the damned door in his face.

  “Well, since I don’t want to be the reason your sister gets upset, then I won’t keep you,” he replied gallantly. “But maybe another time? Hopefully very soon?”

  She hesitated, and Finn found himself holding his breath in anticipation of her reply.

  “Maybe, ” she murmured quietly. “But just a neighborly kind of thing like you mentioned,” she warned. “It won’t be a date, got it?”

  He held up his hands as if in surrender. “Whatever the lady says. You can call all the shots, even pick the location.”

  Delilah picked up a black leather jacket she’d left draped over a chair. “I haven’t officially agreed yet,” she reminded him tartly. “And don’t get your hopes up, okay? You really, really aren’t my type, you know.”

  Finn gave her a naughty wink as he plucked the jacket out of her hands and held it open for her. “And I seem to recall telling you that I’m everyone’s type. Here, I’ll walk you to the elevator.”

  He sensed her impatience, guessed that she would have really preferred to go alone, but she merely shrugged and walked beside him down the hallway towards the elevators.

  “Hey,” began Finn, silently hoping he’d rehearsed this next line well enough to be believable, “has anyone ever mentioned that you look a lot like the actress who played Delilah in the movie? Hedy Lamaar was her name. Though you’re much prettier, of course,” he added charmingly.

  If Delilah thought he was full of it, then she gave no indication. Instead, a fond smile softened her face, her dark eyes holding a rather wistful expression.

  “I love that movie,” she admitted readily. “I used to watch it from time to time on Turner Classic Movies with - well, with my father when I was younger. But it’s been years since I last saw it. You’re right, though. Hedy Lamaar was gorgeous. Incredibly smart, too. Very few people realize that in addition to being an actress she was also an inventor, something to do with technology, I’m not quite sure exactly.”

  “So you have even more in common with her than your physical resemblance, and your name. You’re both intelligent and ambitious, and not afraid of taking risks,” observed Finn. He couldn’t resist tucking a strand of Delilah’s glossy brown hair behind her ear, then smiled as her eyes widened in surprise.

  ‘At least,’ he thought faintly, ‘she isn’t trying to break my toe this time.’

  “Tell me, then,” he continued, in a husky, deliberately seductive voice. “If you are in fact the risk taker I think you are, are you willing to take a chance on me?”

  The elevator arrived then, and Delilah hurried inside, avoiding both Finn’s gaze and replying to his question. But when he continued to hold the door open, waiting for her answer with an arched brow, she sighed tiredly and shrugged.

  “I’ll think about it, okay?” she muttered. “I can’t promise more than that. Except I will guarantee you this - if you dare make me late to meet my sister, and I get scolded as a result, there’s no way in hell I’ll consider it.”

  Finn released his grip on the door immediately and gave her a little wave. “Enjoy your evening with your sister,” he called out as the door began to close. “And think about where you’d like to go for that drink you’re going to let me buy you.”

  And despite the scowl on Delilah’s face as the door shut, Finn couldn’t help feeling decidedly optimistic about his chances. Whistling cheerily, he headed back down the hall to his condo so he could update Max, Jordan, and Aubrey on this evening’s progress. And, more importantly, to get their input on how to proceed next.

  Chapter Six

  Finn hesitated before knocking on Delilah’s door, wondering yet again if she’d think him too pushy, or that he was making a pest of himself. But in the next second he was scolding himself for worrying about such things, and shaking his head in mild disgust at what a wuss he’d allowed himself to turn into. He had never, ever gone to this much trouble for a woman before, and especially not for a woman he hadn’t even kissed yet, much less fucked.

  He’d been sorely tempted too many times over the past ten days to throw up his hands in frustration, give up his futile attempts to win over this maddeningly stubborn female, and go back to his happy, carefree manwhoring ways. He had told himself that no one woman was worth anywhere near this much trouble, and that if by some miracle he ever did get into her panties, it would probably be the biggest letdown of his life.

  But then he’d catch a glimpse of Delilah leaving for work dressed in one of her sexy but subtle outfits, and would feel a renewed determination to make her his. Or he would think back to the days when he was still playing football, how hard he’d trained, and how dedicated he had always been at being the best. And he had resolved that Finn McManus was not going to give up that easily, that he was going to see this thing through, and use every trick he and his loyal band of friends had helped him dream up.

  Two days after he’d given her the red amaryllis - a Saturday, as it happened - he had dragged himself out of bed at an obscenely early hour just so he could be one of the first in line at a popular local bakery who made croissants so buttery and flaky that they sold out before mid-morning. Finn had no idea if Delilah even liked croissants, but had kept his fingers crossed when he’d knocked on her door. She had still been dressed in her bathrobe - a silky, sexy confection of seafoam green and creamy lace, her long hair still mussed from sleep. She hadn’t been wearing a lick of makeup but, as he had once guessed, her perfect features were even more striking in their natural state.

 
; The look of mingled surprise and annoyance on her face to find him on her doorstep had instantly disappeared when he’d handed her the bakery bag, and she’d taken a deep, appreciative sniff of the still-warm croissants. She’d thanked him for the treats but hadn’t invited him inside to share them. At least, he’d thought somewhat grudgingly, she hadn’t had any overnight guests staying with her, another of her besotted suitors to share the croissants with. That would have definitely sent him over the edge, given how long he’d waited in line on a damp, foggy morning for the damned things.

  And while he had seen her in the company of another of those dark-haired, designer-suited clones she seemed to favor, she and her date hadn’t seemed particularly cozy, and Delilah had looked distinctly uncomfortable at being seen with him in Finn’s presence. And though Finn had silently fumed about the fact that another man was going to be with the woman he’d been obsessing over, at least he’d been able to exhale in relief when Delilah had returned to her condo alone a few hours later. He’d told himself that gazing out the peephole of his front door every ten minutes to wait for her return shouldn’t be considered stalking. Instead, he had assured himself confidently, it had simply been neighborly concern on his part, making sure that she arrived home safely.

  As for himself, he’d been sticking to his guns and living like a damned monk - or, as he’d joked with his friends, like Max. At first, Finn had had serious doubts that he would actually be able to remain celibate for more than a few days. After all, the habits he’d picked up over the last two decades were tough ones to break. But now that he was past the three week mark, it was admittedly proving to be far easier than he had feared. He had also cut way back on his drinking, increased his workouts, was sleeping better, and overall felt healthier than he had in several years. Maybe, he’d mused, this abstinence thing wasn’t so bad after all if it resulted in his improved health and a clearer mind. However, he had told himself, the very second he got the green light from one Ms. Delilah Ferris then it was game on and adios to living like a hermit.

  But as much as he hated to admit it, that light seemed to be permanently stuck in the yellow/”proceed with caution” location. And while Delilah had actually condescended to speak with him, and had thanked him graciously for the “housewarming” gifts he continued to present her with on an almost daily basis, Finn honestly didn’t think he had made any real progress with her. Each time he’d asked her about going out for that drink, she had had one excuse after another - some work to catch up on, a dinner date, needing to be at the office early the next day, fighting off a headache. He was beginning to fear that her response would never be yes - which was precisely why he’d finally decided to take matters into his own hands.

  Delilah heaved a sigh of resignation when she saw Finn hovering in her doorway, a goofy grin on his face. “Why am I not surprised that it’s you?” she asked sardonically. “You do know that one housewarming gift is considered more than sufficient, and you’ve already given me half a dozen. It’s almost like you’re trying to win me over or something, even though we both know the likelihood of that ever happening is slim to none.”

  His grin only deepened at her sarcasm. “Now, Delilah, you’re not being very neighborly, are you?” he scolded. “Besides, you sure seemed to like all those little gifts.”

  “They were very nice,” she conceded reluctantly. “Especially the gift bag.”

  In addition to the red amaryllis and fresh croissants, Finn had also brought her a bouquet of vividly hued spring flowers, a brand new DVD of Samson and Delilah, a flat of fresh organic strawberries, and the lavish, extravagant gift bag he’d been presented with at some celebrity-studded event he’d attended earlier this year. The bag had been taking up space in his closet while he’d debated whether to send it to his mother or sister, or give it to one of his numerous bedmates. But given how thoroughly delighted Delilah had been when he had presented it to her instead, it had been a good thing he’d held onto it. He had only given the contents of the burgundy leather weekender bag a cursory inspection, but had noticed a variety of cosmetics and bath products, a gift certificate for spa services, a silk scarf, a gold necklace, some gourmet chocolates, and an iPod, among the two dozen or so items inside.

  “I hope you’ve been enjoying it,” he replied gallantly. “And you’re right - I have brought something else over this evening, but it isn’t exactly a housewarming gift. I decided since you keep finding excuses not to go out and have a drink with me that I’d bring the drink to you. I’m guessing that since red is your favorite color that you also prefer red wine? This is a Chateau Montelena Estate Cabernet.”

  He held up the bottle of wine that Jordan had recommended, the one that had set him back almost two hundred bucks. Upon seeing the price, Finn had mumbled something under his breath about how this damned wine better be some sort of magical aphrodisiac. Fine wines really weren’t his thing, as he was far more of a beer/whiskey/vodka kind of guy, and certainly nothing of a connoisseur when it came to much of anything.

  Delilah, however, seemed to recognize and appreciate the very pricey vintage he held out for her perusal. She ran a pale pink-tipped nail over the label, her voice almost a croon as she murmured, “I am definitely a red wine fan, especially from this vineyard. I’ve been to a couple of events there, actually, a wedding and a fundraiser tasting party. Beautiful setting, and fantastic wine. Have you ever been to the winery?”

  Finn shook his head, figuring there was no sense in trying to bullshit his way through the question, since his overall lack of expertise when it came to wine was sorely lacking. “Nope. I’m pretty much a novice when it comes to choosing good wine. I asked one of my best friends for a recommendation since he has a pretty impressive collection of the stuff.”

  “Well, he certainly knows his wines.” She hesitated for several moments before slowly motioning him inside her place. “And since you obviously went to a lot of trouble to bring this over, it would probably be ungrateful of me not to invite you in.”

  He glanced at her casual attire of jeans, dove gray cashmere sweater, and bare feet. “So, I’m not keeping you from anything this evening?” he asked teasingly. “No important work assignment or early conference call? Or no hot date with one of the clones?”

  Delilah looked confused as she shut the door. “What in the world are you talking about? What clones?”

  Finn smirked as he followed along in her wake. “Come on. Don’t try and deny that the stuffed shirts you date all look alike - dark hair, suit and tie, uptight as hell. And I’ll bet none of them have anything resembling a sense of humor. Aren’t you ever tempted to break out of your rut and try something different? After all,” he added with a wink, “it’s really true about blonds having more fun.”

  She gave him a little eye roll as they reached her kitchen, where she swiftly produced two wine glasses and a very sophisticated-looking cork puller. “I’m sure you believe that,” she retorted, deftly uncorking the wine and then pouring some into each glass. “And my dates are not clones as you refer to them. I just happen to have a particular type of man I prefer to date.”

  “And you’re trying to tell me, in not so many words, that I’m not your type,” observed Finn dryly.

  “That’s right,” replied Delilah bluntly. “I mean, you’re not as much of a jackass as I thought at first but you’re still not my type.”

  “Tell you what, darling Delilah,” he told her, grinning. “If you agree to go on a date with me - a real date - not only will I wear a suit and tie but I’ll dye my hair, too.”

  She burst out laughing. “You know, I’ve had guys say some pretty outrageous things to grab my attention over the years, but I can say for sure that this is the first time anyone was willing to go to that sort of extreme. But coloring your hair isn’t going to make a bit of difference as to whether I agree to go out with you or not, Finn.”

  He scowled as he took the glass she held out to him. “So does that mean the answer is still
no?”

  “It means,” replied Delilah calmly, “that I still haven’t made up my mind. Now, let’s enjoy this really incredible wine, okay?”

  “Fine,” agreed Finn rather sullenly.

  But as they clinked glasses and then took a sip of Cabernet, even someone as uninformed about wines as Finn professed to be could appreciate such a rich, fine vintage. Delilah closed her eyes as she savored the wine, making a little sound of pleasure deep in her throat that went directly to Finn’s groin. And when she licked those full pink lips, he had to bite down on his tongue and turn away slightly in order to avoid yanking her flush against his very aroused body.

  Desperate for a distraction, he ran a hand admiringly over the dark green granite countertop in her kitchen. “I, uh, like what you’ve done to the place,” he blurted hastily. “What with all the workers coming in and out of here before you moved in, you must have remodeled the entire space.”

  She pursed her lips in annoyance. “My, you certainly seem to have a lot of time on your hands in order to observe all the comings and goings here - workers, my dates, me. Don’t you have to work for a living?”

  “Of course, though I’m in between seasons at the moment.”

  Finn gave her an overview of his current job at the network, as well as none-too-casually mentioning the fact that he used to play professional football. But if Delilah was at all impressed she gave not the slightest indication - unlike all of the groupies he’d been with over the years whose main goal in life was to hook up with as many pro athletes as possible.

  “I’ve actually been thinking about making some changes around my place,” he told her. “I, uh, don’t suppose you’d care to give me a quick tour?”

  She looked at him in disbelief, obviously considering this some sort of ruse on his part to extend his stay. But rather than argue the point, she merely shrugged and motioned for him to follow her.