“Of course I do,” Finn had replied sullenly.
Max had arched a brow in disbelief. “Ones without holes in them? And ones that don’t have little footballs or some other juvenile pattern?”
Finn had shrugged. “Now, that I can’t guarantee. Hell, do they sell socks at this place? Ones that don’t cost fifty bucks a pair?”
They had, in fact, carried a line of socks, and Finn had added two pair to his purchases. He’d thanked Max somewhat grudgingly for his help yet again, as well as for his suggestion of the best jazz club to bring Delilah to after dinner. Max had merely nodded in reply before hurrying back to his office, having already promised Finn that he would ask around about the attorney Delilah had engaged to oversee her upcoming meeting with Bloomingdale’s. Max himself had offered to look over any sort of proposals or financials that the retailer might present to Delilah, to make sure that she was getting the very best offer. Finn was planning to suggest to Delilah that Max be invited to sit in on the meeting with Bloomingdale’s, even though it was somewhat out of his area of expertise. But Max had such a brilliant financial brain that Finn knew he’d understand every word of what would be discussed in the meeting, as well as be able to advise Delilah on what actions she should take if an offer was made to her company.
“You look really nice tonight,” she told him, running her fingertips lightly over his sleeve. “Is this sweater a new addition to your wardrobe?”
“That obvious, huh?” he asked sheepishly. “I mean, that this isn’t my usual style.”
“No, not at all. The sweater just has a new clothes kind of smell. Did your friend Max take you shopping again?” she asked casually.
Finn laughed. “You do know me pretty well already, don’t you? And, yeah. I confess to giving him a quick call yesterday to ask for advice. Next thing I know I’m dropping two grand at the Armani store.”
“Well, it was money well spent,” assured Delilah. “Though you really don’t need to keep asking your friend for style advice. I’m pretty confident you’d do just fine on your own. As you can see, it really is casual here.”
He glanced around the packed restaurant, noticing that nearly every patron here was wearing jeans or equally casual garb. Delilah, in fact, was probably the most dressed-up of anyone there - not that she was actually wearing a whole lot this evening.
Finn was certain his eyes had popped out of their sockets at his first glimpse of her tonight. He’d never seen her dressed quite this way before - like a sultry, slinky femme fatale whose sole intention seemed to be attracting as much male attention as possible. His eyes continued to linger on the delectable display of her cleavage in the satiny, emerald green camisole top she wore. The rather skimpy top, trimmed in cream colored lace, showcased her feminine assets in a jaw dropping manner, and he thought how easy it would be to simply slide one of the thin straps off her shoulder and bare one round, creamy breast.
She’d teamed the sexy top with a black denim mini-skirt, and a pair of high-heeled black ankle boots that had given Finn an instant hard-on the second he’d glimpsed them on her dainty feet. Her abundant dark hair fell in loose waves about her shoulders and back, while her makeup had a definite edge to it this evening - her eyes lined and darkly shadowed, her brows thicker than normal, and that lush mouth glossed over in a deep burgundy shade rather than her usual red or pink. She’d eschewed her sapphire and diamond jewelry for a black lace choker and a pair of huge silver hoop earrings. And Finn didn’t know if it had been her intent while selecting her outfit for tonight, but Delilah was very much giving off a real naughty girl vibe - a vibe that was definitely appealing to his own inner bad boy.
He fought off the urge to run his index finger along the exposed curves of her breasts, or dipping that same finger between those voluptuous tits. She had removed her black leather jacket shortly after they’d been seated, and he swallowed with some difficulty each time he noticed the hard points of her nipples outlined against her satiny camisole. If he didn’t know better, Finn would have assumed she was doing her best to seduce him - not, of course, that she even needed to try. All she would have to do at this point would be to snap her fingers, or give him some other signal, and he’d be her willing slave for days on end.
“Your steak is getting cold,” she admonished, pointing at his dish with her fork. “And I think perhaps I should cover up for the moment. You seem easily, um, distracted.”
“Can you blame me?” he asked incredulously, feeling both relieved and crestfallen as she pulled her black leather jacket on, covering up the too-tempting display of her breasts. “I mean, look at you, for Christ’s sake. You remind me of this poster my grandfather used to have in his garage - this really sexy pin-up girl, kind of a vintage one. Not a full-blown nude like you’d see in Playboy or anything. This was classier, and the girl was fully clothed, which only made the drawing sexier.”
“Hmm.” Delilah chewed on a bite of her herb buttered trout. “Sounds like it might have been a Vargas Girl drawing.”
Finn snapped his fingers. “You’re right, it was. I remember my grandfather mentioning that name once or twice. And telling me not to ever tell my grandmother about the poster, because she’d make him get rid of it.”
She nodded. “Vargas was a famous artist from South America, I forget what country exactly. He specialized in painting pin-up girls, very erotic ones, though I don’t think he ever did full-on nudes. From what I recall reading about him, he was pretty controversial for his time, would have been around World War Two, I think. What ever happened to the poster your grandfather owned?”
He grinned. “From what I heard, my grandmother found out about it, and the rest was history. But I meant what I said before - about how you remind me of that poster. Especially in that black lace slip thing you’re wearing on your website.”
Her dark eyes lit up excitedly. “Wow, you’ve just given me a fantastic idea, Finn! I’m going to talk to our photographer about the possibility of recreating some of the Vargas Girl poses for our lingerie line. We haven’t really been able to come up with anything eye catching or different, and that would be a great concept. Something with sort of a vintage feel to it. I think that could really work. Thanks for the idea.”
“My pleasure,” he replied huskily. “And it would give me even greater pleasure if you decided to model more of your lingerie line for the catalog. Especially if you decide to use that Vargas Girl concept. Your entire line would sell out in a matter of hours if you were one of the models.”
Delilah smiled in pleasure at his compliment. “I’ll think about that part, okay? Like I told you, things are super busy right now, especially getting prepared for this meeting with Bloomingdale’s.”
“Speaking of that. I was going to ask if you’d like to have my buddy Max at that meeting with you. He’s still asking around about your attorney, but regardless of what happens with that, Max is a good guy to have in your corner. Like I said, this sort of thing you’re looking to set up isn’t exactly his area of expertise, but the guy pretty much knows everything about everything. At least when it comes to financial stuff and contracts. He’d make damned sure you got a good deal, and that everything was in your favor. I haven’t asked him yet,” added Finn, “since I wanted to run it by you first, but I’d be happy to do that for you.” He slid a hand over hers where it rested on the table. “And I already know that you can handle it yourself, that you’re as smart as you are beautiful. But I’d hate to think a big company like Bloomingdale’s might try to take advantage of you, that they might think because you’re young and on your own that they don’t have to offer you as good of a deal. With Max along for the ride - well, no way in hell that would ever happen.”
Her smile deepened as she squeezed his hand. “In other words, you’ve got my back, huh? Well, I appreciate it, Finn. Both the vote of confidence and your offer to enlist your friend’s help. Tell you what. Let’s hear what Max has to say about my attorney, and if it sounds a little
on the shaky side I’ll definitely ask him to sit in on the meeting. As well as recommend a better attorney. Thank you, Finn. My business is really important to me, my baby, if you will, and I’ve tried to be very careful about not expanding too fast or getting in over my head. So far so good, but maybe it wouldn’t hurt to get your friend’s expert opinion about the company’s financial wellbeing.”
“I’ll call him over the weekend and get something set up,” assured Finn. “Though I’ve got to confess to having some misgivings about the idea. Not,” he added hurriedly, “because of his competency or anything. You’d never be able to find anyone as smart as Max is about finances and business. The guy turns away business, has a waiting list of companies wanting to hire him.”
Delilah frowned, even as she returned her attention to her dinner. “I don’t understand then. What sort of misgivings are you talking about?”
He smiled sheepishly. “Max, uh, is probably the type of guy you’re normally used to dating. He’s admittedly better looking than those so-called clones I saw you with, but no denying that he’s dark haired, sophisticated, and pretty much lives in a suit and tie. And he knows about all the stuff that you seem to like - fashion, classical music, art, wine. I guess I’ve been a little afraid that if the two of you ever met you’d end up really hitting it off, and then I’d be out of the picture.”
“Finn.” The rebuke was quiet but firm. “Do you really think I’m that shallow - that I’d ditch someone because I found his friend more appealing? And while your friend sounds like a gentleman he also sounds - well, kind of boring, in my opinion. Like he’s married to his job or something. Definitely not the kind of guy who’d pick his date up in a yellow Corvette.”
Finn guffawed heartily in response. “You got that right. Max is British, and more than a little on the uptight side. He doesn’t drive all that often, prefers to take taxis most places, but he does own a pretty awesome Aston Martin. He also hasn’t been on a date in a really long time, at least as far as Jordan and I are aware. Jordan, by the way, is the third musketeer in our little trio. He, Max, and I have known each other since our freshman year at Stanford, more than twenty years now.”
“Don’t tell me, let me guess,” replied Delilah drolly. “The three of you were frat brothers, weren’t you?”
“Yup.” He nodded in acknowledgment. “Though it was mostly Jordan and I who got into mischief. Max was always the straight arrow of our group. He even bailed me out of jail one night, something he never lets me forget about.”
“Jail, hmm?” She arched a brow, then took a sip of her wine. “You didn’t tell me I agreed to go on a date with an ex-con.”
He waved a hand in dismissal. “Nah, nothing like that. The charges were all dismissed and everything, there’s nothing on my record. Basically just a stupid college prank. My parents would have killed me if I had ever done anything really serious. They were pretty strict with my brothers and sister and me growing up.”
“How do they feel about your - well, let’s call it a lifestyle nowadays?” she inquired pointedly.
Finn grimaced, not at all comfortable discussing his lifestyle with the woman he was bound and determined to woo into his bed tonight. “Understandably, they’d prefer me to settle down, get married, and raise a family, just like my brothers have done. Or at least to be in a committed relationship like my little sister. At first, my mother would call to lecture me whenever she read a story in the tabloids, while my father still reminds me to keep a supply of condoms in my back pocket wherever I go. Overall, though, I’m pretty sure the two of them have given up on me by now. At least in terms of ever settling down, that is. I have a great family, Delilah, the best parents in the world. My, uh, reluctance to settle down has nothing to do with the way I was raised, or the example they set. It’s just - I don’t think I have it in me to be with one woman for the rest of my life. Pretty sure I’d find a way to screw things up sooner than later.”
Delilah didn’t answer for long seconds, taking her time chewing a bite of her fish, then washing it down with another sip of wine. When she spoke again, her voice sounded deliberately casual, almost as though she was half-joking. “Maybe you just haven’t met the right woman, one who’d be able to change your mind,” she commented blandly. “The one woman you wanted so badly that you’d be willing to mend your wild ways for her.”
“Maybe.”
Neither of them dared to suggest that perhaps Delilah could be that particular woman, though Finn had already acknowledged to himself that she affected him far more deeply than any other female he’d ever met. But to even contemplate making any sort of commitment to her was something that alternately thrilled and terrified him, so he swiftly steered the subject in a slightly different direction.
“What about you?” he asked. “Ever been in a long-term relationship before? And what happened to the last few clones - uh, I mean men - that you were dating?”
She shrugged. “I’ve had a few semi-serious relationships over the years, but nothing that lasted more than a few months, and no one that I ever really considered to be husband material. As for the clones - darn it, now you’ve got me saying it! - there hasn’t been anyone serious for almost two years now. Work has been way too crazy to allow time for an actual relationship, so the men you saw me with were just casual dates. In fact,” she added with a laugh, “I had to give one of them the heave-ho the other day when he wouldn’t take the hint.”
Finn listened in amused interest as she recounted the story of the overeager dermatologist who’d been pursuing her. “You weren’t serious about the part where the dude kept applying hand lotion every fifteen minutes or so, were you?”
Delilah sighed. “God, I wish I wasn’t, but unfortunately it’s all too true. I mean, I get that he takes his job seriously, practices what he preaches in terms of taking care of his skin, but that was a little too much on the OCD side for my liking.”
“OCD?” replied Finn in disbelief. “Babe, the guy sounds like a fucking pussy to me. Let me tell you right now that I have never once used any sort of lotion on any part of my body, and especially not my hands. The first time you saw the dude doing that should have been a warning sign that he was not the man for you. Or any kind of a man, for that matter.”
She giggled. “My PA dubbed him Doctor Moisturizer. But then he usually dreams up these very inventive nicknames for all of my dates.”
“Oh, yeah? Has he thought one up for me as yet? Or does he even know we’re on a date tonight?”
Delilah pursed her lips. “Oh, Mr. Nosypants definitely knows who I’m with. And who you are. He took the liberty of reading your card out loud to me when he brought the flowers into my office. As for your nickname - well, you’ve officially been christened Finn McHottie.”
He laughed heartily, drawing looks from several nearby patrons. “I like that. And I have a feeling I’m going to like your assistant a lot.”
She rolled her eyes. “You might want to hold that thought, Finn. Especially if Calvin decides it would be fun to hit on you the first time you meet. And, yes. That is a definite possibility, depending on what his mood is on any particular day. I’ve given up trying to predict which Calvin is going to show up to the office each day.”
Finn winced. “Can you make sure to drop the hint that I don’t, uh, swing that way?”
“Doesn’t matter. He’d flirt with you just for the pleasure of seeing you squirm. Or to mess with your head. Calvin has some real - let’s call them issues he needs to work through. But I’ll make sure he’s on his best behavior if you ever decide to stop by the studio one of these days.”
“I’d like that,” he told her sincerely, giving her hand a quick squeeze. “To see where you create and design, where everything comes together. And especially to see you ruling your empire. I’ve suddenly found that strong, powerful women are a real turn-on for me. And,” he added huskily, “I’m very, very glad to learn that there hasn’t been anyone serious for you in a long ti
me. It means I don’t have to figure out a way to get rid of the competition. Not, of course, that it wouldn’t have been child’s play for me to steal you away from another man. Especially Doctor Moisturizer. Though given what you’ve told me about him, babe, I’ve got to question just how much of a man he really is.”
She laughed softly. “And since you’ve already admitted that you don’t have the foggiest idea of how a relationship even works, I guess I don’t have to ask if there’s been anyone serious for you. I also really, really don’t want to know anything about the legion of women that have been in your life. Certain things are best left unspoken. Now, once, again, your food is getting cold, Finn. And I’ve ordered that particular entrée before, so I know it would be a real shame to waste even a bite of something so delicious. Eat now, hmm?”
She returned her attention to her fish and accompanying vegetables and wild rice, while he eagerly cut off another bite of his admittedly delicious steak. He’d been a little leery about eating French food, but Delilah had assured him that the cuisine here at Zazie was country-style French as opposed to the more sophisticated dishes one would find in a Parisian restaurant. The décor of the small, cozy restaurant was also far less formal than he had feared, with its brick walls, small wooden tables, and the Provence patterned dishes the food was served on.
They had agreed on a fruity Zinfandel wine this evening, with Delilah dismissing his concern that maybe the hearty red wouldn’t go well with the trout she’d ordered.
“I don’t care about any sort of rules when it comes to wine pairings,” she’d assured him. “For me, it’s more about what I’m in the mood for, and tonight a nice Zin really appeals to me.”
Finn refilled her glass now, making a mental note to ask Jordan if he’d mind giving him a crash course about different wine varietals. Jordan had an impressive wine collection, one that Finn had paid little attention to in the past. Jordan considered himself something of a connoisseur, whereas Finn had rarely touched the stuff, preferring beer or hard liquor. But given that Delilah seemed to know something about wines, he figured it wouldn’t hurt his cause to win her over if he seemed to take an interest in them, too.
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