Chapter Two
Of all the people in the world to come waltzing through his door, Sam had never expected to see Delilah Storm again. His ex-wife. The love of his life. Not even in his wildest imagination did he think he would see her again. Especially here. The shock of seeing her had finally worn off as she reached into her handbag for her wallet. Sam was no expert, but he could certainly tell this wasn’t a cheap department store purse. Delilah had evolved into something high maintenance. He could smell high class all over her.
She wore a white short-sleeved fuzzy sweater hugging her uplifted breasts and linen pants hitting her mid-calf boasting the rest of her assets—nice round ass, hips tapering into shapely thighs and long legs. Her muscular calves were accentuated by the silver high heels she wore. She was a walking wet dream, especially with all that long wavy hair. His fingers itched to run through the silky strands.
After pulling out her platinum Visa, she slapped it on the counter. “Don’t bother to wrap it.” Her red lips quirked into a sardonic grin.
He was certain Delilah knew damn well they didn’t offer that sort of thing. Just as he knew damn well she was toying with him.
Sam ignored her as he ran her card, resisting the urge to ask for identification. He had a great memory for numbers and knew if he saw the flash of her driver’s license he’d remember her address like it was his own.
A long silence stretched as the receipt printed and he slid it to her along with a pen. He wasn’t sure what to say to her anyway.
“You know, Sam.” She dropped her voice to that sultry purr he remembered well enough to make his cock hard. And it made his cock hard. “You really have a nice place here.”
She scrawled her name and slid back his copy of the receipt and the pen.
“Thanks, I think.” He wasn’t sure if she meant it or not.
“I hope business is good for you.” That almost sounded sincere, but not quite.
He handed her the package, careful not to brush hands with her. If he touched her again, he might spontaneously combust from all the tension between them. “Tell Marion I said hello.”
Delilah slid on her sunglasses, the dark lenses covering her pretty eyes. “I’ll be sure and do that.”
Her heels clicked a swift cadence as she exited the shop, the door swooshing closed behind her. He waited until she was inside her car before moving from behind the counter. Sam stood at the window and watched her drive away, tires squealing as she peeled out from the parking lot.
He had to admit seeing Delilah again brought back memories he really wasn’t prepared for. Their relationship had been so long ago and they had been so young and stupid. He still hated the way things ended and he had no one to blame but himself. He knew now what a loser he had been. He also knew how tolerant she’d been. He wanted to right things between them. Delilah walking into his shop had to be a sign.
Back then, he had to let her go. He was never good enough for her anyway. Now he had changed. He was different. More responsible. More grounded. More mature. He had to prove it to Delilah.
All those years ago, the moment he laid eyes on her, he wanted her. He had a talent for picking out the perfect woman—maybe not forever but definitely for right now. Even back then, she was gorgeous, but she had really grown into her body and her looks.
Delilah still had the high, exotic cheekbones in that pretty feminine face. She had lost her high school girlishness. She was the perfect mix of Girl Next Door and Sex Kitten. Over the years, she’d gained confidence—she walked like she knew how good she looked. If they hadn’t had a past history, she’d be downright unapproachable and intimidating. No man was worthy, least of all him.
What a woman.
He did a mental calculation and figured her age as thirty-five. The fact there wasn’t a large diamond ring on her left hand didn’t escape him.
Thirty-five, single, and seriously fucking hot.
She’d refused and side-stepped the small talk part where they discussed significant others. She’d pulled the bitch card before he could ask. He was sure she had someone—no woman that hot could not be getting laid—and the bastard was one lucky man. Sam couldn’t help the swarm of jealousy buzzing around him like the buzz of the overhead lights.
“Who was that?”
Hearing Vanessa’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts, reminding him of his present and making him feel a hint of guilt at lingering so long over Delilah. He turned from the window as Delilah’s white Mercedes disappeared out of sight. She’d certainly come a long way from the beat-up Chevy pick-up.
The first lie he ever told Vanessa was that he’d never been married. Since his stint with the ex-wife had lasted such a short amount of time, he figured it didn’t really count and there was no sense in bringing it up to Vanessa, who was twelve years younger. That and he never expected Delilah to walk back into his life, causing a quake of 8.5 on the Richter scale. He could already see his perfect life beginning to crack and crumble.
Vanessa swept her glossy black hair into a pony tail and secured it before checking her full lips in a hand mirror. Looking at her now, it was hard for Sam to grasp the contrast between her and Delilah. Nessa with her fake tan, dark hair and round brown eyes was really no comparison to Delilah with that creamy white skin, all that strawberry blonde hair and those crystal clear emerald green eyes. Delilah was a sight he wanted to see more often.
“You sounded like you knew each other,” she said when Sam didn’t answer.
“Just a customer,” he said with a shrug. He couldn’t exactly tell her she was his ex-wife.
She dropped the mirror and looked at him, narrowing her eyes to slits. Vanessa was the jealous type.
“You hug all the customers like that?” she asked.
Christ. He sighed. “Nessa, she’s an old friend. That’s all.”
Vanessa glanced out the window, as if she could still get a glimpse of her, but Delilah was long gone. “And she happened to come into your store?” She propped her hands on her hips, thrusting out her big breasts and gave him an accusatory look.
“I’m sure it was just a coincidence. Besides, I haven’t seen her in years.”
“And you won’t see her again, will you?”
Sam walked around the counter. He knew he’d have to do some damage control to keep her from thinking suspicious thoughts. Not that he had done anything wrong. Yet. Seeing Delilah, though, brought back feelings he’d thought were long dead. He hadn’t felt that about another woman since. Not even Vanessa, despite her outward appearance. She was still young and inexperienced.
But Delilah…she would definitely be better with age. Like a fine wine. That thought alone made the blood drain from his head to his cock. Delilah had always been fiercely independent and he could tell that certainly hadn’t changed. She’d be nothing like his clingy, demanding current girlfriend. Allowing Vanessa to work in his shop was probably a grave error.
Sam cupped Vanessa’s face and leaned in. “You worry too much.” He said it against her lips before planting a soft kiss there. Hopefully that would pacify her and give him time to get his erection under control.
“You seemed…familiar. That’s all.” She stuck out her bottom lip.
He stepped around her and headed toward the back office. He didn’t want to answer because he didn’t want to think about all those sexy curves on Delilah. He didn’t want to think about how soft she’d been in his hands or how good she’d smelled. Or how beautiful she looked when she smiled and looked down her nose at him, even when she was being bitchy. He didn’t even want to think about how hot she was when she told him sixty-nine was her favorite number.
“Sam?” Vanessa called.
He turned, trying not to see the worried look on her face. She twisted the cheap ring on her right hand. It was a nervous habit, almost as if she could sense he wanted to cheat.
“Don’t worry. I’m sure I won’t see her again.”
As he headed back to the office and shut the door, he knew
he didn’t mean that. He hadn’t intended to do anything with Delilah. Although, he reminded himself, he and Vanessa had no promises between them. They were dating. And occasionally sleeping together.
At the very least, he needed to find out more about the new and improved Delilah. He needed to put to rest the past once and for all. He needed to tell her he was sorry for everything that had happened. He’d never gotten the chance to do that since she shut him out.
There was enough information on the web to track down a person if he wanted to bad enough—and he wanted to bad enough. He’d start with the white pages online and go from there, putting to use his rusty computer skills.
Inside of twenty minutes, Sam had her phone number, the Google map of her address with a screen shot, the appraised value of her house and her place of business. He could have dug deeper, but even he had his boundaries. Now armed with information, he knew Delilah would be seeing him again.
Probably sooner than she liked.
Chapter Three
Delilah walked out of the store smug and full of herself. Sam had been less than friendly after she was a snot to him. But she couldn’t help it. He had put her through hell so many years ago and it was payback time.
Sam spent what little money they’d had on cigarettes and dime bags of marijuana. She was sure he’d been buying dope even though she could never prove it. Sure, she knew about the cigarettes. There was a layer of nicotine all over everything in their apartment. But the other stuff he hid from her. He knew how she felt about drugs, so he kept it well out of her line of sight.
When he wasn’t sitting at his computer, he sat in front of the TV. He didn’t seem to get the fact that groceries and electricity were more important than bad Kung Fu movies and cancer sticks. And then when he’d defaulted on this truck…well, that was the last straw.
She had been such a fool. She thought she was in love with him. But what she was really in love with was not being alone, even though Sam was far from husband material.
Delilah didn’t fear that anymore. She enjoyed being alone. Living alone. Making her own rules. Never having to report in to anyone.
Except now agitation crawled all over her skin. And anger she didn’t have someone to hang out with or call to hear his voice and make her feel better. No, she’d left him at the table at brunch this morning. Even Cliff was better than no one.
Sometimes, having a man in your life could pull you back to your senses and Delilah really needed that right now. She secretly envied Marion and her happiness with Graeme and she wondered if she would ever feel that way about someone again. Sam had been that someone once. She couldn’t quite admit she missed him.
She couldn’t help but see herself as being on the road to Loserville once again. At least as far as having a man in her life and finding true love. Hell, she wasn’t even sure she believed in true love or soul mates or any of that crap. Maybe she had once but not anymore. She snorted in contempt.
Sliding into the leather seat of her car, she stuck the key in the ignition, trying to convince herself that her feelings for Sam had always been purely physical. They had to be, especially since she had them again. She couldn’t help but daydream about kissing Sam again or being crushed under him and wondered if he would be the same. If the sex would be as good—or better—as she remembered. Would he still be that same sex god?
Starting the car, she pulled out of the parking lot. She wasn’t sure, but she thought she saw Sam in the front window, watching her drive away.
* * *
That afternoon, Delilah quickly wrapped Marion’s gift in the shiniest, pinkest wrapping paper she could find. It was no small feat finding wrapping paper like that. She wanted it to match the pinkness of the rabbit inside the box. She topped it with a curly-cue bow in a riot of pink. The package looked like it had vomited ribbon, actually, and Delilah was pleased with her handiwork.
She and Marion had a dinner engagement that evening—a rare night when she could actually drag her away from Graeme and wedding plans. They were T-minus ten days and counting. Marion was a nervous wreck and it was Delilah's duty as maid of honor to keep the bride calm, cool and collected.
Tonight, Delilah didn’t want to talk about the wedding or Graeme or even who she was planning to bring as her date…which was no one. It was all Delilah had heard about for months now. Of course, she understood Marion ate, slept, drank wedding. It was a twenty-four/seven thing with her. But Delilah needed a break from all that and she needed some serious girl time.
She also needed to talk to Marion about Sam to try to figure out what to do about him. If anything.
She paused as the thought went through her mind, staring at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were wide with shock. Did she really just think that? She tossed her eyeliner back into the drawer and slammed it shut. How could Sam have so quickly pushed his way back in? She’d only had contact with him for less than twenty minutes, for God’s sake.
Strutting out of the bathroom, Delilah slipped on her comfortable low-heeled sandals and snatched her handbag. She had switched from the large duffle to a smaller clutch for the evening.
The two had agreed to meet at their favorite Mexican restaurant, Dos Gringos. The place was very colorful. It looked like a dive on the outside but the inside was a much different story. The walls were painted a bright and festive green, yellow, red, blue. There was nothing calm about this place. The bar was trimmed in red fringe—the kind with the little balls on the end. They had about six different beers on tap, which was great for when Delilah had those beer cravings. And the food was to die for.
Delilah told the hostess she was meeting someone. She saw Marion sitting in a booth with a gigantic frozen margarita in front of her. Grinning, Delilah headed over, happy to see her friend. She couldn’t wait to tell her about seeing Sam again. Marion caught sight of her and waved.
She slid into the booth across from her friend and that’s when she noticed another place setting. Another napkin wrapped fork and a dark beer in a sweating glass. Confusion swept through her.
Marion saw her staring and quickly said, “Graeme is in the bathroom.”
Stunned, Delilah couldn’t believe it. This was supposed to be their night. This was supposed to be girls only. No smelly boys allowed. She had been looking forward to it all week. And how was she supposed to give her this gift in front of Graeme? She had some decorum after all. And besides, she really didn’t want to think about Graeme that way.
“Don’t be mad,” Marion added quickly.
“Mar…” Delilah began, choosing her words carefully. She really didn’t want to tick her off, but the shock had settled into anger and hurt. Didn’t Marion understand how important this night was to her?
On second thought, she probably didn’t. She was all wrapped up in wedding plans and a honeymoon in the United Kingdom before she trotted off to Amsterdam with her man to see his international gallery debut.
“I know you wanted to do a girl’s night, but Graeme and I had to meet with the caterer. We finalized the food picks and I really couldn’t do it without him,” she said quickly, like one big run-on sentence. Like she had to spill it quickly before Delilah interrupted her.
“But, Mar—”
“And we were in the area and rather than head all the way home to come all the way back, he came with me.”
How the hell was Delilah supposed to man bash Sam in front of another man? She really needed to get Marion’s perspective. Or at least get it off her chest, even if Marion didn’t have any sage wisdom.
“And I should warn you…” Marion’s gaze flickered to someone behind her.
“Warn me about what?” Delilah’s senses suddenly went on red alert. She sat up straighter in her seat, a strange tingling sensation creeping up the back of her neck.
“Hi, Delilah.” Graeme slid into the booth next to Marion. “This is Dirk Johansson.”
It was then Delilah noticed the man standing next to the table. She glanced up into the face of quite pos
sibly one of the sexiest men she’d ever seen. He seemed vaguely familiar to her, but she couldn’t place it.
“May I?” He gestured to the spot next to her in the booth.
Wordlessly, Delilah scooped up the gift and her handbag and slid over so he could sit next to her. She could immediately smell his cologne. Not overpowering, but faint enough to make her notice. She resisted the urge to lean over and sniff him. He dressed well—very well. She guessed Hugo Boss. His white dress shirt was open at the collar revealing nicely tanned skin and sprinkling of dark hair at his throat.
His black hair was slicked back from his face, but not the greasy slicked back look—it didn’t look like he had a jar of gel on his head. No, he was more of a hot guy who could make his thick hair do whatever he wanted by running his hand through it. There was no sheen whatsoever.
Dirk had equally dark eyes. Like black orbs that seemed as though they could see right into her soul and knew exactly what she was thinking. Delilah was grateful he sat next to her so she wouldn’t have to stare at him all night. Whenever he pinned her with that gaze, it made her squirm.
She glanced at Marion, who mouthed the words, I’m sorry.
A fix-up. Like she needed any help in that area. After all, she’d dumped one that morning. Wasn’t it too soon to get back into the saddle?
“Dirk, this is Delilah Storm,” Graeme said, making the introductions. He was clearly proud of himself for playing matchmaker.
“Dirk is the owner of the gallery in Amsterdam Graeme is showing at next month,” Marion said. Beamed actually. Delilah knew it wasn’t because of Dirk’s position but rather Graeme’s impressive artwork.
It hit her then and she knew exactly where she’d seen him. He was the guy Graeme had been with when he’d ignored Marion that day in the gallery. That day Delilah had also lambasted Graeme for being such an asshole to Marion…and Marion had actually forgiven him.
Great. Graeme and Marion had covertly fixed her up with a gallery owner who lived overseas. A long distance relationship was not in the cards for Delilah.
Sex, Lust & Martinis Page 2