Delilah

The apartment was silent. Still. Empty. Just an hour ago, it had been filled with all the people whose lives my mom had touched. They’d come to the funeral in droves to pay their respects. Many had stopped at our place afterwards, bringing casseroles and soups. Pastas and salads. Desserts and more desserts. More food than we needed for the luncheon. So many dishes that I wasn’t sure I’d be able to squeeze the leftovers into the fridge and freezer.

A couple of the nurses who’d worked with my mom had offered to stay and help with the clean-up, but I’d wanted to be alone. Or at least I thought I did. The home I’d shared with my mom had always been my safe haven growing up, filled with her love. Even after we moved to the city so she could start her cancer treatments, she’d made our modest, two-bedroom apartment seem like a cozy home in the country. Only it wasn’t the same anymore. She was gone forever, and when everyone else left, the silence became deafening. It made me second-guess my decision.

A loud knock on the door pulled me out of my thoughts, giving me something else to focus on besides my loss. I smoothed a hand down my dress, tugging at the front to make sure my boobs were fully covered by the material, and tucked a lock of my hair behind my ear as I made my way to the front of my home. Our apartment had a separate entrance from the rest of the building, exiting straight out to the sidewalk. A quick glance through the peephole had butterflies swirling in my belly as I recognized the man standing on my porch.

“Hello,” I gasped as I pulled open the door, clearing my throat afterwards to steady my voice so it didn’t sound breathy when I continued. “I wasn’t expecting to see you again today since you said you couldn’t make the luncheon. Or any other day really since you’re not from around here.”

I didn’t add how much I’d wanted his answer to be different. How much I’d wished he’d said he was coming to the house. How much I wanted to see him again.

My reaction to Ethan Parker was completely inappropriate considering I’d met him at my mom’s funeral. And because my guess was that he was closer to her age than my own. But it was impossible to ignore the impact he’d had on me from the moment I’d lifted my head and found him standing there, staring at me with heated dark eyes. His black hair fluttering slightly in the wind. Tall and imposing in a black suit that looked like it cost more than I’d ever spent on a piece of clothing.

The jacket was gone, and the sleeves of his pristine white dress shirt were rolled up to his elbows. His shoulders looked broader than before, and I could swear the dark scruff on his jawline had darkened in the hours since I’d seen him. Each time my mind had wandered towards him during the luncheon, I’d tried telling myself that I was exaggerating how attractive he’d been. How wrong I was. If anything, I’d underestimated the impact of this man on my libido, considering he was potent enough to be the first to wake it up—and on this dark day.

“I’m sorry to intrude.” He looked towards the mostly empty sidewalk, huffed out a deep breath, and then returned his gaze to me. “I hadn’t planned on it. But I was out for a walk and I somehow found myself on your street.”

He sounded perplexed by how it had happened, but I didn’t care. I was just happy it had.

“Would you like to come in?”

“As long as I’m not interrupting anything.” His gaze drifted over my shoulder, as though he expected someone else to be with me.

“Only a pity party for one,” I mumbled under my breath.

“Pardon?”

“Nothing,” I sighed. “Your timing is perfect. The last of my visitors left about thirty minutes ago, and I’d just realized how quiet the house was. I’d actually appreciate the company.”

“Well, then I guess I’m glad the car had a mind of its own.”

“Me, too,” I breathed out, catching a whiff of his cologne as he walked past me.

As he looked around the living room, I was glad I’d started my clean-up in there.

“I have plenty of food leftover, if you’re hungry?” I offered. “I was working on putting everything away when you knocked.”

He hesitated before answering me, his eyes sweeping over my body. For a moment, I thought I saw a glimmer of hunger, but then it was gone and I figured I must have imagined it.

“I ate already.”

“What about dessert? You’d be doing me a favor by having some since my kitchen is overflowing with sweets. Otherwise, I’ll eat them all myself.” Dragging a hand down the side of my dress, I emphasized exactly why that would be a bad idea. My appreciation of all things sweet was a big part of the reason for all my curves.

“If that’s”—his eyes lingered on my cleavage and hips before lifting back up to my face—“the result of you enjoying dessert, then I’m all for you having as many as you want.”

“Wow,” I breathed out at the heat in his stare. “That’s not exactly the usual response I get from guys.”

His eyes flared hotter as he stalked towards me. “Then they’re idiots.”

“Yup,” I gulped. “Most of the boys at my school were morons.”

The exact moment I said “school,” he stopped dead in his tracks. I wanted to kick myself for reminding him exactly how young I was. Apparently, I was a moron too.

“I’m not a boy, Lilah. I’m a man.” The words were growled with an air of warning.

“But are you a man who enjoys cherry cheesecake, strawberry shortcake, or peanut-butter-fudge pretzel brownies?” I joked, hoping to lighten the moment and get his mind off our age difference.

“You had to go and say strawberry shortcake,” he groaned.

Yes! I mentally fist-pumped.

“Coming right up if you’ll follow me into the kitchen.”

I was acutely aware of him walking behind me and added a touch more swivel to my hips than usual. I served him the biggest piece of shortcake I could find, with a heaping mound of strawberries and whip cream. Then I dished myself up one of the brownies and joined him at the table. When he moaned at his first bite, I knew I was going to ask my next-door neighbor for her recipe. If strawberry shortcake was Ethan Parker’s weakness, I was about to become an expert at making it.

We didn’t talk much as we enjoyed our desserts. Ethan looked like he wanted to lick his plate clean when he reached the bottom, making me giggle.

“I have plenty left if you’d like to take some with you,” I offered.

“As delicious as it was, I have to say no. I don’t have a fridge in my hotel room.”

My heart dropped at the reminder that he didn’t live here. “You’re welcome to raid my fridge tomorrow if you’d like.”

“How about I take you out to dinner first?”

“Yes!” I accepted before he could change his mind. I was probably a horrible person for setting up a date on the same day as my mom’s funeral, but I had a feeling she would have wanted me to say yes. Although I’d never seen her go out on a date—ever—she’d always sounded hopeful whenever she asked me about boys. She was addicted to reading romance novels, and I’d always thought my mom didn’t date because she’d had her one true love and was pining for him. My father. The man who’d broken her heart, only I’d only never known what had happened until she was on her deathbed. But this wasn’t the time to dwell on that, not with Ethan smiling at me from across the table.

“I’d love to have dinner with you tomorrow night.”

“I can’t do tomorrow.” My heart dropped, only to pick right back up again. “How about the day after?”

“Yes, please.”

He twisted his wrist to look at the gleaming watch strapped to it, his forearm muscles tightening attractively. “I should probably head back to the hotel since I have a conference call in about thirty minutes.”

“But it’s Saturday.”

“In my line of work, every day is a business day,” he explained as he rose from the chair.

“What do you do?” I asked, following him into the living room.

“I own a security and investigations company.” I wasn’t surprised to learn he was his own boss since he had an air of authority about him. One which wasn’t due to his age, but the way he carried himself.

He paused at the door, and then leaned towards me to place a gentle kiss on my cheek. “I truly am sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.”

“I feel like I’m taking advantage of you when you’re vulnerable,” he murmured.

“How so?”

“Asking a pretty girl out on a date on the same day she buried her mom isn’t exactly the right thing to do.”

“Then don’t be nice,” I interrupted. “Because I’m glad you asked me out. And that you stopped by.”

“Let’s just hope you stay that way,” he said, reaching up to tuck the pesky lock of my hair that was always falling in my face back behind my ear.

“Ouch!” I cried out when he pulled his hand away and his watch tugged at my hair.

“I’m sorry, baby girl. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he rasped as he carefully untangled his watch from my hair. “Never want to hurt you.”

“Then don’t,” I answered simply, earning me a quick kiss on the lips before he turned and walked away.