Chapter Ten

 

“Well, someone must have been a very good girl last night to have snagged a bouquet like this one. And whoever sent these actually gets you, Boss Lady. He knows better than to send you some girly pink roses with baby’s breath. And that red is definitely your color.”

Delilah glanced up from the new batch of photos she’d been poring over at the sound of her assistant’s high-pitched and very excited voice. But the scowl of annoyance she’d been all set to give him at this unwanted interruption was quickly replaced by a sigh of pleasure.

“Oh, aren’t those gorgeous!” she exclaimed, rising from her desk chair as Calvin carried the fabulous floral arrangement inside her office.

She hurried over to the round table in the corner of her spacious, light-filled office where her PA had just set down the hammered copper bowl that held the breathtaking arrangement.  Delilah knew without having to look at the card that the flowers were from Finn. None of her past dates or lovers would have known to select such bold, vivid blooms - a stunningly visual assortment of roses, lilies, chrysanthemums, orchids, and gladiolus all in varying shades of red, and without a single stalk of baby’s breath anywhere to be seen. He’d even chosen the exact right container to catch her eye - no crystal vase or white wicker basket could have done such a dramatic arrangement justice.

“Let’s see who your latest conquest is, shall we?” trilled Calvin, plucking the little envelope from its plastic holder and drawing out the card before she could protest. Not, of course, that he would have paid her any heed if she had called out. Her quirky, often annoying PA tended to do exactly as he pleased most of the time, giving Delilah cause to grumble out loud about why she put up with his sass.

“Why, because I’m adorable and make you laugh when you’re working too hard - which, by the way, is all the time, Boss Lady, ” Calvin would tell her cheerfully every single time she complained about his less than respectful attitude. “Plus, I add some panache to this place, as well as do my very best to keep all of your rejected beaus at arm’s length. And as often as you like to grouse about me, you know darned well you wouldn’t be able to cope without me.”

Delilah wasn’t so sure about that last part, given that Calvin’s secretarial skills could be a little lackadaisical at times, and he could become distracted at the drop of a hat. But there was no denying his complete and utter devotion to her, his loyalty, and the way he could fuss over her and pamper her when she seemed to need such attentions the most. When she was tired from working too late the night before in her home studio, Calvin would quietly keep her steadily supplied with caffeine and sugar during the day. He happily ran errands for her without ever complaining, though Delilah suspected his willingness to do so stemmed more from his desire to get out of the office for a few minutes. He guarded the door to her office like an overprotective dragon, rarely allowing anyone in without an appointment - even Desiree, who might be the only person who actually intimidated him.

And he definitely kept her bevy of current and former dates under control when they attempted to get in touch with her at the office - usually after she’d already ignored or deleted the messages they had left on her cell phone. Calvin would gleefully tell them all manner of truths or falsehoods in order to keep them from getting ahold of his boss - she was in a meeting or conference call; she was out of town on a last minute business trip; she had a terrible cold and had lost her voice. He’d even had the chutzpah a few times to sweetly inform her callers that she was out on a lunch date with her new boyfriend, and advised the caller to give up and move on.

No, as annoying and outright sassy as he could be at times, Delilah knew she wouldn’t be replacing Calvin anytime soon - even if he frequently took the sort of liberties he was taking now.

“Thank you for one of the best nights of my life,” he read in an almost sing-song voice. “You might have even made me a classical music fan. Though don’t spread that news around because it would definitely destroy my image. Finn.” 

Calvin smirked. “And what sort of image would he be referring to?”

Delilah shrugged, running her fingertips delicately over one of the crimson roses. “I assume he’s referring to the fact he used to play professional football. And he still does some sort of broadcasting thing for the NFL.”

Calvin gasped, clutching his heart dramatically. “You can’t mean Finn McManus? The same Finn McManus who does the Volcano Vodka commercials? Boss Lady, that man is so not your usual type! He’s - well, kind of a bad boy, you know? A real player. How in the world did he ever get you to go on a date with him? You usually run a mile - and in stilettos, to boot - to avoid guys like him.”

“Yes, I am aware of all of that,” she acknowledged reluctantly. “I guess he sort of wore me down. He lives across the hall from me, and he’s pretty much been making a pest of himself ever since I moved in. I think I’ve received a record number of so-called housewarming gifts from him, not to mention all the other multiple excuses he’s cooked up to knock on my door - he’s out of Advil and has a headache, he wants my opinion on a birthday gift for his sister, a friend gave him all these lemons from his garden and could I use some.”

Calvin smirked knowingly. “Flimsy excuses at best. But you already know that. Mr. Hottie sounds pretty desperate to score with you, Boss Lady. And judging from the size of this floral arrangement I’d wager a guess that he scored a few touchdowns last night.”

Delilah scowled at his choice of words. “First of all, so none of your business, not to mention so inappropriate. Second, how do you know anything about touchdowns or football? You, uh, don’t seem the sort who’d be interested in sports.”

He sniffed as though insulted. “You don’t know everything about me, you know. And there are many different layers to me, many different personas. Haven’t you realized that by now?”

Delilah bit her tongue, not really sure how to answer that rather provocative question. It was certainly true that Calvin was nothing if not an enigma, constantly changing up his appearance, and loving nothing more than to keep everyone in the office guessing as to who was the real Calvin Booker.

One day he would show up wearing his trendiest, most mod outfit from one of the cutting edge men’s boutiques on Polk Street he loved to shop at. The day after that he would be wearing a suit with skinny pants and short, slim-cut jacket, his hair severely slicked back, giving him a definite androgynous appearance. Another day he might sport more of an edgy, punk look, in artfully ripped jeans and statement T-shirt. And then the next day he would re-invent himself yet again, arriving at the office in a sedate pair of tailored khaki slacks and button-down shirt, looking no different than the hundreds of other young tech and office workers in the city. His hairstyle also changed frequently, and while some days he wore lots of jewelry other days he sported none at all.

And of course Calvin himself was what he jokingly referred to as a mongrel or a Heinz-57, with a widely diverse ethnic background. According to him, he was equal parts Irish, Chinese, Filipino, Mexican, Jamaican, and Greek. Delilah wasn’t quite sure about a couple of those, but with his black hair, dark olive complexion, and overall exotic appearance his mixed racial background was obvious. He was less than medium height for a man, not a whole lot taller than Delilah in her stilettos, and was slender to the point of being almost too thin.

When questioned about his ever-changing looks. Calvin would coyly refer to himself as a younger, male version of Madonna, and teased that he liked to keep everyone around him guessing as to which persona would show up each day. Personally, Delilah thought her PA to simply be quite insecure, and still on a journey to discover who he really was. That quest extended to his personal life as well, since no one really knew if he was gay, straight, or bi. He would swoon over a good-looking guy he’d seen at the coffee shop, and then in the next breath mention the hot woman he had dated the previous evening. Delilah found the confusion and questions about his sexuality to be deliberate on Calvin’s part, and wondered if even he knew the real answer any longer.

“Yes, I’m well aware that you’re a man of mystery, Calvin,” she replied drolly. “But I’ve never heard you discussing sports before.”

He shrugged. “No big deal. Stepdaddy number two was really into professional sports, mostly football and NASCAR, and watching games and races with him was a way to try and bond, I guess. Little good it did in the end, though, since he and my mom split up when I was thirteen and she moved on to the next victim.”

Delilah knew that his mother had been married and divorced multiple times, and that Calvin and his two half-siblings had moved around a lot as a result. It didn’t take a licensed therapist to figure out that his less than stable childhood had likely contributed to his adult insecurities. He wasn’t, thought Delilah sourly, the only one in that particular camp.

“I see. Well, you obviously know a lot more than I do about sports, in particular football. But given that I know pretty much zilch that’s not saying a lot. Now, if that’s all Calvin, I promised our photographer I’d get back to him today about what photos we’re going to use so he can edit them for the website.”

She tried not to sound too abrupt, but Calvin tended to get distracted easily, and would be all too happy to remain in her office chatting for the next half hour. Both of them had far too much work to get through today to allow time for a gabfest.

He grinned at her none too subtle attempt to change the subject. “Okay, Boss Lady. I can take the hint. But don’t think the subject of Finn McHottie is going to go away that easily. Sooner or later you’re going to spill all the details. Especially how you merited a bouquet like this.”

She glared at him darkly. “Not that it’s any of your business - as usual - and not that you’ll believe me, but nothing happened the other night except for a kiss on the cheek. I was all set to give him my “let’s take this slow” speech when he stole my thunder, pecked my cheek, and told me good night. And trust me - I’m as shocked as you are.”

“Losing your touch, maneater?” teased Calvin. “Maybe he didn’t like your perfume. More likely you scared the man off. You might be tiny but I’ve seen you practically tear the flesh off a man with that sharp tongue of yours.”

Delilah scowled. “It wasn’t like that at all, smart ass. We actually had a very nice evening - dinner at Jardinière, then pretty much the best seats in the house to hear a Saint- Saëns program. With selections, of course, from my namesake opera Samson and Delilah.”

“Ooh, the man does know how to impress, doesn’t he?” gushed Calvin. “And I’d be willing to bet he suffered through the symphony just to please you. He, uh, doesn’t seem like a classical music aficionado to me.”

“He did and he’s not. And, yes, it was very sweet of him to take me someplace he knew I’d like, especially since he would have preferred to go to a club or sports bar instead. Though he did seem to enjoy the music. At the very least he didn’t yawn or fall asleep.”

Calvin winked at his boss conspiratorially. “Probably all part of his master plan to seduce you, boss. That’s why he settled for a kiss on the cheek last night - to throw you off your guard. Then, when you’re least expecting it, he’ll swoop in for the kill.”

“Oh, trust me. I’ll be expecting it, all right,” retorted Delilah. “Finn is not the first smooth talker I’ve been around, after all. I can anticipate any move he might make, and be ready to counter it.”

“Well, this should be fun to watch unfold,” chortled Calvin, rubbing his hands together gleefully. “And expect him to make a move sooner than later, hmm? After all, I’ll bet Finn McHottie hasn’t settled for a peck on the cheek since he was twelve years old.”

As Calvin mercifully returned to his workstation, leaving Delilah in peace, she mused wryly that his parting words were oddly similar to what her sister had told her on the phone yesterday.

“Della, you’re a smart cookie, and frankly it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to realize this guy is just softening you up a little,” Desiree had cautioned. “The next time you agree to go out with him - something I really, really hope you won’t do - he’ll make his move then. He’ll seduce you, gloat about the fact that he finally wore you down, and then callously move on to fresh prey. It’s what guys like Finn do all the time. It’s what he does all the time.”

Delilah hadn’t been in the greatest of moods yesterday morning, especially since her sister had called at eight-thirty on the dot. Desiree was an early riser even on the weekends, especially if she had a training run or bike ride on her schedule that day. When she’d called Delilah, she had already run five miles and biked twice that distance, while Delilah’s much-needed first cup of coffee of the day hadn’t even finished brewing yet.

“Desi, is there a point to this very early wake-up call?” Delilah had asked sleepily. “A new point, by the way, and not one of the dozen or so you’ve already run into the ground?”

Desiree had sounded a little miffed at her sister’s rather snarky tone of voice. “Well, excuse me for being concerned for you, Della. I would have thought you’d appreciate a call to find out how things went last night. But it sounds like one of us got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. Thank God you at least had the common sense to wake up alone. For now, that is.”

Delilah had muttered under her breath, “And here we go again”, before calmly saying out loud, “Desi, do you mind if we continue this discussion another time? Like maybe after I’ve had a chance to wake up, have some coffee, feel able to think clearly? Not all of us are as perky as you are first thing in the morning.”

“Maybe because some of us got to bed at a decent hour,” Desiree had retorted. “But, fine. Have your coffee and get your act together, and then call me back. But make sure you call, Della. I uncovered several new stories about your neighbor Finn that you’ve got to read. Complete with loads of racy photos, of course. Actually, I’ll just send you the links and you can read them over before calling me back.”

“Actually,” Delilah had stated firmly, “don’t bother, Desi. I know you mean well but at this point I’d really rather form my own opinion about Finn, and not let a bunch of tabloid stories influence it. So, please. No more links, no more gossip, no more warnings, okay? “

There had been silence for a few seconds before Desiree had replied, and this time the hurt in her voice had been immediately apparent. “I’m just trying to look out for you, Della,” she’d muttered quietly. “Trying to spare you a broken heart, or the humiliation of getting dumped by that gigolo. But if you don’t want my advice - “

“I don’t,” Delilah had interrupted bluntly. “Not this time. I have zero illusions and even fewer expectations when it comes to a guy like Finn. And forgive me for saying so, Desi, but I think when it comes to men I might just be a little more savvy than you are these days. So let me be the judge of how to proceed from here, okay? For once in my life, you need to let me make my own choices and trust that I know what I’m doing. I don’t need you to go all Big Sister on me, let alone act like you’re my mother or something.”

Desiree had gasped softly at her younger sister’s admonition, most likely shocked that Delilah had rather firmly shut her down. She’d mumbled something indecipherable before quickly ending the call.

Delilah had felt badly after that, well aware that Desiree was just looking out for her, and trying as always to protect her. But she wasn’t sorry for having stood her ground and refusing to listen to any more gossip about Finn. Even if every single tabloid story ever published about him was true - and she suspected they were - that still didn’t change the fact that she wanted and needed to form her own opinion about him. After spending time with him the previous evening, she had definitely seen a different side to the cocky, flirty player the rest of the world knew him to be. She wanted to find out for herself which was the real Finn, and without any more outside influences.

Apparently, though, she had managed to really piss her sister off in the process, given that Desiree hadn’t responded to either the text, voice mail, or email she’d sent her since yesterday. Delilah wondered if she ought to make another attempt, reaching for her phone to tap out another text.

But she resolutely pushed the phone away instead, assuring herself that it had been the right thing to do by telling Desiree to knock it off with all of her dire warnings and links to tabloid stories - not to mention her often smothering overprotectiveness. She was sorry that Desiree’s feelings had been hurt, but all of this had been long overdue. Desiree would get over it, hopefully tone the big sister act down a bit, and things would get back to normal.

A few minutes later, however, she did pick her phone up, and scrolled through her messages until she found the ones from Finn. Three of them, to be exact, beginning with the brief but touching text he’d sent her within minutes of bidding her good night on Saturday.

“Just wanted to let you know how special tonight was for me. Thank you for the pleasure of your company, Delilah. And I WILL get in touch with you again tomorrow - scout’s honor. And, yes, I was a Boy Scout, so you know it’s true.”

She’d smiled, quickly replying with a text of her own.

“Thank you again for a lovely evening, Finn. It was a pleasure for me, as well. I’ll look forward to hearing from you soon. And just remember - if you don’t follow through it will definitely be your loss and not mine.”

He’d replied with a series of emojis - a phone, a thumbs-up, and a red heart - and she’d smiled, satisfied for now with his response.

After her too-early phone conversation with Desiree, Delilah had savored her much-needed cup of coffee and had been ready to get changed into some workout attire when her phone had pinged with a new text. She’d grabbed it anxiously, hoping that it was from her sister, but instead there had been a new message from Finn.

“Good morning. Hope you slept well, or that you’re still getting some rest. Does Friday night work for you? I know you mentioned weekends are better but doesn’t the weekend officially begin on Friday afternoon? Thought we could get dinner and then whatever else you’d like to do afterwards. Already checked the symphony website and looks like they’re doing the same program as last night, but we could go to a movie or a play or listen to some other kind of music. Whatever the lady desires, okay? Just let me know. Can’t wait to see you again – Finn.”

Delilah had grinned after reading his text, telling herself that at the very least he’d made sure to follow through with the promise he had made her about calling again. Plus, she’d thought with a satisfied smile, he was once again leaving the particulars about their next date up to her.

She had deliberately waited until after she’d changed clothes and was ready to head out the door to the gym before replying to his text. Oddly, she hadn’t wanted to run into him yesterday, had wanted to keep some distance between them until next Friday, and thereby give herself ample opportunity to analyze her feelings about this whole situation. Finn was definitely surprising her with both his gallantry and eagerness to please, and while he could just be playing a role for the sole purpose of getting into her panties, she honestly didn’t think so. Delilah had dated enough men over the past dozen years or so to sense when one was being sincere or not, and her finely honed senses were all telling her that Finn wasn’t just playing her. At least, she’d told herself darkly, he’d better not be - not unless he wanted to suffer the dire consequences that would be sure to befall him.

Just as she had been heading out the front door of their condo building, she’d sent him a quick reply.

“Friday will work, so long as it’s not until seven or so. Dinner sounds great, I adore French food, love foreign films with subtitles but I’m guessing that’s a little beyond what you’re willing to do, so maybe finding a club with some good jazz music might be nice.”

He’d responded within seconds, and she had smirked as she pictured him gazing longingly at his phone as if willing an answering message to appear.

“Sure, whatever you like. Do you have a favorite place for French food or would you like me to surprise you? I’ll ask around for ideas since I’m not much of an expert on the subject. There’s several jazz clubs around Fillmore Street. Any preference?”

Delilah had been touched by his consideration, and this time didn’t make him wait very long for a reply.

“My favorite French restaurant is a little place called Zazie. It’s not very fancy, more of a neighborhood place in Cole Valley, but the food is incredible. As far as the jazz club goes, any place you pick out will be fine with me. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

Except for another of those thumbs-up emoticons, she hadn’t heard back from him again until this morning, when he had sent her a quick text wishing her a good morning and hoping that her day went well. She hadn’t had time to do much more than reply with a “same to you”. Gazing at the lavish floral arrangement that more or less dominated her office, however, guiltily reminded her that she owed him a much more personal response.

“Your flowers arrived a few minutes ago and they took my breath away. Such a lovely surprise, Finn, and you already know that red is my favorite color. Thank you so much, you’ve more than made my day. No, make that my entire week. Hope your week is getting off to a good start, too.”

She didn’t have to wait long for his reply, and found his obvious eagerness touching rather than annoying, as she so often did with the men who fawned over her.

“Glad to know you liked the flowers. Believe it or not I actually picked them out myself, just sort of followed the florist around the shop and pointed at all the red ones I could find. And my week is getting off to the best start I can remember in a long time, thanks for asking.”

She was about to tap out a reply when her intercom buzzed, eliciting a glare from her at this unwanted interruption. But Calvin rarely used the intercom, so she knew it would be for an important reason - or at least one that Calvin deemed important. She briefly considered ignoring the buzzer, obliging her PA to deal with whatever the pressing issue was on his own, but after realizing he wasn’t likely to give up that easily, she sighed and depressed the button.

“What’s up?” she inquired briskly, making it clear by her tone that she really didn’t appreciate this interruption.

“Sorry to bother you,” began Calvin in his most sincere voice, “but I swear I’ve tried every tactic in my dirty little bag of tricks to get rid of this guy, but he ain’t taking no for an answer, Boss Lady. It’s that smarmy dermatologist you dated earlier this month - the one you told me used more skin care products than you did, and who was constantly applying hand lotion during your dates. He’s insisting on holding until you’re available to speak to him. I’m really sorry, Delilah,” he added, and the fact that he used her name and not his usual form of address told her just how regretful he was.

“It’s okay, Calvin,” she assured him. “Honestly, you do a great job keeping all of my spurned suitors at bay, and that’s definitely not in your job description. I shouldn’t expect you to do that sort of thing for me.”

“Oh, but I usually enjoy the hell out of it,” he replied cheerfully. “Listening to their reactions when I concoct all of these excuses is hilarious, the bright spot of my day. But once in awhile they can be real a-holes like Doctor Moisturizer here.”

“I know. Bryan is really full of himself. One of the many reasons I have no intention of going out with him again. Go ahead and put him through, Calvin. And - thanks, okay?”

Calvin sounded both relieved and grateful. “Anytime, Boss Lady. Here’s Doctor Soft Hands for you now.”

Delilah couldn’t hold back a chuckle at Calvin’s very inventive use of nicknames for her dates. She had no idea where he came up with such clever terms, but he was usually spot on with his descriptions. Calling Finn McHottie, for example, was pretty damned close to the truth. And referring to Bryan Cunningham as Doctor Moisturizer would have been hilarious if it wasn’t so true.

She had met the attractive but ego-driven dermatologist at a fashion show to support a local women’s charity. Ma Belle Petite had donated several outfits to be worn by the models and then auctioned off, while Bryan had donated a skin rejuvenation treatment as one of the auction prizes. He’d been charming and witty, and since they had been seated at the same table had spent a good part of the event conversing. And when he’d asked for both her number and a date, she’d agreed easily enough.

But it had only taken a couple of dates to realize that he bored her to distraction, and that any sort of future relationship with the good looking but dull doctor was simply out of the question. She’d been making excuses, avoiding his calls, and hoping he would take the hint and leave her alone. Now, unfortunately, it was time for her to face the music, and do what she had become quite accomplished at - giving men she was no longer interested in seeing again the boot.

“Bryan, good morning,” she greeted him hurriedly. “I’m sorry I haven’t had the chance to return your calls, but I’ve been working like a fiend these past weeks, have hardly had a moment to come up for air. How have you been?”

Delilah may have acquired a reputation as something of a maneater, but she prided herself on always minding her manners, and always being polite. And even though she planned on kicking Bryan to the figurative curb any minute now, she would do so graciously and with a minimum of fuss.

“Frustrated as hell trying to get in touch with you, that’s how I’ve been,” groused Bryan. “I’ve been almost desperate to talk to you, Delilah, wanted to tell you that I’ve got tickets to the symphony this Friday night. I don’t know if you’re aware but the program is Saint-Saëns, and I thought you’d like to attend with me. I understand part of the program includes Samson and Delilah. We could do dinner first, of course. What do you say?”

She shut her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose between forefinger and thumb as if to ward off a headache. ‘Oh, damn,’ she muttered to herself. ‘This is going to be tougher than I thought, isn’t it?’

Out loud, however, she didn’t mince words and got straight to the point.

“That’s a lovely thought, Bryan,” she told him sincerely. “However, I’m afraid I’ve already attended the same performance this past weekend. As for Friday, well, I’m not available then. I am sorry.”

“Oh.”

Bryan sounded genuinely surprised, taken aback at her refusal, but quickly re-grouped, evidently not wanting to take no for an answer.

“Well, we don’t have to attend the symphony, of course. There’s a production of Sunday In The Park With George playing at the Orpheum that I understand is quite good. I’m sure I can get tickets for Saturday night since you’re busy on Friday,” he offered.

“No, Bryan. Thank you, but no. I’m - well, seeing someone at the moment. So I think it’s best if you don’t call me again,” she stated in a rather no-nonsense manner.

The dermatologist, though, was proving to be more difficult to dump than most of her rejected suitors.

“Seeing someone?” he asked in disbelief. “I don’t understand, Delilah. You’ve been seeing me. At least that was my understanding. I thought we had a wonderful time together, that our relationship was progressing nicely, and more than ready to go to the next level. I - I wanted to introduce you to my parents in a couple of weeks.”

Delilah clenched her free hand into a fist, resisting the urge to pound it against her desk. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to remain calm as she responded to Bryan’s rather startling announcement.

“We had two dates, Bryan,” she reminded him gently. “Not counting the event where we met, of course. And while I did have a nice time, I’m afraid that’s as far as it went for me. I am sorry, but I’m just not interested in seeing you again.”

Bryan spluttered and stammered for several more minutes, his pleas for another chance gradually morphing into a full-blown whine, and it was only her good breeding that prevented Delilah from snapping at him to man up and stop acting like a spoiled little boy.

“Look, Bryan, I really do have to go now,” she told him brusquely, her patience nearing the very end of its rope. “I’m sorry if you feel like I used you, as you just accused me of doing, but I am never anything but honest with the men I date. So this is me being honest, okay? I’m dating someone else now, I have no interest in seeing or hearing from you again, so make sure you lose my number. Got all that? Good. Have a nice day.”

As she slammed down the receiver, the sound of applause greeted her, and she glanced up in annoyance to find Calvin hovering in the doorway, grinning in amusement.

“Well, I don’t think we’ll be hearing from Doctor Moisturizer any longer,” he chortled gleefully. “You could give lessons, you know, in how to get rid of unwanted boyfriends. Some women would pay good money to learn from an expert like yourself.”

Delilah glared at her PA. “I’m not an expert,” she growled. “And it’s usually a lot easier than what I just had to go through. Some men are just denser than others, I suppose. Or think that they’re such a gift to the world that their tender egos won’t let them believe that they’re actual big old losers.”

Calvin chuckled, his dark eyes twinkling with amusement. “You know what, Boss Lady? Forget all the warnings I gave you a little while ago about Finn McHottie and how you need to watch yourself around him. I think I should be the one giving him the warning, and tell him he’s no match for Little Ms. Maneater here. I wonder if he has any idea at all what he’s getting himself into.”