Chapter Nine

 

Finn re-adjusted his tie one final time, hoping he’d be able to resist the urge to tug on the damned thing as the evening progressed. He had never really been a suit and tie sort of guy, and usually counted the minutes until his segment for the network broadcast finished up so he could yank off the tie and throw off the suit jacket.

But Max had cautioned him that he’d be wise to take some extra pains with his appearance for tonight, and had even come over to Finn’s condo last night to help him coordinate a suitable outfit. Finn had made some snide comment about how he wasn’t a twelve-year-old boy getting ready to attend his first middle school dance and needed his father to tell him what to wear. In reply, Max had given a disparaging glance to Finn’s ripped jeans and ratty T-shirt until Finn had grudgingly agreed he was right.

Max had looked around the untidiness of Finn’s living room, frowning at the newspapers and empty food and beverage containers strewn across the sectional sofa and coffee table, then deftly side-stepped around several articles of clothing that had been tossed helter-skelter on the floor.

“I take it your cleaning lady couldn’t make it in this week?” he’d asked in his snooty British accent that had sounded extra snooty to Finn.

“Actually, she was in this morning,” Finn had admitted reluctantly. “You should have seen the place before she arrived.”

Max had visibly shuddered. “No, thank you. Let’s have a look at the wardrobe, shall we? I don’t suppose you have a supply of disposable gloves around, do you?”

Finn hadn’t been able to tell if Max had been joking or not, but considering what a straight arrow he was nearly all of the time, he’d figured his friend had been serious. “No,” he’d grumbled. “Just because I’m a slob doesn’t mean you’re going to pick up any unwanted germs. Everything is clean, just a little, uh, untidy. Besides, this was your idea, not mine, remember?”

“And as I recall, you were the one to beg Jordan, Aubrey, and me for help in winning this woman over,” Max had reminded calmly. “Now, let’s take a glance at what I’m assuming is your rather limited wardrobe.”

“Hey, I’ve got some nice stuff,” Finn had replied defensively. “Mostly because the wardrobe guy on the NFL Network took me shopping when I first started there. And not all of us wear suits and ties 24/7 like you do, Maxwell. Do you even own any other sort of clothes?”

“Of course. Not, er, like anything in your wardrobe, I’m sure.” Max had given Finn’s admittedly well-worn attire a look of contempt. “But I certainly own more casual clothing, and wear it at the appropriate times. So, this is the sum total of all of your suits?”

“I have six,” Finn had mumbled defensively. “That’s twice as many as I owned before I started the network job. Why? How many do you own?”

“Thirty five, not counting my four tuxedos,” Max had replied promptly.

At the look of disbelief Finn had given him, Max had actually looked a bit sheepish.

“I will admit that number is somewhat excessive,” he’d admitted. “And perhaps bordering on the obsessive. I suppose that stems from having such a humble background, where I rarely had anything new, and definitely nothing nice. But this is about your wardrobe, Finn, not mine. Hmm, let’s take a look here, shall we?”

Max had quickly selected a charcoal gray suit, white shirt, and burgundy patterned tie, though he hadn’t been entirely satisfied with the latter.

“I’ll have to take you to the Hermes store one of these days,” he’d told Finn decisively. “Their ties are expensive but worth every penny.”

Finn had waved a hand dismissively. “I already have at least a dozen ties, Max. Why do I need to buy any more?”

Max had grimaced. “Because several of the ones you own either have stains on them or rips and need to be thrown out, while others have - let’s call them interesting patterns or designs. And while wearing a blue tie with gold football helmets might work for your TV appearances, it is not going to impress a fashion conscious woman like Ms. Ferris. Give me a call next week, would you? I’ve got a feeling you’re going to need to make some more additions to your wardrobe. Provided, that is, there’s a second date with her in your future.”

Finn actually hadn’t allowed himself to think beyond this evening - this first date that Delilah had refused to call an actual date - probably because he’d been put through the ringer simply to get this far. It would be some sort of miracle to wheedle a second date out of her, but Finn was nothing if not optimistic - not to mention having an ego the size of a football field. But optimism wasn’t quite the same thing as confidence, and the feisty Ms. Ferris had managed to rattle the latter good and hard. Tonight he would have his work cut out for him, not only charming her and showing her a good time, but to somehow convince her that she should say yes to a second date.

And if that wasn’t totally out of character for Finn - the quintessential Mr. One-Night Stand, the guy who was constantly dreaming up ways to avoid having a second date with a woman - then he didn’t know what was. But this whole obsession/fascination with Delilah was unlike anything he’d ever known before. Then again, she was unlike any woman he’d ever met before, and he was willing to use every trick in the book to snare her.

His goal to charm her with witty conversation and lavish compliments, however, hit a major roadblock when she opened the door at his knock. Finn would have been hard-pressed to recall a single occasion in his life when he was actually tongue-tied, unable to think of anything to say. Typically it was just the opposite for him - frequently monopolizing the conversation, or the words pouring out of his mouth faster than they could form in his brain.

But the sight of Delilah Ferris poised in the doorway of her condo not only left Finn speechless but breathless as well. He’d known the first time he had caught a glimpse of her that she was the most strikingly beautiful woman he had ever met, and tonight she had certainly strengthened that opinion tenfold.

The little dress she wore - he assumed it was another of her own designs - was a regal shade of midnight blue. The tight fitting sleeves ended before her wrists, and the deep V-neckline offered a mouthwatering display of her full, round breasts. From there the silky fabric nipped in at the waist, while the close fitting skirt ended a couple of inches above the knee.

Tearing his enraptured gaze from her cleavage - and really, really hoping that wasn’t a spot of drool he felt on his chin - Finn quickly took in the rest of Delilah’s va-va-voom appearance - black patent stiletto heels, sapphire and diamond pendant earrings and a matching bracelet, her silky dark brown hair falling in loose waves to frame that sensuously perfect, heart-shaped face. And, unsurprisingly, that full-lipped mouth of hers, the one that had featured so prominently in most of his erotic daydreams lately, was glossed over in vivid, vibrant, she-devil scarlet.

“Hot damn,” mumbled Finn, as his brain gradually resumed activity and he could begin to form actual words. “You look - hot, for lack of a better word. But give me a couple of minutes and I’m sure I can think of something better.”

Delilah, who’d been observing his slack-jawed reaction to her appearance with an amused expression, laughed softly. “Hot will do nicely for now,” she assured him.

She reached up and brushed a speck of lint from his lapel. “You clean up pretty well yourself,” she commented, then straightened his tie slightly. “I like the suit. Prada, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Yeah. So you know stuff about men’s clothes, too?”

She nodded. “Not like I do women’s, of course, but it was part of the course of study at design school. You have good taste, Finn. The color of the tie goes perfectly with the gray of the suit.”

He grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, well, I’ll admit to having a friend of mine help me select an outfit for tonight. And one of the wardrobe guys from the NFL Network was with me when I bought the suit and tie last year. I for sure know football, and I’ve gotten pretty good with the broadcasting stuff, but I’d be the first to admit I’m pretty clueless when it comes to fashion.”

“Hmm.” Delilah tapped a crimson-tipped nail against her chin. “Well, perhaps a certain fashion designer you know might be willing to give you some advice one of these days. If you want it, that is.”

“Uh, yeah! Yes, for sure. That is, if you’ve got the time,” he stammered. “I mean, I know you told me how busy work was for you. You know, when I asked for decorating advice for my condo. I, uh, don’t want to bother you. My buddy Max said he’d go clothes shopping with me one of these days. Someplace in particular he was going on and on about for ties - Herman something or other?”

She smirked. “I think you mean Hermes. And yes, your friend has very good taste. Expensive taste, too. But you probably don’t need to be shelling out close to two hundred dollars for a single tie. Not when you can find some equally as nice for about half the price. Now, if the subject of fashion is really that fascinating to you, we can talk more about it over dinner. Since I plan on savoring my meal at Jardinière, we should probably get going.”

Delilah startled him by placing her hand in the crook of his elbow, prompting him to place his much larger hand over hers. He tried real hard not to read too much into her seemingly innocent action, telling himself that she was a lady and used to men acting gallantly around her. Placing her hand on his arm had likely just been a subtle hint that he should have offered his arm to her first.

‘And it’s not like she put her hand on your ass or anything,’ he chastised himself. ‘I mean, an arm is pretty damned impersonal. Putting your hand on a guy’s arm is something you’d do to your father or a great-uncle. Jeez, better hope she doesn’t think of you that way, McManus.’

He held open the elevator door for her, then punched the button for the garage level.

“Do you, uh, own a car?” he asked on the way down, still feeling somewhat tongue tied.

She nodded. “A Lexus LS. I don’t drive all that often, though, mostly because the studio is within walking distance, but also because traffic in the city can be awful at times. Mostly I walk or take taxis or Uber. And since we’re headed down to the garage I’m just going to assume you own a car?”

“Three of ‘em, to be exact,” he confirmed as the elevator reached the garage level. “Not exactly sure why that many, especially since I tend to do the same as you just described - walk or take a taxi or ride share most places. So this is my so-called fleet right here.”

He swept his arm in an arc to indicate the three vehicles parked side by side. Each of the condos in the building came with two assigned parking spaces, so he had to pay extra each month for the third.

Delilah contemplated the three cars - the first a black Cadillac Escalade, the second a bright yellow Corvette, and the third a gunmetal gray Mercedes sedan.

“In case you were wondering, we’re taking the Mercedes tonight,” Finn offered up. “I, um, figured the Caddy might be a little tough for you to get into, considering that - well, you know.”

She arched a well groomed brow at him. “Because I’m so short?” she challenged. “Because I’d need a stepstool to be able to get myself inside that monster?”

He grinned. “Well, that was a consideration. Though of course I would have very, very happily assisted you, especially if it involved me picking you up and lifting you down. But actually I thought it might be a little tough for you to step up into such a high car given that you, uh, well, usually wear dresses that are a little, um - let’s call them close fitting. And with those high heels - well, I just thought it would be easier for you if we used the Benz tonight.”

Fortunately she seemed amused and not annoyed by his explanation. “Okay. I suppose that makes sense. And thank you, Finn, for your consideration. Though you haven’t explained why you eliminated the Corvette.”

“Oh. Well.” He shuffled his feet awkwardly. “I figured it wouldn’t help my cause much this evening if I drove us to dinner in a flashy sports car. You know, because it would only add fuel to the flame as far as my image goes. And I guess I wanted you to see that there was a different side to me from the smooth talking player you must think I am.”

Delilah gave his elbow a squeeze on the spot her hand still rested. “That was sweet of you, Finn,” she replied gently, her mouth curving up in a soft smile. “And while you were right about the SUV being something of a challenge for me, I think it would have been fun to drive through the city in the Corvette. Maybe another time, hmm?”

He was dumbfounded at her reply, hardly able to believe that she was actually leaving open the possibility of another date. Unable to think of a halfway intelligent reply, he instead hurried over to unlock the passenger door of the sedan for her, then carefully helped her inside the luxury vehicle.

The restaurant, located a scant block from the symphony hall, was nearly bursting at the seams with patrons, and Finn half-wished he’d chosen someplace a little quieter and less crowded. But this had been Delilah’s choice, after all, and this evening was all about making a good impression on her. At least his contact at the network who’d managed to snag this last minute reservation for him had also finagled one of the better tables in the place, affording them a measure of privacy.

Since they both ordered a seafood entrée - Delilah’s a pasta tossed with oysters and scallops and Finn’s the poached salmon - their waiter suggested a crisp Sauvignon Blanc to accompany their meal.

“Is that okay with you?” asked Finn a bit anxiously as the waiter left to procure the bottle. “I mean, I know you prefer red wine, so we can get that instead.”

“It’s fine,” she assured him. “I like a variety of wines, actually, and a white does traditionally go better with seafood.” She reached across the table and gave his hand a squeeze. “Hey, relax, okay? You’ve been on edge ever since I opened the door tonight. And I know why - you’re anxious about making a good impression on me, aren’t you?”

He nodded, grinning at her impishly. “Yeah. And worried like hell that it isn’t working. I’ve never had to work so hard at getting a woman to go out with me, Delilah, and now that you finally agreed I don’t want to screw it up.”

She squeezed his hand a little tighter. “You aren’t going to screw it up,” she assured him softly. “But you do need to relax and just be yourself, okay? Don’t pretend to be someone you aren’t, Finn, just because you think I’ll be impressed. And don’t think that you have to act like one of the guys I usually date - how did you refer to them? Ah, yes, the clones. Just be yourself, okay?”

His grin deepened mischievously. “Careful what you ask for there, babe. After all, you’ve already told me that I’m not your type.”

Delilah gave a careless little shrug. “Maybe I’m getting bored with the army of clones. Maybe I’m ready to change things up a little bit. And I recall that you told me that blonds are definitely more fun.”

Finn guffawed. “Oh, they sure as hell are, darling Delilah! And when the time is right I can show you just how much fun we can be. But maybe not tonight, okay? Tonight - well, I think you’ve got the right idea. Tonight should be about two neighbors enjoying a nice evening together and getting to know each other better. That sound okay to you?”

She nodded, her brown eyes twinkling. “Sounds perfect.”

He reached over and teased one of her sapphire and diamond drop earrings. “I know even less about jewelry than I do about fashion or interior decorating, but I’m going to guess these little baubles are the real thing. And that they cost a pretty penny. A gift from one of the clones? Or maybe a gift to yourself?”

“Neither one, actually. The earrings and bracelet belonged to my mom. She - she had a lot of jewelry and other nice stuff. My dad liked to spoil his women with expensive gifts, thought it made up for - well, for other things. But it didn’t. Nothing really could.” A sad, pensive look came over her perfect features. “Anyway, when my mother passed away the jewelry and other stuff got divided up between me and my sister. I like to wear her things as often as possible. It’s - well, my way of keeping her memory alive, I suppose.”

Finn wasn’t quite sure how to respond, given that he was rarely serious or emotional about anything, and he could swear he saw the glimmer of tears in Delilah’s big brown eyes. “I’m so sorry,” he offered quietly, taking her hand between both of his. “Did she pass away recently?”

Delilah shook her head. “I was fifteen when - when it happened. More than thirteen years now, though the sense of loss never really seems to go away.”

“Was she ill? Like, cancer or something?”

“No, she wasn’t ill. At least, not physically,” she amended. “And it’s not really something I want to talk about tonight. No offense. It’s just - well, it makes me sad to remember all of that stuff, and I’d really like to enjoy this evening.”

“Hey, fine with me,” agreed Finn readily. “I don’t do well with sad stuff. I’m much more of a look on the bright side kind of guy. And I love to tell jokes. You got any good ones to share?”

Delilah laughed. “None that come to mind, I’m afraid. So, please. Go ahead. Make me laugh.”

For the next ten minutes or so, as they enjoyed their first course and the admittedly tasty Sauvignon Blanc, Finn mentally searched through his varied repertoire of jokes to keep her entertained. Some of the jokes were so corny they made Delilah roll her eyes, while others were racy enough to make her blush a little. Still others that Finn deemed way too raunchy to repeat in front of a lady like Delilah he wisely kept to himself.

“Mmm. This is so good,” enthused Delilah as she savored a bite of her pasta. “The food here is always delicious, and this restaurant is one of my very favorites. Thanks again for letting me suggest it tonight.”

“My pleasure.” Finn picked up his wine glass and toasted her. “And thank you for suggesting it. I’m not much of an expert on fine dining, chowing down on a burger and fries is more my usual style, but I definitely agree that the food here is great.”

He didn’t add that watching Delilah enjoy her meal was akin to a sexual experience. The way she closed her eyes in near-bliss as she swallowed a forkful of food, and then gave a low moan of pleasure made Finn instantly hard. When her small pink tongue licked a crumb of bread from the corner of her mouth he envisioned it stroking the head of his cock instead. And when she popped a scallop between her lips, then sucked drops of pasta sauce from her fingertips, it was all he could do to stop himself from slipping his own fingers between those plush red lips and commanding her to suck.

Amazingly, she finished every morsel of food on her plate, pushing the dish away from her regretfully before patting her tummy. “God, that was good! I’ll have to spend an extra hour at the gym tomorrow to work off the calories but it will definitely be worth it.”

He grinned at her. “It’s nice to see a woman actually enjoying her food for a change. A lot of the women I date, erm, know, tend to just pick at their food or order a salad without dressing. Life’s too short for that kind of attitude, don’t you agree?”

Delilah nodded, finishing off her glass of wine. “Oh, absolutely! I couldn’t subsist that way, having to watch every calorie I consume, denying myself carbs, pretending I wasn’t hungry when I was actually starving. But I do have to be careful, and certainly can’t eat a meal like this more than once or twice a week. When you’re as little as I am even an extra pound can be noticeable. Especially since most of my clothes are custom made just for me.”

Finn leaned back in his chair slightly as he gazed appreciatively at the beautiful blue dress she was wearing tonight. “Is everything in your wardrobe from your own line?”

“Almost everything, yes. I have some things that belonged to my mother - she was petite, too - and even a few vintage items that were my grandmother’s. But I’d estimate that at least eighty percent of my clothes are ones I designed myself. Otherwise, it would be almost impossible for me to find anything stylish that actually fits in all the right places. I realized when I was still a teenager that buying things in a regular department store or boutique just wasn’t going to work for someone built like me.”

Finn beckoned their waiter over to order coffee and dessert before resuming the conversation. “Stuff was too big or too long for you, huh?”

“If only it was that simple. By the time I was in my teens, certain body parts had started to, um, develop. Before then I’d been able to get by with clothes from the girls department, even if it was pretty humiliating to wear things designed for a ten year old when you were already sixteen. But when I started getting - let’s call it tits and ass, shall we? - then T-shirts and jeans from the pre-teen section were suddenly a little too tight in those areas.”

Finn almost spit out a mouthful of hot coffee at the mention of tits and ass, two of his favorite parts of Delilah’s curvy little body. Hurriedly, he reached for his glass of water, gulping it down to clear his throat.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, that must have been, uh, awkward,” he croaked.

“My sister had the same predicament, since she’s only an inch or so taller than I am. For years we both made do, either wearing things that were too big or a little too long, or paying a small fortune to get everything altered. When I found jeans that actually fit and were the right length, I’d buy six pair at a time.” She paused to take a sip of her coffee and a forkful of the chocolate gateau they had agreed to share. “I had always liked to draw and paint, and was also obsessed with clothes from the time I was around eight years old. So it was natural, I guess, for me to start tinkering around with fashion design. There was a little studio near where I grew up that offered sewing lessons for children, and by the time I was twelve I was already making dresses and skirts and stuff.”

“You went to design school in New York, right?” he asked, then added defensively, “That info was on your company website, by the way, just in case you accuse me of stalking you again.”

Delilah laughed softly. “I wasn’t going to do that, actually. And, yes, I attended the Fashion Institute there, then lived in the city for a year after graduation. I loved my time in New York, but, well, I got homesick after awhile. So I returned to the Bay Area, worked a couple of different jobs, and then decided to take the plunge and start my own company. I mean, there was a definite niche there, a need for a product that wasn’t readily available. Oh, lots of stores stocked petite sizes, but the majority of the stuff was pretty matronly, something a grandma would wear. And my company is sort of a one-stop shop for petite women - in addition to a whole range of clothing from casual to business to formal attire, they can also buy shoes, handbags, and accessories that are more proportioned to their size. Lingerie, too, as you were so keen to notice.”

Finn tried real hard not to imagine what color her bra and panties were beneath that sexy, clingy blue dress. “Uh, well, yeah. I am a guy, after all. And if it’s a choice between looking at pictures of shoes and purses or a gorgeous woman in lacy underwear - well, there’s really no choice to make, is there? Was it your idea to model some of the items for your catalog?”

“Not at first. It was something my marketing and merchandising directors really pushed for. Since the average model is around five ten and stick thin, I’d obviously never even considered doing any sort of modeling given that I have such a different body type. But when I finally got coerced into it, I actually enjoyed it. Though I don’t have any plans to continue doing it on a regular basis.”

“Why?” asked Finn curiously. “You looked sensational in those photos, Delilah. And I would think it’s a great marketing tool that the owner and head designer actually wears her own stuff.”

She gave him a lopsided little grin. “I’ll bet my marketing manager bribed you to say that. She tells me the same thing all the time. But it isn’t so much a matter of wanting to do more modeling. Like I said, it was pretty fun. No, it’s because there just isn’t enough time in the day to get everything done. In addition to our online catalog, the line is carried in a lot of specialty boutiques around the country. And then there’s the big meeting in a couple of months with Bloomingdale’s.”

He listened intently as she told him about the possibility of having her line of clothing carried in the large retailer’s chain of stores, marveling anew at how someone as young as Delilah could be so successful. And in addition to obviously knowing a lot about fashion and design and merchandising, she was also incredibly savvy about finances and business, enough so that even Max would be impressed.

“I have every confidence that Bloomingdale’s will offer you that deal,” he assured her. “I assume you have a good attorney to negotiate all of this for you.”

Delilah shrugged. “I have an attorney, but I can’t say for certain how good he is, since all of this is pretty new to me.”

“Tell you what. Give me his name and I’ll ask my buddy Max about him. Max is this big financial whiz, gets paid millions by failing companies to come in and assess their problems and turn everything around for them. And while your situation isn’t exactly his area of expertise, I guarantee he’ll be able to recommend a great attorney for you. One who definitely knows what they’re doing.”

She beamed at him. “You don’t have to do that, Finn. I’m sure the attorney I’m working with is fine.”

He shook his head, taking out his phone. “I insist. This sounds like way too big a deal to have any uncertainties about. What’s your guy’s name?”

He put her attorney’s contact info into his phone, then made a mental note to text Max about it later tonight or in the morning. Whether he wrangled that elusive second date with Delilah or not, he still wanted to make sure she got this deal with Bloomingdale’s, could tell from the wistful tone in her voice how much it would mean to her. And even though she put on a good face as the tough, independent businesswoman, Finn guessed she was also under a lot of pressure in her position, and just might appreciate a helping hand every so often.

They arrived at the symphony hall a few minutes before the performance started, with Delilah duly impressed by the location of their seats. But once the music began she looked positively entranced, sitting forward a little on the edge of her seat as though she was afraid she would miss a single note otherwise.

At first, Finn found himself watching Delilah and observing her reaction to the symphony, smiling at the enraptured expression on her lovely face. But then, almost without him being aware of it, he, too, became engrossed with the music, even though he’d never willingly listened to classical music in his life. At some point, he reached over and took her hand between his, but rather than yank it away as he’d half-expected, she merely smiled at him serenely and returned her attention to the hypnotic music.

She gave a sigh of pleasure as the orchestra segued into the next piece. “Ah, this one’s my absolute favorite, even without the vocals! It’s an aria from the Samson and Delilah opera – Mon Coeur S’Ouvre A Ta Voix. Loosely translated from the French, it means “my heart opens to your voice”. Listen now, Finn. I know this sort of music isn’t your thing, but even you can’t deny how beautiful it is.”

“The second most beautiful thing in this building,” he whispered, bringing her hand to his lips briefly.

This time her eyes widened in alarmed surprise, but other than hastily returning her attention to the orchestra she didn’t try to remove her hand from his grasp.

They sat companionably side by side for the rest of the performance, their hands clasped lightly together, and for maybe the first time in his adult life Finn didn’t feel the urge to have to do anything more right now. Not, of course, that he would have even thought of resisting if Delilah had, say, decided to straddle his lap and kiss him. Or whispered in his ear that this music was making her horny and would he please take her back to her place right now so that she could tear his clothes off and jump his bones.

But of course she did neither of those things, so he satisfied himself - at least for now - with holding her hand and simply allowing himself to enjoy being in her presence. None of his friends or acquaintances or lovers would believe it for a minute, of course. Not just that the irreverent, fun-loving, and notorious party boy Finn McManus would actually be caught dead at someplace as sedate and boring as the symphony, but mostly that he would be content merely holding hands with a woman as beautiful as Delilah instead of calculating when he would make the big move on her. He already knew - had known from the moment she’d reluctantly agreed to go out with him tonight - that he would employ a very, very different strategy with this woman. After everything he’d endured just to get her to say yes to a friendly, no strings attached date, there was no way he was going to blow this by rushing her into bed. The fact that she would be expecting him to do exactly that was all part of his master plan.

She didn’t resist when he placed a hand on the small of her back as they walked back to his car after the symphony was over. It was a cool evening, given that it was still late March and spring had barely begun. Delilah huddled a little deeper into her gray wool coat - another item from her line, she’d told him - and took a step or two closer to Finn, as though seeking out his body heat. He longed to demonstrate just how hot his body temperature was at this particular moment by yanking her into his arms and giving her a long, thorough, and very dirty kiss right here on a public street in view of dozens of passers-by. But he figured that not only wouldn’t she appreciate such a blatant display of affection but might decide to physically shove him aside and hail a cab home, never to give him the time of day again.

Instead, he continued to play the unfamiliar role of gallant gentleman, helping her into his car and then inquiring politely if she wanted to get a drink somewhere.

Delilah shook her head. “Not that it doesn’t sound nice, but I’m so wrung out from this past week that I’m afraid I’d fall asleep if I had any alcohol right now. If it’s okay with you I’d really just like to head home.”

“Of course. I forget what it’s like to work long hours like you do, and it must be even more demanding for you since you own the business. I hope you have a solid staff of employees to help you out, people you can really depend on.”

“I do, yes. We all work together really well, which isn’t always easy to achieve when you’re dealing with artistic types. My PA can be a real pain in the ass sometimes, but he means well and is totally devoted to me so I tend to overlook some of his - well, let’s call them shortcomings,” said Delilah, chuckling.

“You have a guy as your PA?” quizzed Finn, his gaze narrowing as he glanced at her sideways. “Is he - uh, you know. I mean, not to stereotype people or make assumptions, but is he - ”

“Gay?” finished Delilah. She shrugged. “It’s anybody’s guess. One day I would swear that he was, the next day I’m not so sure. Calvin is - let’s call him an enigma. Yes, that’s definitely the best way to describe him. But since you were wondering, his so-called devotion to me is strictly business related. We don’t really interact outside of the studio. I’ve made it a point to keep my business life completely separate from my personal one. Not that we don’t socialize with each other but it’s usually office lunches or drinks after work, that sort of thing. I prefer to keep my evenings and weekends to myself.”

“I don’t blame you. It was never that easy for me, of course. Playing professional sports, especially when you’re on the road for a game, you’re basically living with your teammates for days at a time. You have meals together, hang out in each other’s rooms, pretty much become like family. And with my current job there’s a lot of socializing involved, lots of parties and corporate events. In fact, the social aspect is probably as much a part of the job as the actual broadcasting.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I think I’d hate that,” she replied frankly. “I’ve certainly had to do some PR work for the line, attend fashion shows and other events, but that part of the job is the one I enjoy the least. I guess I’m just a very private person, and tend to keep a low profile as much as possible. I’ve never really been much of a party girl, I’m afraid.”

Finn tactfully didn’t tell her that parties were as much a part of his life as breathing, that he adored the night life and the limelight, and couldn’t imagine being content with spending very many quiet evenings at home watching TV or reading a book. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d even picked up a book, much less read one.

And he certainly didn’t tell her that in addition to eating meals and playing card games with his football teammates, he had also hung out in a lot of clubs and bars with them, and entertained an untold number of female groupies. There had even been a few times when he and a buddy had both brought women back to one of their rooms at the same time, or watched the other having sex with their partner for the evening. Something told him that Delilah would definitely not be into either group sex or voyeurism, and he already knew she was the polar opposite of a groupie or a one-night-stand kind of woman - had known that the first second he’d laid eyes on her gorgeous, classy, and unattainable person.

But if he continued to play his cards right, to take things nice and easy and keep thinking with his brain as opposed to his dick, maybe, just maybe, Delilah would prove to be more attainable than he had first thought. Patience, however, was going to be a key factor, and that was one trait Finn had always been in short supply of.

She wasn’t able to suppress a yawn as they walked down the hallway from the elevator towards their units.

She smiled at him a bit guiltily. “Sorry. Guess that’s what happens when you work a sixty-five hour week, plus spend a little too much time in your home studio late at night. And get up early on a Saturday to do chores and run a bunch of errands.”

“It’s okay,” he assured her with a grin. “I won’t take it personally, especially since the last thing anyone could ever accuse me of being is boring. But I do hope you’re going to sleep in tomorrow and take it easy. You know what they say about all work and no play. Uh, actually I don’t know what they say, but I can’t imagine it’s very good for you.”

Delilah laughed softly. “Something about making you a very dull person. And I don’t think that’s happened to me just yet, but I will keep it in mind.”

He reached out and cupped her cheek gently, his thumb brushing over her lips with a feather light touch. “Darling Delilah, you are the least dull person I’ve ever met. Watching you tonight enjoy that music was the most entertaining thing I’ve done in a long time. Even better than - uh, well, never mind. But it did look as though you were enjoying yourself.”

She placed her hand over his, her brown eyes sparkling as she nodded. “I did enjoy myself, Finn. Very much. It was really a lovely evening, and I can’t thank you enough for the fabulous dinner and those fantastic seats at the symphony. I just hope you weren’t too bored.”

He shook his head. “You know, truth be told, I totally expected to be bored stiff, figured I’d have to force myself to stay awake the whole time. But it was surprisingly entertaining. Not that I’m any sort of expert, but I thought the band was really good.”

Delilah hooted with laughter. “For future reference, it’s an orchestra not a band. And, yes, they are very, very good. World renowned, in fact, and their recordings have won a number of Grammy awards. But I’m glad you enjoyed it and weren’t bored out of your mind. I realize this evening probably took you out of your comfort zone quite a bit, so I’m especially appreciative.”

“Appreciative enough to agree to a second date?” he asked hopefully. “Or maybe we should think of it as a first date, since you kept insisting that tonight wasn’t a real date.”

She hesitated for a few seconds, then gave a quick, decisive nod. “Okay. We can do that, yes. And we can even call it a real, bonafide date this time. Just let me know when, though weekends are better for me, of course.”

“I’ll text you tomorrow, okay? And that’s a promise, Delilah,” assured Finn, trying mightily to restrain himself from jumping up and down with triumphant glee. “I know you probably think I’m one of these assholes who tells a woman he’s going to call or text and then never does. And I won’t deny that I’ve done just that way too many times to count. But none of those women were you, and while I may not be the brainiest guy in the world, even I’m not stupid enough to blow whatever sort of chance I might have with you.”

And while she was still staring up at him wide-eyed, clearly startled by his impassioned little speech, he threw her another curveball by leaning down, giving her a quick, almost impersonal little kiss on the cheek, and then telling her, “Thanks for one of the best evenings of my life. Sleep tight, Delilah.”

Finn winked at her, trying real hard not to smirk at the look of disbelief on her face, then gave her a wave as he let himself into his own place.