Delightful Temptation Read online

  British Rendezvous

  Book 1—Delightful Temptation

  Scarlett Avery

  Copyright © 2017 by Scarlett Avery

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.

  Scarlett Avery / Absolutely Naughty Publishing

  Edited by RJ Locksley

  Proofread by Chrissy Becker

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental. This book is for sale to adults over 18.

  British Rendezvous / Scarlett Avery

  ISBN 978-1-987943-34-4

  Foreword

  I can't thank you enough for purchasing this sizzling read.

  I’m absolutely passionate about what I do. Once I start writing, I just can't stop.

  It's taking me a whole lifetime to get to the point where I’m able to live out my dream every single day.

  The captivating stories and the enigmatic characters live with me throughout the writing process. I think you'll quickly notice how much care and attention I put into each one of my romance novels.

  Another thing you’ll discover about me is how much I love my readers!

  To thank you for buying this romance novel, I’d love for you to lose yourself in even more sultriness, sexiness and seduction!

  When you sign-up today, I’ll send an exclusive

  Secret Chapter for this book in this series.

  Sign-up TODAY! www.RomanceBooksRock.com

  ***

  British Rendezvous Series

  Book 1—Delightful Temptation

  Book 2—Playful Temptation

  Book 3—Devilish Temptation

  Book 4—Everlasting Temptation

  ***

  Note: Although most of the characters in this romance series are British, my editor suggested we keep the spelling to American. We wanted to avoid confusion since in some cases it might look like a typo because we’d be going back and forth between British and American.

  Enjoy,

  Scarlett Avery

  CHAPTER 1

  Delilah

  “Wow. The colors of this painting are so vivid,” I mumble under my breath as I scroll down the page. “The artist hit the bullseye when he decided to call his latest piece Shades of Creative Gluttony. It’s very apropos.” I zoom in to better take in the myriad of chatoyant hues. “No wonder this artist’s paintings go for tens of thousands of dollars and no one seems to bat an eyelash at the steep price tag. The guy’s truly talented.” I continue talking to myself.

  I’m fully immersed in my work when the front door swings open. The little bell immediately forces my eyes up to the tall, smiling man all dressed in navy blue, walking towards me carrying what seems to be another delivery.

  “Good morning, Delilah,” Harold says before dropping the heavy load on the corner of my desk. “Or should I say happy hump day? It seems to be an expression you Americans favor.”

  I laugh. Since I started this job, Harold Dunbar, our regular delivery guy, thrives on using as many American colloquial expressions as possible. He’s so intent on it, you’d think he was learning a foreign language. “Well, you wouldn’t be entirely wrong. After all, it is Wednesday,” I answer in a jovial voice.

  “It seems like I’m making some steady progress with my American, Miss Babcock.” Harold grins proudly.

  “You’re taking this way too seriously, but I’m having a heck of a lot of fun being your honorary teacher, Mr. Dunbar.” I giggle.

  Harold places both his hands against my desk and leans in closer. Before he even opens his mouth, I have a sneaking suspicion I know exactly where this conversation is heading. “May I say that I have visions of you being my very domineering tutor and us having to slave over homework well into the wee hours of the night until I get it perfectly right. Pity I’m such a slow learner. This might have to go on for months.” He winks.

  “Dream on, buddy.” I laugh aloud.

  Harold shrugs. “Well, you can’t blame a bloke for trying.”

  “Actually, I can. You’re relentless, Harold. You’ve been at it since my first day here.”

  “I’m hoping that in time, I’ll wear you down.” He waggles his eyebrows.

  “You’re too funny.”

  Harold is in his mid-forties. All the women in my office warned me on day one that he was going to flirt shamelessly. He always does. He’s been divorced three times and has six kids. As fun and quirky as he is, he’s carrying way too much baggage for my liking. Not to mention he’s not my type.

  “All right, I’ll take a hint. For now.” He winks again. “On a different note, I’m glad to see you’re cheery and you’re not allowing this dreadful British weather to dampen your spirits. I mean, for the longest time I thought the book Fifty Shades of Grey related to our depressing and dreary weather.”

  His comment sends me into a laughing fit. When I finally manage to get a grip on myself, I answer him. “Oh, my God, Harold, you’re hilarious.”

  “I do my best. My biggest reward is to see your beautiful smile and those blue eyes sparkle like gems.”

  “You’re just a big ol’ flirt, but thank you, sir, for the compliment,” I say coyly. “To answer your question, I’m enjoying myself way too much to allow a few clouds to bring me down.”

  “I love your attitude.” He cheers. “Even if they’re not for you, I’m sure these help immensely. They look like a huge vibrant kaleidoscope,” he says changing subject. He points his chin to the parcel set on my desk and my gaze shifts to it.

  “I truly think this bouquet of flowers is the most beautiful assortment you’ve brought so far this week,” I marvel.

  “I’ll have to agree with you, Delilah. These are positively magnificent and their aroma is absolutely enchanting. It’s clear someone is groveling.” Harold chuckles.

  “Well, someone messed up pretty badly so I guess this is the price to pay.” I smile.

  “May I take them to her or should I leave them with you?”

  “She’s on an important phone call with an artist she’s been courting for months. The minute she’s free, I’ll take them to her,” I reply.

  “Excellent. I have no doubt that pretty soon I’ll be delivering you flowers, my dear.” Harold winks at me.

  “From your lips to God’s ears. That said, since I’ve only been here three weeks, I can’t expect miracles from Her.” Not to mention that my dating record is nothing to envy… even God knows that.

  “I think you’ve got it all wrong,” he states boldly.

  “You do?” I ask. “What’s your theory on the subject, Mr. Dunbar?”

  Harold straightens up and crosses his arms over his chest. “It’s very simple, Miss Babcock. You seem to have forgotten the effect of newness.”

  “The what of what?” I frown.

  “New city, new job, new opportunities.”

  “You sound like my cousin, who also happens to be my best friend.”

  “Hmmmm, is she single?” Harold asks.

  I roll my eyes at him. “You just don’t know how to take no for an answer, do you?”

  “I guess that would explain why I ended up with so many failed marriages and so many babies.” He chuckles. “Seriously, if it’s not me—and let it be known that I will be completely devastated if it’s not—there’s another bloke out there dying to get to know you.” Harold looks down at his watch. “Well, I’d better get out of here and head to my next
delivery. Like always, it’s been a pleasure, Delilah. Have a great day.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  “I’ll be back.” I lose it again at his imitation of former action hero-slash-governor Arnold Schwarzenegger’s distinctive accent.

  The minute Harold waves me goodbye, I dive right back into my work. Twenty minutes later, I straighten my back from my hunched position and stretch. When I do, I take note of the time. “Oh, gosh, it’s already nine thirty-eight.” My boss isn’t going to be impressed with me if she’s forced to sit through a three-hour meeting without food. “Percy should’ve been here by now,” I mutter. I pick up the phone to find out what’s caused the delay on the catering I ordered when the front door of the gallery swings open again. “Thank God,” I let out, relieved.

  “Good morning, sunshine.” Percy smiles wide as he approaches my desk, his arms weighed down with bags.

  I really hate the nickname he has for me. Coming from him, it just sounds gauche. Since I don’t have time to get into it this morning, I simply respond, “Good morning, Percy.” I jump to my feet and rush to meet him halfway. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you,” I add, taking stock of the bags he’s holding.

  “All the babes say that.” He grins. As if.

  I choose to ignore his comment. “What took you so long?”

  He returns the favor by pretending he didn’t hear my question. “By the way, your sexy American accent drives me absolutely mad. I could listen to you talk all day long and never tire.”

  “Percy—”

  Undeterred by my attempt to reroute this conversation, he presses on. “And may I add this outfit fits you like a glove,” he says, sweeping his eyes the length of my body. “Meow,” he says when his eyes drop at my feet. “If I were to look the word ‘sexy’ in the dictionary, I have no doubt your picture would pop up… especially with those shoes.” Who the hell still uses a dictionary nowadays?

  “Percy, let’s try to stay on topic here.” It’s not that I’m not flattered, but the man is a hopeless cause.

  “All right, then. You pay a woman a few compliments, and she completely ignores you,” he huffs, puffing out his chest. I give him an are-you-kidding-me look to let him know we’re so not going down that road. Not when he’s this late. “To answer your question, along with this balmy Mediterranean weather”—the sarcasm is thick—“London comes with the most nightmarish traffic jams, especially when there’s an accident. No wonder we’ve been named the most congested city in Europe.” He punctuates his sentence by lifting the corner of his mouth. It’s more a grimace than a smile. “I’m sorry, sunshine, I didn’t account for that, but I’m here now and with twenty minutes to spare.”

  Not so fast, buddy. “I’m very grateful you’re here. But for the record you’re ten minutes late, Percy. The meeting is at ten o’clock and I specifically asked you to be here by nine-thirty. I still need time to set up all this food,” I say, waving my finger at the bags he’s clutching, “in the conference room.”

  Percy opens his mouth to answer, but suddenly his attention diverts to the very large bouquet of flowers still sitting on the corner of my desk. His eyebrows rise before he turns his attention to me. “Do you already have a suitor? Has someone dared to claim your heart before I even had a chance?”

  For the love of God. Not this again. “Percy,” I start in a firm voice. “There’s no time for soap-opera drama. You and I”—I wave my finger between us—“it’s just never going to happen.”

  “Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it,” he retorts.

  Give it a rest, already. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

  “You’ll come around. I know you will.” Not even if you were the last man on earth.

  Percy McAllister is Tamara McAllister’s older brother. She’s the baker extraordinaire behind one of London’s most popular food shops. Although Tamara studied to be a chef, her love of pastries won out. Her delightful sugary morsels are absolutely to die for. Her brother is the other part of the operation and usually he remains in the background—and that’s a good thing. He’s the one who takes care of catering orders, while Tamara takes care of walk-in customers. Nick, their delivery guy, is the one who does our runs once I place my order. Alas, he’s home today nursing a cold and that’s why Tamara’s very forward brother is standing in front of me thinking he has a hope in hell.

  Percy is thirty-seven. He’s in the middle of a nasty divorce with his baby mama and he already has a girl—if not two—on the side. Thank God for the office—or should I say gallery—rumor mill, without which I wouldn’t know all this about these guys who think they can pull a fast one on me just because I’m a newcomer. Even without all this baggage, just like Harold, Percy isn’t my type. I love tall men, but I like them beefy and well-built. Not to mention he’s way too old for me.

  “I need to get this set up, pronto. Did you bring everything I ordered?” I ask, determined to veer this conversation onto neutral ground. Okay, there’s that and the fact that I’m a little nervous. I’ve checked my list with him over the phone at least ten times, but it doesn’t hurt to check one more time. After all, every little mistake you make when you’ve just started a job is amplified tenfold.

  “Absolutely. Do you take me for an amateur?” Even with the sexy British accent, he just leaves me cold.

  “I’m just doing my job. If you could work with me here, it would make it a whole lot easier.”

  “Fair enough. Let’s go through everything again and if I forgot anything I’ll rush back to the shop and get it. I can’t guarantee I’ll be back before the meeting starts, but at least I’ll have your back.”

  “That sounds like a great idea.”

  Percy drops the bag he’s holding to the floor and pulls out his phone from his back pocket. He turns it on and starts scrolling. I can only assume he’s looking for the email I sent. “You ordered a bacon sandwich on sourdough, a sausage sandwich also on sourdough, scrambled eggs on dark rye and a smoked salmon and chives cream cheese bagel. You also wanted a basket of homemade muffins. The flavors du jour are coconut raspberry stuffed with almond paste and cinnamon apple stuffed with a sinful walnut concoction. The final item on your list is a basket of our to-die-for white chocolate and macadamia nut cookies. If you go through everything you’ll see I haven’t forgotten a thing, sunshine. When it comes to your orders, I always triple-check.” He winks.

  Yes. He got it right. Instantly my stress washes off my shoulders. “Thank you so very much, Percy.” I smile warmly. I approach him to grab the bags, but he stops me by raising his hand.

  “I do have a little something extra that’s not on your list.”

  I furrow my brows. “Did Ashley call with a special request?”

  He shakes his head before reaching out for a craft paper bag. A huge grin takes over his face when our eyes meet again. “Not at all. I figured you might need a little something to get your day started on the right foot,” he says proudly.

  When I read my name scribbled on it and spot the big heart with an arrow, I cringe internally. Oh, no. “Percy, you really didn’t—”

  “Shhh,” he says, placing his index finger on his lips. “I insist,” he says, handing me the bag.

  I accept graciously and take the bag. “Thank you.”

  “It’s my pleasure, trust me. I brought you our Healthy Breakfast Champion. The Greek yogurt, muesli and nuts combination will keep you going until lunch. I sweetened the pot by adding a huge Choco Heaven cookie. I made the cookies myself.” Really? “Well, technically I asked Tamara’s sous-chef Aubrey to bake it for you, but the sentiment comes from me and I was watching over her shoulder the entire time to make sure she got it absolutely right since it was for you.” He’s hopeless. “I asked her to double the recipe for yours. It’s like getting a two-for-one special. You’ll die when you sink your teeth into the dark chocolate moistness and your tongue will be delighted by little sparkles of white chocolate chips.”

 
He looks so pleased with himself. Since I don’t want to burst his bubble, I adopt a kinder, softer approach. “I appreciate the gesture. That’s actually quite sweet of you.”

  “Does that mean that maybe you and—”

  A voice behind me interrupts Percy in mid-sentence. “Delilah, do you need a hand setting up?” I turn around to look at the short woman with raven hair, wearing glasses with a thick and modern designer frame, who just saved the day. I sigh with relief. My colleague and mentor Gemma Christopher has come to my rescue not a minute too soon. “I doubt you’ll be able to manage on your own since you only have…” Gemma pauses for a brief second, lowers her eyes to her watch and taps the bezel with a manicured finger a few times before locking eyes with me again. “Seven minutes left.”

  “Gemma, I’d hate to interrupt your work,” I say, winking at her.

  Her eyes shift from mine to the man still standing behind me. “Well, hello, Percy. How are you today?”

  “Gemma, my dear.”

  “It’s just Gemma. Just Gemma,” she snaps.

  “Of course,” Percy answers, nodding. Gemma is actually a friendly person, but you’d never be able to tell from this icy greeting. “To answer your question, I was doing great before, but seeing your radiant face just brightens my day to a level that’s absolutely inexplicable.”

  Jesus, he’s laying it on thicker than Momma does on a peanut butter and marshmallow crème sandwich.

  When Gemma’s arms fold in front of her chest, I already know things don’t look too good for poor old Percy. Gemma narrows her eyes and sizes him up. Her gaze is so unimpressed it’s almost funny. Heck, I’m feeling uncomfortable. After a few long seconds of inspection, she slightly pulls up the side of her lips. That’s as much of a smile Percy can ever hope to get from her. Without addressing him, she turns her attention back to me. “Delilah, Ashley asked me to help you.” We exchange a complicit look.