Delightful Temptation Read online

  I swallow hard. Time to snap out of it, girlfriend. I shake my head. “No, I’m okay. Thanks for asking, Ethan,” I mumble. “This is entirely my fault.” Now that I’ve found my voice again, there’s no shutting me up. “I’m the one who should be apologizing, not the other way around. I should’ve been more careful. I heard the bell and I was rushing to greet whoever came in. God knows I didn’t mean to kill you on my way there.” I laugh.

  Ethan joins me, his chest rising and falling with this baritone laugh. “Your accent is absolutely delightful.”

  Yours isn’t so bad, mister. I wish I had the guts to say what’s on my mind, but I chicken out. “Well, thank you. I’m very flattered.”

  “I waited a few minutes at your desk, but when I didn’t see you, I figured I’d try to catch someone’s attention.”

  “Of course.” I nod. “Wait. Didn’t Ashley or Benjamin contact you to let you know they were running a little late? They’re on a call with an American art buyer, but he’s calling from Hong Kong.”

  “No, they didn’t. It must’ve slipped their mind. It seems to be a very busy morning for everyone. And to think, it’s not even Monday.” He chuckles.

  “I know, right?” I curse myself for being so tongue-tied that I can’t come up with a wittier repartee. Ethan is still holding me and I haven’t made the slightest attempt to pull away from his arms. The second the thought pops into my head, I’m sure he catches it because he takes a step back.

  He clears his throat. “Should I go back to the reception area or is it okay if I wait in the meeting room?”

  His words hit me. Delilah, get a grip. You have a job to do. “Oh, God, where are my manners? I’m so sorry for being a total klutz this morning.” He frowns. I’ve been here just long enough to know when I have to elaborate. “I mean I’m all over the place. I can’t tell my right hand from my left.” I giggle. “Since we’re halfway there, why don’t I take you to the meeting room?”

  “That sounds good. While I wait, I can always catch up on my messages. Please, after you,” he says, extending his hand in front of him.

  I brush a long strand of hair behind my ear with a trembling hand. I’m very aware of the fact that Ethan will be checking me out from behind. Thank God Spanx keeps everything in place. Internally, I congratulate myself for my fashion selection. I’m so proud of myself for going for a classic-chic look this morning. I decided to wear a very flattering grey skirt that hits me mid-calf and a scoop-neck stretchy jersey top that hits me right above the elbow in the same shade. I’m so glad I grabbed my cognac-colored leather jacket just as I was running out the door. I’ve quickly come to realize late June in London is a far cry from New York’s sauna-like temperatures. I finished the outfit with a cute pair of animal-print flats.

  When we get into the conference room, I shower him with some good ol’ Southern hospitality. “Why don’t you make yourself comfortable? I’m sure Ashley, Benjamin and Esther shouldn’t be too long.”

  “Thank you,” he says, gliding opposite to where I’m standing to sit at the head of the table. He pulls out the white leather chair in front of him and when he’s comfortably seated his gaze finds mine.

  “Can I get you a bottle of water or anything else to drink in the meantime?” I ask.

  “No, thank you. I’m okay for now. Maybe later.”

  “Well, you just holler if you need one.” And I’ll come running.

  Ethan burst out laughing. “I shall holler, indeed.” He winks. Damn, that sounded sexy. It’s amazing how he can take an urban expression and turn it into something so posh. “Will you be joining us, Delilah?”

  “Gosh, no.” I’m still standing at the door gripping the doorknob like a an anchor. If I were to get any closer to him, I already know it would be impossible for me to survive his incendiary magnetism twice in the same day. “I’m just a junior curator and I still have my training wheels on. I don’t have much to add.” I giggle. “I don’t have any contacts at Andrea Brier’s caliber and I don’t really interact with art buyers-slash-auctioneers like yourself.”

  Andrea Brier is a thirty-eight-year-old contemporary New Yorker who’s made the list of Young American Artists Under 40 many times over. She’s a figurative painter and former successful stockbroker. As a child, she was diagnosed with partial colorblindness. It was challenging for her to distinguish red and green. She’s said in many interviews Christmas was always a sea of sameness for her. She’s also incapable of differentiating blue from purple. Despite it all, Andrea’s incredible talent transcends her limitations. She turned her handicap into a huge advantage. She’s made a name for herself in the art world by creating her own distinctive signature. Her predominantly monochromatic artworks have an exceptional appeal and power to them as the result of her subtle use of color. I knew of her before leaving New York, but I never fathomed I’d end up working at the gallery that represents her here in Europe.

  “I find it hard to believe that you have no contribution whatsoever in this meeting,” Ethan says.

  Well, okay, if you insist. “I did order the food,” I say, pointing to the spread right behind him. “Gemma mentioned after last week’s meeting when I made the mistake of only ordering grilled bacon and cheese on wholewheat and egg on rye sandwiches that you have a thing for smoked salmon, so I made sure to order you one. I didn’t want to repeat that rookie faux pas twice.” I smile.

  “I appreciate the little touch, Delilah.” God, I love the way he says my name.

  I expect Ethan to turn around, but he doesn’t. His eyes are still glued on me. His gaze is so intense. Uncertain of how to react, I continue yapping along. “We also have some coffee and fresh juices coming in about”—I pause and drop my eyes to my watch—“twenty minutes or so. I didn’t order the beverages. Ashley’s assistant did, but this morning I made sure they were going to be delivered on time.” I straighten my back and puff out my chest with pride. Ethan’s eyes shift down to my breasts before he locks his gaze with mine. I swallow hard. What I read is incendiary. Mother of God, is it ever hot in here.

  “And I’m sure you did a fine job of it,” he says in a deep voice.

  “I’d like to think so,” I say jokingly in an attempt to ignore the waves fluttering from the pit of my stomach. “If you need an immediate shot of caffeine, I’m more than happy to run to the kitchen and prepare a double espresso with a dollop of steamed milk for you.”

  Ethan raises his eyes, surprised. “I can’t believe in the short time you’ve been working here you already know how I like my coffee.” Well, to quote Gemma, you’ve been here every week since I started. “I’m either very predictable…” I doubt that could ever be possible. He pauses for a beat. “Or you’ve been taking notes.” He rewards me with a sexy side smile. Even I can tell he’s being flirtatious right now.

  Normally, I’d look down at my shoes or I’d fidget with my fingers right now. Not this time. I decide to pull my big-girl panties on and hold that smoldering hot gaze of his. “I’ve always been good at paying attention,” I say. I don’t know where this sassy woman comes from, but for the second time today, she doesn’t look away.

  The moment is so intense that I pull my lower lip between my teeth to contain my nervousness. When his eyes drop to my lips, then to my breasts again, followed by my hips and back up, my pulse quickens out of control. The slow, languid movement feels like a caress. Damn, there are no words to describe those sultry ebony eyes.

  I’ve always been very observant. That said, even if I hadn’t, Benjamin always makes a big deal of how crucial it is to order Ethan’s favorites before every meeting. Funny. You’d think a curator at his level would have better things to do. You only have to tell me how to do it once. I’m a very quick learner. And let’s be serious here, it doesn’t take a brainiac to order breakfast. After all, we’re talking about coffee, pastries and sandwiches here, not a solution to end world hunger.

  At this point I’m at a loss for words and I’m so grateful when Ethan is the one to break
the lustful silence. “That hard-to-miss bouquet on your desk is absolutely magnificent.” His voice is so rich and chocolatey. You can imagine that since I’ve arrived in London I’ve heard the British accent a billion times, but no one has this effect on me like Ethan Akuna does.

  “They’re for Piper,” I respond a little too quickly. Calm down, girl. “I agree. They are simply divine. It’s Dermott’s way of asking for forgiveness,” I add with more composure.

  “I see.” He smiles. “The boyfriend messed up?”

  I roll my eyes dramatically. “Big time.”

  “Poor chap.” Ethan chuckles.

  “Yep. Piper’s been madder than a wet hen for a week now.” Every time I use one of my grandma’s sayings, my Texan accent kicks up a notch or two.

  “Pardon me?”

  “Oh, I apologize. It’s a Southern expression. Until I moved to London, I didn’t realize how different American English was compared to British. Even Katrina stumps me with her Canadian English. Sometimes it feels like we’re all speaking a foreign language. Some of the differences leave me scratching my head. When you add the fact that I’m from Texas, things can get pretty hilarious real fast. Even after spending years going to college in California, it’s undeniable that my momma’s side of the family is from the South.”

  “Sameness is so dreadfully boring. I love the colloquial nuances of each country.”

  “I like the way you say that.” The man’s so freaking eloquent. “Allow me to translate what I just said.” I giggle. “Piper’s boyfriend is in a bit of hot water.” I lift my hand and bring my index finger and thumb closer together to emphasize my point. “So the flowers are his way of waving a white flag.”

  “Is it working?” Ethan asks.

  I shake my head. “Piper’s not budging yet.”

  “Right.” Ethan nods a few times. “Here I thought that after only three weeks on British soil you already had a man vying for your attention.”

  Well, so far only the ones I’m not interested in seem to know I exist. “Oh, not at all.” My eyes fall to his mouth. His very full lips are sinful. Men shouldn’t have lips like that. I’m sure he knows I’m checking him out.

  He looks back up at me and his smile grows wide. His gaze is like a magnet, it’s like he’s stripping me naked right here in the middle of the office. God. “Unless the heartbroken boyfriend you left behind in New York sent you flowers to let you know how much he desperately misses you.”

  As if. I’m pretty sure before leaving the apartment this morning I checked the weather and it called for rain and cool temperatures. The way my body is nearing combustion levels, you’d never know. I guess it can get scorching hot in London in June after all. I open my mouth to refute Ethan’s assumption, but Benjamin walks in and breaks the spell. Crap.

  “Ethan, mate, I’m sorry you’ve been waiting on us.” Benjamin walks into the conference room and stands next to me. As usual his entrance is dramatic. “This is turning out to be the Wednesday from hell and it’s not even lunchtime yet.” With that said, he heads straight to greet Ethan, bypassing me completely.

  Ethan stands up to shake Benjamin’s hand. “Don’t worry about it. These things happen.”

  “I love how accommodating you are.”

  I tilt my head to the side just in time to notice how Benjamin places his free hand on top of the one that’s shaking Ethan’s hand. He’s grinning from ear to ear like a fool. Interesting.

  “It’s nothing really. Not to mention that the lovely Delilah is keeping me company.” Ethan winks at me. I don’t have to even look at myself in a mirror to know that my cheeks are flaming red.

  “Yes, of course,” Benjamin says with a dismissive tone. He doesn’t even bother to turn around, not even to say good morning. You’d think I was invisible. Since he got here before I did and he was on the phone, we haven’t exchanged a word so far. ‘Good morning’ would’ve been nice. “Coffee should be on its way and we have an amazing assortment of food. Obviously, I got you your favorite since I know how much you like smoked salmon,” Benjamin gushes. Seriously, you didn’t just take credit for ordering a stupid breakfast sandwich.

  Benjamin Renfrow—and it’s Benjamin, not Ben and certainly not Benji—is an interesting character. I can certainly relate to not wanting people to shorten your name to something that sounds totally uncool, but Benjamin takes it to the next level. I learned that lesson on my first day when he came down hard on a delivery guy who insisted on having his signature instead of mine for the very large and very expensive piece of art he dropped off.

  Benjamin is one of the senior art curators at Harrow Sloane Arts, one of the top commercial art galleries in the country. He takes care of a long list of very prolific artists and customers with deep pockets and he deals with a number of very successful art buyers—Ethan being one of them. Although Gemma is also a senior art buyer, she won’t be part of this meeting because she focuses on finding European talent. Esther Ramsey is another senior curator who works with Benjamin on tracking down the next big thing coming out of America before other prestigious galleries snag them.

  Benjamin is openly gay. The way he trips all over himself before a meeting with Ethan is what made me question which way Ethan swung. On my first day here, Benjamin practically jumped into Ethan’s arms when he came in for a meeting with my boss. Benjamin had been on vacation for a month and hadn’t had his shot of Mr. Akuna in a long time. It’s true Ethan remained stoic when Benjamin hugged the heck out of him, but that doesn’t mean a thing. That scene planted the seed in my head that maybe the tall, dark and handsome art buyer prefers men.

  Ethan takes a step back and returns to his seat. Benjamin pulls out a chair and plops himself to Ethan’s right. In that seat, he can easily have a conversation and continue to ignore me. Great. “Ah, yes, Delilah was just telling me about the delicious breakfast she ordered for the meeting,” Ethan says, pointing at me with his chin. Thank you.

  Deaf to the kind compliment, Benjamin keeps flapping his mouth. “Right. Well, I told her what to order.” Liar. Gemma did. “Since Delilah doesn’t have the wealth of experience I have, which inevitably means she doesn’t have my roster of important clients, she has a lot more time on her hands to take care of the small details while the rest of us handle much bigger things.”

  Have you ever heard of the expression ‘giving credit where it’s due,’ you nitwit?

  Ethan’s eyebrows hit his hairline so quickly, it’s hilarious. Obviously, Benjamin’s trite comment doesn’t sit well with him. He narrows his eyes and leans into Benjamin. “Perhaps, but sometimes the small details make all the difference. That’s the cornerstone of my successful business and I know for a fact that Mr. Walcott—the guy who signs your paychecks—lives by that rule. I’m certain Ashley would agree with me as well.” Booyah. That’s what I’m talking about. Go Ethan!

  Benjamin clears his throat. From where I’m standing I can see redness creep into his face. Is he embarrassed? I didn’t even know that was possible. “Yes, of course.” I’m certain it must’ve been excruciatingly painful for him to spit out these three words. “You’re right,” he adds. Wow. More? I might not survive this. Ethan is one of the lucky few Benjamin admirers. That’s the only reason why Benjamin would give him the upper hand and why he’s not being pigheaded about being right.

  I don’t have to tell you that Benjamin is full of himself. In fact, on some days, he’s a primo jerk. There are nine of us working at the gallery—all women except for Greg and him—and I get along fine with everyone else. Since Greg has been away since I got here, I’ve not had any dealings with him. I can’t imagine it’s anything like having to tiptoe around Benjamin’s delicate nature.

  He’s a hard pill to swallow. It has nothing to do with the fact that he’s gay. It has everything to do with the fact that he’s just bitchy and thrives on putting others down. I know I haven’t been here long, but I’ve never heard a gracious word slip from that man’s mouth. He has a very short fuse—and I me
an super short—with everybody else, but he’s very quick to brown-nose Ashley Shilton, our boss, and Leighton Walcott, the owner of the gallery. Gemma has confirmed that he used to also be all honey-sweet with Samantha Walcott, the owner’s daughter who used to work here. She’s the reason why I have this job. I’m not really surprised. Benjamin would never bite the hand that feeds him. He much prefers giving everyone else hell… and he does it so well.

  Ethan readies himself to speak, but it’s my boss’ turn to make her grand entrance. Ashley sashays into the conference room and stands right next to me to express her remorse. Her delicate perfume with undertones of gardenia tickles my nose. I absolutely love her designer scent. “Oh, my God, I thought that conference call was going to go on forever.” She giggles. “Ethan, I apologize profusely for making you wait like this. Esther just ran to the loo—the poor girl thought she was going to burst from sitting on that call for so long. She’s on this ginger and green tea cleanse. Oh, well, that’s possibly more than you need to know about her.” Ashley laughs aloud and Ethan joins her. “Once she relieves her bladder, she’ll come running.”