Deliciously British Page 3

  “Don’t be silly, Delilah. The man is straighter than an arrow.” Copy that. “When Mr. Gordimer walks in the gallery, I can see the interest sparkle in his eyes as he approaches your desk. It’s blatant from where I’m sitting. Perhaps if you looked up at him instead of fidgeting with your fingers when he’s around, you would have noticed as well.” She’s standing with her arms crossed over her chest as she did earlier with Percy.

  “I’m too intimidated to even try, Gemma,” I lament. “He’s larger than life. When he walks into the galleries his charismatic vibe bounces off the walls.” And reverberates right through me.

  “I won’t argue with you on that one. Ethan Gordimer has an aura of greatness about him. I guess he just can’t help it.” She drops her arms to her side and takes a few steps closer to me. “Have you ever heard of a group called 4Ever?” She nearly whispers her question.

  I shake my head. “No, I haven’t. Should I?”

  Gemma opens her mouth to respond, but the front doorbell lets us know that someone just walked in. “Never mind, then. I guess it’s time for you to return to the front. I’ll run to Constance’s desk to make sure she ordered coffee and juices for the meeting. I know she’s been Ashley’s assistant for a while, but since she became pregnant, she seems quite forgetful.”

  Oh, is that what it is? “I confirmed with her again first thing this morning when she got here at eight thirty. Everything is still on track. The beverages will be delivered thirty minutes after the meeting starts, since Ashley likes her coffee super hot and her juice super cold.” I smile proudly. “Not sure how this will pan out since she’s now running late.”

  “Great job. Don’t worry about it. It should be fine. In that case, I’m going back to work while you, young lady, rush out there to go take care of whoever just walked in.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m on it like bees on honey.”

  Gemma cracks up. “God, I love it when you say that. If you need any help with a piece of artwork, call me.”

  Trust me, I will. “Oh, you don’t have to worry about that. I’d never be naïve enough to attempt to sell a thirty-five-thousand-pound work of art on my own. I still can’t wrap my head around how some people have the disposable income to drop the equivalent of fifty thousand dollars on art, let alone convince them to buy it.”

  “With a little coaching you’d be surprised how easy it is.” She winks.

  “I’ll take your word for it,” I say, freaked out.

  We both march to the door and exit the meeting room. She takes a right and I run the other way to the front with an enormous grin plastered on my face and Gemma’s words still playing in my head. Nothing will ever come of it because I’m way too much of a coward to even look Ethan in the eyes, let alone ask him out for coffee or a drink. Not to mention that my dating history is the kind of material stand-up comedians would die for. That said, knowing there’s a sliver of a chance he might be interested is so thrilling it’s almost as if I’m blinded by bliss.

  I guess that would explain the fiasco that takes place in the middle of the office area at the gallery.

  I turn the corner without paying attention to where I’m going because I’m too busy fantasizing. Seemingly out of the blue someone grabs me by the shoulders. “Careful,” a voice says.

  “Oh, crap,” I exclaim. I blink a few times, taking in the person I nearly trampled. Ethan? Shit. Surprised, I jerk back. Thank God I’m wearing my trusted flats. Had I been wearing heels, I would’ve tipped over and landed flat on my ass from the suddenness of my movement, but instead I lose my footing. In a moment of panic, I grip Ethan’s forearms to regain my balance. God.

  “You’re going to hurt yourself, Delilah,” Ethan scolds gently with a warm smile pulling at his lips. What happens next is nothing short of a miracle. He slides a pair of strong manly hands behind my back and holds me steady. Oh. My. God. Ethan Gordimer is touching me. I’m so stunned by the contact that a small whimper escapes me. “Are you okay?” he asks. Damn, that accent. I lift my head up. Wow. The man seems that much taller when I’m this close to him. He’s got to be at least six-three. I can’t help but stare. I’m too hypnotized to even blink at this point. I don’t want to miss an inch of him. His intense eyes peer into mine and for a split second, I’m lost. I can’t believe I finally have the courage to hold his stare. My cheeks heat under his gaze, yet I still can’t look away. Mother of God. A whiff of his expensive cologne floats through the air, engulfing me in it. His scent is enrapturing. He’s all man. I try to respond, but I can’t. It’s like my jaw is suddenly frozen solid. I’m not sure how to explain it, but an avalanche of new emotions collides inside me. What’s happening to me? Butterflies swarm my stomach. I’m lightheaded. My heart is racing so fast. Is this how you feel just before having a heart attack? Even though he’s holding me tight, I feel the sudden urge to sit down. Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’m having a stroke. It’s the only explanation. I move my lips again, hoping this time I might actually be able to form a sentence. I try to say something. Anything. It’s in vain. It’s as if Ethan’s touch has taken away my ability to speak and to think coherent thoughts. When he notices that I’m still as silent as a monk, he speaks again. “How thoughtless of me for not being more aware of my surroundings.” His voice is full of remorse. I’m so embarrassed by the fact that my being distracted caused this accident that it takes a few seconds for me to realize how comforting it is to have his arms wrapped around me like this. His very large hands firm up behind my back, sending a hitch to my breath. Lord, have mercy. Overwhelmed, I break our gaze. I shift my focus to his crisp white shirt peeking from his impeccable gray jacket. He’s not wearing a tie today. Damn. He’s dreamy. My lips curl up in a slight smile when I notice his chest hair peeking out from his shirt. No undershirt either. Lucky me. I must think I have a poker face or something because I allow my mind to wander to places it has no business going to. Ethan’s comment is a reminder of how bad I am when it comes to hiding my thoughts. “Has the cat got your tongue?” The humor in his voice is unmistakable. He flashes me a bad-boy smile and I’m completely taken by his perfect white teeth. I’ve seen that smile many times before, but it was from afar. This close, it’s disarming.

  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 elabor
ate. “I mean I’m all over the place. I can’t tell my right hand from my left.” I laugh. “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 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 laugh. “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 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 Gordimer 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 laugh. “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.”<
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  “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.