Delightful Temptation Read online

  Ethan jumps to his feet and eats up the space that separates him from my boss. “Ashley, I appreciate the sentiment, but I’ve been in this business way too long not to know how it works. Not to mention that dealing with different time zones only adds to the complexity of our profession,” he says, grabbing her shoulders and dropping a Euro kiss on each cheek. Almost as quickly as he approached her, he steps back and breaks their embrace. I can’t help but notice how he had his hands on me for much longer than that earlier. Lucky me. “As I was telling Benjamin, I could sit here all day as long as Delilah entertains me. And may I say she was doing a smashing job at it.” His eyes shift from Ashley’s and lock into mine. I feel myself flush so hard I’m sure there’s no hiding it.

  “Isn’t she adorable?” Ashley smiles at me.

  “That she is.” I’m really trying my darnedest not to read too much into Ethan’s answer, but the way he’s looking at me right now is making me weak in the knees again.

  “She’s been a superstar since she arrived here. At this rate she’ll move from an apprentice curator to a full-fledged one in no time. Our clients absolutely love dealing with her and everyone falls under the spell of that charming accent.” Ashley beams proudly.

  “She was the right choice, then?” Ethan says, winking at me.

  Ashley brings both hands to her chest and nods emphatically. “Unequivocally.”

  “Wow, Ashley.” Since Benjamin entered the room, this is the first time I’ve spoken. “You’re going to make me blush.” I’m not sure how that can remotely be possible considering I’m pretty sure I’m already beet red.

  “Nonsense. You deserve these accolades and you know it. You’ve only done stellar work since your first day here.” This isn’t the first time Ashley has praised me like this, but I have to be honest, I relish the moment every time she does it. Ashley is the complete opposite of Benjamin—I’m sure you’ve figured that out by now. She’s such a warm and supportive boss. Along with my other coworkers she’s made this monumental transition in my life much easier for me. Her constant encouragement gives me wings. “Delilah, bravo on the delicious-looking breakfast spread,” she says, pulling her eyes away from mine and shifting them to the back of the room.

  “Thank you so much.”

  “Well, I can’t wait to sink my teeth into that food. I’ve survived all morning on a measly banana. Can I bother you to grab a few bottles of water in the kitchen? For some reason I’m dying of thirst this morning. It must be from all that talking.”

  “Not at all, Ashley. I’ll be right back,” I say. I turn to face Ethan. I figure it’s now or never if I want to say goodbye to him. I’m pretty sure by the time I get back, they’ll already be knee deep in their meeting. “Well…” I hesitate. The last thing I want is for Ashley and Benjamin to know is how flustered I get around Ethan. I take a second to compose myself before continuing. “It was great seeing you again, Ethan.”

  “Thank you for keeping me company, Delilah. I’ll drop by your desk to let you know how I liked my smoked salmon sandwich.” He winks. His comment surprises me.

  “Oh, okay. I guess I’ll see you later then.”

  “Absolutely.”

  Yeah. I flash him a shy smile before turning on my heel.

  “God, I needed to get out of there before I melted,” I say to myself as I head to the kitchen. In many ways I’m grateful to be able to escape. Between Ashley’s flattering remarks, Ethan’s intense gaze and his general drool-worthiness, I need some time to come back down from the cloud I’ve been riding. I run to grab half a dozen bottles of water that I stuff in a bag to make them easier for me to carry. On my way back to the conference room, Gemma approaches with a young guy in tow.

  “Coffee and juices are here,” she announces.

  “Great timing,” I cheer. “Since I have to take these bottles of water to Ashley, I’ll lead the way,” I say, lifting the canvas bag I’m holding to eye level.

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it, Delilah. I need to ask Ashley an urgent question before she locks herself up in that room for half the day. She’s not coming out of there before lunch, and I absolutely need an answer before then. Why don’t you give me those bottles? I’ll take the delivery guy to the conference room. That way I can kill two birds with one stone.”

  Crap. “Sure,” I respond, doing my best not to sound too disappointed. This has nothing to do with my desire to help quench my boss’ thirst. It has everything to do with the fact that I was hoping to see Ethan. Of course, I don’t let Gemma know any of that. “It makes total sense,” I answer, folding my lips up in what I hope is a smile as I hand over the bottles of water. “I have a million things to do, anyways,” I add. I do in fact have a full day ahead of me, but one extra minute with Ethan wouldn’t hurt one bit. I guess I’ll have to wait until he’s done with his meeting.

  CHAPTER 2

  Ethan

  The meeting barely kicked off before Benjamin launched into another one of his speeches about modernism in the art world today. I thought I was going to have to suffer through another dreadful session of academic-level wordiness since he used the same type of rhetoric on Monday when I came in, but lucky for me Hong Kong was calling. Constance, Ashley’s assistant—aka my savior—interrupted us to let her know the American buyer they were speaking to had a few more urgent questions. Apparently, he has this high roller interested in dropping quite a lot of money on British art. It always blows my mind how much money the elite in China has to invest in anything their hearts desire.

  After extensively apologizing, Ashley took the call. Since it made sense for her to talk to this guy from the conference room—because it also involves Esther and Benjamin—I offered to step out for a few minutes to give them some privacy. There’s no point in me sitting there idle when I can get some work done.

  Ashley offered her office as a refuge, but I much prefer to stand in the corridor to see if I catch a glimpse of the delicious American with the sexy accent I’m so smitten with. I attempt to check a few messages, but my mind wanders. Delilah is particularly charming today. Honestly, she’s always so well put together, but today she looks absolutely smashing. She has a keen sense of style that does wonders when it comes to selecting fashion pieces that showcase her best assets. Good Lord, the way that woman sways her wide hips should come with a warning. Walking behind her while she led me to the conference room with my eyes glued to her fine ass was an excruciating exercise in self-restraint. The only thing I wanted to do was reach out and grope her luscious butt, squeezing it hard until she moaned.

  Obviously, that would have been extraordinarily unprofessional and unbecoming of me. Her office isn’t the ideal place to live out my fantasies. What I want to do to her after hours is perfectly legit in my mind. God. What I’d give to spend an evening on top of, behind, inside, and beneath that luscious woman. It goes without saying that I’ve already pictured my cock inside her mouth. It’s been one of my recurring dreams since the first day I met her. Sue me. I’m a guy… and she’s all woman. Fuck. I barely hold back a groan at the imagery. I guess my salacious thoughts explain why I have been sporting a stiffy since I laid eyes on her.

  That flashback alone is all my cock needs to grow by a few centimeters. My erection is pressing so hard against the zipper of my suit trousers, it’s nearly insupportable. I shift from one leg to another, seeking relief, but it’s to no avail. I haven’t reacted this quickly or this strongly to a woman before. I’ve lusted many times over a stranger, but this is very different. It’s completely primal. I could fight it, but why bother? I don’t question it. Instead, I intend on doing something about it.

  I was hoping to catch another glimpse of Delilah’s tempting curves when she returned with the bottles of water Ashley requested—in fact, I was counting the seconds. To my great disappointment, Gemma was the one to bring in the beverages. I like Gemma, but I would have much preferred to ogle Delilah. From the way Benjamin barged in on us right before the meeting, it’s cl
ear it’s going to be tricky to get to know the American newcomer better at her workplace. If I intend on seducing her, I need to whisk her away to a more private setting.

  I’ve kept a polite distance for three weeks now, but it ends today. When I realized Ashley might be a while on her call, I casually made my way to the curvy bombshell’s desk, but she’s not there. I figure she’s either in the stock room or she’s in a meeting with one of the other curators. It’s unfortunate, but it’s only a temporary setback. I plan on seeing her before I leave. I’m not walking out of this gallery without securing her number in my phone. I’m leaning against a wall not too far from the conference room. From this vantage point, I’m sure I’ll see her walk by. I hope it happens before the meeting resumes.

  I lower my eyes back to my screen and force myself to focus on something other than Delilah when a familiar voice calls out my name. “Ethan, mate.” I look up and smile at Greg. “How are you?” He’s already extending his hand.

  Greg Bamrick is another curator at Harrow Sloane Arts. Where Benjamin closes potential buyers with his savvy knowledge of art and his sophisticated talk, Greg is one hundred percent charm and charisma. Ashley attributes his ability to sell so much on the fact that he’s a lady-killer and women can’t resist him. I disagree. Greg will never be mistaken for a model. He’s the definition of your ultimate smooth operator. He disarms his victims—I mean potential buyers—to find a way into their purse and ultimately to their credit card. Needless to say the majority of his clients are rich women.

  I push myself off of the wall and take a step forward to greet him. God, is he ever tanned. “Greg. I haven’t seen you in weeks. Where have you been, mate? From your dark complexion, I can only assume you were away on vacation.” I don’t think I’ve seen him since Delilah started.

  “I was.” He beams, shaking my hand enthusiastically.

  “Well, that explains it. Where to?”

  “Brazil. Three weeks basking in the sun. I went with my best mate David. We landed in Rio, but he hooked up with a hot babe who lured us to Bahia. Ethan, it’s like freaking paradise,” he says.

  “Wow. Is Bahia far from Rio de Janeiro?” I ask. Brazil is one place I long to visit.

  “It’s twenty-two hours north via car. Lucky for us, Rafaela had a set of wheels,” he sneers. “It’s quite far from the capital, but well worth the trip. They have the most incredible beaches I’ve ever seen. In my opinion, not even Thailand comes close.”

  “That sounds like a dream.”

  “It is. We found out while we were there that Bahia is where Brazilians go on holiday. The best beaches and places to stay are a well-kept secret. It’s this little hidden gem amid tropical greenery. You just have to know where to look. Without Rafaela, David and I would have been another pair of clueless tourists. I didn’t do a thing other than eat, drink and work on my tan.” Greg pulls open the top of his shirt as proof.

  “So it was more of a relaxing vacation,” I conclude.

  Greg takes a step forward. “Well, almost.” He winks at me. “The women there are delicious. David was set with Rafaela, aka his holiday shag. I, on the other hand, was single as can be. Let me tell you, Brazilian women are fucking wild. It’s impossible to resist them.” He says that last part in a rather low voice.

  “Of course. Brazilian women are legendary for their beauty and curvaceous bodies.”

  “They’re absolutely gorgeous. Lucky for me there were a few who were more on the slender side.”

  “Right.” I give him a quick nod. Don’t be fooled. I totally disagree with him. Slender women don’t hold a candle next to a full-figured beauty. I’m just not in the mood to contradict him. Instead, I change subject. “This is your first day back?”

  “It is indeed. I’m headed to the kitchen to grab my second cup of coffee of the day to jolt some energy back into my body. I’m still severely jetlagged.”

  “I bet you are. You traveled from the other side of the planet. How long is that flight anyways?”

  “Eleven hours. I slept the whole way back.”

  “Wow. I don’t blame you.” I chuckle.

  “As exhausting as it is, I’d do it again in a heartbeat. The women are that worth it. Everything else is just a perk.”

  Note to self. Must put Brazil on my travel plans.

  “You’re here for a meeting with Ashley and a few other musketeers?” Greg asks, changing subject. “I hear something big is coming down the pike?” He flashes me a complicit grin. I’m sure it’s an important meeting—why else would Ashley ask me to come back when I was here a few days ago and so much can be done via phone or email?—but it seems he’s privy to a few more details than I am.

  Ah, the inevitable office gossip. “I am. They had to take an urgent call so I’m just passing time in the corridor waiting for them to be done. I’m keeping myself busy by answering a few messages.” Well, that was the plan, but Delilah derailed my efforts.

  Greg’s eyes shift from side to side. He turns around and looks towards the front of the gallery. It’s as if he wants to make sure no one else is in earshot. “Have you met the new girl?” He asks.

  “Delilah or Katrina?”

  “I quite like the Canadian girl. I think we connected.” Right. “I can already tell she’s into me.” Whatever. “She’s a bit too much on the athletic side for me, but I’d rock her world for one night.” I hope Katrina has more sense than that. “I’m talking about the American with the funny accent.” I beg your pardon? Her accent is absolutely charming. In fact, it’s music to my ears. “I was surprised to see her this morning when I arrived. I totally forgot we had someone taking over Samantha’s spot for the summer while she’s exploring the American art scene in New York City. It’s good to be the owner’s little girl.” Greg smirks. “She just had to snap her fingers and voila, Daddy dearest found a replacement.”

  Greg is right. Samantha was itching to spend time in Manhattan and her father made it happen in the blink of an eye. When Ashley mentioned she was participating in an employee exchange program with Drawing Room Arts—a prominent New York City gallery—I expected the American candidate to be slightly standoffish, like so many women I’ve met during my travels to the Big Apple. I understand it has to do with the go-go-go mentality so common amongst the residents of the City that Never Sleeps, but this British lad prefers his women with less of an edge. I also expected the candidate to be a bit body-obsessed, like so many New Yorkers I’ve met who would never dare to eat a full sandwich for fear of gaining a pound. I was quite pleased to see Delilah didn’t fall in that category. Her body definitely checks off all the right boxes on my attraction meter. The fact that she has such a friendly, pleasant and welcoming personality is a major bonus.

  “I met Delilah three weeks ago on her first day. I’ve had numerous meetings since then so, to answer your question, yes, I have. She’s absolutely lovely,” I offer.

  “She seems nice enough, I guess. I only chatted with her briefly before I headed to my office.”

  Nice? That adjective doesn’t do her justice. “She has a warm personality. She’s lively, bubbly and she has a great sense of humor.” I sound like I’m campaigning on Delilah’s behalf.

  “Well, at least she’s not as old as the other women working here. Those girls are either in their late twenties or well into their thirties. In other words, well past their prime.” Greg says that with such disdain. Rich, coming from a guy who’s pushing thirty-six. “That said, the American chick is still way too old for me.”

  “I doubt she’s much more than twenty-five years old.”

  “My point exactly. Past twenty, women become mouthy and they start thinking on their own.” What a crime that is. “That’s simply not a good combination. I like them malleable.” Translation, too naive to know you’re not worth it. “When they’re younger it’s much easier to satisfy them because they’re not very demanding. You always come off better than most awkward teenage boys they’ve dated, which makes you look like a bloody he
ro. That’s more my cup of tea.”

  I guess when you don’t have much more to offer, it’s best to aim as low as possible. If you don’t, you’d never get any pussy.

  “You’re entitled to your opinion, Greg. As far as I’m concerned, an eighteen-year-old or even a twenty-year-old is of little interest to me.”

  “You like them broken in. A little used. You like it when her pussy has already been stretched to the max.” He smirks again. He’s talking gibberish. I just stare at him in disbelief. I make it a point to avoid speaking to Greg as much as possible. His views are more fitting of a seventy-year-old man stuck in an archaic era than someone his age. “Even if she was in a more appropriate age range”—idiot—“she’s still a little too… how can I say this…” Greg pauses, shifts his eyes to the ceiling for a fraction of a second and back down to me. “Her arse is way too big for my liking and she’s carrying way too much up here. Those huge melons would choke me.” He gestured to his chest. “I wouldn’t know what to do with the rest of her either.” Of course you wouldn’t.

  I know I said I wasn’t going down this road, but his last comment is reprehensible. “I have to disagree,” I state. I don’t have an explanation for coming to Delilah’s defense so vehemently other than she brings out my most basic possessive instincts—and I don’t even know her yet.

  “Have you seen her from behind?” Greg’s eyes widen.