Delilah
The bell over the door tinkles. As much as I love my shop and my job, this week has been insane, and I want nothing more than to lock the damned door and head out for drinks at Kokomo with my best friend Meghan. I even dismissed Tami and Matt early, because things had finally slowed down. I normally close at four on Saturdays, and typically don't lock the door a minute early, but this afternoon I had planned to steal an extra ten minutes. Apparently, not today.
"Be right there." I poke another daisy in the last arrangement I've been working on, and place it in the cooler before going up front. "Sorry to keep you waiting..." I nearly swallow my tongue when I see the man leaning against my front counter. He's tall, with dirty blond hair shaped into a trendy style, a pair of crystal blue eyes like swimming pools, and the makings of a sexy grin I'm sure I won't forget about for the next week. Holy shit, the guy in the suit is hot. Hot. Hot. Hot. "I...uh, what can I do for you?"
"Flowers."
"Well, uh, good. I have those." Suddenly it's very warm in here. Very.
His smile deepens and I'm being pulled across the counter by those eyes that won't let go, as if there's an unforeseen connection shrinking the distance between us. Jesus, I hope so. "Wonderful. Do you have anything pre-made, or do you do to-order only?"
I don't want to talk to this man. I just want to stare at him until the sun goes down and the shop is so dark I can't see anymore, searing his image into my brain. "I have a few things pre-made. For drop-ins. Like yourself."
Then it hits me. He's buying flowers on a Saturday afternoon. In my book that equals one of two things. Girlfriend or wife. I can't stop my gaze from dropping to his left hand. Nope, no ring. Of course, that doesn't mean anything. I clear my throat and silently slap myself out of my eye-candy induced stupor.
"What kind of flowers does your girlfriend like?" Way to snoop. Not obvious at all. Nope. Such an idiot. A stray strand of hair chooses this moment to slip over my face, forcing me to push it back and remember what a mess I am.
"Not for me. I mean, a woman. Well, it is for a woman, not mine though." He leans further over the counter, close enough for me to detect a hint of an expensive, spicy cologne that smells like heaven. Oh, God, it's so, so good. Cinnabon's got nothing on this. Dropping my gaze, I grab a pad and glance down to write the order and avoid staring at him. On the way down, I take note of the tailored, no doubt expensive navy suit he's wearing with a light blue shirt, open at the collar. One hand is tucked casually in a trouser pocket, which pulls the jacket away from his torso, offering me a great view of what's surely a God's body underneath.
"Not your woman. Got it. What would you like, then?"
"Well, I came in to pick up Ryan's order for him, but what I need now is a date with you. Preferably more than one. Preferably starting with tonight."
My head shoots up taking in the multiple bits of info he slung at me. I force myself to ignore the part about a date and focus on the flowers. Not an easy task. I'd prefer to leap over the counter and drag him out, and go—pretty much anywhere he wants to. "An order? You asked about pre-mades."
"Yeah, I did. I was stalling. Ryan Melendez ordered an arrangement for his mom's birthday. He couldn't get here before you closed. I was nearby. So, lucky me, here I am."
I nod. "Melendez. Right." Blinking a few times, I spin and go out back to the cooler. The cooler. Yeah, I need to cool off in the worst way. The door clicks shut behind me and I take the opportunity to lean against it and catch my breath. That man. That freaking gorgeous man out there wants to take me on a date? Nah. He's only flirting. Like half the men who come in here. All good-looking, macho, almost celebrities who believe every woman is ready to drop their panties then and there for them. Then they sail out of here chuckling at the silly flower girl who made goo-goo eyes. I made that mistake a few times when I first opened the shop. No more. Except tonight. What the hell makes this any different? Grr, a ridiculous notion.
The Melendez order Tami expertly arranged in hand, I yank open the door, secure a serious business demeanor, and return to the front. Mr. Handsome is still smiling. Still leaning into my counter. Still sexy as hell. Dammit. I punch buttons into the register and give him the total, avoiding all eye contact. He slides a platinum credit card across, and I complete the transaction.
Daring to look at him, because a good business person always makes eye contact with her clients, I spit out a few more words. "Thanks. Hope Mr. Melendez and his mother like the flowers." This guy's probably lying anyway. For all I know, he's Mr. Melendez and those are for whatever skinny-bitch model he's got on tap for tonight.
His phone rings. "Excuse me." As he answers he continues to stare at me, which has effectively locked me in place. "Hey, Ryan. Yeah, I got your mama's bouquet. I owe you a couple of drinks for making me run your errand." He grins at me as he listens to his friend. "Oh, you'll wish you'd gotten your own damned flowers, I promise. I'll drop 'em by in thirty minutes." He hangs up without looking at his phone or waiting for his pal to respond to his mysterious statement.
"Where can I pick you up in an hour? We're going to dinner."
Excuse me? "Excuse me?"
"The date I mentioned. It's happening tonight. Most likely tomorrow night, too."
"You can't be serious. I don't even know you. And you know nothing about me for that matter. Maybe I'm married. Or engaged. Or have a boyfriend."
"Hmm. No wedding ring or engagement ring, and no ring tan line." He holds up two fingers, then a third, counting out his facts. "If you had a boyfriend who was rocking your world, your tongue wouldn't be tied in knots talking to me. I'm guessing he's either non-existent or a douche." I stare at the hand he sticks out. "Either way, enthralled to meet you Delilah. I'm John Coury."
"How do you...?"
"This is Delilah's Garden, isn't it? I'm going out on a limb and guessing you're the delightful Delilah. A woman as beautiful as you could have no other name."
"Jesus. Sure of yourself much?"
He throws back his head in laughter. "Oh, and there's the framed news clipping with your picture on the wall over there, too, Ms. Andrews."
A blush burns my face. "Okay, so I'm Delilah. What are you, an investigator or cop or something?"
"Nah. Just an attorney."
"Sure. Where?"
He pulls out his wallet and tosses a business card in front of me. John D. Coury, Entertainment Attorney, Rankin, Parker, Coury and Chase, Beverly Hills, Calif. Everyone in LA has heard of the high-profile firm and its cutthroat partners.
"Ever been to Davidio's?"
My eyes bug out. No one I personally know has been there. Ever. Because you'd have to give up a month's rent at best to dine there. "Uh, no. Not recently." Nor ever.
He leans in and pushes the wayward strands of hair behind my ear, stealing every last breath in my soul as he does. What kind of insidious hold does this man have over me?
"Your address?"
As if under a spell I blurt it out along with my cell number.
"An hour. I have a floral delivery to make first." He winks and strolls out of the shop as if we've been dating for years. My heart and pulse take the opportunity to re-engage, and I quickly lock the front door.
Then, go to my office and Google John D. Coury.
The results of the search take my breath away one more time.
He is who he says he is. A single, prominent attorney to celebrities and other famous people. Only, he left out the tidbit about being one of the ten most wealthy, eligible, sought-after bachelors in LA.
****
John Coury literally swept me off my feet in a matter of weeks, if not days. Not because he is rich and represents an impressive roster of the most ultra-wealthy people in this city. I could care less about all that. In fact, his job is probably the least enticing trait about him.
From the second he laid eyes on me, John did everything in his power to woo me, make me happy, and love me. Simple things. A day at the beach. A movie and burgers. Sure, we did the glitzy outings too. It's LA. In his line of work, attending fancy functions was a given. But, day-to-day, John was real and down-to-earth.
Our romance hit the ground running from that first dinner at Davidio's and didn't stop. When he proposed several months ago, it was clear we were in it until we were old and gray with one foot in our graves.
So, here I stand, waiting to glide down the aisle of St. Mark's and become his wife, my dad at my side.
I love John with everything in my soul and can't wait to marry him. My mind is a film reel speeding through the highlights of our courtship—everything which brings us here today. He stands at the altar beaming larger and happier than ever as I approach.
"I do."
"I pronounce you, John and Delilah, husband and wife. You may, of course, kiss the bride." As everyone in the church laughs and cheers as John sweeps me into his arms.
"I love you so much babe. My wife." His lips slam into mine, taking and giving every emotion we've been holding at bay. God, he tastes so good. A familiar tingle zings through my body at his touch. His lips work a path to my ear. "I want nothing more than to bury myself inside you as soon as we can get away."
Jesus.
The reception is beautiful, at the five-star Celestial Hotel in Beverly Hills. The best of the best. John hasn't let me out of his sight once, his hand permanently woven with mine. Eating was a little difficult, but he refused to let go for that or anything else. It took a ten minute discussion for him to release me long enough to use the ladies' room.
"You're so beautiful, Delilah. I'm the happiest man on the planet today." John sweeps me across the dance floor, holding me close.
"I love you, John. More every day." His hands snake down and press against my ass, pushing me into the raging hard-on he's been taunting me with all day.
A hulk of a man appears and clasps his hand over John's shoulder.
"Are you gonna let me dance with your bride or not, bro?" John glares at his much larger brother James, whose bad-boy smirk is tattooed to his lips. As his best man, James is seated at our table, next to John. The two of them had everyone in stitches re-telling childhood stories all evening. It's clear they have a special bond, which makes me happy. John has missed his brother tremendously while he is stationed overseas. He was completely freaked out when James' flights home were delayed. To the point he was willing to postpone the ceremony until his arrival.
"No one touches Delilah," he growls at James.
"Ah, for fuck's sake, man. It's one dance. I'll be outta here in two days. I'm not gonna steal your lovely bride." James winks at me. John scowls again and reluctantly hands me over to his brother.
"Keep your damned hands in sight and at least five inches between you."
James laughs, gives his brother the finger, and squashes me up against his enormous frame before steering me as far away from John as possible.
"He'll have a fucking heart attack now."
"Why'd you do that?"
James stares down at me from a good eight inches above. "Cuz, he's wound too tight. I've never seen him like this over a woman before, Delilah. Whatever witchcraft you wove, it worked."
"Me? He's the one who came after me like I was the biggest prize in town."
James' smile fades and he stares at me, his steely grip loosening only momentarily. "You are. My brother knows a good thing when he sees it, babe. Impeccable taste. You're living, breathing proof. He raised the bar so high, every shit-head in the room, me included, will never match his catch. Trust me. It's been this way since we were in diapers. John sees the best, takes the best, keeps the best. Everyone else can only hope to do half as well. That man will love you 'til he takes his last breath. Count on it. It's a promise."
"Wow. That's quite a statement."
"All true. Every damned word. Here's where I'd say don't break his heart, but, I don't have to. You're good. You're as much in love with that sap as he is with you. And, I'm happy about it." A sly grin takes shape. "A bit jealous...but happy as hell."
As James spins me, I catch sight of John standing impatiently on the sidelines, glaring at his brother.
"Heh, he won't like this. Therefore, of course I'm gonna do it."
"What's that?"
James leans down and plants a kiss on my jaw, close to my ear. I'm ashamed to say, the bastard's lips send a quiver down my spine. Enough of one, that if it weren't my own wedding, and if I weren't sure he was doing it solely to get a rise out of John, I'd slap his face. I do stiffen in his arms, however.
"Aw, don't go crazy on me babe. I'm bringing ya back to JC. Right where you belong." He winks and spins me out of his arms directly back into John's.
"Asshole." John gives James a dirty look and gets laughter in return.
"Ahh, cool your jets, bro. She's a thousand percent yours. I couldn't very well get through your wedding without bustin' your nuts, now, could I?"
John's scowl returns to his easy-going grin. "Of course not. James D. Coury, Grade-A Asshole and King of the Heartbreakers would never let such a golden opportunity slide." He turns to me. "Give the jerk an inch and he runs the full mile."
"I learned from the best," James says.
****
Thanks for reading Chapter Two. This is a completely written story, so I will regularly post chapters...you won't have to wait for me to write them. Please read, vote, and pass the word.
You can follow me on:
Instagram: anyasharpe
Twitter: anya_sharpe
Facebook: www.facebook.com/AnyaSharpeAuthor/
Check out my website: www.anyasharpe.com
***I'd like to thank James from for the cover to "Delilah's Tears."