My Father's Best Friend(2)

The crowd eventually thinned and Delilah stood alone, head bent, hands  clasped tightly in front of her. I gave her a few moments alone, then  began to slowly make my way towards her.         

     



 

I made sure to announce my presence by deliberately stepping on a few  twigs. Her head lifted as I neared and my heart ached at the sight of  watery pain in her blue eyes. They widened a little as she surveyed me. I  wasn't a small guy and in my black, tailored suit, I knew I looked  intimidating.

Stopping a few feet away, I softened my expression and murmured, "I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you," she whispered, her had canting slightly. She looked up at  the cloudy summer sky and blinked back her tears. After a moment, her  gaze returned to mine and she smiled softly, a dimple popping in her let  cheek. "How did you know my mother, Mr...?" she trailed off, looking at  me expectantly.

I hesitated, suddenly unsure about the lie I'd prepared. Being dishonest  with her didn't sit well, but until I could confirm her identity one  hundred percent, I wasn't ready to lay everything out in the open. So, I  decided on a half-truth.

"Parker," I informed her, holding out my hand. "Ethan Parker." Her skin  was soft as we shook, and I had to stifle the urges to lift her hand to  my lips and test the silkiness against them. Instead, I pulled away. "I  didn't really know her. I was in town and came at the request of a  friend to pay their respects. I'm told your mother touched a lot of  lives."

Delilah's smile grew and she nodded. "She was pretty amazing." A horn  honked and drew her attention to a black Town Car idling nearby. She  waved before turning back to me. "I'd better go. Will I see you at the  luncheon?"

I shook my head and took a step back, a little overwhelmed by the  jealousy swamping me. Who was in the car? A boyfriend? Fuck. What was  the matter with me? I needed to get the hell out of there.  "Unfortunately, I won't be able to make it." Disappointment flashed  across her face, almost making me smile. In the few minutes I'd been  talking to her, she'd telegraphed her every emotion, she was an open  book and I found that I liked it. A lot. "It was nice meeting you,  Delilah Brooks."

"Lilah," she corrected sweetly. "You can call me Lilah. And, I'm glad we  met too." With one last smile in my direction, she turned and hurried  over to the waiting vehicle.

I watched until her womanly body disappeared inside, and then headed  back to my own car. My plan was to give her a few days, get some  distance from the funeral, before approaching her again. It was clear  from my body's reaction to Lilah that I needed to take the time to get  my head on straight. To shake off this attraction.

The last complication in the world I needed right then was to fuck my best friend's daughter.





Chapter 2


Delilah


The apartment was silent. Still. Empty. Just an hour ago, it had been  filled with all the people whose lives my mom had touched. They'd come  to the funeral in droves to pay their respects. Many had stopped at our  place afterwards, bringing casseroles and soups. Pastas and salads.  Desserts and more desserts. More food than we needed for the luncheon.  So many dishes that I wasn't sure I'd be able to squeeze the leftovers  into the fridge and freezer.

A couple of the nurses who'd worked with my mom had offered to stay and  help with the clean-up, but I'd wanted to be alone. Or at least I  thought I did. The home I'd shared with my mom had always been my safe  haven growing up, filled with her love. Even after we moved to the city  so she could start her cancer treatments, she'd made our modest,  two-bedroom apartment seem like a cozy home in the country. Only it  wasn't the same anymore. She was gone forever, and when everyone else  left, the silence became deafening. It made me second-guess my decision.

A loud knock on the door pulled me out of my thoughts, giving me  something else to focus on besides my loss. I smoothed a hand down my  dress, tugging at the front to make sure my boobs were fully covered by  the material, and tucked a lock of my hair behind my ear as I made my  way to the front of my home. Our apartment had a separate entrance from  the rest of the building, exiting straight out to the sidewalk. A quick  glance through the peephole had butterflies swirling in my belly as I  recognized the man standing on my porch.

"Hello," I gasped as I pulled open the door, clearing my throat  afterwards to steady my voice so it didn't sound breathy when I  continued. "I wasn't expecting to see you again today since you said you  couldn't make the luncheon. Or any other day really since you're not  from around here."

I didn't add how much I'd wanted his answer to be different. How much  I'd wished he'd said he was coming to the house. How much I wanted to  see him again.         

     



 

My reaction to Ethan Parker was completely inappropriate considering I'd  met him at my mom's funeral. And because my guess was that he was  closer to her age than my own. But it was impossible to ignore the  impact he'd had on me from the moment I'd lifted my head and found him  standing there, staring at me with heated dark eyes. His black hair  fluttering slightly in the wind. Tall and imposing in a black suit that  looked like it cost more than I'd ever spent on a piece of clothing.

The jacket was gone, and the sleeves of his pristine white dress shirt  were rolled up to his elbows. His shoulders looked broader than before,  and I could swear the dark scruff on his jawline had darkened in the  hours since I'd seen him. Each time my mind had wandered towards him  during the luncheon, I'd tried telling myself that I was exaggerating  how attractive he'd been. How wrong I was. If anything, I'd  underestimated the impact of this man on my libido, considering he was  potent enough to be the first to wake it up-and on this dark day.

"I'm sorry to intrude." He looked towards the mostly empty sidewalk,  huffed out a deep breath, and then returned his gaze to me. "I hadn't  planned on it. But I was out for a walk and I somehow found myself on  your street."

He sounded perplexed by how it had happened, but I didn't care. I was just happy it had.

"Would you like to come in?"

"As long as I'm not interrupting anything." His gaze drifted over my shoulder, as though he expected someone else to be with me.

"Only a pity party for one," I mumbled under my breath.

"Pardon?"

"Nothing," I sighed. "Your timing is perfect. The last of my visitors  left about thirty minutes ago, and I'd just realized how quiet the house  was. I'd actually appreciate the company."

"Well, then I guess I'm glad the car had a mind of its own."

"Me, too," I breathed out, catching a whiff of his cologne as he walked past me.

As he looked around the living room, I was glad I'd started my clean-up in there.

"I have plenty of food leftover, if you're hungry?" I offered. "I was working on putting everything away when you knocked."

He hesitated before answering me, his eyes sweeping over my body. For a  moment, I thought I saw a glimmer of hunger, but then it was gone and I  figured I must have imagined it.

"I ate already."

"What about dessert? You'd be doing me a favor by having some since my  kitchen is overflowing with sweets. Otherwise, I'll eat them all  myself." Dragging a hand down the side of my dress, I emphasized exactly  why that would be a bad idea. My appreciation of all things sweet was a  big part of the reason for all my curves.

"If that's"-his eyes lingered on my cleavage and hips before lifting  back up to my face-"the result of you enjoying dessert, then I'm all for  you having as many as you want."

"Wow," I breathed out at the heat in his stare. "That's not exactly the usual response I get from guys."

His eyes flared hotter as he stalked towards me. "Then they're idiots."

"Yup," I gulped. "Most of the boys at my school were morons."

The exact moment I said "school," he stopped dead in his tracks. I  wanted to kick myself for reminding him exactly how young I was.  Apparently, I was a moron too.

"I'm not a boy, Lilah. I'm a man." The words were growled with an air of warning.

"But are you a man who enjoys cherry cheesecake, strawberry shortcake,  or peanut-butter-fudge pretzel brownies?" I joked, hoping to lighten the  moment and get his mind off our age difference.

"You had to go and say strawberry shortcake," he groaned.

Yes! I mentally fist-pumped.

"Coming right up if you'll follow me into the kitchen."

I was acutely aware of him walking behind me and added a touch more  swivel to my hips than usual. I served him the biggest piece of  shortcake I could find, with a heaping mound of strawberries and whip  cream. Then I dished myself up one of the brownies and joined him at the  table. When he moaned at his first bite, I knew I was going to ask my  next-door neighbor for her recipe. If strawberry shortcake was Ethan  Parker's weakness, I was about to become an expert at making it.