Unlikely Love: A Romance Single (10 page)

“You're not perfect! You're a diva and a brat!”

“Excuse me?”

“Just let me finish!” he laughed, “You're a diva and a brat, but you excite me. Underneath it all, you're so real, and I like that.”

She took a step towards him, and slowly crossed her arms.

“So you're telling me that you like me?”

“A lot,” he dropped his eyes to the ground, “I didn't want to admit it to myself because it's never going to work, but that kiss only confirmed what I thought.”

“That's good,” she smiled, “because I like you too.”

He didn't smile, instead, he stared deeply into her eyes, pinning her to the spot. All of the strange attraction and hatred she'd felt towards him were mixing around in her stomach like a strange cocktail, making her want to grab Nolan to rip his clothes off.

“I'm here for another week,” Nolan started, “can we get to know each other better?”

Delilah suddenly remembered that she was in Spain to work. She also suddenly remembered that she had a hot French model boyfriend turning up for the second week of her holiday. She thought if it could ever work. Did she really want to blow off her casual boyfriend to get to know a journalist better?

Just asking herself the question, she already knew the answer.

“Okay,” she looked up through her hair and smiled, “I'd like that.”

Nolan suppressed a smile, making his eyes crinkle at the sides. It made Delilah's heart race. The more she stared at his face, the more handsome and gorgeous he appeared to be.

“I don't expect anything from you,” he repeated what he'd told her in the hotel room, “I hope you know that.”

It had taken her a while to understand what that meant, but it suddenly clicked into place. He didn't want to use her, because she was a celebrity. He didn't want to sleep with her because she was Delilah White and that would bring him kudos with his friends. He didn't expect anything. Nothing. But did she think that would mean nothing would happen? It felt like he'd put the ball in her court.

It was his way of telling her she had the control.

“I expect something from you,” she smiled, “I expect you to get me back to the damn hotel, because I'm not dying in the middle of nowhere. Don't you know who I am?”

“I sure do,” he winked, “there's a village a mile or two that way. We'll get a taxi from there.”

“That easy?”

“I knew it was there the whole time, I was just trying to think of the easiest way to get there."

She thought back to her panic attack and her struggle with the helmet. It all felt so silly.

“Come on then. Lead the way journalist!”

“No problem, pop star.”

He picked up both of their helmets and tied them around the handlebars on the bike. He started to push it, and when he passed Delilah, he slid his free hand into hers, delicately intertwining their fingers together.

They turned around and walked away from the steep hill, down the long and winding road through the sunflowers. As they walked, hand in hand, Delilah had never felt more content. She was glad Nolan had stopped anything more happening. For the first time ever, she longed for sex with somebody to be special, and she knew Nolan was the man to do that.

She ignored the confusion and questioning, and decided she was going to live in the moment. She didn't know how things would work past the trip, but she didn't care. As long as Nolan held her hand, everything was perfect.

As they walked slowly through the winding flower fields, she made a mental note to tell Marcus to cancel André's trip.

When they finally made it back to
Paraíso
, Marcus was his usual frantic self, demanding to know where Delilah had been all day. He seemed to totally ignore that Nolan turned up at the same time as she did. She spent the rest of the night listening to Marcus talk about nonsense, longing to speak to Nolan again. She tried to hide her disappointment when he told her that he needed to lock himself in his room for the rest of the evening to work on his piece.

She'd been hoping they could start getting to know each other right away.

“Delilah! Oh my god Delilah! Open your door!” Delilah's eyes sprung open the next morning when Marcus' frantic screeching boomed through her door.

She bolted up, and scratched her head to stare around her bedroom. She made a mental note to tell Marcus to tidy around the place as she plodded across the hot tiles in her underwear to answer the door. Marcus was one of the few men who had seen Delilah completely naked on more than one occasion, but he was one of the few men in her life that didn't care.

“This better be good,” she yawned, sure the sun had only just risen.

“Just open the damn door!”

As she scrambled with the lock, she imagined it would be something trivial as usual. When she managed to wiggle the lock free, Marcus burst into her room, pushing past her. He ran over and picked up one of her vests, sniffed it and threw it at her.

“Get dressed!” he was profusely sweating, “Quickly!”

“Marcus, are you feeling okay?”

He stopped for a second to stare at her. It was his
'I don't want to tell you how I've screwed up face'
. His worried eyes lingered for a moment before scrambling to throw a pair of shorts at her.

“Remember how I said they wanted you to rehearse before the show?”

Delilah's stomach churned.

“Yeah,” she pulled the vest over her matted hair.

“Well, it's today,” he planted his face into his hands, “they rang me yesterday to tell me they'd brought it forwards, but I forgot! You weren't here, and I forgot to tell you when you got back. I'm so sorry Delilah!”

He braced, as if waiting for an outburst. Something inside of Delilah rumbled with anger, but she didn't let it bubble to the surface. Unusually, she felt calm as she stared at her trembling assistant.

“How late?”

“An hour,” his lips quivered.

Delilah's stomach churned again, but she forced herself not to panic. She knew rehearsals were just as important as the main show, if not more important, but as she slid her denim shorts over her lace underwear, she couldn't summon the energy to be the '
Delilah White
' she was only a day ago.

“It's fine,” she waved her hand at Marcus, slipping into a pair of sandals, “have you called a taxi?”

“They've sent a car,” Marcus furrowed his brow, “you're not angry?”

Delilah ran over to the mirror to brush out her knotted blonde hair. As she worked away at the tangles, she caught herself smiling in the mirror.

“I'm in a good mood today,” she shrugged, “take advantage of it.”

Marcus eyed her suspiciously in the mirror. She smiled at him. It felt foreign to smile, especially because she wasn't forcing it.

“You're not going to suddenly snap and take it out on me when I least expect it, are you?”

“Nope.”

“Are you sure?”

Delilah dropped the brush and spun around on the chair.

“You're a bad assistant. I should fire you, blah, blah blah. Is that better?”

Marcus let out a sigh of relief, just as his cell started to vibrate in his pocket.

“That will be the driver. C'mon, let's go!”

She hurried out of the door, leaving her face fresh and her hair extension-free. She knew there would be a team of stylists waiting for her at the studio, so it didn't bother her too much.

As she was jiggling the key in the lock, trying to lock the door, she glanced at Nolan's door. A fuzziness took over her. She imagined he'd still be asleep after a long night of writing. It had taken all of her will power not to knock on his door during the night. Not because she wanted anything, she just wanted to talk to him. She just wanted to see him.

“Do we have a translator?” she called to Marcus as he stood at the top of the stairs, tapping his foot nervously.

“What?” he screwed up his face.

“A translator,” she repeated, “there's usually one at these things, isn't there?”

“Oh,” he looked even more nervous, “I-I-I don't know!”

Delilah didn't care that he didn't know. All she cared about was that he didn't say with confidence
'yes, there's a translator'
. When the lock finally clicked, she glanced over at Nolan's door again. The fuzziness returned. Would he be awake? Would he want to see her?

“Who is it?” a sleepy and gruff voice called from the other side of the door after she gently knocked.

“It's Delilah,” she smiled through the wood.

In an instant, the door unlocked and swung open to reveal Nolan standing in front of her, wearing nothing more than a pair of tight white Calvin Klein’s. Her eyes lingered as the white fabric perfectly hugged every inch of his manhood.

Ripping her eyes away, she followed the trail of hair up his stomach, to his chest and face. Just from his puffy eyes and messy hair, she knew that she'd woken him.

“Aren't you a sight for sore eyes in the morning,” he sounded croaky, but still sexy.

He casually held onto the door with one hand and leaned against the door frame with another. As he stood there, his spicy scent from the night before mixed in with his sweat. She strangely liked it.

“Good morning to you to,” she tried to sound casual.

“How can I help?” he smiled, “If you wanted me to move rooms again, I'm still not budging.”

He winked and bit his lip, which made Delilah weak at the knees. She knew Nolan just wanted to get to know her, but after their kiss the previous day, she was finding it very hard not to push him into his room and onto his bed. They were already an hour late, couldn't they be two hours late? Or maybe three?

“You speak Spanish, right?”

“Sí señorita."

“I'll take that as a yes?

He laughed and nodded.

Delilah glanced back to Marcus who was watching her curiously from the other end of the hall. She leaned into Nolan and lowered her voice to a whisper.

“Remember how you said you wanted to get to know me better? How about today?”

Nolan screwed up his mouth and rubbed his stubble covered jaw.

“Ah, jeez,” he glanced back into his room, “I should really keep working on this article.”

Delilah felt deflated. He turned back to her and smiled awkwardly at her as he fought the decision.

“I really need a translator for today, and you're the only person I know who speaks Spanish,” she tried her best to sound desperate, “plus you'll get to see me at work, and you'll get to see how the show is made. That could go in your article? Right? Spanish TV?”

“I suppose,” he rubbed his jaw again, “alright, just give me a minute to get dressed.”

Delilah wanted to tell him he didn't need to bother. She watched as he turned into his room. Through the underwear, she could see his backside moving perfectly as he walked. She watched as he put his arms into a shirt and loosely buttoned it halfway, leaving his tanned chest on show. He walked out onto the balcony, making Delilah crane her neck to see him. He faced out and dropped his underwear to the ground. He kept his manhood cupped, but it didn't stop her admiring his muscular and firm cheeks. It was only a couple of seconds before he'd put on a pair that he'd air dried, but she already felt like she'd been staring for too long. When he returned to the room to jump into his jeans, he smiled cheekily at her. Did he know she'd been watching him through the fluttering curtains?

Did he do it on purpose so she could see?

She tore her eyes away from him to look back at Marcus, who looked fit to explode any moment. He was tapping his wrist to let her know she needed to hurry up.

“One minute,” she mouthed at him.

He sighed and resumed tapping his foot. He reminded Delilah of a distressed puppy sometimes. When he was on top of everything, he was the best assistant in the game, but the minute something went wrong, he spiraled into a nervous panic. Tony would usually be there to pick up the pieces.

“Ready,” Nolan rested his hands on Delilah's shoulder to turn her and gently lead her out of the door frame.

As he locked his door, his freshly applied musky scent tickled her senses.

“What is that aftershave you wear?” her voice sounded dreamier than she'd intended.

“Oh, it's just my natural pheromones,” he winked playfully at her as he locked the door.

“Do they sell that at duty free?”

“It's a Nolan Rigby original,” he winked again.

Each time he winked, his dark lashes and hazel eyes sent her butterflies dancing.

“C'mon,” she touched his arm, “we have work to do.”

“Do I get paid for this?”

“Not a cent.”

“Oh great,” he laughed, “you look nice today by the way.”

“I'm not wearing any makeup,” she furrowed her face, only just realizing she'd let a man she liked see her in her natural state.

“I noticed,” he whispered, “I told you that you were gorgeous.”

Nolan smiled at her as they walked down the corridor towards Marcus. She resisted the urge to slip her fingers into his.