The Pretend Boyfriend novel Chapter 61

Delilah is ... well, slim.

Sam tries to maintain the semblance of being relaxed, though inside - her pulse is going tappity-tap, tappity-tap, as it does every time she isn't sure she's going to land a client's account. Or in this case, it's only the rest of Brian's life.

Yeah, try not to let the pressure leak through your smiling teeth.

"So, Samantha, what do you do?" Delilah says.

It's a casual question. A get-to-know-you question, but to Sam, it feels like an opening salvo being torpedoed right into her chest.

"I'm an accounts exec at Sapphire." Well, she used to be, before she was so unceremoniously retrenched. "What do you do?"

Funny she should notice it now, but Delilah's facial skin is as tight as a drum. Definitely surgery.

"I work for Frontier. It's a new company specializing in pharmaceuticals."

Yes, I know, Sam thinks.

"Pharmaceuticals? You mean like aspirin and stuff?"

"No, we're lot more advanced than that." For a moment, Delilah seems almost eager, and then she reins herself back in. "Well, we do cardiovascular and diabetic drugs and there are some therapies we are trying out for Parkinson's."

"That's so cool." Sam is being truthful. "So, do you live alone or do you have a boyfriend?"

Yup, she's definitely aiming for casual.

"I have no boyfriend," Delilah says lightly. "Broke up with the last one three years ago, and haven't been with anyone since."

"No kidding. Someone who looks like you?" Delilah really does look great, even if a bit artificial. But what isn't artificial anymore? Even artificial flowers look greater than real ones ... sometimes. "Sorry, I don't mean to sound like I'm trying to flatter you, but you really do. I mean it."

Even she can hear the sincerity in her voice.

Delilah leans forward. "I don't really like men all that much."

"Really?" Sam frowns. "You mean you're a lesbian?"

She's aware that she too may be giving off lesbianic vibes, the way she's laying it thick about Delilah's looks.

Delilah snorts. "No, I'm not a lesbian, even though I've experimented. Who hasn't, right? After all, you never can tell which side of the fence you fall onto ... or maybe even both." Her eyes flash a wicked gleam that makes Sam a tad uncomfortable. "I just mean I'm through with men. Their lying, empty promises. I've been hurt too many times to let them make the cuts on my wrist anymore."

That is an odd thing to say, Sam thinks.

"Hear, hear," Sam says, laughing.

They raise their ice lemon teas and clink glasses. Sam feels her tensed muscles relaxing. They make more small talk about movies and theatre and stuff they generally like. Then Sam carefully makes the move to apartments.

"Where do you live?" she asks, even though she knows full well where Delilah lives.

Delilah smiles mysteriously. "In a secret bat cave with my butler and handsome blond sidekick. Why do you want to know?"

Sam is taken aback. But she recovers quickly. "Just making talk. I just bought a new apartment myself." She gives the address, hoping Delilah would not think anything of it.

Of course, if Delilah were to tail her with a private investigator, just as she had done, it would be easy to note that Brian Morton - the very object of Delilah's accusation - spends the night there every now and again. But Sam doesn't think Delilah would tail her. She's not the object of suspicion. Yet.

Or maybe I'm getting paranoid.

Come on, Sammie. You've got to be strong for Brian.

They continue to talk into the night. Sam tries to steer the topic of conversation back to boyfriends. She's pussyfooting around, dipping her toe into dangerous waters. One false move, and she'd be outed.

Sam says, "I had a boyfriend once ... a long time ago ... who was a real jerk. Even when he was dating me, he was seeing other girls behind my back. At first I thought it was just one girl, but then it turned out to be a whole cheerleading squad of them. He was the college whore, but I refused to see it, you know, because I was just so thrilled he was dating me."