Samson's Lovely Mortal
Page 54

When she was finally dressed, she walked down the stairs. The smell of coffee permeated the house, and she followed the scent into the kitchen. Had he come home? Instinctively she felt guilty for having snooped around his bedroom.
“Samson?” she called out as she entered.
The person standing in front of the sink turned to her. It was the same young man who Samson had sent with the flowers and the invitation to the theater, Oliver.
“Good morning, Miss Sheridan.”
She swallowed her disappointment and smiled at him. “Please call me Delilah.”
He nodded and gave her a shy smile. “I made coffee for you. Cream, sugar?”
“Just milk, thank you, Oliver.” Delilah gratefully took the mug he handed her and sat down at the kitchen island. She sipped the hot coffee and looked at him. He was in his early twenties and seemed to be completely at ease with his role. Was he used to looking after Samson’s lovers? The thought of other women having been in her place made her feel uncomfortable.
“How long have you been working for Samson?” She needed to find out whether she was just one of many. Now that she thought of it, he was too smooth in his behavior for last night to be an exception.
“Three years. He’s a good boss.”
If Oliver had been working for him for that long, he would certainly know about any other women. But how could she find out without being too obvious?
“Carl told me what happened last night outside the theater. You were lucky you were with Mr. Woodford.”
“He shouldn’t have taken such a risk. The guy had a gun.” She still shuddered at the thought of Samson putting himself in danger.
“He can take care of himself. You were never in danger.” He seemed certain even though he hadn’t been at the scene.
“But he could have gotten hurt.” Delilah still had a hard time getting the image out of her mind.
Oliver smiled. “You like him.”
Heat suffused her cheeks, and she hid her face in her coffee mug. “He’s a very nice man.” Instead of milking him for information, Oliver had gotten information out of her. This was obviously not working the way she’d planned it.
“So, do you take care of Mr. Woodford’s personal affairs?”
Oliver gave her a strange look, then smiled again. “I’m his personal assistant and driver, and today I’ll be your bodyguard.”
“Are you also Samson’s bodyguard?”
“He doesn’t need one. But don’t be concerned, I’m fully trained. I’ll protect you.”
“Do you normally protect women for Samson?” She took another sip from her coffee and tried to look casual while inside, she was nearly bursting with what felt close to dread, anticipating the answer to her question.
“There are no other women in Mr. Woodford’s life.”
Either he was extremely loyal and secretive, or he was speaking the truth. She tried to read his face, but couldn’t tell if he had lied or not.
“He likes you. He wouldn’t have asked me to protect you if he didn’t.”
Delilah didn’t know how to answer. She felt embarrassed at how transparent she seemed to be.
“Would you like to eat something? Carl went shopping last night.”
Oliver crossed to the fridge and opened it. It was filled from top to bottom with food.
“Maybe just some fruit.” She should eat something; she’d barely had any dinner the night before, and it was already lunch time. “And some bread with jam.” Suddenly Delilah felt famished.
“Eggs, bacon?”
“I shouldn’t. Too many calories.” She waved him off. Like she needed another few pounds on her hips.
“I’m sure you’ll burn them off in no time.” As soon as he said it, she gave him a startled look. Did everybody know what she’d done all night? Obviously Carl knew, and he’d told Oliver.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that. I just thought you’re so slim anyway, you won’t put on any weight,” he stammered, all of a sudden completely nervous. “You won’t tell Mr. Woodford, will you?”
Was he afraid of his boss?
“Why would I? How about those eggs then, and a few strips of bacon, huh?” She smiled at him to put him at ease again.
“Thank you.” He gave her a grateful look and started cooking her breakfast. “Sometimes I should just keep my mouth shut.”
“No harm done.” But maybe now she could find out more about Samson. He owed her. “Tell me a little bit about him.”