Page 21 of Samson

“Yes, she’s been fantastic,” the man at the table said.

“You’re all enjoying your meals?” Samson glanced down at the steak. “Medium rare. Nice choice.”

“Thank you.”

He turned his attention to Delilah. “I hope you’ll be serving my table tonight.” The way he looked at her lit an unwelcome fire in her stomach.

While she couldn’t deny being the focus of a man whose attention everyone wanted had its appeal, and it certainly made her feel good about herself, that was as far as her interests would ever go.

She kept her face neutral, not wanting anyone to get ideas about her involvement with him.

“I’m afraid your table is not in my area tonight,” she said.

“A shame.” Without another word, he went back to his table, where he looked back at her. The corner of his mouth lifted in a grin when he found her still watching him.

She growled and turned to face the man who’d complained. She didn’t need Samson fighting her battles. “I’d be happy to get another steak for you if you’re not satisfied with it.”

The man glanced in Samson’s direction. “No. You can tell your boyfriend the food and the service is fine.”

She clenched her teeth. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Whatever you say.” He chuckled at his friends, and they joined in.

She turned quickly, visiting another table.

“How is everything?” she said with a bright smile in an attempt to wash away thoughts of the last encounter.

“Everything is wonderful. Thank you.”

“Hey, D.” Another waitress stopped her as she crossed the room. “Can you cover my tables for a minute?”

“Yeah, sure. Where are you up to?”

“Everyone’s ordered already. Just keep the glasses full, and bring the plates when they’re ready.”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, my stomach’s been off all day.”

There had been whispers that Heather was pregnant, but she hadn’t said anything yet, so neither did Delilah. “Take as much time as you need.”

“Thanks.”

After delivering a tray of drinks to the table in the corner, she returned to the kitchen to collect several plates of hors d’oeuvres, then saw what table it was for.

She took a deep breath, preparing mentally, determined not to react to whatever assumptions Samson vocalized.

“Delilah,” he said when she reached the table. The smile didn’t show on his face, but his eyes were full of it. “I thought I wasn’t going to get the pleasure tonight.”

“I’m only filling in for your waitress.” She’d keep it to the facts. He liked to take what she said and twist it around to suit him.

“Filling in because you asked her to swap?”

His eyes glinted.

She put the plates on the table and looked at the brunette to Samson’s left—probably his date for the night—and wondered what she thought of all this. The woman’s stare was so full of contempt she could be looking at dog poo on the bottom of her shoe.

Delilah dragged her eyes to Samson, and she allowed her frustration to slip out. “What can I say, Sammy? I guess I’m just drawn to your animal magnetism. Or is it your overinflated ego?”

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