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The Man Behind the Mask
Barbara Wallace
A weekend to change everything…Delilah St. Germaine fell for New York's most in-demand bachelor, Simon Cartwright, the moment she began working for him. Four years later, her heart still flutters every time he saunters into the office–much to her frustration. He's so far out of her reach it's embarrassing!Thrown together with him for a working weekend, Delilah glimpses the cracks in Simon's glittering facade. Now she's tasted the sweetness of his kisses, she's determined to uncover the secrets he's hiding and learn who the real Simon Cartwright is. But will innocent Delilah's life ever be the same once the truth is revealed?
“Don’t be naïve,” he snapped. “Any man with two eyes would be interested in you.”
“You’re not.”
Her words, soft and sad, punched him square in the gut. Not interested? Not interested? Oh, but she couldn’t be more wrong.
She gasped when he cradled her face. Her lips parted in unintentional anticipation, their surface slick and shining. He ran his thumb across the edge, earning a whisper of a sigh. The noise turned his blood hot. He dragged his gaze from her eyes to her mouth and back, only to find the blue darker. Losing himself in the colour, he felt that falling sensation again, leading him to a place warm and safe.
This time there was nothing to stop him. He lowered his mouth to hers, taking the comfort he so badly wanted. For a few moments he forgot his damaged soul and lost childhood in the taste that was uniquely Delilah.
When the kiss ended he pressed small kisses to the corners of her mouth. “Still think I’m not interested?” he whispered against her skin.
The Man Behind the Mask
Barbara Wallace
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
BARBARA WALLACE is a lifelong romantic and day-dreamer, so it’s not surprising that at the age of eight she decided to become a writer. However, it wasn’t until a co-worker handed her a romance novel that she knew where her stories belonged. For years she limited her dreams to nights, weekends and commuter train trips, while working as a communications specialist, PR freelancer and full-time mum. At the urging of her family she finally chucked the day job and pursued writing full-time—and she couldn’t be happier.
Barbara lives in Massachusetts with her husband, their teenage son and two very spoiled, self-centred cats (as if there could be any other kind). Readers can visit her at www.barbarawallace.com and find her on Facebook. She’d love to hear from you.
To my fellow Harlequin Romance writers, a group of women as supportive as they are talented, and to my two favorite men, Pete and Andrew, who make life worth living.
Contents
CHAPTER ONE (#u485574ea-53e6-5089-9bc5-9f51bb95a319)
CHAPTER TWO (#uc0ae1f99-6c67-5e8b-a463-7d6dd5a66ba6)
CHAPTER THREE (#u5df3104b-a390-5726-9cbf-fed7c0f79cd9)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EXCERPT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE
“YOUR BOSS MADE the paper again.”
Plop! The folded tabloid landed smack in the middle of Delilah St. Germain’s desk, sending papers flying. “Hey! I just organized those.”
She threw the two women standing in the doorway of her cubicle a good-natured glare. “Some of us have work to do.”
“Some of us would like to point out it’s seven-thirty in the morning,” Chloe Abrams replied. “We’re the only people in the office.”
Without waiting for an invitation, she and Larissa Boyd grabbed a pair of chairs from the empty cube across the aisle and sat down. “Besides, we brought coffee.”
“Oh-my-God-I-love-you-where?” Spying the two large paper cups in Larissa’s hand, she snatched one. “You have no idea how badly I need this.”
“No,” Larissa said, “but we could guess. How you been, stranger? We haven’t seen you all week. You still working on that client pitch?”
“Bartlett Ale? Not at the moment.” The potential account had her burning the candle at both ends the past couple of weeks. “But I’m behind on everything else.” She lifted off the cup lid and breathed deep. It was still warm, too. “You two are lifesavers.”
In more ways than one. Chloe and Larissa had been her best friends since corporate orientation four years ago. Delilah was pretty sure she wouldn’t have survived her move to the Big Apple without them.
“Hey, what are friends for if not to keep you caffeinated when you’re overworked?” Chloe replied. “What time did you get here anyway?”
“Not that long ago. Six-thirty, seven.” Earlier than usual.
Her two friends shook their heads. “There are easier ways to impress the boss than making sure you’re in before he is,” Chloe told her.
“I’m not trying to impress the boss,” Delilah immediately shot back. Not too much anyway. “And you two should talk. I don’t see either of you sleeping in.”
“Hey, this hour of the day is the only time I can get any wedding planning done, since Tom is always hogging the Wi-Fi,” Larissa pointed out. “I came in to surf for bridesmaid dress ideas.”
“And I like to beat the line at the coffee shop,” Chloe replied.
“So she can have plenty of time to flirt with the barista,” Larissa shot back.
“You’re just jealous because he gave me a free size upgrade.”
“I could so make a joke about that comment right now.”
“Please don’t,” Delilah said. “I already have the image in my head.”
Speaking of images.... She reached for the paper Chloe dropped on her desk. Sure enough, there was Simon Cartwright, a third of the way down the column, a beaming blonde draped on his arm.
“Finland Smythe again,” Chloe read over her shoulder. “She’s lasted a while.”
“Two months.” Longer than most. Their boss tended to collect girlfriends the way Delilah’s grandmother used to collect souvenir spoons. Fashion models, actresses, would-be fashion models and actresses, a literal parade of beauty, every one of them wearing the same thrilled expression.
Who could blame them? Delilah stared at the black-and-white image. What she wouldn’t give to be a woman exceptional enough to capture Simon Cartwright’s attention.
Like that was possible. Simon was... She nearly sighed out loud. What wasn’t he? The man was handsome, intelligent, sophisticated. You could literally feel the energy change in the room as soon as he walked in.
Her laptop had a better chance of attracting his attention.
“Ooh, look, here’s an ad for that bridal expo I was telling you guys about.” Larissa pointed to a bold-bordered box next to the society column. “You’re both still coming with me, right?”
Both Delilah and Chloe groaned. Since getting engaged to her stockbroker boyfriend, Larissa had been in nonstop bridal mode. “Do we have to?” Chloe asked.
“Yes you do. You’re my bridesmaids. Besides, it’ll be fun. We can look at bridesmaid dresses.”
“What happened to the ones you were looking at online this morning?” Chloe asked.
“Not on company time, I hope.”
All three women jumped. Delilah quickly turned the paper over. Simon Cartwright leaned against her cubicle opening, arms folded across his broad chest. Like it did every morning, Delilah’s pulse skipped a beat at the sight.
Dear Lord, but he took her breath away. It wasn’t that he was traditionally handsome. In fact, on a different man, the prominent nose and sensual lips might not work at all. On Simon though.... The strong features fit as perfectly as his custom-tailored suits. Today’s number was dove-gray, with a jacket cut narrow to emphasize his long, lean build. A swimmer in college, he still swam laps mornings before work. In fact, the damp curls at the base of his neck said he had just come from the pool.
“Good morning, ladies. I didn’t realize there was an intradepartmental meeting this morning. I would have brought pastries.”
“Prework coffee klatch,” Delilah replied.
“Ahhh. Interesting. The things I miss not arriving earlier. Makes me wonder what other fun activities go on when I’m not here. Speaking of...” He turned to Larissa. “How are the wedding plans going, Ms. Boyd?”
“Very well, thank you,” her friend replied.
“Company server isn’t bogging down your internet searches?”
“I, um...no?” Her friend’s cheeks turned crimson. Ducking her head, she missed the momentary sparkle behind Simon’s sapphire eyes. Delilah caught it however; her stomach did another flip.
“Glad to hear it.” He turned his attention to Delilah. “When you’re done with your coffee klatch, I need you in my office.”
Need you. Okay, so he meant regarding business. When said in that rich baritone though, the words still managed to make her insides flutter. Pathetic? Yes. But so was being in love with your boss. If either Chloe or Larissa found out her little secret, she’d never live it down.
Fortunately, she was very good at keeping her feelings hidden. Tucking an imaginary brown strand behind her ear, she gave a quick nod. “Sure thing. Be right there.”
“Someone’s in a good mood,” Chloe noted. “I’m guessing last night went well.”
“Maybe.” As a rule, she preferred not to dwell on Simon’s romantic exploits. Bad enough the gossip columns insisted on rubbing the pictorial evidence in her face. Sitting around speculating only made her feel dumpy and depressed.
She grabbed a nearby legal pad. “Either way, I better get to work. We can gossip at lunch.” Although hopefully by then, a new topic would demand their attention.
CMT Worldwide occupied two floors of their Madison Avenue address. The first floor housed accounting and media. Creative and client services, Delilah’s division, took up most of the second. As head of the New York branch, and director of accounts, Simon’s office sat at the rear of the layout with a sprawling view of the skyline.
Simon stood at the far window bank, facing Madison Avenue. Tall and broad shouldered, with his hands clasped behind his back, he reminded Delilah of a prince surveying his kingdom. Suddenly self-conscious, she smoothed down the front of her blouse. She’d been trying to wear brighter colors these days, in an effort to look more vibrant. Today’s choice was a raspberry satin with pleats and cap sleeves that looked far more stylish on the mannequin. Then, everything seemed more stylish when she wasn’t standing near Simon. No matter what she wore, she felt impossibly drab and average in his orbit. Still, she smoothed the material anyway, and then brushed the bangs from her eyes for good measure before knocking loudly. Simon hated being approached without notice.
“You wanted to see me?”
He turned around. “Jim Bartlett has narrowed his choice to two agencies. Ours and Mediatopia.”
“Fantastic.” Doubly so, given how much work had gone into pitching them the past month. Ever since the brewer announced he was looking for a new advertising agency, Simon—and by extension Delilah and everyone else in the agency—had been working like crazy to convince Bartlett Ale that CMT was the perfect choice to sell their beverages. If Jim Bartlett was down to the final two, that meant the agency’s hard work had paid off. “When do they make their final decision?”
“End of next week.”
Sooner than they originally thought. So why wasn’t he smiling the way he normally did when the agency got good news? In fact, the good mood Larissa mentioned appeared to have faded altogether. “Is there a problem?” she asked. “You don’t sound very excited.”
“Sorry. Bit of a headache. Last night was...” Thankfully, he waved off the rest of the explanation and pulled out his chair. “As for Bartlett, don’t start dancing a victory dance quite yet. We have one more hurdle.”
“What kind of hurdle?” She sank into the chair across from him. If she had to create another PowerPoint presentation, she was going to scream.
“Apparently, Jim wants to spend some time getting to know each of the candidates on a more personal basis before making his final decision. The agency he likes best wins.”
Was that all? “Doesn’t sound like much of a hurdle to me.” More like a cake walk.
“Careful. We don’t want to get overconfident.”
“Maybe, but if we’re talking a charm contest between you and Roberto Montoya, I’d rather bet on you.” She’d seen Simon work a room. The man could sell rat poison to rats if he put his mind to it.
He flashed a row of perfect white teeth. “That’s what I like about you, Delilah. You’re good for my ego.”
Yeah, because he needed a boost from the likes of her. She watched him as he arranged the objects on his desk into neat piles and rows. “So what is it they want you to do?”
“Have dinner with them tonight in Boston and then tomorrow tour their brewery. We should be back early on Sunday.”
“Doesn’t sound too difficult. I’ll clear your sched— Wait, did you say we?”
Simon looked up from straightening his wireless mouse. “Yes, I did.”
“You...?” Delilah was pretty sure her mouth did a fishlike movement as she processed his answer. “You want me to go to Boston with you?”
“Yes. Is that a problem?”
“No,” she rushed. “Not at all.” Overnight in Boston? With him? How could that possibly be a problem? If anything, the opportunity was too good to be true.
“Good, because as my assistant, you’ll be dealing with Bartlett as much as—if not more than—I will. Seeing how important this account is, I think it’s a good idea for them to get to know you, as well.”
“Sure. Yes. Of course. I’ll do anything you think will help, you know that.” Her excitement was making her babble.
That his lips slowly curled upward in response didn’t help matters. “I know you will,” he told her. “Makes me glad you’re on my side.”
Always, she wanted to reply. Fortunately, she kept her senses and her tongue, settling instead for tucking an imaginary strand of brown behind her ear to cover her blush. “I better go take care of the flight arrangements,” she said rising. Then she had to go home and pack. Oh, dear Lord, pack! The completely normal task suddenly seemed overwhelming. She was going to have to find Chloe and Larissa to ask them what she should wear. Then, at some point, she needed to tell her insides to settle down. This was a business trip; not a romantic weekend getaway.
“Delilah, wait!” Simon’s baritone reached her just as her foot reached the hallway. “Could you also dig up the name of the florist we use? I need to have some roses delivered.”
In her mind, Delilah heard a soft pop! as her excitement burst. As reminders went, she couldn’t do much harsher. “Sure thing,” she told him. “I’ll get it as soon as I return to my desk.”
Just as she had thought; the invitation was too good to be true.
