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“I...”
Damn. His comment made her blush again, sending her lashes sweeping downward and blocking his view. He wanted the blue back. There was a serenity to the shade he didn’t want to let go of.
“The proper answer is thank you,” he said. Shifting his weight, he used his free hand to catch her chin and gently force her gaze upward again. There, that was more like it. “When someone pays you a compliment, you’re supposed to say thank you.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“You’re welcome.” The sea breeze, light as it was, blew hair into her face, again marring his view. Repeating what he’d seen her do so many times before, he tucked the errant strands behind her ear, his fingers lingering along the outer edge. Those eyes widened, and arousal, that blessed precursor to forgetting, began to curl through him. It surged when he saw her catch her lip between her teeth, as though biting back a sigh....
“Hey! You can’t sit there.”
Simon jerked back. The voice belonged to a security guard who was strutting toward them. A perfectly timed bucket of water.
“Sorry,” the guard said as he drew closer, “but you’re going to have to move.”
“Right. Of course.” He scrambled to his feet, ignoring how the rapid motion caused the pier to shift and throw him off balance. Delilah, who was on her feet, as well, reached out to steady him, but he grabbed hold of a piling instead. “It’s time we call it an evening anyway, don’t you think?”
From the look on her face, his assistant didn’t know what to think. Can’t say I blame you, he thought as he motioned for her to go ahead of him. Frankly, he wasn’t sure himself.
CHAPTER THREE
DELILAH WAS IN the shower trying to clear her head when she heard the phone ring. Grabbing the complimentary bathrobe that hung on a nearby hook, she rushed to answer before the caller hung up. As soon as she saw the Kansas area code on the call screen, her spirits sagged. Seriously, did you really think Simon would call after the way he bolted from the dock?
Pushing a smile into her voice, she answered. “Hey, Mom. What’s up?”
“Nothing. Thought I’d call and see how you were doing is all. It’s been a while.”
The last comment earned a guilty stab. “Yeah, sorry I haven’t called. Things have been pretty crazy at work.”
“Crazy good, I hope.”
“Crazy great. Couldn’t be better.”
The lie rolled off her tongue like butter, leaving her a little more deflated. She wondered if her mother ever realized that life was always great when she asked. After ten years, the habit was too deeply ingrained to break. They all did it, Delilah as well as her brothers and sisters. They all put on a happy face, lest their mother worry. Because worrying was a negative emotion, and no one wanted to be the person responsible for sending her back into the depression that always seemed to hover nearby.
“In fact,” she continued, “I’m in Boston right now.” Briefly, she told her mother about Jim Bartlett’s request and the last-minute business trip.
“Honey, that’s wonderful. Your boss must think pretty highly of you to bring you along.”
Her mind flashed back to the dock and the feel of Simon’s fingers against her skin. “I don’t know what he’s thinking,” she murmured, her fingers unconsciously tracing his touch’s path.
She quickly shook the thought away. “Signing this account means a lot to him. He wants to make sure the Bartletts feel comfortable with everyone involved.”
“Which he wouldn’t do unless he thought you’d impress the man. This could be the start of big things for you.”
Delilah had to smile. There was no sense arguing the point. Her mother’s over-the-top enthusiasm was her way of making up for being mentally missing during Delilah’s teenage years. “You know you’re biased, don’t you?”
“Just because I’m biased doesn’t mean I’m wrong.” There was a pause, followed by a soft sniff. “Your dad would be really proud of you. He always said you were his brainy child.”
“Thanks.” Truthfully, who knew what her father thought; he’d been gone so long her mother’s memories had become a mixture of truth and wishful thinking. Still, the reference meant a lot to her mother so she went along. Besides, after tonight’s weirdness, the reassurance was nice to hear. “I hope so.”
“I know so. Now,” her mother said, clearing her throat, “tell me what else is new. How are those two friends of yours?”
Knowing her mother wanted details, Delilah settled back against the mountain of pillows lining the head of her king-size bed and caught her up on everything, including Chloe’s barista crush and how Larissa was treading dangerously close to Bridezilla territory.
“I swear she thinks I got myself invited on this trip just to avoid going to another bridal show,” she told her mother.
“Some women get a little crazy when it comes to weddings. Which reminds me, don’t be surprised if we have one of those around here soon. Danny and his girlfriend are getting pretty serious.”
“No way.” Delilah almost dropped the phone. Next to Simon, her younger brother was the biggest serial dater she’d ever met. “Did he hit his head or something?”
On the other end of the line, her mother laughed. “Nothing so dramatic. He simply found his missing piece. Isn’t that wonderful? I’m so happy for him.”
“Yeah,” Delilah replied, feeling strangely bereft. “Me, too.”
“That’s all I want for all of you kids, you know. To find someone as great as your dad.”
Better not hold your breath waiting for your middle daughter, Delilah thought.
She spent several more minutes being caught up on the rest of the family and the neighborhood gossip. Finally, after promising to call more often, as well as fielding a plea by her baseball-crazy brothers to send them Boston sports souvenirs, Delilah hung up and tossed the phone beside her on the bed.
As she looked around her hotel room, a sigh worked its way out of her lungs. Any other time she’d be overwhelmed by her surroundings. Things like the super-soft king-size bed and the walk-in shower the size of her entire bathroom back home. Tonight, however, they passed with little notice. Her mother’s call left her more out of sorts than ever. She couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that Danny, who never committed to anyone for more than a week in his life, was talking marriage, while she was here, alone in a Boston hotel room crushing on her disinterested boss.
This was all her mother’s fault. All those years going on about soul mates and missing pieces, making love sound like some grand romantic concept. “I knew the minute I laid eyes on your dad, he was the missing piece to my puzzle. That one perfect person who made my life complete.”
So complete, she fell apart when he died. Four long years of wishing she’d die, too, while her children struggled to find a way to live without her. Soul mates. Delilah hated the word. Hated that she’d been conditioned to believe that kind of true love was possible.
Now her brother had gone and found his soul mate. And what was she doing?
Damned if she knew. The surreal moment on the pier teased her the entire shower. Did she really see heat in Simon’s eyes? Or was the whole moment a product of her desperate imagination? If the latter, someone needed to let her body know. Her entire nervous system was awash with awareness.
Tightening the belt on her robe, she got up and walked to the glass. By complete coincidence, her hotel room had the same view as the dock. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, she could see the lights of departing airplanes. Simon’s room was only a few doors down. Was he watching the same view? For that matter, was he even in his room? After the security guard rousted them for sitting on the dock, Delilah had made a beeline for the elevator. The very idea of being in a small space with Simon turned her inside out.
No, the idea of being in a small space following Simon’s rejection of you turned you inside out. She saw how quickly he pulled away when the guard arrived. Obviously, if there had been a moment, Simon wasn’t interested in it continuing. Why would he be? Simon was probably on the phone right now chatting with his socialite girlfriend or some other gorgeous prospective lover. Or having another whiskey to forget the whole evening ever happened.
Her head fell against the glass. Maybe forgetting wasn’t such a bad idea after all. Like Simon said, the best thing she could do was start out better and stronger in the morning.
* * *
The boathouse was damp and cold. Without sunlight, the air never warmed. Simon’s breath made small gray clouds as he dragged the scull from the doorway. Every few feet he had to stop and readjust his grip because his numb fingers wouldn’t hang on. At this rate, breakfast would be over, meaning he’d have to sit through algebra on an empty stomach. Crap. This was so not how he wanted to spend his mornings. But, his father insisted he participate in sports. “Sports are an important part of prep school. They teach team spirit as opposed to those damn video games you’re always playing.” And so here he was, freezing and wet, dragging a stupid boat out of the stupid Charles River.
He didn’t see the shadows until they were on him. One minute he was fine, the next he couldn’t move. Someone had his arms pinned behind his back.
A face pushed close, the breath moist and sour from vodka filling his nostrils. “Where you think you’re going, Freshman?”
* * *
Splash! The cold water surrounded him and Simon felt his lethargic body slowly return to life. It might not be Olympic-size, but the hotel’s rooftop pool more than served its purpose. He propelled his way to the other end, his arms slashing the surface. Coach Callahan would have a fit if he saw him now. There wasn’t a bit of technique to his strokes. But Simon wasn’t interested in technique. It was the burn he craved. He wanted to push himself so hard his brain had no choice but to clear.
Last night’s nightmare came out of nowhere. Damn inconvenient, all these memories rising to the surface. Made him stupid, off his game.
He never told anyone about that day in the boathouse. Masking the broken parts of himself the best he could, he took what happened that day and filed them away in a locked part of his brain. Even when the scandal broke years later, he kept the memories quiet and carried on. No one would ever know the truth. How part of him shattered that raw, foggy morning. The world would forever see the Simon Cartwright they wanted to see. And on those rare occasions the memories did intrude and the mask threatened to slip? Well, then he had the pool.
How many times had water saved his sanity?
His fingers brushed the concrete, letting him know he’d reached the opposite wall. Hinging his hips, he pulled his torso down, dragging his memories beneath the surface. When he got low enough, he would flip directions and leave yesterday behind. Once again his life would be organized, the bad memories locked away where they couldn’t interfere with the here and now.
A pair of black patent leather flats waited at the pool’s edge when he returned, a shiny reminder that not all of yesterday’s “issues” could be pulled underwater. He flipped and took another lap, pretending not to notice the shoes or their owner.
Drowning his memories with pleasure was nothing new. He long ago learned the best place for keeping bad thoughts at bay—outside the pool—was his bed. Fortunately for him, there was never a shortage of women willing to join him, although for obvious reasons, he was always careful to keep business and pleasure separate. Until a second glass of whiskey blurred the two, that is.
Thank goodness for the security officer.
He waited two more laps before finally greeting her with a nod. “Morning, Delilah.”
She looked different today, though how, he couldn’t say. Outwardly, she looked the same as ever. Gray slacks, same brown ponytail, bangs flopping in her face. Had to be the top. Pale blue silk, it was more fitted and brought out the blue in her eyes. Blue like the color water should be. Words that should sound foolish in the morning light, but instead, one glance told him they remained strangely accurate. Looking up at Delilah’s face, last night’s weightless feeling returned. He was falling and floating all at the same time. Just like being suspended in the deep ocean.
Oh, for crying out loud, listen to him. He needed to pull himself together.
“What has you visiting me on the roof at this hour?” He rested his arms on the pool’s edge and waited while she gathered her thoughts, hoping her early appearance didn’t signal a resignation. The way he had behaved, he’d be lucky if she didn’t slap him with a harassment suit.
She gave him a long, unfathomable look before answering. “Josh Bartlett called.”
They were apparently conducting business as usual. Thank goodness. Assistants as smart and capable as Delilah didn’t grow on trees. If he had ruined their relationship with last night’s insanity, he’d do more than just mentally kick himself.
“Little early for business, isn’t it? What did he want?”
She ran a hand around her ear, a habit he remembered finding incredibly fascinating last night. Daytime proved that notion correct, as well. He’d never noticed how long and graceful her fingers were.
“Apparently the Bartlett family has a home on Cape Cod,” she told him. “They are throwing a New England clambake tomorrow night and invited us to attend.”
“Beer and seafood in a relaxed setting. What better way to catch people with their guard down?” He had to hand it to Jim Bartlett. This need of his to interview agencies on a “personal” level might be peculiar, but the eccentricity had savvy. “You told him we’d love to, right?”
“Not yet.”
“Why not?”
“It means staying another two nights, including Saturday night at their beach house,” Delilah told him. “I didn’t think I should agree until I knew your schedule.”
“I have no problem rearranging my life to win this account. You know that.”
“I know. I also know how important the account is to you.”
“Then why put him off?” Hesitation made them look indecisive, and that was the last image they wanted to project.
“Delilah?” he prompted when she looked away. “Is there a problem?”
“The account team for Mediatopia is also going to be there.”
“Why am I not surprised?” He chuckled at Bartlett’s audacity. What better way to judge people than to have them mingle with their adversaries? Made his and Delilah’s attendance all the more imperative. He was beginning to understand how Bartlett made his fortune, and it wasn’t simply because he knew how to brew a good beer. “Tell him I said the more the merrier.”
“Are you sure?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“It’s just that after last night, I wasn’t sure you’d be...”
“Up to it?” he finished for her. She nodded.
Wow. He must have been more off his game than he thought. “Last night was an anomaly, I promise.”
No sooner did he speak than the strangest expression crossed her face, passing too quickly for him to decipher. “Is there something else?”
She suddenly became quite entranced with tracing a splash stain darkening the cement with her foot. “They want us to spend the night.”
Of course. “You’re worried about spending the time alone with me.”
Her face paled. “No, I...”
“It’s all right, Delilah.” Stupid to think he’d escaped completely unscathed. Letting out a long breath, he hoisted himself out of the pool and made his way to the towel cart. Talking would be good. The two of them could clear the air and move forward.
“Frankly, I don’t blame you. I think we can both agree I wasn’t myself last night,” he said as he toweled off. “The whiskey went to my head and I crossed the line. I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right. Mistakes happen.” Turning abruptly, she headed toward the chain-link fence lining the pool area’s perimeter.
“No, it’s not all right,” he said, following. “I’m your boss, and I have no business making you feel uncomfortable. Ever. I’d hate for an unfortunate mistake on my part to ruin a great working relationship. All I can hope is that you’ll accept my apology and let the two of us start fresh.”
He wished she would turn around so he could convey to her the full apology in his words. “Do you think that’s possible?”
“In other words, you want to pretend last night never happened.”
“Only if you’re willing to. The ball’s in your court.” She still hadn’t turned around, leaving him to wonder what she was thinking.
After what seemed like hours, she shrugged. “Why not?” she said in an odd voice. “No harm, no foul, right?”
“Thank you.” Simon let out a breath as some of the tension bearing down on his shoulders eased. He joined her at the fence, ready to say more when he caught sight of her profile.
Disappointment flashed behind her eyes.
Ridiculous. His conscience was playing tricks on him. Had to be. When it came to his behavior last night, he could see Delilah having many reactions: anger, embarrassment and humiliation, to name a few. But disappointment? Not possible.
“Nothing to thank me for. Last night’s completely forgotten.” She looked straight at him, wearing the same calm expression she always wore. No disappointment in sight.
“Do you need anything else?” she asked.
Nothing a big fat do-over wouldn’t cure. He shook his head. “Not right now.”
“Then I’ll go call Josh and let him know we can’t wait to join them. See you downstairs for the tour.”
