Barbara Wallace - The Man Behind the Mask

“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

BARBARA WALLACEis 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.

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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

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

EXCERPT

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.”