The Man Behind the Mask

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.