The Man Behind the Mask

by Barbara Wallace

  Funny how freshman year of high school was such a benchmark for both of them. Never in a million years did she expect to share common ground with Simon.

  But then, neither did she expect to be sitting in an off-the-path Italian restaurant or spend the afternoon retail-racing her boss. Last night’s surreal atmosphere seemed positively natural in comparison.

  She had to admit, she liked this version of Simon Cartwright. Liked him a lot. She would miss him when Monday rolled around and things returned to normal.

  “You’re frowning,” Simon said. “Is something wrong?”

  “I was just thinking how today didn’t turn out the way I expected.”

  “Really?” he asked as he held her chair. “How so?”

  The comfort level for one thing. One would think that after last night, everything between them would feel awkward and tense, but no. The more time she spent in his company, the more relaxed she became, to the point where she almost forgot Simon was her boss. Especially those moments when he stood close and time seemed to pause. Then she forgot everything.

  She’d pay for those moments come tomorrow when reality returned.

  “There’s no one thing,” she replied. “The day was different is all. Good different.”

  “You’re not still disappointed I disrupted your plans with Josh?”

  “I liked the company I had just fine.” She waited for a blush to join her blatant honesty, but none came. Only a smile, which Simon returned.

  There was another of the day’s surprises—her cheekiness. She found herself saying things she would never dream of saying when they were in New York.

  Since Simon selected the restaurant, Delilah willingly handed over the reins when the waiter arrived for their order. To her amusement, he ordered enough pizza for the entire agency. “How much do you expect me to eat?” she asked him.

  “I’m simply making the most of my victory,” he replied. With a grin, he explained the circumstances to their server.

  “A bet, huh? I’ll bet you won’t be making that mistake again,” the man teased.

  “I’ve learned my lesson. Although—” she leaned in after the waiter walked away “—as bets go, this is the most lopsided one I’ve ever known.”

  “That a complaint? I can always take back my offer.”

  “Don’t you dare. I deserve that dress. I’ll have you know I worked my behind off on this account pitch.”

  “Yes, you did. But then you always do. We’re—I’m lucky to have you.”

  Delilah didn’t care if the word change was simply a case of semantics; when he switched we to I, her heart gave a little jump. “Thank you.”

  “I’m also sorry,” he continued, “if these last-minute plans ruined your weekend.”

  “They didn’t.”

  The waiter returned to set a plastic pitcher of cola on the table. Delilah noticed that Simon avoided alcohol when ordering. To ensure last night didn’t repeat itself, no doubt. Again, he waited until the man left before filling their glasses.

  “No exciting plans?” he asked.

  “Afraid not. Well, I am supposed to attend a bridal expo with Larissa Boyd tomorrow. But I’ll survive.”

  “I can tell. You sound so disappointed about missing it.”

  “Caught that, did you?” she said with a laugh.

  He handed her a glass. “What do you have against bridal expos?”

  “Nothing. They’re fantastic if you’re planning a wedding. If you’re not, however, they can be somewhat...”

  “Boring?”

  “Repetitive. She’s already dragged me to two of them, and I’m sure I’ll get dragged to more. How about you? Did Bartlett’s plans ruin your weekend?” He was, after all, the one with the busy social calendar.

  “Nothing pressing. A fund-raiser at the Met.”

  Thinking of what he had said, about social events being more work than social, she wondered if he was as relieved as she was to get out of the commitment. Although in his case, the change in plans meant missing more than the fund-raiser. “I hope Finland isn’t disappointed.”

  If he found her comment coy—or nosy—she couldn’t tell from the shake of his head. “Doubt it. She and I aren’t on speaking terms at the moment.”

  “You’re not?” Her heart gave another little leap. “But I thought... Didn’t you send flowers yesterday?”

  “A failed peace offering.”

  “Oh.” So they were only fighting. Much as it pained her, she tried to sound sympathetic for his sake. “Maybe once she’s had some time to cool off, you can try again.”

  “I don’t think so. The fight would have happened sooner or later anyway. We had different definitions of our relationship.”

  “How so?”

  “She thought we had one.”

  Pretty big difference. Their order arrived saving her from making a comment. Two large pizzas bubbling with cheese and spices. Delilah’s stomach growled. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until she smelled the mozzarella. “Dear Lord, that smells heavenly,” she said, inhaling. Simon slipped a piece onto her plate, and she attacked it with gusto.

  “Now, that’s what I like to see,” he said. “A woman who’s not shy about eating.”

  Popping a dangling piece of cheese in her mouth, she told him, “Smells too good to be obsessive.”

  “It’s still refreshing. Most of the women I know refuse to be seen eating in public. Did you know Finland refused to order anything in a restaurant other than mixed greens and sparkling water?”

  “Sounds like you need to date a different type of woman.”

  Great. Now he would think she meant someone like her. Which she did, but she didn’t want him to know that.

  Focused on folding his pizza slice in half, Simon missed the implication. “Wish I could,” he replied. “Except a different kind of woman would have even bigger expectations than Finland.”

  “About what? Relationships?”

  “Relationships, life. Funny thing about women who aren’t superficial. They tend to go for men who aren’t superficial either.”

  “You’re not superficial,” Delilah replied. It hurt to hear him make such a harsh comment about himself.

  “Don’t be so sure. I’ve certainly heard the accusation often enough.”

  “I wouldn’t call your ex-girlfriends the most reliable of judges.”

  “Maybe, maybe not.” He paused to take a bite. “But have you stopped to think you aren’t, either?”

  It was almost as if he wanted her to think he was a shallow phony. Problem was, his argument went two ways. He was just as prone to bias as anyone else. If he wanted to keep her at arm’s length, then so be it, but she refused to believe he was as empty as he claimed. “And sometimes people have more substance than they think.”

  “Even the Tin Man had a heart,” she teased, throwing his Oz reference back at him.

  “Terrific. I’ll get a big red watch to hang on my chest to prove my substance. Maybe I can get a medal to prove I’m not a coward, too.”

  Ouch. They were still talking in jest, right? Because he sounded so bitter it stung.

  “Knock it off, Kevin.”

  The nasal-pitched whine killed any opportunity to ask. While they were eating, three more teenagers had joined the pair in the booth. By this point, their pizza and cola were gone, except for a pair of uneaten crusts. One of the newcomers, an older boy twice the size of the original occupants, began breaking off pieces and tossing them in one of the younger boy’s face. “You’re not supposed to waste your food,” he said.

  Delilah looked to Simon. He’d noticed too and sat watching with tight-lipped annoyance.

  “I’d kill my baby brothers if they did something like that,” she said. “You weren’t like that when you came
here, were you?”

  “No.” His jaw clenched with displeasure.

  “Good.” Hopefully the boys would leave soon, so she and Simon could go back to their conversation. She wanted to know why he sounded so bitter.

  “Kevin, I said to quit it.”

  “Quit it, quit it. You sound like a parrot. Hey, Polly, wanna cracker? You wanna cracker, Polly?”

  “Hey!”

  The entire restaurant stilled when Simon’s voice rang out. Delilah watched as he rose to his full height. Shoulders squared, he leveled the boys with an ice-blue stare. “He asked you to stop,” he said in a low voice. “So stop.” There was no doubt he expected his order to be obeyed.

  Across the room five mouths dropped wide-open. They matched her own. Never, not once in four years, had she heard Simon’s voice grow that cold. No matter how grievous the error.

  Finally, Kevin stood up. “Let’s get out of here, guys. This place is lame anyway.”

  They left in a pack, with sounds of “What’s his problem?” being muttered under their breath. She noticed Simon kept his eye on one in particular, the young boy who’d been the target. He lagged a few feet behind the others, and while his friends shot glares in Simon’s direction, he kept his eyes on the ground.

  “Sorry about that,” Simon said once the door shut. He sat back down. “I didn’t mean to be so abrupt.”

  “Are you kidding? I’m glad you spoke up,” she told him. “If you ask me, those bullies deserved more than that.”

  “Too bad it won’t make a difference. Ten to one they’ll start up on the kid before the end of the block, in retaliation for ruining their fun. And he—” Simon tossed his napkin on the table with apparent disgust. Delilah wasn’t certain, but it looked like his hand was shaking, as well. “He’ll let them like a pathetic coward.”

  “Little harsh, don’t you think?” And completely out of proportion with what happened. “He’s just a kid.”

  “Doesn’t matter. He should have fought back. Be a man, instead of letting himself take it and be humiliated. There’s no coming back once that happens.”

  Now his reaction truly was out of proportion.

  Just like that, the day’s easy atmosphere disappeared, replaced by a tension Delilah couldn’t explain. Simon had gone back to rubbing his neck, his grip tighter than ever as he massaged the muscles. In the back of her mind pieces were trying to click together. She’d seen him react oddly twice now. With these boys and last night in the restaurant. When the Bartletts mentioned hazing. Three times if you count the way he shut down her questions in the bar.

  And every time his eyes had the same hard, haunted look to them.

  “Did something happen in prep school?” The question was out before she could think twice.

  Simon stilled. His features darkened. Delilah rushed on before she lost her nerve. “I only ask because you seem...”

  “Prep school was fifteen years ago.” Like last night, he shut down the discussion.

  His tight-lipped response answered her question. Something had happened. Hoping to draw him out, she reached across the table only to have him move his arm move out of range. “It’s getting late,” he clipped. “Do you mind if we skip dessert?”

  “Sure,” Delilah replied. “Anything you want.”

  What she really wished she’d skipped was opening her big fat mouth.

  * * *

  In the end, whether she’d asked her question or not didn’t matter; Simon’s reaction stuck in her head the whole taxicab home. She couldn’t stop thinking of how dark his face got when she mentioned prep school. Didn’t take a rocket scientist to know she’d hit a nerve. That all the events this weekend had hit nerves. What’s more, Simon all but confirmed her suspicions by retreating into tense silence. Question was, what had happened to upset him so much?

  Back in her hotel room, it didn’t take her long to find the information on the internet. She need only type in the words Bates North and Hazing to find several articles. “Hazing Scandal Rocks Prestigious Prep School” read the headline. The articles reported how several of the school’s varsity sports teams were accused of hazing underclassmen as part of a team initiation. Members of the rowing, football and track teams were disciplined. The article didn’t say much more; victims didn’t grant interviews.

  Delilah read the date. The complaints were lodged two years ago. Long after Simon had graduated. Still, that didn’t mean a tradition didn’t exist. Someone had to have started it. And the article did mention the rowing team...

  You were a member of the rowing team, right?

  I switched to swimming my sophomore year.

  I put childhood behind me.

  He should have fought back.

  There’s no coming back once that happens.

  An unsettling, ugly scenario formed in her mind. She thought of the boy in the restaurant, shuffling behind, the assurance harassed out of him, then thought of a fifteen-year-old Simon. There was only one question left she hadn’t answered.

  Which side of the problem had he been on?

  * * *

  You don’t just walk onto the varsity squad. You’ve got to prove you’re one of us. You gotta show us how much you love the team. And there’s only one way I know how to prove that...

  In his darkened room, Simon stared at the lights of Logan Airport and let the whiskey burn the back of his throat. The hotel pool was locked so liquor and a hot shower were his only choices.

  This is what he got for tripping down memory lane. Once the door cracked open, everything pushed through, both good and bad. God knows, the bad had been pushing to get out since last night.

  So what does he do? Spend the day with his assistant. He had no business relaxing. Relaxing only led to letting your guard down and then...

  Arrgh! He jammed his fingers through his hair. Why the hell couldn’t he keep his thoughts under control? For crying out loud, he’d kept the damage hidden until now.

  Poor Delilah. Stuck watching him slip up yet again. All because he was a selfish ass. Again. His control in that area had apparently slipped too. His guard was down on all fronts. After all, he hadn’t been attracted to Delilah before this weekend.

  Now, he laughed sadly, his attraction warred with his memories for his focus. Whenever he thought of those warm blue eyes, his body got hard as a rock.

  The more he thought about it, maybe seeing those teenagers had been a good thing. They reminded him he had no business nursing an attraction to someone as decent and real as his assistant. No business at all.

  He poured another drink, and drained the contents in one sip. Thirty-six more hours. All he had to do was get through Bartlett’s party, then he could go back to New York where, hopefully, things would go back to normal.

  So long as he didn’t do something stupid.

  CHAPTER SIX

  THIS WAS ALL Chloe’s and Larissa’s fault. If their voices hadn’t been in her head telling her to jazz up her wardrobe, she never would have bought something so out of character. She would have gotten capri pants or Bermuda shorts, something more fitting her personality. But no, she had to go with this. In the store, the cream-and-yellow sundress seemed fun and sophisticated. Today it simply looked short. Her thighs looked like two giant white columns. She tugged at the skirt trying to make it longer, but no luck. What had she been thinking?

  About Simon, of course. What else was new? His challenge put her in a frivolous mood. That, however, was before. Before their conversation at the restaurant. Before he wigged out over a bunch of teenagers. Now, like the sundress, frivolous no longer fit.

  There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that something happened while Simon was in prep school. Hazing, bullying, something. Whatever the name, the event had affected him deeply.

  Astonishing. He was the last person she wou
ld guess could be shaken deeply by anything. The Simon she knew was always so collected and in charge. But if this trip proved anything, it was that there were facets of Simon’s personality she didn’t know existed.

  Including a dark side.

  A knock sounded on the door. Delilah’s stomach dropped. Shoot! Her rambling thoughts cost her the chance to change. Taking one last look in the mirror, she tugged on her skirt again and hoped she didn’t look too foolish.

  The first thing she noticed was that Simon did far better in the shopping department. Somehow he managed to find a linen shirt the exact same blue as his eyes. It was a struggle to not stare at the smooth expanse of skin exposed by his open collar.

  The second thing she noticed was that his mood hadn’t improved. When they said their good-nights, he’d been tense and he was still tense now. It didn’t matter how casually he propped himself against the door frame; Delilah could see the rigidity in his muscles.

  That and the fact he wore a pair of dark sunglasses.

  “Good morning,” she greeted. “Sleep well?”

  Instead of answering, he looked her up and down. The scrutiny left goose bumps on her skin.

  “This is what you bought yesterday?” His voice had a new husky layer, rough spread over smooth. Combined with dark sunglasses, it gave him a weary air.

  “Yes, it is,” she replied, so wanting to own her decision with confidence. If only his stare weren’t driving her crazy. “You don’t think it’s too—”

  “You look fine.” Hardly a confidence builder. “Are you ready to go?”

  “Almost. I just need to slip on my shoes.” Another iffy decision as the wedges emphasized how white and exposed her legs were.

  “Fine. Don’t be too long. I’ll meet you at the checkout desk.” Pushing himself upright, he headed toward the elevator.

  Well, that wasn’t awkward at all. Apparently instead of starting fresh, like yesterday, he was simply going to shut down.

  She missed yesterday’s Simon already.

  The car ride was worse. Not only did they spend the first several minutes of the drive in awkward silence, the luxury sedan Simon rented felt like a clown car. The bucket seats were positioned far too close together and Delilah could swear she felt the hairs on his forearm brush against her bare leg every time they shifted. In some weird personality shift, he didn’t seem all that affected by the proximity. Meanwhile she longed to put as much distance as possible between their bodies. She was practically pressed up against the door and it still wasn’t enough. On top of everything, her skirt had ridden up, and she was afraid to readjust it, in case the movement called attention to her legs.