The Man Behind the Mask

by Barbara Wallace

  “How’s your head?” she finally asked.

  “Do you realize you’ve asked me that same question the past two mornings in a row?” Simon replied, eyes staying on the road.

  “Because you’ve had a headache since we arrived,” Delilah pointed out. Apparently remnants of yesterday’s cheeky Delilah remained. “Not to mention the fact you showed up wearing sunglasses.”

  “Of course I’m wearing sunglasses. We’re heading to the beach.”

  “In the hotel corridor. I thought maybe you were experiencing some kind of light sensitivity.”

  That got him. He let out a defeated sigh. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”

  “Was it because of what happened in the restaurant?” She had to ask. Goodness knows the altercation had her up half the night speculating. From the way Simon’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, it appeared her guess was correct.

  “If you don’t mind, can we not talk about last night?”

  “I looked up the news articles on the hazing scandal. The articles said the rowing team was involved.”

  The knuckles grew whiter as his grip tightened. “That was long after I graduated.”

  “Was it?” Then why was he strangling the life out of the car? “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be nosy...”

  “Then don’t.”

  “I can’t help it.” She paused, before adding, “I’m worried about you, Simon.”

  He sighed and some of the fight faded from his demeanor. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be a jerk. It’s just that there’s so much riding on today. I have to make sure I give a good performance which means I can’t afford any distractions.”

  For the first time since the drive began, he looked in her direction and smiled. “Not even well-meaning ones.”

  “I understand.” He was right. This wasn’t the right time to press. “And I’m sorry, too.” And not only about pushing the issue.

  “Thank you.” Simon’s relief was palpable. “By the way, I apologize for being so abrupt earlier. You look very nice in that dress. I should have said so.”

  “Well, you are now.” And the simple way he spoke made the words sound ten times as sincere. Pleasure ran through her. “Thank you.”

  Hoping to hide how much the comment affected her, she turned toward the window. The Bartletts couldn’t have asked for a better day for their party. The sky was clear but for a few cotton-ball-size clouds puffing their way toward the horizon.

  “I still don’t truly understand what Bartlett thinks he’s going to gain inviting both agencies to the same party,” she said. “He’s not going to pit us against each other in beach volleyball or something crazy like that, is he?”

  “Wouldn’t put it past the man,” Simon replied, offering his second smile of the morning. “Honestly though, I’ve been thinking about what his plans might be. Ultimately, I think he wants to get us relaxed enough that we’ll show our true colors and reveal whether or not we’ll be easy to work with.”

  “Getting us to relax I understand. But why both agencies together?”

  “Easier than throwing two parties?” he replied with a smirk. “Seriously, he probably feels having both agencies there at the same time makes comparing easier for people. Wouldn’t surprise me if he’s got guests at this party whose job is to chat up each agency and report back.”

  “So much for relaxing,” Delilah muttered.

  “You’re going to do fine. Pretend the party’s one big networking event.”

  “Networking, huh? Have you forgotten about me and small talk?”

  “Again, you’ll do fine. The lady doth protest too much.”

  “I beg your pardon.”

  “Small talk,” he said as he merged into a new lane. “You certainly managed to keep Josh Bartlett interested.”

  “Oh dear Lord, I forgot about Josh. I lied to him about having to work all day yesterday.”

  “You didn’t lie. You had a change of plans. Josh is a big boy. I’m sure he’ll understand.”

  “I hope so,” she replied.

  “Of course, if you’re afraid you’ll trip up, you might consider keeping your distance.”

  Delilah absorbed what he said. “So let me get this straight,” she said finally. “I’m supposed to relax and be myself, but not too relaxed because I have no idea who’s a regular guest and who’s been sent to spy on us.”

  “Right.”

  “And to be on the safe side, I should also make sure I don’t talk to one of the few people I’m actually comfortable talking with. That about cover it?”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  “Ugh!” Delilah’s head fell back against her headrest. “Why don’t you just take me back home now?”

  “Believe me. If I could, I’d turn this car around and take us both back right now.”

  * * *

  What Jim Bartlett called a beach house was really a compound of small buildings dominated by one huge, gray shingled house on a hill.

  “Looks like the beer industry is thriving,” Simon noted dryly.

  As the view unfolded in front of her, Delilah fought to keep her jaw from dropping. “What happened to Yankee austerity and tradition?” Delilah replied.

  “It made half a billion dollars, that’s what happened.”

  They pulled into a circular drive which was already filled with cars. Evidently Jim Bartlett spied them arriving because he stood on top of the front step. “Welcome to Bartlett Bay!” he boomed in welcome. “I hope you brought your appetite.”

  “Absolutely,” Simon replied.

  Delilah’s jaw almost dropped again watching her boss emerge from the car with a smile to match his host’s. Amazing. It was as though someone flipped a switch, transforming him into the Simon she watched every day. It really was a very skilled performance. Her heart couldn’t help sinking a little at the realization.

  “In fact,” she heard him say, “we made a point of skipping breakfast.”

  “Good thinking, because if there’s one thing we like more than beer around here, it’s food. I’m pretty certain we bought out the pound.”

  “Pound?” she asked, confused.

  “The lobster pound,” Jim explained. “Where we buy our seafood. By the way, you look lovely this morning, Delilah.”

  “Thank you.”

  The older man gestured to a housekeeper who Delilah just realized had been standing nearby. “Put their bags in the second guest house, will you, Sandra? Josh mentioned you were a swimmer so we put you in the closest cottage to the pool,” he said to Simon. “He’s off giving your fellow New Yorkers a ride in the boat, but he should be back shortly.”

  “Nice of him to make their trip worthwhile,” Simon remarked. “Be a shame for them to drive all the way up here for nothing.”

  Jim laughed. “Well played, Cartwright. You might be a cocky son-of-a-gun, but you’re growing on me. Now if you’ll excuse me, I better go check on how the bonfire’s coming along. Party’s round back. Follow me.”

  “You’re growing on him,” Delilah repeated once their host was out of sight. “There’s a good sign.”

  “We hope. Could mean he didn’t like me much before.”

  “Now who couldn’t like you after the entrance you made?”

  She meant the comment as a tease, a compliment to his ability to charm despite feeling under the weather, but Simon didn’t smile. His face was the picture of seriousness. “Yeah, who couldn’t.”

  “Hey!” In a reverse of last night, she reached for his wrist as he was about to walk away. “I know you don’t feel like yourself today.” And that it was adding to his stress. Couldn’t be easy knowing people’s jobs depended on your ability to work a room. “If it’s any consolation, I think you’re going to knock ’em dead.”

  So
mething unreadable crossed Simon’s features. Knowing his dislike for uninitiated touch, she assumed he would pull away. To her surprise, he reached out and brushed the hair from her cheek, his fingers lingering on the curve of her jaw. His skin was still cool from the car’s air-conditioning. The sensation turned her insides warm. “I don’t deserve you,” he said in a tired-sounding voice.

  Delilah forced the moment to stay light, even though her insides were fluttering. “No, you don’t, but you’ve got me anyway.”

  For a moment, he looked as though he might say—or do—more. Delilah’s mood sank when his hand dropped away. “Time to go party,” he said.

  The performance, it appeared, was back on.

  * * *

  Jim had already disappeared from view so they followed the sounds of laughter and music along a gravel path to the back of the house. Larissa would die, Delilah thought stepping onto the verandah. The place looked like the photos in her friend’s wedding magazines. The pool alone was a showpiece with its blue-and-copper pattern tiles and potted palms. Beyond the backyard, tall sea grass waved in the breeze. And beyond that, Delilah saw a thin strip of beige beach framing the Atlantic Ocean.

  “Wow,” she said out loud.

  “What did I tell you? Beer pays.”

  She studied the clumps of guests. They were a mixture of young and old, all comfortably but expensively dressed. “Wonder which one will be the first to grill us?” she asked, making sure to keep her voice soft.

  “I think your answer is coming through the grass.”

  “Simon! Delilah!” Josh Bartlett waved and jogged over.

  Delilah never would have recognized him. He wore a damp golf shirt and flip-flops. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead. With a grin firmly in place, he lifted off his baseball cap to wipe them away. “We were wondering when you’d get here.”

  “You know Cape traffic,” Simon said.

  The two men shook hands. “That I do. It’s lucky you got here at all. You know Roberto and Carl from Mediatopia, don’t you?” He pointed to the two men who’d joined him. They both wore similar linen shirt and khakis combinations to Simon’s although neither man’s shirt draped their bodies quite the same way.

  The taller of the two spoke first. “Of course we do. Good to see you again, Simon.”

  “Roberto. How was your drive?”

  “Same as yours. Slow, with lots of traffic.”

  “I just took them out in the boat to see the bridge. If you’d like, I can take you out for a ride later.”

  He addressed the invite to Delilah. “Sounds great,” she said. “Right now though, I wouldn’t mind getting a cold drink.”

  “Me, too. Come on, I’ll show you where everything is.”

  Hand finding the small of her back, he steered her toward the bar area on the far side of the swimming pool. Remembering Simon’s warning, Delilah looked over her shoulder to check his reaction. Unfortunately, he was busy talking with Roberto.

  “What’s your poison?” Josh asked her. “Pale ale, dark ale?”

  “Iced tea. I don’t like to drink in the heat,” she explained when he frowned. “Gives me a headache.” Mentioning the word headache made her think of Simon and she looked in his direction again.

  “Relax, I’m sure he won’t mind if you enjoy yourself. After all, this is a party.”

  “Only you and I know it’s not your average party.”

  “You mean the whole interview game my father’s playing. I wouldn’t worry too much.” He handed her a glass before reaching into a nearby ice bucket for a bottle of his own. “Your boss is the one under scrutiny, not you.”

  “Well, in that case, I doubt they’ll find much to scrutinize.”

  “He’s definitely slick. In and out of the office.”

  I wouldn’t be so sure. “You’ve been reading the gossip pages.”

  “Once or twice,” he replied with a shrug. “Guy’s got quite a social life. Must make working for him a challenge. What with his being on the town all the time.”

  For an offhanded remark, it came out pretty darn forced.

  All of a sudden, it hit her. Unbelievable. In a flash, all her nervousness disappeared. Doing her best not to laugh, she quickly raised her glass. Not quickly enough however; Josh caught her smile.

  “What’s so funny?” he asked.

  “If you want an employee’s perspective, you just have to ask.”

  “Oh.” His cheeks, already flushed from the heat, grew redder. “You figured me out.”

  “You weren’t very subtle.”

  “No, I pretty much suck at subterfuge. I’m sorry, it was my father’s idea.”

  “No need to apologize. Although, I do have to ask one question.” She looked up from her drink. “Did you offer to take Carl sightseeing, too?”

  “Baseball. And for the record, he wasn’t nearly as pleasant—or as attractive—company.”

  “I’m flattered.”

  “You’re welcome.” He started to take a drink only to pause. Realization broke over his features. “You didn’t really work yesterday, did you?”

  Busted. She scrambled to come up with an excuse. Oh, what the heck? They were both being honest. “No,” she told him. “I didn’t.”

  “In other words, we’re both a couple of liars.”

  “Bad ones at that,” Delilah added.

  The two of them broke into laughter. Over on the other side of the pool, Simon had parted ways with the Mediatopia reps and was making his way around the pool. She watched as he got halfway only to be approached by a different guest. Realizing she should probably explain the whole story before he arrived to join them, she caught her breath.

  “In all fairness, when Simon made up that excuse, he was thinking of me,” she told Josh. “He was concerned people would think I used my ‘feminine wiles’ to get the account.”

  “Simon said that?”

  “I told you, he was trying to protect my reputation. Keep in mind, he and I both thought you were asking me on a real date.”

  Josh pursed his lips. “You don’t say. And Simon said he was worried about your reputation.”

  “No need to sound so skeptical,” she replied. “You wanted to know what Simon’s like as boss, right? Well, there’s your answer. He’s a boss who cares about his employees.”

  “And whose employees clearly care back.”

  It was a statement, not a question, and not a very subtle one at that. Feeling cornered, the contents of her iced tea suddenly became very interesting. “He’s a good boss.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “No, but it’s what I meant,” she shot back. Defensiveness bristled along her spine. She didn’t care what kind of interview game the Bartletts were playing; her feelings for Simon were off-limits. “I know what you’re implying and there’s nothing going on.”

  “If you say so.”

  “There isn’t,” she insisted. It took effort, but she managed to keep the disappointment out of her voice while she emphasized the point. “He is my boss, nothing more.”

  Josh appeared to acquiesce. “My mistake.”

  “I won’t hold it against you,” Delilah replied. “You’re only doing your job.”

  “More like botching. Thankfully, I’m much better at pumping beer than people,” he said with a grin.

  “I don’t think I’d be much better,” she assured him. In fact, she knew she wouldn’t. When he first pulled her aside, she thought she might be able to ask him about the hazing scandal at Bates North only to realize doing so would call attention to Simon and lead to more questions. Her curiosity would have to wait until she got home.

  Josh polished off his beer with a loud ahh before reaching back into the ice bucket for a bottle of water. “Since I’ve blown my cover, guess that m
eans I can sit back and relax. Watch you spend your day fielding questions.”

  “Gee,” Delilah replied. “Thanks.”

  “No problem. If you want, I’ll even help you get the ball rolling.” He offered an elbow. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to some of the other interrogators....”

  * * *

  “I have to admit, this is the first time I’ve had to spend a day eating lobster on the client’s dime to win an account,” Roberto said, his smile brilliantly white. “I could get used to the idea.”

  “You and me both,” Simon replied. He was only half listening, the other half of his brain watching Delilah and Josh giggling over cocktails. He did not like the way Bartlett looked at Delilah earlier. It was way too similar to how Simon had been looking at her.

  How on earth did he ever think the woman was mousy with that body? The dress she bought fit like a damn glove, a breezy, flowing glove that shifted with every bump and sway of her hips. When she answered the door this morning, it was all he could to not grab hold of those curves and make them sway some more, preferably while pressed up against him.

  So much for his putting his attraction away.

  Meanwhile, Delilah just put on her “I’m blushing” face. What was Bartlett saying to her?

  “How many of these guests do you suppose are ringers?” he heard Roberto ask.

  “I’d say one hundred percent of them.”

  “My guess, as well. Appears we’re in for an eventful visit. Good luck to you.”

  One eye still on Delilah, Simon offered similar wishes. He spent a few more minutes being cordial, then excused himself, saying he wanted to get a drink. All of a sudden he’d gotten very thirsty.