The Man Behind the Mask. Barbara Wallace
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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.
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