A Lover's Mask Read online

  Mick got more comfortable in the lounge she occupied and smiled at County’s rambling—very uncharacteristic. “Mmm, you say you left before the balloons fell, eh? Alone?”

  “Dammit, now what’s that supposed to mean?” County snapped.

  Mick let silence carry the conversation for almost twenty seconds. “Jeez, it’s me who’s pregnant. I thought I was suppose to be the touchy one.”

  “I’m not touchy.”

  “I disagree. Your New Year’s must’ve been a bust.”

  “Hell, Mick, what’s your hang-up with New Year’s all of a sudden?”

  “It is usual conversation for supposed friends who haven’t talked since before the holidays,” Mick retorted, her own temper beginning to simmer.

  “The holidays,” County sniffed indignantly. “Holidays are for families. You have Quest and—”

  “You’re still my family,” Mick interrupted, shaking her head when she heard Contessa sigh over the line. “I’m surprised to be doing all of the talking anyway. You usually have my head spinning with one of your scandalous tales of an all night romp with one of your—”

  “Damn, you must really think I’m a slut,” County hissed, massaging the tension that had suddenly formed in her neck.

  Mick was unnerved, having heard the subtle change in her friend’s voice. Again, she let silence take control. “I’m sorry, Contessa. I’m truly sorry,” she swore.

  County rolled her eyes, knowing the last thing she wanted to do was upset her pregnant friend. “Listen, it’s just business aggravations and I’m the one who should be apologizing.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?” Mick asked, not believing for a minute that business woes were at the root of County’s mood.

  “Nooo, I don’t want to talk about it. It’s petty.”

  “And I’m worried about you.”

  “Aw Mick, come on. You know how we do. Don’t start getting sappy on me now. You always tease me and I love it.”

  “Yeah, but there comes a time when a joke isn’t funny anymore and I am sorry.”

  “Accepted,” County replied, praying that was the end of it. “It’s all right Mick. I’m good.

  Far from convinced, Mick decided to stop pressing. “Just come to me if you need to.”

  “I promise,” County said, crossing her fingers as she uttered the lie.

  “Now, about my baby shower.” Mick switched conversations and sat a little straighter on the lounge.

  “You’re scandalous,” County criticized. “Planning your own damn shower. Other people are suppose to do that for you, you know?”

  Mick rolled her eyes. “Please, I want this done my way since this will be my only child and therefore my only shower.”

  “Your only child?” County parroted, more than a little stunned. “Does Quest know this?”

  “Please County,” Mick whispered, her tone solemn, “you know I’ll be lucky to even do a halfway decent job with this baby. I don’t think it’d be wise to test the waters more than once, you know?”

  “Michaela, please don’t make a decision like this based on your own childhood.”

  Mick couldn’t manage a response.

  “So when is this shower?” County asked, hoping to lighten the mood.

  “March, if I can move by then,” Mick said, curls falling across her eyes when she looked down at her ever-increasing tummy. “I’ll be six months by then.”

  “Ha! Six months and the size of a baby whale,” County teased.

  “Anyway, just make sure your butt is out here two weeks early. I wanna spend some time with you. Just us.”

  “Aw Mick, girl, do you really need me out there that long?” County whined.

  “Please,” Mick said. “You have a million-dollar, independent publishing house that practically runs itself, so don’t even try it. Besides, I miss you.”

  County raked her fingers across her short cut and smiled. “I miss you too.”

  “So?”

  “So I’ll be there in Seattle two weeks early.”

  “Good. Now I’m hanging up before you find another reason to back out. I love you.”

  “Love you too,” County returned, sending Mick a kiss through the receiver before clicking off the phone.

  Leaning back in the vanilla suede chair behind her glass desk, she closed her eyes and tried to block out how much she really missed her dear friend. I could really use your advice now, Mick, she admitted silently. Alas, Mick was finally happy with a man who cherished her. Now they were going to have a child together. The last thing County wanted was to give her worries. Besides, County was sure that what she was going through was only a phase. She’d be thirty-four next year and it was just the chiming of her biological clock. Yeah, that had to be it.

  Moderately satisfied by the assumption, County sighed and nodded. Tugging on the cuffs of her gray tweed suit coat, she sat straight and prepared to tackle another day’s chores at the office. She was settling in to read another proposal from the conglomerate that had been salivating to buy her publishing house, when a knock sounded on her office door.

  “Hey,” County greeted, watching her head editor Spivey Freeman and Jenean Rays head of the fact checking department arrive with serious expressions.

  Groaning, County let her head fall back against her chair. “Not now guys,” she pleaded, knowing what they wanted to discuss: the unfinished Ramsey novel.

  “County, we’ve been more than patient,” Spivey argued, his high brow worn with frown lines.

  “That’s right Contessa. You’ve gotta make a decision sometime.” Jenean added.

  “We’ve been damned lucky someone else hasn’t already jumped on this thing,” Spivey cited.

  “You’re right,” County admitted, surprised as well that a Ramsey novel hadn’t already beat the Contessa House version to the shelves. Spivey made a valid point and even she couldn’t deny the novel would be more engrossing in light of the fact that the killer had been caught—more or less.

  Spivey and Jenean watched their boss expectantly, waiting on some tilt of her head or wave of her hand to signify the go-ahead.

  “What about the rest of the family?” County asked, idly studying the spiked heel of one of the black leather boots she wore. “There’s more to the Ramseys’ story than what happened to Sera Black,” she reminded them.

  In response, Spivey hefted the three accordion folders he’d brought into the office. The folders teemed with so much information, they had to be secured with several fat rubber bands.

  “All the data collected on every member of the Ramseys,” Spivey announced.

  “Every member?” County asked, her thoughts turning immediately to Fernando Ramsey.

  “Even though formal charges have never been filed, there are some pretty brow raising facts in that mountain of stuff,” Jenean shared, entwining a heavy braid between her fingers. “We’ve got the makings of one hell of a book,” she predicted.

  “Maybe two even,” Spivey mused.

  “Is the research complete?” County inquired, rearing back in her chair while considering their news. “Are we really ready to go forward with this? Do you guys have an author in mind to work on the draft, or at the very least an outline?”

  “There’s still work to be done,” Spivey admitted, exchanging a glance with Jenean.

  “There’re a lot of Ramseys. All of them with interesting backgrounds,” Jenean cautioned.

  County agreed. “So how long would it take to complete the research if I give the go-ahead to continue? Well?” she prompted, when the two remained silent.

  “That’s hard to pinpoint County,” Spivey acknowledged. “We’re successful, but we’re still a small house. It’d take the efforts of almost everyone on staff to wade through the information we do have.”

  “But the rewards of such hard work would be astronomical,” Jenean guaranteed.

  County knew it was true. In spite of the house being such a financial success, it still lacked name recognition. She
wanted Contessa House to be on the lips of the most discriminating personalities in the literary world. After all, her business was all she had. Her resolve in place, County stood and fixed Spivey and Jenean with challenging looks. “All right, get on it. Get on it. Get everyone you can spare on it and we’ll talk again next week.”

  Spivey and Jenean almost tripped over themselves when the decision reached their ears. They rambled nonstop on their way out the door. Alone in her office again, County hugged herself and then turned to judge the view of downtown from her tenth story window.

  Chicago in winter was no joke. The wind whipped without mercy. Snow blanketed the streets and then revisited with even more of its icy white for days to come. County shook her head, watching a crew of city workers preparing for that weekend’s expected storm. The group set up sturdy ropes along the sidewalks to assist pedestrians who had to travel the treacherous area by foot.

  “Dammit,” County hissed, suddenly remembering the lunch appointment she was about to be late for. Glancing repeatedly at her watch, she grabbed a heavy black double breasted trench from the sofa and raced out the office.

  Marvin’s was a high profile neighborhood club located a few blocks from Contessa House. County had received her weekly call from Dark Squires Enterprises requesting another meeting. The two men she usually met with were so kind and persuasive, County often hated turning them down. Still, they tried.

  Unfortunately, for the Dark Squires partners, today she was in no mood to coddle men no matter how sweet and charming they were. It was freezing, she was aggravated and she was starving.

  “This is what makes working here worth all the headache.”

  County forgot her frustration the moment she stepped past the restaurant’s double maple doors. The proprietor’s nephews, Sam and Charles, greeted her with their usual tease.

  “The two of you say that to all us old ladies,” County voiced her usual reply and accepted her hug and kiss on the cheek from the tall nineteen-year-old brothers who worked their uncle’s shop during their college breaks. “Isn’t it a bit late, though?” she inquired, once Charles released her, “shouldn’t you guys be back at school?”

  Sam’s and Charles’ expressions mirrored unease. “Uncle Les is pretty bad, so we’re overseeing things until he’s better,” Charles said.

  As Lester Marvin was a staple in the area, the news of his lingering illness hit County deeply. She could tell from the looks on the boys’ faces that the man’s recovery was not expected.

  “We’re gonna transfer our credits to finish school instead of going back to D.C.,” Sam explained.

  “I’ll be sure to visit Mr. Les this weekend,” County promised. “I want you two to call if you need anything, all right?” She waited for their nods. Standing on her toes, she favored them both with a sweet kiss to the jaw.

  The handsome teens escorted Contessa to the table where her lunch companions waited. Meanwhile, Fernando Ramsey followed her movement across the dining room. He was mildly surprised to feel his hand curve into a fist as he watched the tender moment she shared with her escorts. Young—too young, he decided, as a smirk curved his mouth. Of course, he realized women who looked like Contessa Warren had their pick of anyone at anytime.

  It was more than looks with her, though, he acknowledged, and watched as she took her place at the table. The woman exuded something—a silken tether that beckoned a man to simply reach out and take hold to the promise of supreme pleasure that awaited with her.

  Come off it Fern, he told himself. She was just a woman. More than a woman, something forced him to admit. Fernando leaned back against the booth he occupied. He shook his head as his thoughts took him back to New Year’s Eve. Regardless of how impromptu that night or the day after had been, something had happened. She’d done something—affected some part of his psyche.

  Taking great pleasure in the arms of a woman was about as natural for him as breathing. The next day, the event was a distant memory. But not with Contessa. She matched him sexually yes—oh, hell, yes. But her wit and verbal banter seemed to arouse him just as easily. Sure she’d probably slap his face if he told her he’d very much like to see her and sleep with her again. In spite of her allure and confidence, he got the impression one-night stands weren’t the norm for her. Besides, after their seventh round of lovemaking on New Year’s Day, she as much as told him it would never happen again. She seemed to hate saying it as much as he hated hearing it.

  Fernando was willing to bet good money that Contessa Warren wasn’t a woman who reversed her decisions once they were made. Damn.

  Somewhere in the distance he heard his name being called. With an indecipherable grunt of regret, he realized it was his two lunch companions. He’d completely forgotten they were seated right next to him.

  County had called them his dates and who wouldn’t think such a thing? The leggy, voluptuous adult film beauties were about to grace the pages of one of his magazines and every man envied the liking they’d taken to him. Fernando wouldn’t deny it. He knew if he hadn’t seen County on New Year’s Eve, winding up in the middle of a lusty sandwich was a definite possibility.

  Now, however, their advances, light caressing and the brushes of their enhanced cleavage against his arms and back were grating on his nerves.

  “Fernie, are you all right?” asked one of the beauties, while trailing a nail in his beard.

  “I’m good. Look,” he began, straightening in the seat and forcing the ladies to give him space, “everything here is a go. We’ve negotiated a favorable deal with your agents and your studio, so my part in this arrangement is done,” he said, waving toward his driver who waited at the bar. “James can take you back to your hotel or wherever you wish to go,” he told them once the man stood near the table.

  “Ladies,” James prompted, with a wave of his hand to urge them from their seats.

  The beauties pouted, but knew it’d be unwise and pointless to argue with Fernando. Instead, they kissed his cheek and said their goodbyes. Fernando cast a knowing wink at James and polished off the rest of his drink to celebrate their departure. Angling his massive form to a more comfortable position within the booth, he enjoyed the peace and watched Contessa.

  “Guys, I was surprised to be hearing from you so soon after our meeting before Christmas,” County said once she’d greeted her lunch dates.

  “We received permission to increase our offer on the house,” Anson Carter announced as his partner, Graham Johnson nodded. “We didn’t want to waste time in presenting it to you. We’re sure you’ll have a change of heart.”

  County shook her head and smiled. “Well guys, I am impressed by your tenacity. But, as usual, I’m afraid you’ll be leaving empty-handed again.”

  “Ms. Warren, do you understand that we can make you a very wealthy woman?” Anson said, as though he were sharing some guarded secret.

  County smiled, watching her French tipped nails tapping against the silverware. “Boys do you understand that I’m already a very wealthy woman?”

  “We can make you wealthier.” Graham pointed out.

  “I’m hoping that’s what my business will do for me.”

  “It can!”

  “You both know what I mean,” County said, chuckling when they spoke in unison. She watched the looks on their handsome dark faces cloud as they silently struggled to come up with a way to convince her. “Don’t bother,” she said, when Anson opened his mouth. “My mind’s made up,” she added.

  “But—”

  “My decision is firm and won’t change,” she guaranteed, waving towards a waiter in the distance.

  Meanwhile, Anson and Graham looked lost—almost unnerved. Clearly, they didn’t want to return to the office empty-handed.

  “Whiskey—” County ordered from the waiter once he arrived at the table.

  Suddenly, Graham nudged Anson’s arm and nodded.

  “We’re sorry we can’t do business Ms. Warren,” Anson said, as he and his partner stood.

/>   “Please enjoy your lunch on us,” Graham offered.

  County nodded, grateful for an end to the meeting and hoping her eyes weren’t sparkling too much in anticipation of their leaving. Still, she was surprised to find them giving up so easily—something they rarely did.

  “You guys have a good afternoon,” she said, already reaching for a menu.

  “Will you be having lunch with us today, Ms. Warren?” The waiter asked when he returned with Contessa’s drink shortly after Graham and Anson’s departure.

  “I think I will,” County decided, sipping her drink as she perused the menu.

  “I’ll just give you a few moments,” the waiter said, “would you like a refill on your drink Mr. Ramsey?” he inquired, stepping past County.

  Seeing Fernando standing next to the table as though there were nothing out of the ordinary about it, rendered County motionless. At last, she was able to lean back in her chair and observe him with a soft smile gracing her mouth.

  “It’ll take a menu,” he decided, nodding when the waiter set off to get him one.

  County watched him choose a seat and waited for him to tell her what he was doing there.

  “Are you alone?” he asked, resting his elbows on either arm of the deep chair.

  “Would it matter?” County responded, her brown eyes narrowed in challenge.

  Fernando shook his head and resituated his massive frame in the chair.

  “Are you alone?” she asked.

  “Would it matter?” he returned.

  County chuckled. “Touché,” she conceded. “I’d just feel really bad about taking you away from your dates twice in one month.”

  “Well, technically, it was last month that you took me away from them.”

  County tapped one nail to her chin while considering the clarification. “You’re right,” she said upon remembering. “To hell with ’em.”

  Fernando massaged his bearded cheek and fixed her with a suspicious look. “What made you think I was with them, anyway?” he wanted to know.

  “That’s right,” County sighed, her oval honey toned face a picture of realization, “you probably never see the same woman after one date.”