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Sexy Behind The Mask Novel Cover

Sexy Behind The Mask

She hides behind ugly suits and fake names. He's done trusting women. When they meet in a masked sex club, neither realizes they've been fighting each other across boardroom tables for eighteen months. At Taylor Industries, she's Joy Smith-the frumpy CFO who drowns her curves in shapeless polyester and wearing a wig. At home, she's the forgotten wife of a cheating lawyer who hasn't touched her in so long she's starting to wonder if she's broken. When she finds hot pink lace panties stuffed in her couch cushions...definitely not hers, it's not heartbreak she feels. It's freedom. Grayson Taylor doesn't do relationships anymore. Not after walking in on his actress fiancée with another woman. Now he channels everything into hostile takeovers and board meetings, especially the ones where his overcautious CFO fights him on every goddamn acquisition. Joy Smith is brilliant, infuriating, and funny when he pushes all her buttons. But Honey is tired of being invisible. Tired of never having felt real pleasure. So, when her best friend gives her the details of The Velvet Room-Manhattan's most exclusive masked club-she promises herself just one night. One night to find out if her husband's right, if she really is frigid, or if she's just never been touched by the right hands. She doesn't expect the masked stranger who claims her the second she walks in. Doesn't expect the chemistry that ignites between them, the way he makes her body sing, or the orgasms that leave her shaking. Doesn't expect him to hand her an email address with one command: "Only me. No one else touches you."
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Chapter 7

The waiter seemed to be taking his sweet time noticing Honey's signal, and her empty glass sat mockingly in front of her. Meanwhile, Grayson and his mystery blonde were being seated at a prime table near the window.

"That's it," Honey muttered, rising from her chair. "I'm going to the bar myself."

"Want me to come with you?" Lauren offered.

"No, stay put. I'll be right back."

Honey strode across the restaurant, conscious of her appearance in the black dress that hugged her curves. Without her Joy Smith persona, she moved differently, with more confidence, her natural grace no longer suppressed. At the bar, she leaned forward, catching the bartender's attention.

"One gin and tonic, and two martinis, please."

While waiting, she didn't look towards Grayson's table.

The bartender nodded at Honey's order, quickly mixing the drinks. As she waited, she felt a presence beside her, someone sliding onto the stool at her right. From her peripheral vision, she caught sight of a dark suit and the scent of expensive sandalwood cologne.

The bartender looked up.

"Scotch, neat," came a deep voice she recognized instantly. "And a sparkling water."

Honey kept her gaze fixed on the bartender's hands as he prepared her drinks, willing herself not to turn. Of all the bars in all the restaurants in New York, Grayson Taylor had to pick this one. She shifted slightly, angling her body away from him.

"I'll pay for the drinks now," she told the bartender, pulling out her credit card. No need to charge to their table.

The bartender nodded, but before he could take her card, Grayson's voice cut in.

"Add the lady's drinks to my tab."

Honey stiffened. He hadn't recognized her, had he? No, he couldn't have. Not with her real hair down, no glasses, and in this dress. Still, she wasn't about to accept drinks from him.

"That won't be necessary," she said, her voice pitched slightly higher than normal, still not looking his way.

"I insist," Grayson replied, and she could hear the smile in his voice... the charm he switched on when he wanted something. It was nothing like the clipped businesslike tones he used with Joy Smith at the office.

The bartender glanced between them, caught in the middle of their standoff.

She was not going to create a scene. "Your choice," she finally said, taking the card back and sliding it back into her purse. "Thank you."

As the bartender moved away to finish their drinks, Grayson turned toward her. She could feel his eyes on her profile.

"I don't usually get turned down when I offer to buy a beautiful woman a drink," he said.

Honey almost snorted. Beautiful woman? He wouldn't recognize beauty if it presented financial reports to him every month or glared at him over the boardroom table.

"Maybe you're not as irresistible as you think you are," she replied, finally turning to face him fully.

For a split second, his eyes widened in appreciation as he took her in-the red hair, the form-fitting dress, the confident posture. There was no hint of recognition in his gaze, just pure male interest.

He was hitting on her!

"I'm Grayson," he said, extending his hand.

"I know who you are."

Grayson looked her over again. "Have we met before? Because I'm sorry-"

Honey stared at Grayson, momentarily caught off-guard by his complete lack of recognition. It was almost comical how thoroughly her Joy Smith disguise worked. The man she argued with nearly every day couldn't connect this confident redhead with his frumpy CFO.

"No, we haven't met, but you are Grayson Taylor who is engaged to Morgan Fairchild?" she asked, her voice cool and steady. She glanced toward his table where the blonde waited. "You're here with another woman and you're chatting me up? That's just all class."

A flash of annoyance crossed his face. His jaw tightened slightly.

"Not like it's any of your business," he said, his voice hardening, "but my engagement with Morgan is over." He gestured toward the blonde at his table. "And that is my sister, Emma. I don't cheat."

He took his drinks and credit card from the bar, then stood, towering over her. For a brief moment, their eyes locked.

"Excuse me," he said stiffly, then turned and walked away, leaving her there with her mouth hanging open.

Honey watched him return to his table, stunned by the exchange. The blonde, his sister? Looked up at him with concern as he sat down. Now that Honey looked more carefully, she could see the family resemblance in their profiles. Their coloring was very different.

The bartender slid her drinks across the counter, breaking her trance. "Your drinks, ma'am."

"Thanks," she muttered, gathering them carefully. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment as she made her way back to her friends.

Lauren and Maggie leaned forward eagerly as she approached.

"What happened?" Lauren whispered, helping Honey distribute the drinks. "You two seemed to be having words."

Honey sank into her chair, still processing the encounter. "I just accused Grayson Taylor of cheating on his fiancée."

"You did what?" Maggie nearly choked on her fresh martini.

"He was flirting with me, Well, I think he was, and I thought... with everything that's happening with Riley..." Honey shook her head. "Turns out his engagement is over, and that's his sister at the table."

"Oh my god," Lauren covered her mouth. "Wait, he's not engaged anymore? When did that happen? The tabloids have been all over their relationship."

"I don't know," Honey admitted, stealing a glance at Grayson's table. He was now deep in conversation with his sister, his expression serious. "But he seemed pretty defensive about it."

"Well, at least now we know why he's not with Morgan tonight," Maggie said. "But he was hitting on you?"

"Maybe he wasn't... I could have read too much into it," Honey began, then stopped herself. That's exactly what he'd been doing. "God, what must he think of me?" Honey dropped her head in her hands, embarrassed.

"Who cares?" Lauren shrugged. "It's not like you'll ever see him again. Well, not as Honey, anyway."

Honey lifted her head and took a large swallow of her drink, feeling oddly unsettled. She'd been so quick to judge him, to assume the worst. After Riley's betrayal, she'd automatically projected those same traits onto Grayson.

"He said 'I don't cheat' like it was a point of honor for him," she mused. "I wonder what happened between him and Morgan."

"Maybe she cheated on him," Maggie suggested. "Would explain his reaction to your accusation."

"Enough about my boss," Honey said, pushing the encounter aside. "Let's talk about something else. Anything else."

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