Masked Desires by Elizabeth Coldwell Read Free Book Online Page A

see it in quite the same way.
    As for Eddie, his eyes were wide as he gazed at me, and he seemed almost too surprised to speak. At last, he said, ‘Wow. Summer – you look incredible.’
    ‘So you think Heather will approve?’ I asked.
    ‘I approve, and that’s all that matters.’ He grinned. ‘Come on, let’s go get a cab.’
    I grabbed my coat, locked the door behind me, and we began to make our way down the dark, gloomy staircase, Eddie moderating his pace so I could keep up with him in my teetering heels. As we emerged on to the sidewalk, Kenny, who owned the comic book store that occupied the basement floor of the building, was climbing the black-painted iron steps, having just shut the store for the evening.
    Just as Eddie had done, he took a moment to take in my extravagant appearance. ‘Hi, Summer, off somewhere nice?’
    ‘The Masquerade Ball at the Mallory,’ I told him. ‘This is Eddie, my boss, by the way.’
    ‘Oh, so you’re the famous Eddie.’ Kenny took Eddie’s hand, pumping it up and down in an enthusiastic handshake. ‘Summer’s told me how great you are to work for. Though you know if it doesn’t work out –’ he turned to me, expression sincere ‘– I can always use an extra pair of hands in the Comic Cavern.’
    ‘That’s a kind offer, Kenny, but me and comic books, we don’t really mix. Like Spiderman and kryptonite, you know.’
    ‘I think you mean Superman,’ Eddie corrected me.’
    ‘See what I mean? Thanks, anyway.’ At that moment, a yellow cab rounded the corner, and Eddie stepped into the road to flag it down.
    ‘Well, enjoy, both of you,’ Kenny said, waving us off as we climbed into the cab and fastened our seatbelts.
    Once Eddie had given the driver our destination, he fixed me with a quizzical look. ‘The famous Eddie? What’s that all about?’
    ‘Oh, Kenny and I are always bumping into each other outside the shop, and we chat sometimes. It’s true, I told him you’re a great boss to work for, but that’s because you are.’
    He said nothing, but a little smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, as though he was quietly appreciating the compliment. We travelled in silence for half-a-dozen blocks, hitting every green light as we turned on to Eighth Avenue, then a sudden thought seemed to strike Eddie. ‘You have got your mask, haven’t you?’
    I nodded, pulling it out of my bag and holding it to my eyes. In return, Eddie fished a small black domino mask from his tux pocket. ‘I’m gonna feel kind of foolish wearing this thing all night,’ he grumbled. ‘I mean, it’s bad enough that I’ve had to get into the monkey suit …’
    If only you knew how gorgeous you look, I wanted to tell him, but we were both distracted by the cabbie stabbing the horn with the heel of his hand and yelling a bunch of Russian-sounding curse words at the cyclist who’d just cut him up at the lights.
    Minutes later, the cab pulled up on Central Park West, in front of the impressive Art Deco façade of the Mallory Hotel. Eddie glanced at the meter, opened his wallet, and handed over a fistful of bills to the driver, telling him to keep the change.
    ‘Let me know what I owe you,’ I said.
    He shook his head. ‘This is on me. I assume you’ve had to go out and buy that outfit specially for tonight. It doesn’t seem fair to ask you to contribute to the cab fare as well.’
    The liveried doorman nodded and wished us a polite good evening as he held open the entrance door for us. I had to keep pinching myself as we walked into the Mallory’s lobby, with its marble floor and ornate crystal chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling. None of this felt real; I had to be dreaming. But if I was, I didn’t want to wake up, not when Eddie was giving me the smile that never failed to turn me inside-out, and reaching to slip his mask over his head.
    ‘OK, here goes,’ he said.
    I mimicked his action, fixing my mask in place. We followed a stream of other guests, most of