Chapter Four: Behind the Mask

The following week was an utter torment for Amelia as she found herself unable to make any headway on the research into Lucas Donovan's background that she had tasked Marissa with. Every morning, she arrived at the office with steely resolve to power through her usual mountain of editorial priorities and queries from anxious authors awaiting her notes and feedback. But no matter how deeply she tried to immerse herself in her work, she consistently found her concentration splintering after only a few minutes, her mind hopelessly adrift on fantastic tangents and unsolicited daydreams about a certain unpublished aspiring novelist.

Was he sitting at home diligently working on revisions to his manuscript, she wondered? Chewing on the end of a pen as he furrowed his brow in intense creative contemplation? Or was he out exploring the city, absorbing new impressions to inform his writing and jotting down snippets of overheard dialogue in one of those tattered moleskin journals writers always seemed to carry around for just such purposes? The notion of Lucas Donovan going about his day in studied obliviousness to the utter chaos he had unleashed in Amelia's carefully-cultivated psyche was simultaneously maddening and perversely thrilling.

If only she actually had some answers, some definitive insights into the man behind the effortless charm and movie star looks that haunted her waking thoughts. Then perhaps she could make sense of this utterly distracting obsession and lance the psychological boil of romantic uncertainty currently festering away and laying waste to her once-legendary powers of focus.

But three days into the new workweek, the notes from Marissa contained frustratingly little in the way of concrete facts about Lucas Donovan the person. He didn't seem to have any sort of meaningful online presence - no author website or social media footprint beyond the barest stubble of a Facebook page that hadn't been updated in years. His journalistic work, while certainly competent and proof of raw writing talent, didn't exactly move the literary needle or hint at the passion behind the romantic epic languishing on Amelia's desk.

About the only marginally useful tidbit Marissa had been able to dig up was an alumni magazine mention that Lucas had attended Syracuse University on an academic scholarship before moving to New York after graduation just over five years ago. Beyond that, he remained an infuriatingly sphinx-like enigma, utterly inscrutable behind his opaque mask of beguiling romantic mystique.

Finally, on Thursday afternoon, Amelia hit a breaking point. After spending over an hour fruitlessly rereading the same pair of pages from an eagerly anticipated debut sci-fi novel by one of Kleinfeld Publishing's rising literary starlets, she abruptly gave up and tossed the manuscript aside with an exasperated grunt. Enough was enough - the fevered yearning for insight into the Donovan dilemma could no longer be ignored or sidelined. Not if she wanted to preserve her sanity.

"Marissa, clear my schedule for the rest of the day," she announced in a tone that brokered no argument or pushback as she swept out from behind her desk with sudden determination. "I'm going to get to the bottom of this mystery once and for all, even if I have to shake the answers directly out of Lucas Donovan myself."

As expected, her trusted assistant blinked in surprise at Amelia's abrupt departure from the office. "Where should I say you've gone?" Marissa asked, struggling to keep up as Amelia power-walked toward the elevators banks with uncharacteristically flustered energy.

"On a journey of self-discovery," Amelia shot back with only the faintest hint of mordant irony lacing her voice.

*****

Twenty minutes later, Amelia's black Lincoln Town Car was idling at the curb of a renovated brownstone in Brooklyn's trendy Park Slope neighborhood. The cream-colored facade and wrought iron railings practically radiated Ye Olde New York charm, the picturesque urban ideal professed by so many of the artistic millennial urbanites currently swarming in and gentrifying the borough like a ravenous horde of professional hipsters.

As she pounded up the front steps with uncharacteristically anxious strides, Amelia experienced a fleeting pang of uncertainty. This was hardly her usual methodology for vetting a prospective new literary submission or author - no, this unorthodox house call smacked of a flustered desperation more in line with the sorts of chaotic emotional meltdowns she usually took great pains to avoid.

But not this time, for whatever inexplicable reason. This particular situation, this damnable romance saga and its fiendishly elusive author, had chipped away at her congenial armor until she had been laid emotionally bare. The only recourse was to take matters into her own hands and confront the problem head-on before it eroded her stability entirely.

She rang the buzzer, drawing a slow inhale of composure as the chime echoed through the open windows inside. Mere seconds later, there were footsteps approaching from the other side of the door. And when it swung inward to reveal a shirtless, sweat-glistened Lucas Donovan fresh from an apparent workout, Amelia felt her meticulously-prepared poise still almost shatter on the spot.

"Amelia?" Lucas blinked in owlish surprise, one hand raking back the damp locks of chestnut hair that clung to his forehead as he panted slightly. "What... what are you doing here?"

In spite of her discombobulated state, Amelia somehow found herself drinking in the frankly awe-inspiring sight of Lucas like a woman dying of thirst beholding an oasis spring in the desert. His sculpted torso and washboard abs glistened with perspiration like he had been carved from expensive marble by a master sculptor. The faded camo boxer briefs clinging tautly to his muscular thighs hinted at the alluring array of male wonders concealed further beneath...

Get a grip! Amelia inwardly snapped at herself in a fruitless effort to reassert her unraveling professional composure. In one fluid motion, she brushed past the stunned Lucas into the cramped foyer, not even waiting for an invitation inside.

"I think the better question, Mr. Donovan, is what are you doing?" she retorted in a voice she hoped conveyed an aura of imperious control despite her thundering heartbeat. "Leading on this crazed literary chase, dangling your shirtless muse act like some cut-rate romance novel cover model? We're well beyond games at this point."

Lucas's tanned brow furrowed in confusion as he instinctively pulled the front door closed behind Amelia, locking out the prying eyes of the street. "Wait, what? I'm not following..."

"Of course you're not following, it's clear as day!" Amelia fired back, inwardly cursing herself for somehow managing to get even more flustered in Lucas's presence now that she was confronting him directly. This whole debacle was utterly unlike her, a complete violation of her usual icy poise and unshakable sense of dignified decorum. That glaring reality only fueled her incendiary frustration.

"Out with it already, Donovan! What's your game? What's your angle?" She paced about the cramped living area in a tornado of frenetic energy, gesticulating wildly with her arms as she railed against the object of her psychic torment. "You just can't stand there in your... your sweat-glistened underwear acting all brooding and irresistible and expect me to be able to concentrate on anything other than the million-dollar mystery of what makes you tick!"

Whirling back toward Lucas, she stabbed an accusatory fingernail in his chiseled direction. The look of dumbfounded shock etched across his handsome features only amplified her mounting agitation.

"I'm Amelia Sinclair, one of the most sought-after literary minds in all of Manhattan, and yet here I am utterly discombobulated over a simple unpublished manuscript and its insufferably cryptic author! I've been distracted, obsessing over every minute detail of our encounters, desperate for any insight into your backstory or your creative process... It's maddening and wildly unprofessional... and yet I can't stop thinking about you!"

As soon as the admission had burst forth, she snapped her lips closed with an audible pop, stunned by her own candor. Never before had she experienced this level of complete emotional vulnerability, never had her deepest psychological hang-ups and personal insecurities been so nakedly laid bare for someone else's inspection. And certainly never, ever had it happened in the presence of a romantic prospect.

For Amelia had to admit that was precisely what Lucas Donovan had become in her mind - a full-fledged romantic prospect, however unintentional or seemingly unlikely that status may have been. In the span of just a week, this unpublished stranger had managed to penetrate the icy layers of her emotional defenses like a battering ram, reducing her typically unflappable persona to a flustered, self-conscious teenage girl grappling with her first dizzying crush.

The realization of just how deeply and irrevocably Lucas had imprinted himself upon her psyche hung like a heavy pall in the ensuing silence. Amelia averted her gaze, feeling her cheeks flush hot with residual embarrassment even as an odd sense of relief washed over her at finally giving voice to the feelings that had been eating away at her sanity.

For a long moment, Lucas simply stared, his expression unreadable as he absorbed Amelia's impassioned outburst. Then, much to her surprise, his full lips slowly quirked into a lopsided half-grin - the same maddeningly charming smile that had set her heart aflutter during their initial meeting in her office.

"Wow..." he breathed out, running a hand through his tousled hair as he regarded Amelia with an unmistakable mix of amusement and something altogether more smoldering in his warm brown eyes. "And here I thought I was the one harboring the hopeless, all-consuming obsession."

He took a step closer, close enough for Amelia to catch the faint tang of his musky, post-workout exertion mingling with the crisp, invigorating top notes of some subtle cologne or body wash. The combination was utterly intoxicating, jolting her senses in a way she hadn't experienced in longer than she could remember.

"If I'm being completely honest, I haven't been able to get you out of my head either since that day in your office," Lucas continued in that deep, resonant baritone that somehow conveyed both playful irreverence and dusky masculine allure. "You made quite an impression, Amelia Sinclair. More than just your brilliance and success...there was something deeper that really got under my skin."

He took another step forward, closing the distance between them until they were nearly chest-to-chest. Amelia could actually feel the body heat radiating from his bare torso, the erratic cadence of her breathing falling into sync with the steady rise and fall of Lucas's sculpted abdominal muscles.

"I tried to just let it go, to just move on and focus on my writing," Lucas murmured huskily. "But there was no ignoring the electricity I felt whenever I replayed our first meeting in my head. Or the thousand little things I've noticed myself doing, subconsciously, to try and catch your attention again."

His hand reached up, fingers gently grazing the line of Amelia's jaw before cupping her chin in a gossamer touch that somehow conveyed equal parts tenderness and unabashedly carnal yearning.

"So no, you're not crazy, and you're definitely not alone in this...whatever this is between us," Lucas said, his voice dropping to an intimate rumble. "Because I feel it too. This crackling, illogical, completely unprofessional and utterly wonderful...attraction."

At that, whatever lingering reservations still clung to the fraying threads of Amelia's self-restraint abruptly unraveled entirely. Before she could fully process her actions, she was crashing herself against Lucas's muscular frame, her fingers tangling urgently in his hair as she brought her lips crashing into his in a searing, needful kiss.

For a fraction of a heartbeat, Lucas froze in surprise at Amelia's aggressively passionate advance. But then his arms encircled her petite waist, eagerly reciprocating the firestorm of their mutual desire as he returned the liplock with unmistakable fervor. His tongue slid insistently against her lips, seeking entrance, quickly becoming entangled in a frantic duel of sensual exploration as they clung to one another in heated desperation.

All the pent up tension, the unresolved longing, the fevered imaginings of the previous nights spent fantasizing about precisely this sort of intimate contact - it all came pouring out as Amelia surrendered fully to her newly awakened passion. She gloried in the feel of Lucas's chiseled musculature pressing against the soft contours of her body, the ticklish graze of his day-old stubble sending electric shivers through her nerves, the low rumble of an approving moan exhaled into her mouth from the depths of his throat...

This was what she had so desperately been craving, she realized as their inflamed makeout session reached a fevered crescendo. Not mere physical connection, but the unadulterated experience of being utterly consumed by another, succumbing to the torrential pull of pure desire and need with reckless abandon. To fall,to crash, to completely lose herself in the overpowering riptide of romantic infatuation that threatened to sweep everything else away in its thunderous wake.

When they finally did break for air, both were breathing raggedly as if they had just run a marathon. Their passion-glazed eyes met and held for a long, heated moment of unspoken understanding - a silent acknowledgement that whatever this unexpected attraction was between them, it had become all-consuming to the point of no return. There could be no walking away unscathed, no denial of the indelible imprint this encounter would leave on both their lives and psyches.

Amelia's fingers traced the sharp line of Lucas's stubbled jaw, her nail scraping lightly across the day-old growth. "So..." she husked out, voice still thick with arousal. "Now what?"

Lucas's broad palms slid up the curve of her spine, pulling her lithe body flush against his own as that lopsided grin blossomed across his lips once more.

"Now..." he replied with a roguish flash of those warm honey-brown eyes. "We stop overthinking so much and just go wherever this madness between us wants to take us."

Then he dipped his head, capturing her mouth in another intoxicating lip-lock as they stumbled across the living room in a tangle of roving hands and smoldering need. Amelia barely registered the sound of a door creaking open before surrendering fully to the tempestuous pull of passion.

Behind the mask of her usual impeccable decorum and composure, a different Amelia Sinclair was frantically clawing her way to the surface. One driven not by cold calculation or professional discernment, but by the blazing wildfire of rekindled desire and romantic surrender.

And as she fell with reckless abandon into the inescapable gravitational pull of Lucas Donovan's intoxicating embrace, the only coherent thought her lust-addled mind could muster was to pray this transcendent madness between them had no end in sight.