The Masked Lovebird by Liz Stafford

Chapter One
     
    Devon Ainslee twirled in place, making the cape flow out around him. The clinic’s owners giggled. “Casanova, at your service.” With a grand flourish, he swept into a bow before them. And fell on his face. The giggling cut short and they rushed to help him off the carpet. Tonya handed him his cane. Rianna clapped a hand to her mouth and cooed I hope you’re okay sentiments. He stuck a grin on his face, took hold of the cane, and set the scratchy paper mask back in place. It wasn’t the first time he’d fallen in front of them, but still, it was no less embarrassing. He straightened the cape and swiped a hand across his still-thick hair. Rianna took his right arm. Tonya his left.
    “Ladies, I can walk on my own,” he said.
    “Of course you can, but the clinic is sponsoring this event. We will make our grand entrance together,” Tonya said.
    “But I’m not a partner. I’m just a janitor.”
    “You’re part of the clinic.” Rianna planted a kiss on his cheek. She bent to check her reflection in the brass lamp on the table in the hotel foyer. “Oh God, why did I pick out a rabbit costume?”
    He hooked the cane over a forearm and covered it with the cloak. “You were thinking more logically than when you got me a Casanova costume. The greatest lover of all time? What were you thinking anyway?”
    “Would you believe it was the only one left?”
    “Nope.”
    “I don’t believe this pirate was the only one left that’d fit me either,” complained Tonya. “This is the last time I let you pick out costumes.”
    Not a problem for Devon because he would not be dragged into this again. Although the benefit was for a fantastic cause, animal rescue, he did not want to go. Did not. He hated the so sorry that injury ended your football career platitudes. Hated making inane conversation. Tonya jerked on his arm. He sucked in a stabilizing breath—he could do this; it was only for a couple of hours—then let it out slow. The partners urged him forward.
    “Good idea. Let’s get this over with,” Devon said.
    They stepped toward the open double doors where couples were already dancing to the sounds of an up-and-coming soft rock band from right here in LA. Gold and turquoise streamers wafted in the air-conditioned breeze.
    “I’ve been regretting that we chose a costume ball for the benefit,” Tonya said. “It would be easier to find a woman for our Devon if half the ladies weren’t wearing masks.”
    “How many times do I have to tell you, I—”
    “Yeah, yeah, no women. No dating,” Rianna said.
    “I don’t get it,” said Tonya, “if you don’t date, how do you release the pressure?” She made an obscene sexual gesture with her free hand.
    Devon pulled away from them and stepped into the brilliantly lit ballroom. “I’m not hanging around to let you embarrass me.” He moved away from their amused laughter.
    The plan was to grab a drink, escape the party, and head out to the terrace where he could watch the other hotel-goers in the pool. They were always good for a few laughs. And he wouldn’t have to talk to anyone. He peered between dancers and over tall shoulders and located the bar at the other side of the room.
    Devon appreciated his boss’s attempts to marry him off. Seemed like lately everyone at the clinic had found someone. The football accident had taken more than the flexibility of his left leg. It had taken his confidence and, to a huge extent, his libido. Every time he thought about sex, he thought about his horribly disfigured leg, and whatever urge had come…went.
    The weather was glorious. Stars twinkled in a navy blue sky with only a few clouds to mar the beauty. The landscaping was perfect, palms in a half-dozen varieties circled the mosaic-tiled patio. Dozens of tables and lounge chairs were full of happy people—more than half of them women dressed in scanty outfits. Except one woman in a Cinderella costume. He’d passed her on his way out. She was hiding