Helmut laughed politely at a joke he only half-understood from the mouth of a petite steel-haired lady with a heavy Italian accent, and glanced casually toward the study door. In Claire’s quiet departure from his room that morning, there hadn’t exactly been time to compare schedules, and he knew she’d be surprised to see him here.
He’d been planning to blow off the invitation, until James had called yesterday.
Not one word of apology from the man. Helmut had not expected one. James had matter-of-factly told Helmut that he had a lead from one of his fellow club members about a vacancy in an auto manufacturer outside Venice.
Signora Ricci’s husband and James had been friends since college. The husband was enjoying a breezy retirement full of yachting and deep sea fishing, leaving Signora happily free to focus on driving her family’s company to new heights of success. Helmut wasn’t sure whether to envy or pity the husband.
“How do you like working for a woman?” Signora asked, setting her china espresso cup sharply onto its saucer.
Helmut blinked. “I, uh, don’t. Anymore.” He took a quick sip of his Bloody Mary hoping to cover his inattention. She was a direct one. Not sixty seconds ago she’d been talking about her trip to Cambridge to settle her youngest son at Harvard.
She fixed him with a piercing stare. “Si, si, Helmut. I mean in general. If you are half the man that James claims, then you would be a valuable addition to my team.”
He heard the study door click open and risked a glance as Claire and James emerged. She was slightly flushed at the cheekbones, and her eyes glowed with the same brightness he’d seen in the boardroom during a debate. Her gaze slid right past him with the barest glance.
“Well?” Signora folded her hands primly on one knee.
Helmut smiled his best meet-the-press smile at the lady. “I’ve never been to Venice,” he said slowly.
She grinned. “It will suit you, I think, Helmut. My assistant will send you the details.”
James and Diana ensconced in another corner talking in hushed tones. He couldn’t tell what the discussion was about, but Helmut caught Diana tossing him a furtive glance. The next fifteen minutes in the salon reminded Helmut of a chess match, with Claire maneuvering herself as far as possible from both Helmut and Frank, no matter how the rest of the guests circulated.
Signora slipped her arm into Helmut’s. “Come sit next to me for the meal, Helmut. I’d like your opinion on these US import laws. How do you think an independent company like mine can work with them to bring our cars to customers?”
Helmut tried to cobble together a decent answer. It wasn’t the first time this week that an executive had picked his brain on business strategy. But it was impossible to think straight with Claire across the room avoiding his eyes, Frank alternately mooning over her and glaring at him, and James giving him a furtive thumbs up from behind Signora. It was the most surreal combination of torture and job interview Helmut had ever endured.
He escorted Signora into the dining room, where miniature Eiffel Towers held name cards at the long, stately table. After a quick scan, Helmut saw Claire’s and Frank’s names arranged side by side.
He allowed Signora Ricci to drag him around the long side of the table and he held out the chair she selected for herself, completely ignoring the seating arrangement. He then sat next to her, and watched as the rest of the guests shuffled around place cards. Claire snatched her own name card and quickly sat between two businessmen. Frank sat awkwardly between Diana and James.
“I think we caused a bit of mayhem with Diana’s plans,” he whispered to Signora.
She waved one hand dismissively. “What would be the use in attending this sort of thing if we couldn’t make the right sorts of connections? James understands.”
With each subsequent course, Helmut found himself drawn closer into the idea of Italy. Signora’s business wasn’t unlike S&F. It was privately owned, but that was a plus in his mind. She had been amassing enough capital and was poised to grow, ready to tap into the American and South American luxury car markets. With a shaky economy, it was a risky venture, but if they could gain a foothold now, they would be secure when things turned around.
If Helmut could have written up his dream job description, this was it.
It was in Italy.
At the far end of the table, Claire laughed at someone’s joke, and he remembered how she laughed at his stupid motorcycle stories that first night over Chinese. They had shared very little laughter since that moment, just passion, intensity, and heated debate. Their eyes met briefly across the span of floral centerpieces and crystal juice glasses. Claire looked away first.
Italy might be good for him.
Claire sighed in relief as Frank said his goodbyes to her stepmother and left. Her stomach ached from the tension, though she’d only picked at the delicious food. Too much coffee, and one unwise mimosa churned in her midsection. Maybe she could grab a plain croissant at the hotel before her afternoon meeting.
As the party broke up, Claire gathered her coat and stepped out onto the steps to wait while the butler hailed her a cab.
“Mind if I ride back with you?”
Claire started. Helmut stood just at the doorway, his own tan raincoat hooked by a finger over his shoulder.
“Taxis seem a bit scarce in this part of town,” he said.
Claire glanced over his shoulder toward the tall door as he started down the stairs.
“I don’t have to if it bothers you.”
She shook her head. “No, it’s fine. Why would it bother me?” Though his shoulders were several inches away, she could feel his body heat through the thin fabric of her blouse. She clutched her jacket tighter to her chest.
They waited in awkward silence as a cab pulled forward and the butler opened the door for them. Claire slid across the vinyl seat and then Helmut was closed in beside her, his broad shoulders and long legs dwarfing the tiny space.
Just like after the concert.
She stared out the window as the view changed from stately homes to close-packed townhouses and apartments. She felt like a kid with her first crush. She’d slept with this man, and had no idea what to say to him.
Good morning. How did you like the blow job last night? Thanks for not telling my father that you made me come five times in three hours.
“I didn’t know you would be here this morning,” she said.
“I should have mentioned the invitation last night.”
Their eyes met and she snapped her gaze back to the road. “We didn’t really have much time to talk.”
His lips quirked. “No, we didn’t.”
She chanced another glance, and her mouth went dry at the invitation in his eyes. She licked her lips nervously.
“Claire.” The word was a caress. A very naughty one.
“And about last week—”
His smile broadened into a full-fledged grin. “Your kitchen is lovely.”
Claire blushed. “Not about my kitchen. It’s about what happened after. Not
right
after. I mean...”
He raised one eyebrow, eyes sparkling like silvered emeralds as she stammered through her sentence.
She took a breath and started over again. “About your job. I am sorry that you lost your job.”
She winced as his eyes turned stony and he turned his gaze out the window. “It happens.”
“It wasn’t personal. I had to act quickly. The whole board did. None of us were happy about it.” She wished he would turn back to face her.
“I can imagine.”
“The timing was horrible. But we agreed, before, that what happens outside of the office...”
His gaze flicked back to hers, unreadable this time. “I understand, Claire. Business is business. Personal is personal. You made the right decision, in the circumstances.”
Claire bit her tongue. Was the right decision really to let Helmut go, but not disclose her own relationship with a coworker? There was a much-ignored company policy about intra-office dating. Legal made a big deal about shielding the company from sexual harassment charges. It wasn’t like there was any chance Helmut would be complaining about that, the way he’d pursued her. But the problem still worried her.
The sound of tires screeching wiped away all chances for further conversation.
With a thud and a crunch, Claire and Helmut were thrown forward against the Plexiglas partition separating them from the driver. Claire threw her hands up just in time to prevent her nose from smashing against the hard surface and she slid downwards onto the floor of the car.
She sat for a moment, stunned. Outside the car, horns honked and car doors slammed.
She took inventory. Her right wrist felt sore from where her hand had caught her, and the top of her forehead felt bruised. But beyond that and her rumpled clothes, she was fine. Ten fingers, ten toes, two arms, two legs. Every limb responded.
To her right, she felt a cool breeze as Helmut opened his car door and jumped out. She pushed herself up onto the seat and began brushing the dirt off of her skirt as her door swung open.
“Are you all right?” How did Helmut make it around the car that fast? His voice was tight and rough, and he reached out a hand toward her.
“Fine. Good thing we weren’t moving that fast.” She accepted his help out of the car. Her knees were shakier than she’d expected, and he caught her as she trembled. His fingers felt like ice, but his grip on her hand was strong and secure.
“I don’t think we were moving at all. The cab was rear-ended.” Helmut motioned toward the back where their cab driver was engaged in a fast-flying conversation with what she presumed was the driver of the other car. With her rudimentary French, she couldn’t understand a word, but both men gesticulated angrily.
“Let’s get off the street.” Helmut led her up toward the sidewalk and leaned back against a lamppost. He quietly pulled her toward him and wrapped his arms around her shoulders so that her back was snug tight to his chest. Claire shivered and snuggled in closer. It felt so good to have his strength behind her.
“Are you hurt at all?” she asked belatedly.
“I’m fine. The police should be here soon to take a report.” He stood so still, every inch of him solid steel. His breath sounded controlled, though his heart thudded loud and fast in Claire’s ears.
She pulled against his arms so she could turn around to face him. The swirl of emotions in his gray green eyes reminded her of the Illinois sky before a tornado.
His mouth closed over hers, his hands pulling her up hard against his chest. She kissed him back, relishing the pure masculine possessiveness of it. Against his molten heat, her nipples hardened, and her panties grew wet with wanting. His hands pulled her buttocks tight against his erection then lifted her to grind her pelvis against his.
Claire almost didn’t hear the polite, “
Mademoiselle, monsieur, si vous plais
.”
She pulled her head back, her cheeks flaming as she realized that a police officer stood next to them, pad of paper in hand. Helmut didn’t release his hold on her, but his arms did loosen enough for her to turn around. Claire gritted her teeth in annoyance, though she could still feel his hard cock pressing insistently against the swell of her buttocks.
Their report was brief, and in no time they were seated in the back of another, nearly identical cab to the wrinkled one that was now hitched to the back of a tow truck. Helmut kept one arm firmly around Claire’s shoulders, while his other hand gripped the door with white-knuckles.
“Helmut,” she said, wriggling out of his grasp again. “You okay?”
“I want out of this damned cab.” He closed his eyes and sucked in his breath as another car cut in front of the cab and their driver stepped on the brakes quickly.
Claire was also ready to be back at the hotel. She wanted to change clothes, and toss the snagged pantyhose. She had a conference call and a luncheon, and Steph should be calling soon, hopefully with an update on those threatening emails. This afternoon there was a press conference about the Shadow Fly demo tomorrow, and she wanted to go over all of the details with the project manager and the rest of the team.
She watched as Helmut unrolled the window and then rolled it back up again. For a man who was always smiling and joking, it was disconcerting to see him so quiet. And beyond the death grip he maintained on her hand, he didn’t say another word until after they stepped out the elevator in the hallway that led to their rooms.