by Alexia Adams
What he needed was to get back to New York. Behind his desk, none of these worries about a bleak future ever haunted him. A few more days with Helen, he’d help her get over her fears, then go back to his normal operating procedure—date when he needed a woman at his side or in his bed. Break it off when it got too hot and heavy for comfort. Emotions made a man weak. Although he’d experienced more highs and lows in the past two days than he had in years. It had only made him more determined to succeed.
At the moment, he had a sleeping woman who unsettled him more than he wanted to admit lying on the bed in front of him. She’d already slipped off her shoes downstairs, but should he help her out of her dress or just cover her with the blanket? Given her past experience with her clothes being removed, he opted on the side of caution and pulled the cover over her.
About to turn away and return to his own room, the urge to kiss her good-night overcame him. Leaning down, his lips touched hers, tasting her sweetness. Her eyes fluttered open and he saw panic fill her gaze. She struggled to free her arms from the covers. He stepped back as she flailed about, not sure what to do. He’d never had a woman react that way to a kiss before.
“I’m sorry, so sorry, Helen. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I only wanted to kiss you good-night.”
Her breathing came in short, rapid pants and she pulled her knees up to her chest. Her gaze flew about the room as if trying to remember where she was. He retreated toward the door, to give her space and a sense of security.
“Can I get anything for you?” he asked. “Do anything? Leave?”
She put her hand up as though asking him to wait.
“Sorry,” she gasped out.
She struggled to get hold of her emotions—to thrust aside the demons that haunted her and return to the safe world where no one wanted to hurt her. He took a tentative step toward her and when she didn’t shrink back, he took another. Sitting on the end of her bed, he watched her eyes for evidence of renewed panic. All he saw was disappointment and embarrassment.
“I’m the one who should apologize. I shouldn’t have kissed you when you were asleep.”
“Oh God, Simon, I’m never going to get over this.” She hiccuped, as though trying to disguise a sob.
“Yes, you are. I need to be a bit more careful. Should we try again, now you’re awake?”
“I’d like that.” She gave him a tentative smile and his insides quivered.
As he stood and then leaned in to kiss her, he heard her sharp intake of breath and pulled back. He searched her eyes and saw a flicker of panic. “I think the problem might be with me in a dominant position. You didn’t have so much trouble when you were on top or initiating. Why don’t you lean forward and kiss me?”
Helen scampered to her knees and put a hand on Simon’s shoulder. Her soft touch sent an electric jolt through him. Once again he cursed the bastard who had reduced her to a trembling jumble of nerves. And for the first time, he didn’t know if he had the stamina to help her, to take things slow. He wanted so much to kiss her and touch her till they both lost their minds in passion.
The hesitant kiss she gave him was as far from passion as possible, but at least she wasn’t hyperventilating anymore. After a moment she pulled back and gave him a watery smile.
“That was pretty lame, wasn’t it?”
“No, it was the perfect good-night kiss. Now we can both sleep and be fresh in the morning.” Reaching a hand out, he touched her cheek. She flinched at first, then put her hand up to cover his. When she dropped her hand, he stood and walked toward the door.
“Simon.”
He turned in time to catch her as she launched herself at him. His back thudded against the door as she pushed herself against him. For the first time, their bodies were in full frontal contact. Her soft breasts pressed into him; her legs tangled with his. She reached up a hand and threaded her fingers through his hair, pulling his head down to hers.
There was nothing tentative about the kiss she gave him this time. Her lips taunted him, teased and challenged until his composure went up in smoke and he kissed her back with all the passion she inspired in him. If that didn’t scare her stiff he didn’t know what would, because it sure as hell scared the stuffing out of him. He’d promised Helen he’d stay in control, and one simple kiss and he was in danger of losing it. His hands were clenched into fists at his side so tightly they started to ache.
His heartbeat pounded in his ears, and still Helen continued the assault. There was no way he could hide her effect on him. Her chest heaved where it rested against his, her firm breasts rubbing against him in a torturous rhythm. She slid her lips off his and over toward his cheek. Her hot breath incinerated the last reasoning brain cell.
“Now that is a good-night kiss. Sleep well, Simon Lamont.” Helen put her hands on his chest and ran them over his pecs, before pushing off and heading toward the en suite bathroom.
Hello, sleepless night number two.
Chapter Seven
Helen removed the silk scarf from around her neck, then put it in her bag. For once Simon was grateful for New York’s stifling summer heat. He did his best not to leer.
So far, their trip from San Francisco hadn’t presented any opportunities to get closer to her. She’d fallen asleep in the car during the drive from Russian River to the airport. And then they’d had to sit apart on the plane. Despite offering the man next to Helen a huge financial payout to switch seats with him, he’d refused. Hours after leaving Liam and Lorelei’s house, this was as close as they’d been, sitting in the back of a town car on their way to the hotel.
Simon had no idea where to start negotiations on increasing their intimacy. Diving in wasn’t an option. He reached across the seat, and although she stiffened at first, she didn’t pull away when he threaded their fingers together. Hers were so tiny and delicate he cursed the bastard who had used his superior size and strength to force himself on Helen.
“What are you going to do now David is married?”
“Mandy has offered me her apartment until I find a place of my own. She’s moved in with Jason. Once I know what’s happening with Bertram Industries, I’ll start looking for a new place. No point doing it now as I may have to move if I get a new job. Or perhaps I’ll take up llama farming,” she said with a shrug.
“Llama farming would be a waste of your talent.”
“What about you? Have you always wanted to be a pirate?”
“Can’t say that piracy was my first choice of career. I thought I’d follow my father into the legal profession. But after my first year of university, I switched majors to business and economics.”
“Your father is a lawyer? What kind?”
“Corporate law.” His answer was brisk and he tried to soften it with a smile. He didn’t want to talk about his father. Didn’t want to think about his parents’ failed marriage. He’d tried to call his mother from the airport but she hadn’t answered.
“How long have you lived in New York?” An innocent question, but asked in Helen’s sexy voice it lit a match to the kindling of desire in his belly.
“Eight years. I moved from Britain after I finished university.”
“Don’t you miss your family? How often do you get back to the UK?”
“Often enough.” He regretted the harshness of his words when she pulled her hand away. “Helen, I’m sorry. I don’t know what it is about New York, but it always shuts me down. I forget about being human and become an industrial pirate, as you call me.”
The California air that had made him all mushy had dissipated and now he was back to being the real Simon Lamont. His mind flashed to his father. The man he’d always looked up to for his control and self-sufficiency was in reality a hypocrite. Simon wouldn’t become that.
“We’ve got half an hour before we get to the hotel. Why don’t we pretend your brother and friends are also in the car and sit a bit closer?” He extended his arm, hoping she’d slide against him.
She hesitated a moment
before moving into his arms. He didn’t want to dwell on how good it felt to have her body next to his, to inhale the faint smell of peaches from her hair or notice how his breathing automatically synchronized with hers.
His phone buzzed with an incoming message. For once he ignored it.
“If you want to check your messages, go ahead. Don’t let me distract you.”
He chuckled. “Helen, you distracted me the second you barged through my hotel room door and threatened to lecture me on the employees of Bertram Industries while I dressed.”
“Sometimes, I think it may have been much easier if I’d just talked to you then. Got my eyeful and went on my way.”
“Is that what you want? Have me hear you out and then leave? Because we can still do that.”
Simon counted his heartbeats, waiting for her to answer—thirty-six.
“I said it would be easier, not necessarily better. And I’ve learned that the things really worth getting aren’t usually the easiest.” She stared at her hands while she spoke.
He put his hand on her cheek and turned it till she looked at him. He drank in the sight of her beautiful face, her bright blue eyes, which were once again clouded with anxiety. Next time he saw David, he’d ask him what became of the bastard who had done this to her. Because if David hadn’t destroyed him, Simon would.
“Do you trust me?” Again he counted his heartbeats, waiting for her answer—forty-eight this time.
“I trust you not to hurt me, like he did.”
He squelched the disappointment that rose at her words. He wanted her to trust him implicitly, not only with her body, but with her career, her life, her heart. Helen made him want to protect every aspect of her being, even at his own expense. His heart pounded and a sickening feeling rolled in his guts. When had he become her champion? When had his corporate goals been eclipsed by this woman? Even getting one over on Edward Halliday seemed less important.
“There’s a spare desk at my office. I thought you could work there for the next two days. I’ll schedule your presentation to the board for Wednesday afternoon. I have a fairly packed few days but I’ll look in on you as I can, help out. And of course, I’ll tell my staff to do anything you ask. I’ve cleared my calendar of dinner appointments so we can spend the evenings together, going over your proposal. Or if you want to see some of New York we could do that.” He hated himself for reverting to business. However, the emotional, personal questions were getting too heavy for him.
“Sounds good. I’ll need a list of your board members and access to some of your less classified financial statements, if that’s okay. Although my degrees are in engineering and chemistry, I did take a couple of business courses in college.”
“How did you get into engineering in the first place?”
“I’ve always been drawn to how things work. And design engineering means I also get to use the creative side of my brain.” She shrugged as if it was no big deal she had one of the most brilliant minds he’d ever met. But then considering the company she normally kept, Liam and her brother, both acknowledged geniuses, having an IQ that qualified her for Mensa was probably nothing special in her circle.
The car slowed and pulled up in front of the hotel. Simon got out without waiting for the driver to open the door, then helped Helen out. He wanted to take her in his arms, kiss away all the doubts and fears he could see written on her face. Instead, he took the suitcases from the chauffeur and followed her into the brightly lit reception area.
“Good evening, Mr. Lamont. Welcome home. We have your room ready, Ms. Winston. May we help with your bags?” The desk clerk handed a key card to Helen with a professional smile.
“I can help Ms. Winston with her luggage. Thank you, Deborah,” Simon replied.
He directed Helen to the bank of lifts and pressed the button for the twelfth floor.
“You live here? In the hotel?”
“I live in one of the residential flats.”
“Which floor are you on?”
“Thirty-second. You can’t get to my apartment from the hotel lifts. You have to go back to the lobby and get the special ones around the other side of the reception. And you need a key card to make them work. So if you want to come up to my place, give me a call and I’ll come and get you.”
“I don’t think that will be necessary.”
Simon gritted his teeth. Nothing was working out the way he’d planned. He showed her into her hotel room—a corner suite, it had a good view of Central Park and the Manhattan skyline. Still, he found himself longing for the rolling hills and vineyards of Russian River.
Helen strode into the room, then stopped, turning toward him. He took a step closer until she put up her hand defensively in front.
“Actually, do you mind if we skip the good-night kiss tonight? I need to sleep and be bright for the morning, and kissing you has the same effect on me as a triple espresso. What time do you leave for the office?”
“I’m usually gone by six thirty, but come in whenever you want. I’ll send the car back for you and alert reception that you’re coming.”
“Oh, all right then,” she replied.
If disappointment were water, he’d have drowned. Not only was he missing his one opportunity to kiss Helen today, he had no idea when he’d see her tomorrow. “Good night. I hope you sleep well. Here’s my private line if you need to contact me. And I’ll see you at the office.”
She leaned forward and reached for the card he handed her, careful their hands didn’t even touch.
Teeth clenched, he left her standing in the middle of her hotel room. The soft click as the door closed behind him echoed a crack in his sanity. What had started as a fun game, guiding a hesitant woman to the joys of lovemaking, now loomed before him as a terrifying adventure full of pitfalls and poisonous snakes, most of which seemed to come from within him.
Striding back to the lift, he nearly pushed the call button through the wall.
…
Helen leaned back in the plush leather office chair and stared out the window at the crowded New York skyline. There was no denying the buzz and energy that pervaded the air, driving people to a frenzy of activity. Even though she’d only been in the office for six hours she felt as though she’d accomplished a whole day’s work. It could be due to the fact that Simon’s staff bent over backward to assist her, scurrying to do her bidding.
Or it could be her nerves working overtime. In addition to preparing her presentation, she was on the lookout for any indication that Lamont Holdings had contracts with the military, just in case plan A fizzled. So far, nothing. Zippo. Zilch. One part of her was ecstatic that Simon didn’t have ties to the military. But man, did it put the pressure on. The presentation was all she had. With renewed determination to make it work, she adjusted the graph on projected income for Bertram.
She’d also spent an hour on the phone with Dennis working out the kinks in the catalyst experiment. It probably would only have taken twenty minutes if he hadn’t kept transferring her to various other staff who all wanted to know how she was getting on convincing Simon not to rip apart their lives. If only she knew.
A click sound echoed in the room. She swung her vision back to the office door, expecting one of the staff members to be offering her another hot beverage. She’d thought Seattle was the coffee capital of America but it appeared to be the fuel that drove New York, requiring an hourly refill.
Instead of a professionally clad minion, Simon himself stood in the doorway. At her nod, he shut the door behind him. The air conditioner suddenly seemed to stop working and a trickle of perspiration slid down her spine.
“Everything run smoothly this morning? I’m sorry I wasn’t here to greet you personally.”
Dressed in a tailor-made suit that probably cost thousands, his black shoes were shined to perfection, his hair slicked back. He looked every inch the corporate raider, with not even a hint of the sensitive man who had held her hand as her brother rocked her world with his marriage an
nouncement.
I really need to find that robot on/off switch.
“Everything was fine. Your staff are excellent. They’ve helped me tremendously.”
Like a mouse tracking the movements of a hungry cat, her gaze followed him over to the table by the window. “What are these?” He tilted his head from one side to the other, trying to make sense of her scribbles.
“Oh, I had an idea for a modification to my fuel cell patent so it could be used in the aeronautics industry. I wanted to jot down my thoughts before they disappeared. I hope you don’t mind. Brenda in Supplies said the flip-chart paper is never used anymore as all the presentations are done by computer and projector.”
“I don’t mind at all. Do you think this will work?” He flipped through a few more pages.
She could almost see the dollar signs floating above his head.
“It’s years from development and testing, but everything starts with an idea. Although ninety-eight percent of them get scrapped before prototype.”
He found her page of calculations and stared at the squiggles and lines. She’d only worked on the idea because she needed to reassure herself she was good at something. When he turned back to her, there was a strange look on his face, not one she was used to seeing on a man looking at her.
He stared at her lips so long she ran her tongue over them. Was she wearing a cappuccino froth mustache?
“I so want to kiss you right now.” His voice deepened and the husky timbre belied the dispassionate, controlled, business executive he was portraying.
“Oh, um…” Her resolve to remain coolly professional melted under the heat of his gaze. Her body betrayed her and a flush of desire flooded through to her toes.
He leaned against the table as though they were having an informal business conversation, but the intensity in his green eyes contradicted his casual pose. “I can’t, because we’re in the office and I have a strict code of ethics on appropriate behavior. However, I want you to imagine my lips on yours, sipping, tasting. Now they’re moving over to your ear, whispering the other things I want to do to you.”
