The Paris Affair (Affairs of the Heart #1)

by Kristi Lea

  She had not slept well last night after Helmut left her at her door. Logically, she knew she was exhausted, but her blood had refused to cool.

  She should have invited him in.

  Her condo was cold. And lonely. She normally took comfort in the clean, uncluttered loft space. Twelve foot ceilings, full-height windows with a killer view of downtown, polished concrete floors and sleek granite countertops. Home had never looked so hard and unfeeling.

  Since she and Frank had split, she’d had only one relationship. If you could call three dates and one night of mediocre sex a relationship. Frank was a lying, manipulative asshole, but his arms had been warm and the sex good. When he wasn’t secretly screwing one of the interns. It had taken a few of his affairs—and the accompanying bedroom dry spells—before Claire caught on to his philandering.

  In the months after the split, she would dream about faceless lovers, who brought her to the edge of climax and left her hanging. In one recurring dream, the man would transform into a giant bird and fly away, leaving her trapped on the edge of a cliff, quivering with need and terrified of falling to her death. By day, Frank’s self-serving attitude cooled off any lingering thoughts of a reconciliation.

  Last night when she closed her eyes, it was Helmut’s stubble-roughened square-cut jaw that hovered just out of reach.

  This morning, Helmut sat at the far end of the conference table, looking cool and collected as he watched the video conferencing screen, without a hint of a dark shadow beneath his eyes. And he was infuriatingly friendly this morning. Friendly like a coworker, not friendly like a man who wanted to see her naked. Why couldn’t the man have the decency to look a little tortured, or at least interested?

  He looked up and caught her gaze, and Claire saw the tiniest gleam in his eyes. A thrill shot through her. But then he just nodded politely and looked back at the video screen where the VP of their European division was giving his report.

  “Your investment strategy sounds risky,” Gene, her Chief Operating Officer, said. “Do we really want to put all of our eggs in with the European Union?”

  Claire snapped her focus back to the debate at the table, over a proposed expansion plan.

  “Non, non, Gene,” the VP said in her heavily accented English. “This is the future. If we get our, how do you say, leg caught in the door now, then we shall benefit greatly from the expanding of the European Union.”

  Claire glanced around the table. “What does everyone else think?”

  “I think Marie is right. Now is the time. We should go for it.” Helmut’s voice washed down Claire’s spine, and she swallowed a sigh of pleasure at the sound.

  “Smack dab in the middle of our new military venture?” Gene asked. “We’d be spreading our resources too thin. I say we wait until the defense division has proven itself before we jump into any more new territory.”

  “Are you always a risk-taker, Helmut?” Claire asked.

  Helmut cracked a lopsided grin and shrugged. A round of chuckles from the board answered the question for him.

  “Because Gene is correct that we already have our fingers in quite a few pies,” she continued.

  “Nothing ventured, nothing gained.” Their gazes locked across the table, and Claire recognized a challenge in his eyes that had nothing to do with Europe.

  “I agree the potential gains are tempting. But are you willing to risk your job?”

  “That’s the beauty of it. It’s not my job I’m risking, Claire. It’s yours.”

  Claire raised one eyebrow. “That’s where you’re wrong, Helmut. You risk all of our jobs,” she said softly and turned back toward the teleconference camera.

  “Marie, I agree that the idea might be worthwhile, but I want to see more detail. Since speed is of the essence, you can give me a full report in person next Wednesday in Paris.”

  “Oui, madame,” Marie said. “In Paris.”

  ***

  “There is a problem with Paris.” Betty peered over the rims of her reading glasses at Helmut.

  He grinned. “I can survive a week in a city without a baseball team.”

  “My, you’re in a good humor this morning.” Her tone was crisp, but Helmut caught the quirk of the older lady’s lips. “It isn’t your entertainment that concerns me.”

  Helmut picked up one of the small twisted nail puzzles she kept on her desk and began turning it over in his fingers. “What is it?”

  “Did you see the memo this morning about the corporate credit cards?”

  “I skimmed it.” Someone in human resources had lost their laptop, which held a personnel database with employee names, addresses, and corporate card numbers. It was an identity thief’s wet dream. “HR needs to start encrypting all their data. That’s been standard operating procedure for Finance for years now.”

  “Yes, I’m sure they’re working on it. In the meantime, your personal information was in that database, and the credit company has already suspended all of those cards, just in case. They’re issuing us new ones, but the numbers won’t be available until Monday at the earliest.”

  Helmut had a feeling he knew where this discussion was heading. “We can’t cancel the whole industry-wide Air Show next week for a batch of stolen cards.”

  “Of course not. I have your plane tickets on hold with the travel agent for another hour. It’s the last first-class ticket out of Chicago leaving any time before next Friday. Shall I use your personal card for the reservation?”

  Helmut twisted the nails and pulled. The pair remained annoyingly attached. “No problem. What about the hotel?”

  “Same.”

  He set the puzzle back in its place. “Fine. What’s the rest of my day look like?”

  “The finance all-hands meeting starts in twenty minutes. You have a lunch appointment with Goldman Sachs, a conference call this afternoon, quarterly statements to review, and your racquetball league at four-thirty.” Betty raised one eyebrow. “Would you like me to show you the trick to those nail puzzles?”

  “Nah,” Helmut said. “I’ll figure them out one of these days.”

  “If you say so.”

  ***

  Claire wrapped a thin towel around her torso, her panties, and the jogging bra she’d worn for her afternoon run on the treadmill. She cracked the door of the private changing room and glanced down the short hall. All clear.

  The gym, situated in the basement of the thirty-story office building that housed Sheffield & Fox’s corporate headquarters, had been built as an executive-only workout facility back in the sixties. Back when “executive” meant “all-male.”

  The facility was top-notch. Except for the locker rooms. Obviously limited for space, the gym had a handful of private dressing rooms, only two with showers, all non-gendered. And there was only a single steam room. She preferred to steam in the nude, but wasn’t quite up to crossing the hall with just a towel on. Not with other employees around. Next time she’d pack a swimsuit.

  Her shower shoes flopped on the linoleum as she scampered across the hall to the shiny stainless steel door. Claire heaved it open and shimmied inside, closing it quickly behind her. She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the hot steam. With a sigh of pleasure, she sank down on the nearest bench, and relaxed backward against the wall.

  “Who’s there?”

  Claire jumped at the voice. In one corner, Helmut’s head swirled into view through the mist. Dark hair clung to his head, curling and damp. She could just make out his neck and the hint of more dark curls at the top of his obviously bare chest.

  “You scared me,” she said lamely, quickly hopping to her feet, clasping her towel tightly above her breasts. “I didn’t see anyone in here.”

  “Sorry. I was starting to doze. Don’t go on my account.”

  Claire hesitated.

  “If you want privacy, I can leave,” he offered. The mist cleared temporarily and she caught a glimpse of navy blue workout shorts below tanned and rippling abs.

  Claire ga
ve herself a mental shake. They were both adults. Mostly-dressed adults. She sat stiffly and focused on arranging the folds of her towel to cover as much of her bare hips as she could.

  “I didn’t see you in the gym. Did you just come for a steam?” she asked to fill the awkward silence.

  “I was in the racquetball courts. You?” His voice was clearing, sounding more awake.

  “Treadmill,” she answered.

  The silence stretched out between them again. Claire sat back and tried to close her eyes. Her traitorous mind called up a picture of his bare chest. Irritably, she tucked one leg up under her, and swung the other foot, flip-flop dangling from one toe.

  “It’s usually pretty quiet in here on a Friday after work,” Helmut said.

  “I imagine everyone has somewhere more exciting to go than to the gym.” The heat was beginning to take effect. She could feel some of the tension melting out of her shoulders.

  “I like the quiet.”

  “Me, too. I get some of my best thinking done when I’m running.” Claire shifted again, wondering if that was a hint that he wanted her to leave. Too late now if he did. Her legs felt like lead, and she had no intention of rising for at least ten more minutes.

  Claire’s calves were tight, and she wanted to massage them, but there was no way to do it without dropping the towel. She settled for stretching first one leg out in front of her, and twirling her foot around, alternately stretching and flexing the tight muscles. She untucked her other foot from under her knee. Her flip-flop flew off and skidded across the floor, bumping into Helmut’s big toe.

  Chapter 6

  Helmut picked up the shoe and turned it over in his fingers. The hot pink and yellow floral foam looked entirely too girlish for the woman sitting across from him.

  Claire’s towel hid far too much, yet revealed far too much, for his comfort. Seated, she was bare to almost the apex of her sleekly muscled thighs. Just below toned shoulders, the scraggly white terry cloth strained over her rounded breasts and skimmed the slim waistline and curve of her hip.

  Her cheeks flushed, damp with exertion and steam, and she looked both invigorated and sated, as if she had spent the past hour making love instead of running on a treadmill.

  His cock was already half-aroused, straining against his shorts under the towel in his lap. Helmut drew a steadying breath. He didn’t think about what he was about to do. He swept the towel aside, and knelt in front of Claire.

  “May I?” he said, indicating her foot.

  Claire’s bright blue eyes glowed luminously against her warm pink cheeks, and her tongue peeked out to discretely lick her lips. Slowly she inclined her head.

  Helmut gingerly picked up her bare right foot, noting the pink nail polish and slender toes. The foot looked dainty and pale against his sun-darkened hands. He traced the arch and around the back of her heel. He heard the faint sound of the intake of her breath as she realized that he wasn’t just replacing the shoe.

  But she didn’t pull away.

  Helmut slid one hand up the back of her calf to the soft spot behind her knee. Gently, he lifted her foot to his mouth and pressed a light kiss to the bone on the inside of her ankle. She exhaled, slowly.

  Helmut trailed his lips upward toward her knee. He kissed her again, savoring the salty sweetness of her skin with his tongue. He glanced upwards. Her eyes blazed into his, the pupils dilated and her lips parted in a soft O.

  The heavy steam of the room filled his lungs as he inhaled slowly, languidly. Raggedly. The heat slowed each of his movements into a leisurely exploration of her satiny skin. The pace suited him perfectly. He wanted to savor her taste. To savor her.

  He kissed the pulsing vein throbbing on the inside of her knee again, and slid his hand up the outside of her thigh to her hip. He hesitated a moment at the edge of her towel. Allowed her a moment to tell him to stop. Hoped like hell she wouldn’t.

  Helmut’s cock strained against his shorts, and he felt the pounding of his blood rushing through his veins.

  Claire closed her eyes and tilted her head back a tiny notch.

  Helmut’s hand slid up and under her towel along her hip until it found the thin band of fabric and elastic. He toyed with that spot, under the jut of her hipbone, and kissed the inside of her thigh. She shivered and relaxed her leg wider.

  Helmut closed his eyes, inhaling the musky scent of her arousal mixed with the sweet, tropical scent of her skin. His fingers trembled at the edge of her panties. Slow. Steady. Don’t rush this. Don’t ruin this.

  With both hands, he reached inside her towel up along the sides of her waist, over the supple skin. Kneeling between her legs, he slowly opened the towel. She let it go and raised her hands and then lowered them, as if she didn’t know where to put them.

  Helmut smiled at the sight of her purple and black sports bra and sensible white bikini panties. He cupped breasts lightly with his thumbs and lowered his mouth to the confining fabric.

  Claire gasped audibly as he closed his mouth over one peak, and the nipple tightened. He kissed and sucked the other breast, teasing the skin around the bottom of the bra band with his fingers.

  “Helmut.” Claire threaded her fingers into his sweat-slickened hair. “This is not a good idea.”

  “Do you want me to stop?” He waited, her breast heavy in his palm, his thumb poised on one straining nipple. He rubbed the pad over the taut peak lightly.

  She drew a ragged breath and arched her back, pressing against his hands. “No, don’t stop.”

  Helmut’s lips left her breasts and he forged a trail of hot kisses down her ribcage to her belly button. He pressed his thumbs up and under the taut fabric of her bra and found hot, sensitive skin. She moaned. His cock throbbed in reply, full and impatient. It would have to wait.

  He knew how this encounter would end. Or rather, how it would not end for him. He hadn’t walked into the steam room expecting to find himself in this position. He had no condom. It was a cooling thought. Barely.

  He bent to kiss her sex through the silky white fabric of her panties. He gently nibbled her clit with his teeth, and she writhed and arched her hips up against his mouth.

  He grasped her hips with his fingers and raised them up, and then slid down her panties. The hair between her legs was a deep golden yellow, a few shades darker than her hair. She was definitely a natural blond. He shifted his position to remove the scrap of fabric from her ankles. She parted her legs, willingly allowing him access.

  “Please,” she whispered.

  Helmut felt the first drops of his own fluids at the tip of his penis, and clamped down hard on the sensation. Ladies first. His thighs quavered as he bent between her legs, and spread her folds with his fingers.

  Claire writhed and moaned as he slipped one finger across her wet opening. He slid it inside as he rubbed the swollen bud of her clit with his thumb. She arched and rubbed against him, urging his fingers in further, against the hard bundle of nerves inside.

  She was close. Helmut wanted to be inside her, to feel her tighten around his cock, to slide into her folds and to bury his face in the long blond hair. He wanted her to come for him.

  He bent his head and took her clit into his mouth, sucking and licking the sensitive bud with his tongue. At the same time, he slid a second finger inside her and worked them, sliding them in and out. He heard her gasp, and moan, and her fingers clutched his hair.

  “Helmut.”

  His name on her lips was nearly his own undoing as he felt her tighten around his fingers. He felt the rush of her fluids, and sucked her again. She shifted on his fingers, pumping up and down and tightened around him again and again.

  When she stilled, he raised his lips and kissed the inside of her thigh. She protested softly as he removed his fingers from her sex, and gently set her hips down on the bench.

  “That was...you didn’t...” she began.

  Helmut looked into those angelic blue eyes, gazing at him with a rapturous expression. Despite his own painf
ully throbbing erection, he felt a burst of manly pride.

  A clamor of voices in the hallway shocked him into awareness.

  “We aren’t alone.” He carefully wrapped her back in her towel, and reluctantly stood up. His cock was hard at attention beneath his shorts, but there was no hope for it. He grabbed for his towel and held it limply in one hand.

  “I’ll head out first. Wait a few minutes. Or do you want me to knock when the coast is clear?”

  Claire reached for the underwear that had been dropped on the floor and balled them in one fist. She straightened. “I’ll manage.”

  Helmut turned toward the door. He recognized the timber of men’s voices. Could be Ben, or some of the other racquetball players, fresh from their showers. Thank God none of them had felt like a steam after the match.

  “Helmut?”

  He looked over his shoulder. Claire had smoothed her hair back from her face. This time, he could take credit for the flush in her cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes. “Yes?”

  “Shall we finish this at my place?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Chapter 7

  “You’re where?” Helmut practically shouted into the phone. The connection cut out again and his palms went frigid.

  “--eoria,” came Kelsie’s voice.

  “Peoria? What the hell are you doing in Peoria?” Helmut leaned one balled fist on the kitchen counter in front of him. “I thought Mom said you were spending the week in New York.”

  “My phone’s about to die. Can you come get me? Please? I’ll explain when you get here. I’m in the Denny’s on University just off 74.”

  “Yeah. I’m on my way.”

  Helmut clicked off his cell phone and stared at the faint blue screen. Assuming his baby sister was safe and sound when he got to Peoria, he was going to strangle her.

  Helmut buzzed the doorman to his condo building and requested that the valet bring his car up from the underground garage. The drive to Peoria would take him three hours at least. Thankfully it was well past rush hour, or he would be fighting the parking lot that was I-55 as downtown Chicago emptied for the weekend.