The Paris Affair (Affairs of the Heart #1)

by Kristi Lea

  And then Claire arrived on the scene. Beautiful. Sexy. Passionate. Intelligent. And a keen instinct for business.

  When he stepped off the plane in Paris, he was greeted by Claire’s face on the national news, calmly smoothing over Helmut’s sudden departure from the company. Downplaying the inquiries into their Shadow Fly negotiations. His mistakes. Mistakes that could lose the company both the contract and the chance to bid on future work. Never once blaming, or insinuating, any guilt on Helmut’s part.

  He could kick himself for being so stupid. When he pursued Juliana, he was thinking only of spending a little time with a beautiful woman. He should have known that the affair could jeopardize the negotiations.

  Hell, he did know. He just didn’t give a damn at the time.

  Helmut had been married to his job at Sheffield and Fox for as long as he could remember. Reporting for work, for him, was like coming home. It was comfortable. Safe. And lonely. Maybe he’d been tempting fate when he dated Juliana. Daring someone to call him on his juvenile behavior, and his blatant disregard for ethics.

  He hadn’t expected that whistle-blower to be Claire. He hadn’t expected there to be a Claire in his life. In a little under two weeks, the woman had turned his life upside down and backwards.

  He had ducked the reporters as best he could, and gave only the most banal answers when he couldn’t. His schedule for the week had been full when he was still an S&F employee. Arriving as a free agent had tripled the number of invitations, despite the looming investigation. He knew he had lots of friends in the industry. And it amused the hell out of him to be blatantly courted by his competitors. No, Sheffield & Fox’s competitors. Most of them were probably hoping that if they hired him, he’d bring a little insider knowledge with him. He couldn’t blame them for the assumption. He hadn’t exactly proven himself virtuous of late.

  Helmut stalked to the mini bar and yanked the fridge door open. Wine, vodka, soda. Nothing appealed. He slammed the door shut again.

  He should get out. Go for a run on a treadmill in the fitness center. Call a few of the guys for a night on the town. Knock on Claire’s door and beg her for mercy. She was everywhere, with her sexy laugh and her cool poise. She attracted flocks of men at every meet-and-greet. Executives, government officials, ridiculously rich playboys posing as potential investors. All vied for the chance to stand in her spotlight.

  She was a contrast in silk and steel, youth and wisdom. She was irresistible.

  The pounding in Helmut’s head was not a headache. It was his door.

  It was Claire. Still wearing the slinky black dress, and barefoot. And wielding a cell phone like a butcher’s knife aimed at his heart.

  “Where the hell do you get off threatening me this way?” she demanded, storming into his room, leaving a trail of coconuts and sweetness in her wake.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  She whirled and planted fists on her hips. Helmut’s gaze traveled the length of her. She had removed not only her shoes, but her stockings as well. He suppressed a groan at the sight of her bare legs.

  “The email you sent. You’ve got about thirty seconds to explain yourself before I call the FBI.”

  He wrenched his eyes back to her accusing glare. “Claire, I didn’t send any email. What are you talking about?”

  “‘If you don’t cancel the demo of Shadow Fly, someone will get hurt,’” she read, her voice dripping acid. “Signed H.A.F. And sent from an anonymous Yahoo account.”

  “Claire, calm down. I didn’t send any email. And I’m not ‘H.A.F.’ My middle initial’s D, not A.” He frowned. “It’s probably some kind of prank. Or spam.”

  “This cell phone is new.” Claire’s voice wavered. Just a little. “I had to change the number when I added international service. The only people I sent the address to were the executive team.”

  Helmut quietly closed the door to the suite. There was no need to share this discussion with the entire hotel floor. “Call the FBI. Or at least the IT department. It looks like you’ve been hacked.”

  “Why now? Why target Shadow Fly?”

  Helmut shrugged. “I don’t know. Anything government related is always a target. And Sheffield & Fox has been in the news this week.”

  Claire wrapped her arms around her chest and took a visible breath. Good. She looked like she was calming down.

  “Call your IT folks. Where’s your assistant? She seemed pretty sharp. She could follow up on this for you.”

  Claire shook her head. “Steph is in Chicago. Couldn’t get her passport updated on such short notice.”

  Helmut glanced at his watch. Six p.m. “Call her. It’s noon in Chicago. Sit, Claire, and call. You won’t relax until you do.” He motioned toward the navy blue sofa. To his relief, she sat.

  He busied himself at the wet bar, pouring two glasses of plain bottled water. He might have preferred the wine, but between the cocktail hour and jetlag, Claire already looked on the verge of collapse. He waited until he heard her say goodbye and click off her phone.

  She had tucked her feet up underneath her, and it reminded Helmut of the first night they met, when he brought her Chinese food to her father’s office. Her office. She looked just as young now, and ten times as vulnerable. But now he also recognized the titanium that ran through her spine.

  “What is this?” she asked, accepting the glass.

  “Plain water.” He eyed the expanse of upholstery next to her, and pictured her lounging across it. Naked. He turned back to the bar to retrieve his own glass. Putting several feet between them didn’t help.

  She raised one eyebrow. “You’re pulling out all the stops.”

  “You’re too trusting.”

  “Oh?” She raised the water to her lips and took a small sip.

  “You thought I was threatening to harm somebody, so you came rushing to my room. Alone. Unarmed. And barefoot.” The thought sent chills down his spine.

  She flushed a deep pink, the color creeping downward across her chest.

  “I guess I...” she stammered, shifting her feet so that one calf dangled down over the edge of the chair. “I didn’t really think you wanted to hurt anyone. I thought it was some kind of...”

  Helmut set his jaw, and walked past her to the suite door. “Some kind of what, Claire?” He opened the door, and motioned toward it.

  She stood, setting her water down on the small ebony-colored sofa table behind her. “I thought it was some trick to get my attention,” she said quietly, stopping in front of him. “I’m sorry.”

  Helmut gulped. She stood just inches from him. He could hear her quickened breath. Without those sexy heels she had on earlier, he could look down and see the top of her head, soft blond hair in slight disarray.

  “If I’d wanted to get your attention,” he said thickly, “I wouldn’t have sent an anonymous email.”

  She looked up and their eyes met. “What would you have done?” she asked.

  “This.”

  He snaked one hand around her waist and pulled her hard against him for a kiss. The other hand slammed the door shut and then wrapped around her bottom, sliding down until he found the hem of her dress and gently tugging upwards.

  Claire moaned against his mouth, their tongue meshing as she stood on her toes and pressed herself against him. Helmut reached his other hand down and ran both of them up those delectably bare legs until they found equally bare hips. His thumbs found the skimpy fabric of a thong and with a swift tug slipped it down and to the floor.

  “My dress,” she moaned against his mouth.

  “Mmmm... It’s lovely,” he said as his fingers found her hot center.

  She mewled as he stroked the damp opening and she gasped as he slipped one finger inside her. She clasped both arms around his neck and arched her head backwards in pleasure as he stroked her.

  Helmut’s cock strained against his pants as she ground her hips upwards, urging his hand deeper. He trailed kisses down her neck, and she li
fted one thigh up and wrapped it around his back.

  “The dress, Helmut,” she gasped as he nibbled the sensitive spot behind her ear.

  “Would look better on the floor,” he said.

  He withdrew his hand and silenced her protest with another searing kiss. Then he supported her bottom with his arms and lifted her other thigh up to wrap around his waist. He tucked her chin onto his shoulder as he carried her into the adjoining bedroom.

  He let go of her. She slid her legs down to the floor, and then turned her back to him.

  Claire lifted her hair from the nape of her neck, and Helmut kissed it. He wrapped his hands around under her arms to cup her breasts and gently squeeze.

  “Zipper,” she said, panting.

  Helmut grinned and kissed the bone at the base of her neck. He found her nipples through the layers of fabric and gently pinched them between his thumb and forefinger. “Ask nicely,” he asked, loving the feel of her naked bottom against his groin.

  “Please.”

  He obliged, slowly lowering the zipper down the center of her back, licking every newly exposed inch of skin along the way. He had to kneel as he exposed the small of her back. Finally he pulled the short sleeves down over her arms, and lowered the dress and allowed her to step out of it. He unhooked her bra with a quick flick of his fingers, and tossed the garment aside.

  Claire tried to turn around, but he held her hips still. “I like this view,” he whispered, and nudged her knees apart.

  He could feel the shiver that ran down her spine as he trailed his fingers up the insides of her thighs. “Lean forward for me.”

  She bent forward and rested her hands on the side of the bed in front of her. “Like this?”

  “Perfect.” From his knees, he could easily see her lips, swollen and wet, spread before him. He found her clit with his fingers and stroked, until she was panting again and thrusting her hips against him. He kissed the smooth skin of her buttocks as he slid one finger and then two inside of her.

  Claire whimpered and moaned, her fingers twisting in the sheets, her hips undulating against his hands. He held her still as he felt the contractions ripple over her.

  Carefully, he let go of her.

  “Helmut?” she whispered with a groan.

  “Stay there.” He quickly removed his shirt and pants. His cock was hard and throbbing. The sight of her naked backside bent over the bed, wet and ready, was almost too much. He found a condom from his pants pocket and rolled it down his hard length.

  He positioned himself at her entrance and gripped her hips, the tip of his cock nudging her lips apart. Claire moaned and lifted her hips, urging him inward.

  With a groan, he thrust inside her, and she whimpered. He paused, afraid that he had gone too fast. “Don’t stop,” she gasped, wriggling her hips.

  Helmut needed no further encouragement. He thrust into her again and again, and she met each movement with her own.

  “More,” she gasped, her hand sliding down to work her own clit.

  Helmut leaned forward, pulling her up against the length of his bare torso. One hand played with her nipples, squeezing and tugging. The other displaced her hand to stroke her clit from the front while he slid in and out of her tight, wet sheath.

  He felt her climax building. Her head thrashed side to side and she whimpered and moaned. Her entire body was liquid fire in his arms. Helmut buried his face in her hair and clung to her as she came apart in his arms. He then shuddered as he came inside her.

  Helmut cradled her against his chest as their breathing slowed. After a moment, he gently slid out of her and lifted her in his arms.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “The same place we’ve been trying to get to. The bed.”

  She giggled as he gently tossed her onto the now rumpled covers and climbed in beside her. The sound tickled over him and he grinned down at her, feeling freer than he had in a long time.

  The sight of her bare breasts distracted him from examining that thought any more deeply. He kissed each one of them thoroughly, gently sucking on the nipples as his fingers played over the delicate bones of her rib cage.

  She sighed.

  He gasped as her fingers closed around his already hardening shaft.

  “What, not ready for more yet?” she asked with a breathy feigned innocence.

  “Getting there,” he said and closed his eyes as she cupped his balls. “You’re killing me.”

  “Hmm...” she said, and squeezed his cock. “Your blood pressure seems fine.”

  Helmut captured her lips for a long, hard kiss as he leisurely explored the curves of her waistline and abdomen.

  “I do have one question,” she said when their lips parted again. Her hands trailed up over his chest. His cock was fully erect again, pressing against the curls between her legs.

  “What’s that?” he said, and lowered his head to place a kiss on her sternum.

  “What does the D stand for?”

  Helmut raised his gaze and looked into her eyes. They sparkled with desire and curiosity.

  “David.”

  She laughed.

  “What’s so funny about the name ‘David’?” he asked.

  “I don’t know.” She giggled. “I guess I was expecting something a bit more...unusual. To go along with Helmut.”

  He grinned. “I was named after my grandfathers. My mom’s father was a German draft dodger during World War II. That’s where I got Helmut. My dad’s father was an Iowa farmer. David. Besides, you’re a fine one to talk.”

  “Me?” she asked and then gasped as he cupped her sex with his palm. “Why me?”

  “Claire James.”

  “Mmmm...” was all she said as he slid his fingers inside her again.

  ***

  The purple haze of dawn was just filtering through the heavy hotel drapes when he felt her stir. Helmut squinted at the alarm clock next to the bed. Five a.m.

  The hourglass curve of her bare back tempted his fingers. With one soft caress, perhaps he could coax her warm length up against his hips. Her butt snuggled up against the erection that was beginning to swell.

  Noiselessly she sat up, careful not to ruffle the sheets, and slipped her legs over the side of the bed. Helmut narrowed his eyes and watched her through his lashes, not moving. Willing his breath to stay even and slow.

  Claire quietly gathered up her discarded clothes and padded out the bedroom door to the sitting area beyond. He heard the soft rustling and telltale zip of her cocktail dress, and then the soft click of the door to the hallway as she crept out without a word, or a backwards glance.

  Just like I did. Whoever coined the phrase “turnabout is fair play” should be guillotined.

  Helmut buried his head in the pillow, still smelling of her tropical shampoo. The bed sheets beside him were cooling rapidly without Claire’s heat, and his cock pulsed angrily between his legs as the word “turnabout” conjured images of her bent over the foot of the bed last night.

  Chapter 14

  The townhouse her father had rented had a carved stone façade, black wrought iron balconies on every window, and a carved mahogany door that slid open silently, despite its apparent weight.

  “Claire, dear, welcome. You look tired.” Claire’s stepmother, Diana, eyed Claire’s slightly rumpled linen skirt suit.

  Claire suppressed the urge to roll her eyes, and fixed a polite smile on her face. As greetings went, that was one of the nicer things Diana had ever said to her. “The house is lovely.”

  Diana shrugged cashmere-draped shoulders and gently tossed her head, causing two sparkly earrings to bob beneath her perfectly up-swept chocolate brown hair. “It’s passable. I had hoped for the little chalet that we rented a few years back, but the new owners were not entertaining offers. Marie! Come take mademoiselle’s coat.”

  Claire handed her trench over to a black-and-white clad maid, and suppressed a second eye roll. If there were an actual castle for rent in the city of Paris, Diana
would have snapped it up, and insisted on a coach-and-four instead of a town car.

  “When did you go brunette, Diana?” she asked instead, noting how Diana’s eyebrows had been dyed the exact same shade as her hair, and that expertly applied concealer could not totally cover fine lines appearing at the corner of the woman’s eyes. Her father’s wife was only twelve years older than Claire, and until recently had always been a perfectly tanned, perfectly bleached, blonde.

  “I did it last week in honor of your father’s retirement.” Diana patted the sides of her up-do with a tiny flourish of her fingers that set her rings sparkling in the morning light. “He is in the salon talking with a certain someone, if you catch my drift. Go on in, and tell James that I will join you all soon.”

  Did Diana just wink? Claire frowned as she walked toward the archway at the end of the two-story vestibule. She paused on the threshold, heart caught in her throat.

  Champagne flute in one hand, Helmut leaned comfortably against the stone mantle at the far end of the room. She hadn’t known he was invited to her father’s brunch this morning. And she had slipped back to her hotel room while he was still asleep.

  Foolish of her not to ask.

  Helmut had worked for Father for years. Hell, her father probably golfed with the man she’d spent hours shagging last night. The mental picture of Helmut and Father joking about women over a beer and a mulligan made her very uncomfortable.

  Helmut glanced up and their eyes met across the wide expanse of chintz-covered furniture and Persian rugs. The white-hot heat in that gaze flew straight to Claire’s core, and warmth spread down toward her knees. She took a steadying breath and stepped lightly into the room.

  “Claire, dear, look who’s here.”

  Claire pulled up short at the gravelly bass of her father’s voice. James lounged in an incongruously delicate blue slipper chair, opposite Frank. Her slime of an ex-fiancé grinned up at her from a matching chair. “What are you doing here, Frank?”

  “Surprise,” Frank said as he got to his feet. “When Diana found out that I was in town, she insisted that I come for brunch today. You look beautiful, Claire.”