The Paris Affair (2 page)
As his peers began to file in, Helmut lowered his voice a notch. “You know her?”
“Maybe.” Ben rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “You think you could score with her?”
“Sure.” Helmut conjured the image of those plump lips. The pink tongue. It was a pleasant fantasy anyway.
Ben’s eyes flicked around the room and he leaned in. “Care to make a wager on it?”
“Still sore you lost the last one to me? About your hunting cabin versus my beach house?”
“I didn’t lose. It’s all in how you interpret the numbers.”
“And we both know who’s better with numbers.” Helmut reached into his suit pocket and withdrew a pen. He set it gently on the table in front of him, next to the manila folder his secretary had given him.
“You gonna put your money where your mouth is, or what?”
“Whatever. Fifty bucks she goes out with me.” Helmut nodded to the Vice President of their European division from across the room. He hadn’t known Pierre was in the States this week. How much notice did the rest of the company get about today?
“Penny ante. I lost five hundred bucks to you over my mountain hideaway.”
“It’s not my fault the ladies prefer long walks on the beach to hiking in the mud.”
Helmut flipped open the folder, and scanned the latest quarterly report. As the CFO of Sheffield & Fox, he would be expected to present the current numbers to their new CEO, CJ Sheffield, son of the newly retired James Sheffield. That was the thirty-second overview his secretary, Betty, had given him over the phone this morning.
“A thousand.” Ben’s voice was practically a whisper. “You’ve got two weeks.”
“Think I can’t get a date in two weeks? How washed up do you think I am?”
“Not just a date. I’m talking carnal knowledge. And for that kind of money, I want proof.”
Helmut weighed the wager. He’d tossed it out as a joke, but Ben looked serious. A thousand dollars was a relatively small amount compared to the hefty salary his new title afforded him. A salary that he knew Ben envied. Not that Ben’s was paltry by any stretch of the imagination.
If Helmut lost, then Ben could gloat for weeks, or longer. That would be better than all of the accountant jokes and workaholic cracks he’d been putting up with lately. And if he won...he pictured the woman’s silky blond hair, and wondered if it was as soft to the touch as it had looked.
“Deal.”
“Have you met the new CEO yet?” asked Ben.
Helmut shook his head.
He hadn’t had a chance to talk to the new guy, but he’d heard a few snatches of gossip already this morning. His new boss had been a rising star at his previous post. He’d taken an Internet startup from his friend’s garage to a multi-million dollar corporation in under six years.
Sheffield & Fox was a completely different sort of business. Stable, reliable, set in its ways. All of the flash and hype of the Internet wouldn’t help the kid negotiate with employees who had worked the same job since the Kennedy era. He was in for a rude awakening. Hell of a time for James to retire.
The low murmur of whispers, shuffling papers, and the faint beeping of cell phones hushed to an expectant silence as James Sheffield entered the door at the far end of the room and stepped up to the podium. Helmut quickly set his own phone on vibrate as his boss and mentor stepped up to the microphone.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, allow me to present your new Chief Executive Officer, Claire James Sheffield.” The room erupted in polite applause as a long-legged blonde stepped to her father’s side.
“Shit,” Helmut muttered under his breath and glanced back at Ben.
Ben grinned wolfishly.
Claire rubbed her temples and wished, for the nine thousandth time today, that she had worn her glasses instead of contacts. She blinked twice, attempting to focus on the circle of suits sitting around the small conference room table. She glanced surreptitiously down at her agenda. The manufacturing department. Only two more meet-and-greets left: Finance and Law.
“...are proud to report that productivity has been increasing steadily since the inception of our new Streamlined Engineering Process,” Ingrid, the regional director, was saying.
Claire schooled her features into what she hoped passed for an interested expression and tried to pay attention. The last guy had droned on for fifteen minutes about the technical minutiae of various models of engine components in Sheffield & Fox’s product line. Technology was not her forte—business, strategic direction, and people were. But it was only a matter of time, she knew, before she would be speaking the lingo as well.
Claire hadn’t known a web server from a cocktail waitress before she and her then-boyfriend, Frank, had founded Arachnava ten years ago. Frank had been the technical genius, and Claire didn’t need to know how all the software was created to help drive the business strategy.
Even after their personal relationship soured last year, they remained business partners until Frank wanted to take the company down a riskier path. One Claire wanted no part of. When the rest of the board—comprised heavily of Frank’s college classmates—agreed, she sold her shares and bailed.
Her retirement had lasted a whopping three weeks before her father called. Saturday afternoon—was it only two days ago? He simply informed her of her new position. And, like every other demand her father had ever made of her during the past thirty-four years of her life, she obeyed.
She thought she had long since moved past trying to please the stubborn old man. Or to make him proud of her. Pride was something he reserved for his sons: Chris, the surgeon, and Caleb, the judge. Not for her.
Father must have been desperate to dump the company this fast, and on Claire of all people. Was it his health? Her stepmother’s health? James had denied both. But he wouldn’t explain his reasons, and that irked Claire. She hated to walk into any job unprepared. And she was afraid of what might be lurking under the veneer of Sheffield & Fox’s shiny corporate office.
Claire shifted her attention back to the meeting. The department heads were done speaking, and everyone stood to leave. She politely shook hands, repeating names she had memorized when they were introduced. She was exceptionally thankful for that useful skill.
Claire turned to her executive assistant. “What’s next, Steph?”
She and Steph had been friends for a long time. Steph’s organizational skills plus Claire’s instincts for business strategies made a lethal combination. Lethal for their competition. Getting her on board at Sheffield and Fox, and with a hefty raise, was Claire’s one prerequisite to accepting the position.
“Finance has their own conference room up on the fourteenth floor.” Steph glanced down at Claire’s high-heeled pumps. “Stairs or elevator?”
“Stairs. I’ll do it barefoot if I have to. My calves are cramping from these heels. I think one of my first acts as CEO will be to implement a casual dress code.”
Steph led the way out of the conference room and down a short corridor to the fire stairs. Once on the landing, Claire slipped off her shoes and wiggled bare toes on the gray rubber floor.
“Actually, the official dress code is already casual.”
Claire looked envyingly at her friend’s sporty brown leather flats.
“But upper management is traditional.”
“And there’s no way they’ll take me seriously wearing jeans and tennis shoes.” Claire filled in what Steph had left unspoken. “Especially at my age.”
Steph’s eyes twinkled. “Three floors up.”
Claire grinned. “I’ll race you.”
“Better not. I won’t be able to brief you on the next bunch of guys when you’re thirty feet below me.” Steph grinned back and started up the stairs at an easy pace.
Claire caught up in three steps. “How many are in the next meeting?”
“Five. Jim Flanders heads up auditing. Marcy Robinson from contracts. Pete Sampson is the controller. Betty Krank is the executive assistant to the CFO—”
“Helmut Forrester,” supplied Claire. “We met.”
“I didn’t think you had time to talk to anyone after the press conference this morning.” Steph had already rounded the landing and was two steps up the next flight.
“We met in the coffee shop before work. He hit on me.”
“Oh.” Steph chuckled. “Oh no. What is he like?”
Beautiful green eyes. Broad shoulders. Nice smile. “Not bad looking, but the come-on was totally corny. He asked me to straighten his tie. Had no clue who I was.”
Steph giggled outright. “Figures. He has a bit of a reputation around here. As a playboy. Or heartbreaker, depending on how sappy you are about that sort of thing.”
Just like my ex, but this one doesn’t hide his philandering.
“Lovely. Just what I need in my executive team.”
“As long as he keeps his pants on in the boardroom, you’ll be fine.”
Steph was almost half a flight above already, and Claire had to hurry to catch up.
“Your father thinks pretty highly of him. In fact, gossip has it that he should have been next in line for your father’s job. Your job, I mean.”
“Even better. Keep your ears open on this guy, Steph. I don’t want anyone spreading rumors about him—or me—as revenge for my getting promoted over him.”
“I’m way ahead of you, boss.” Steph pushed open the stairwell door. Claire paused on the landing and slipped her shoes back on. She took a steadying breath and stepped into the brightly lit hallway.
Helmut checked his reflection in the mirror at the back of his bookshelf. He straightened his tie, then ducked down to check his hair around the mementos lined up across the front of the shelf.
This morning’s meeting in the coffee shop with Claire Sheffield hadn’t gone badly. Exactly. But that was before he knew she was James’ daughter. And his new boss.
“Meeting time.” Betty stood by the door to his office.
Helmut patted his suit pocket to check for his cell phone, and grabbed a leather bound folio from the console. He didn’t have to ask whether Betty had the meeting room prepared and the presentation loaded up on the display. She knew her job and executed it with efficiency.
“How is your mother doing?” she asked.
“Stubborn as ever.”
“I don’t blame her, you know. She’s only a few years older than I am.”
Helmut stepped ahead of her and opened the door to the south wing. “I just wish she’d listen to my advice on this. That house is huge. And with Dad gone, my brother off in God knows which jungle this month, and my baby sister almost out of college, it’s too much for one woman alone. She would have so much more freedom in one of those nice retirement villages. Hell, some of them look more like all-inclusive resorts than apartments.”
Betty fixed him with a pointed look as she walked through the open door. “You are talking about the home she’s lived in for over forty years now.”
“One that’s full of nothing but dust.”
“And memories.”
Memories and dust and ghosts.
Sometimes the past is better left behind us, not clouding the air we breathe every day.
He kept the thought to himself.
Betty paused outside the conference room door. “Are you ready?”
“As ever.”
Through the patterned glass of the door, he could see a yellow blob that must be Claire’s sun-kissed blond hair. He steeled himself, putting on his best game face.
Helmut took a seat at one end of the oblong table. The first of the three speakers jumped right into his presentation. They were all his direct reports, and he’d okayed their material an hour ago. With Claire’s focus on the screen at the other end, he was free to study her without her noticing.
After this morning’s press conference, and Ben’s little surprise about the identity of the coffee shop woman, Helmut had looked for Claire Sheffield’s official press release bio. The standard publicity blurb focused mainly on her education and years at Arachnava. There was no husband listed and no ring on her left hand. His bet was still safe in that regard. The hobbies listed were the normal executive stuff, tennis and golf. He was going to have to dig a little deeper to find just the right hook. Every woman had a weakness. Roses, motorcycles, beach getaways. Once he uncovered Claire’s, she was his.
“Helmut, you’re up,” Jim said as he returned to his seat.
“Thanks.” Helmut stood with a confident smile. “First, I want to say ‘Welcome Aboard,’ Claire. I know I speak for all of us when I say that I am looking forward to working with you. I trust your first impressions of us have been favorable so far?”
Claire smiled her coolly amused smile. “Thank you, Helmut. I am already enjoying working with you all. And as for first impressions...”
She paused.
“I have already been made to feel
useful
. I look forward to continuing to serve my colleagues and this company.”
Helmut didn’t miss the way Claire’s eyes twinkled. Whether his shenanigans this morning had gained or cost him ground remained to be seen.
Helmut launched into his presentation, covering in depth his short- and long-term strategies. He talked mainly toward Claire and her assistant, knowing his own guys were well briefed on his plans, and on the bottom line.
“Could you go back to the previous slide, please, Betty?” interrupted Claire.
Helmut paused mid-thought and nodded at Betty. Behind him, the wall glowed white with columns of red and black numbers from their aircraft division. “Did you have a question?”
Claire craned her neck to the side, and Helmut realized his shadow was blocking part of the screen. Obligingly, he stepped out of the way of the projector. He studied her profile while she studied the numbers. Her nose was fine and high, neck long and slender. A curl of her hair was tucked behind one ear, and Helmut wondered how she would taste if he nibbled that sensitive spot. Like coconuts, maybe.
“Yes, I do have a question. The Shadow Fly project.”
He blinked, startled at the direction his mind had wandered. “It is our first military project. I’m sure manufacturing will be happy to explain—”
“I am familiar with it. My father is very proud to be producing motors for the new unmanned helicopters that the military wants. But—”
Helmut glanced looked back at the numbers on the screen. Ben had assured him after the press conference this morning that the numbers were fine. They weren’t. The bottom line was red. Hell, half the lines were red. More than half.
“Why is it losing so much money?” The chill in her voice was nothing compared to the hot resentment smoldering in the pit of his stomach at having been caught off guard. In front of her.
Helmut gave a deliberately casual shrug and tried to explain the discrepancy away. “Startup costs, mainly. The beginning of any new project is always—”
“Betty, flip back three more slides. Yes, that one. Could you please explain to me how you can predict a revenue stream like this one, with such a large loss on the books?”
He had looked at the reports right before his vacation. Reports Ben had provided. And Helmut had signed off on them then. Ben always produced what he predicted. Always. How could things have changed so drastically in one week?
“Yes, well, you might have a point. It does look like our forecast is a bit more optimistic than today’s numbers seem to indicate...”